#scentprompt

As far as places went, the glade had just shouldered through a bit of rain. The trees were the tall, thin sort, laden with leaves. In typical Ionian style, the foliage had the occasional pink and dark red amidst the usual colors of green, orange and yellow.

Somewhere to his right, a spring burbled happily on its way  down. Birds were chirping somewhere above his heads. It didn’t even seem as if a war was going on.

And here, surrounded by all of this natural beauty, was Riven, sitting sedately on top of a rock, a cloak spread out underneath her- it was still wet after all.

She seemed enamored by the sights, enjoying the quiet and the scent of the forest after the rain.

He came to a stop next to her and reached out to brush his fingertips against hers in greeting.

She pulled his hand closer and entwined their fingers together.

"... need you to spread these into the open pit." Rurik said as he passed a sack full of charcoal into his hands.

"... What for?"

"I'm making some roast pig." Rurik replied.

"Oh." As the gnawing in his belly reminded him that he still had yet to eat for the day, he looked at the butcher.

"... Could I have a bit? To take home?"

"If you get the work done." Rurik said with a shrug and a smile. "I might roast a piglet for you and your brother, aye."

"… And two hundred caskets of gunpowder."

The Major lowered his hand- a few black grains fell from his frosted leather hands.

"Two hundred, really?" He muttered under his breath as he stared at the rest of the shipment.

Why send two hundred caskets of gunpowder to the Freljord, of all the places on the face of Valoran?

“What am I going to use this for?”

"Blow a glacier, maybe?" The merchantman said with a grin.

"Now that’s just pointless." He replied distastefully.

"I just do the delivering." The man shrugged cheerfully. "High Command does the budgeting and rationing. Sir."

"… heavy smell, isn’t it?" He muttered distastefully as the Zaunites began to set fire to the village houses.

"Hextorches do tend to leave an oily, pungent scent in the air, sir." Winton responded with an expression best described as an attempt to stop himself from rolling his eyes in front of the major.

"Must we, really?" He turned to look at the lieutenant-colonel.

This time Winton seemed to be trying to stop himself from saying something- ‘I didn’t know what you expected’, perhaps.

"It would take too long for the men to set fire to each house individually, sir." Winton said instead. "Hextorches make for quicker work."

"... True."

"It's in our orders, sir." Winton threw him a sideways glance.

"… If it wasn’t a part of our orders, I would’ve never have touched it." He muttered under his breath.

"... Sir?"

"Are you quite certain that you wish to stay?" He looked at the older man now- time and pain had bleached the once vibrant red locks white.

"The weather agrees with me here." Strongbow replied with a shrug. "And the food is delicious, really. Have you tried it?"

"I have." He stared at his former instructor in askance. "But to settle here?"

"I’m in occupied territory. I shall be fine, I think." Strongbow replied with amusement.

He made a noise in his throat. “Do these people not burn anything else?”

"They burn the incense because they grieve." Strongbow shrugged. "I find it quite relaxing."

"Hmph."

"I didn’t think you were still capable of worry." Strongbow stared at him curiously. "… We’ve all heard the tales. I think that is why they burn so much incense today."

"I will not talk about that.” He gritted out. “I do not wish to.”

"And I shall not prod." Strongbow said soothingly. "Not anymore, at least."

"What of your funds?" He asked instead.

"I’m well in hand, even if we somehow manage to agree to give the Isle over to the Ionians within the next year." Strongbow smiled at him. "There’s something I want you to have, before you return to the mainland."

He tilted his head. “What is it?”

"My bow."

A muscle twitched in his jaw irritably. The Black Bow- it was not the same as… as her weapon had been,but it had been enchanted along the same lines.

"Are you sure?" He forced himself to ask. "If these people should wish to kill you, shouldn’t you defend yourself?"

"I’m an old man." Strongbow shrugged. "And… well, if my time should come, then let it come, I say. Only- I do not want them to have my bow, you understand?"

"I was not your best student, surely?" Darius tried- he didn’t know why he didn’t want to have the venerable weapon, only that he knew he did not want to.

"Gods above, no. But you’re the only one I’ve kept in touch with over the years." Strongbow laughed. "Keep it. Pass it on. Pawn it for Draven’s welfare. I do not care- as long as it does not go into Ionian hands when I die, that would suffice."

The Black Bow belonged to Strongbow’s family, after all- but then again William did not have anyone.

Not anymore.

"… Peaches?" He probed as he lifted his face from where he had been sniffing her neck.

"You read the writing on my soap, didn’t you?" She reached behind her and pushed a pillow into his face. "When it comes to guessing smells, that’s not exactly fair, Dar."

"I did not." He grumpily mumbled. "I can smell scents just fine."

"Did too." She lifted the pillow and stared at his face.

He did his best impression of a Draven pout.

"Did too." She insisted.

"But I don’t have to be fair." He pointed out. "We live in Noxus."

Now it was her turn to pout at him.

"Games have to be fair." She said. "That’s what makes them fun- both sides have an equal chance to win."

"… Hmh."

"You-" She reached up to pinch the nostrils of his nose shut. "need to be a bit more forgiving."

"If that would be the case, then I probably should have been born in Demacia." He remarked, his voice transforming into a far more nasal tone because she still had her fingers about his nose.

She clamped a hand over her mouth to stop herself from giggling.

"But then again that would make you my enemy." She said in between attempts at breathing.

"A fair point." He conceded. "But I still won."

"By rigging the game and reading the writing on my soap." She rolled her eyes as she removed her fingers from his nose.

"I still won." He insisted childishly. "Which means I get a reward."

"A pat on the head, like a good little dog." She proposed mirthfully.

"Oh shut up, woman." He hissed.

He craned his head and tried to kiss her but as she pushed her head up, he only managed to get her lower lip into his mouth.

"I think you missed." She mumbled around his lip.

He growled as he tilted his head up.

"Well, would that suffice?"

"Did I rub you the wrong way? Oh, you poor baby."

"… Strong stuff." Nighy rumbled at him as he passed a vial of Singed’s latest at the Lieutenant-General. He observed the sickly green liquid flow lazily inside the glass vial before he returned it to the Lieutenant-Colonel.

"Open it." He said.

Hesitantly, Nighy reached over and pulled open the stopper- at once, the acrid and metallic fumes reached into their nostrils, penetrated their senses and filled their noses with a burning tang that seemed to cling to their very flesh.

Darius gestured for Nighy to stopper the vial, and the Lieutenant-Colonel did so gladly.

"How will it be deployed?"

"Artillery shells, sir." Nighy supplied helpfully. "It’s designed to disperse in a low and dense cloud upon impact."

"And the effects?" Darius queried.

"Apparently, it’s corrosive enough to melt through armor in less than a second. If we use it on a human being- It’ll burn them alive, it will."

"You have Singed’s guarantee on that?" He inquired.

"Definitely, sir. If I know Singed, he’s always certain of his ah- projects."

"But you’re asking permission from me to use this on the Ionians." The Lieutenant-General pointed out. "As much as I value our Zaunite companions for their contracted service, we must be certain of what we are using."

Nighy nodded.

"Pass the word for Lieutenant-Colonel Schröter." Darius rumbled to his adjutant. "And for Gendarme-Commander Vinko. Tell them I require a… volunteer from the prison company- preferably someone on suicide watch."

"For what sir?" Rolston looked at him bemusedly.

"Pull up a chair." Strongbow remarked with vague amusement.

"What exactly are we watching?"

"We," Strongbow stressed as the smell of freshly spilt blood wafted up from the partially muddy field underneath them. "are watching for soldiers."

"These are conscripts." He remarked as he took a seat next to the lieutenant. The latest batch of conscripted men were paraded out to the observers like show horses while the corpses were pulled away.

"Conscripts in training." Strongbow corrected as he passed him a stein. "Now of course, it isn’t our job to pick through the morass of human degradation- that’s the Provost Marshalls and senior enlisteds’ jobs- but at least we get to see what we have to look forward to, hm?”

"Anything would beat an alcohol-sodden idiot fished out of the river." Darius rumbled.

"You’d be surprised- after all, we all were when we saw the caliber of men who were pulled out from holes in the ground too." Strongbow said slyly.