[Ahri/Sona] Silent, But Not Still
Slash order has been reversed in ff.net description. Unfortunately, I cannot edit my title here.
This is a fanfic. It's not lewd and probably will never be. Also on ff.net, on my account "megicci"
[CENTER]Silent, But Not Still
Ahri had walked these fields many times. It'd been a century – perhaps more than one – since her birth here. The full humans whom she so envied cultivated the once-devastated land. The sight before her – rolling hills, each with a tilled field and terraced with rice paddies – gave her a sense of nostalgia, a sense of pride, and a feeling of regret. The beings to whom she owed her continuing life, to whom she owed her dream's near fulfillment – she had taken their lives without recompense. A moment of bliss followed by a moment of horror is not bliss at all, decidedly.
So many humans' life forces had she been made drunk off. So many humans who'd been drunk with desire for the nine-tailed fox. She loved humans – why else would she become one? But to simply give her to them in a carnal manner, and nothing more, nothing less for only an instant before taking the humans' futures full of infinite potential was something... dreadful. She did not enjoy the activity, or revel in it, like all those whom she had lured seemed to assume.
This lifestyle only allowed Ahri loneliness. Day after day of wandering from village to village had jaded her. After all, her techniques often involved her incorporating herself into the villages she came across. This meant that any revisits within two generations would have her discovered. So far, she was only a myth.
She didn't exist. Just a myth. None of those who had the chance to witness the throes of a more physical passion were alive to tell of her. More importantly, none of the people she had charmed actually loved her.
In short, Ahri was lonely. She could not afford to befriend or love a human, and it seemed that no other creatures of her kind existed – she had caught wind of a few (for example, a crow-man with a long red nose, and some other sort of crow abomination with a third leg), but never had she come across another. So when she came across a transcendent feline – close relative to her vulpine nature – taking a nap on an abandoned hermit's hut's roof, she couldn't resist to urge to wake the feline.
The feline – nekomata – was a female, the same as Ahri. As such, Ahri was elated – here was someone she could truly share a bond with, one that wasn't clouded by lust. Most likely. The sleeping figure Ahri looked upon breathed lightly, but deeply. These breaths were delicate but unreserved, almost like a child's. She had two cat tails, but seeing as she was sleeping, they lay prone on the floor much as she did. The nekomata's clothing was worn and ragged and made of unknown cloth, seemingly stolen off some random villager. Her armpits were exposed, and Ahri... kind of wanted to tickle them.
So she did.
The ensuing giggles – at a calming mid pitch – surprised Ahri. The nekomata did not move at all, but laughter still came from her lips. It was amazing.
But, alas, it didn't last; the transcendent feline sprung awake and glared at Ahri. The gumiho almost surmised that the nekomata would yowl or claw at her, but these thoughts were interrupted by the newly-awakened feline's question.
“How come your boobs are so huge?”
Ahri woke. She frowned. Once again, no dreams. Not that she supposed foxes had dreams often, but what she wanted was to be human at last. Humans dreamed nearly every night, and for her to suddenly start moving away from her ideal was both baffling and frustrating.
More baffling and frustrating were the ridiculous expectations her summoners imposed upon her since she entered the League. “Oh, you're that ****” this, or “Hey, can you do a sexy dance for me?” that. She'd spewed the same joke so many times that simply uttering the first syllable made her want to puke. Seriously, they should have made laws about summoners sexually harassing their champions. But no one wanted to listen to the League's *****.
Following these musings, Ahri readied herself for the day's toils. Being a relatively popular champion (for many reasons, some of which she disliked) meant she would be getting several summonings a day. It didn't worry her, though; the hours were better than the average human's day job. As per usual, she spent quite a while readying her hair. It was a bit jarring at first to do her hair manually rather than with magic, but in order to further her endeavor to become human, she put effort at things with little return. Foolish of the humans, but human indeed. A morning shower wasn't necessary; Ionians tended to shower at night, and she had adopted the routine. As such, after brushing her (pearly white!) teeth and splashing her face a few times to wake up, she exited her League housing.
It was nice to have a place to stay, for once. But there was somewhere I could stay, thought Ahri. But then...
Regretting the past wouldn't do. She passed the Judgment for a reason. Ahri continued her graceful stride to somewhere she could pass the time until her next summoning. A creature of her origin didn't require food (though it was nice once in a while), and she didn't tend to socialize with other champions too often. When she did, they approached her or just happened to be around, and all she could manage was a weakly seductive tone or a meagerly humorous jab. It could be concluded, then, that she wouldn't be going to the library – too many bookish nerds lived in the Institute of War's champion accommodations. The cafeteria, bar, and cafe were always crowded with the more socially apt and obnoxious of the champions, and the artificial lake and forest were frequented by the various less humanoid champions of the League.
Ahri sighed. There was nothing to do in her room but sleep, and most of the places that facilitated a pastime were too filled with people and things that reminded her of wrongs and rights. Maybe she'd be fine going to the playground with Nunu, Amumu, and Annie. They seemed to be quiet and thoughtful, and at least got along. Plus, children wouldn't approach someone like her with any manner other than respect.
On the way to the playground and park, Ahri passed by the various musical buildings. These veritable amphitheaters were used by summoners and champions alike, considering the multitude of the musically inclined among these groups. She anxiously jogged past the Pentakill practice room. The lyrics didn't exactly appeal to her.
But amidst the guttural growls and overbearing symphonies laid out by Karthus's voice, Ahri heard the droning of guitar and bass intermingling. And amidst even those, she heard a much less muddled noise. It brought clarity to her mind. She immediately stood straight, with a posture akin to Fiora's, and adjusted her ears to listen to it more clearly.
The chords and harmonies seemed to speak of a past of helplessness, and of dear ones lost to one's own hand. They plucked and rang and jangled, but most importantly, Ahri felt as if she was being surrounded by the notes.
Each note spoke to her, sang to her, and assured her that things would be alright. Yet still, they were tinged with hopelessness and pain, and self-doubt. Ahri instinctively grabbed her right shoulder.
She had goosebumps.
She was sobbing.
“Probably... can't let those kids see me like this,” she muttered, suppressing multiple tear-induced hiccups. The playground was off for today, with its yordle-sized slides and bear-sized scratch posts. She supposed she would go home, before her thoughts redirected themselves to those unique, harp-like sounds that threatened to give Ahri a crash course on her past.
A summoner's voice intruded in Ahri's head. This one was familiar, though she couldn't place a name onto it – most summoners didn't bother giving her a name. She was an object.
“You're up for the Demacian-Ionian alliance sparring match.”
The voice was male. He didn't sound particularly threatening, but these types were usually the worst, personality-wise. Ahri sent a little telepathic message back at him.
“Contract accepted. Which Field of Justice will we be skirmishing on today?”
“The Twisted Treeline.”
The name made Ahri shudder a bit. She'd been on that field a few times before, each time provoking more violent reactions than the last. Most didn't notice. It usually manifested in a twitch of a tail, or impaired aim. She hid it well enough. Summoner's Rift was gorgeous and alive, and reminded her of an ancient Ionia. But the Twisted Treeline felt more like the Rune Wars. The humans' conflict, petty as it was, that made her who she was. Begrudgingly, she allowed herself to be channeled and summoned into the Field of Justice.
It was sticky, moist, rife with decay. Putrid smells filled the area, negating Ahri's pleasant scent. Strange vegetation grew everywhere it could, some of it in shapes I dare not describe. Twisted Treeline, indeed.
The Twisted Treeline had its own unspoken set of rules, Ahri had learned the first time. All three of the summoned champions on one side were to go down the bottom lane to duel the other three, and with the proper composition, would come out on top and gain an advantage after acing the enemy team. Knowing this, Ahri evaluated the best idea as being to unlock the Orb of Deception within her and her summoner's link. He agreed, and had her buy a Doran's Ring as well. Ahri considered wearing it on her left hand, but frowned and slipped it on her right instead.
Ahri's team, excluding herself, was Demacian. It wasn't a bad composition, either – Shyvana dealt quite a bit of damage early on, with unparalleled movement speed and resilience. Fiora could utilize Shyvana's ability to reduce enemy defense in order to deal a large amount of damage at once. They were both great artists. Not nearly as good as me, though, Ahri decided.
The summoners of all three echoed a few sentences back and forth as the champions made their way to the brush past their side's turrets. Excerpts include such popular phrases as “girl power yea!” and “gl hf,” as well as “Ahri, I'll tell you a secret!” The summoners also discussed, in brief, how they would burst the enemy during their duel.
“Summoner,” Ahri asked, “Who are the enemy champions?”
“Sec, let me bring up the documents,” he replied, pausing before continuing, “Master Yi, Irelia, and Sona.”
Well, then. As long as they got the early advantage and pushed, at least, they would do fine. Yi's main threat was after he got enough farm, leading to kills, but that was difficult on this Field. Particularly with Miss Fiora the Turret Demolisher and Shyvana Dive-Central. Irelia, if denied farm, wouldn't be too bad, either, if they bursted her properly.
But who was Sona? Ahri'd never sparred with someone with that name before.
By the time she reached the brush, she knew. Sona, Irelia, and Yi were waiting there in ambush. Ahri and her summoner had the prescience to launch her orb in there first, while Shyvana and co. rushed in. Fiora was relatively skilled with her parries, though, so Yi fell rather quickly. But Irelia wouldn't die, for some reason. Sona didn't seem to be doing anything, and Irelia normally wasn't this resilient, so why?
Ahri attuned her ears to something other than the clash of steel.
The melody of Sona's arias, chords, and harmonies played with the ferocity of battle invaded Ahri's ear canals.
Yes, Sona was the second member of Pentakill, and the player of the etwahl.
The gumiho's knees gave, and she fell to the floor crying.
Why does this music resonate so?
(I dunno if your accepting comments, but I must say I love it. Well done and keep working hard!)
You have my interest I want to see how this plays out
Wait, you have to say if you're accepting comments? Geez.
I am unsure. I thought it would be polite D:
its good... but personal preference, your trying to like make Runeterra real but keep the summoners as humans on computer it seems o.o
Absolutely amazing! Can't wait for more!
P.S. Chapter 2 should be out within 3 days. I can write approx. 1,000 words an hour, but soooo lazy.
It has Ahri, so I am happy. Great writing so far
Chapter 2 here.
As a note, I'll be drawing what Kyou looks like later.
Ahri didn't particularly mind the strange feline-humanoid's incessant company. It seemed like the girl followed her everywhere. Not that it was unpleasant, of course; it just got in the way when Ahri needed some sustenance. The nekomata had a strange mix of unyielding naivete and profound wisdom, which was quite amusing to the gumiho. At least she had someone to talk to, about things besides reproductive organs.
Earlier, Ahri asked the nekomata her name. She gingerly replied, “I'm Kyou! What's your name? Besides, you know, boobs.”
Irritated, the older of the transcendent duo mussed Kyou's shorter, softer hair. “Not 'boobs.' My name is Ahri.” She paused in thought, holding up a finger to signal for silence. “I've never really told anyone my name before.”
“Why not?” asked Kyou, slightly perturbed.
“No one's asked.” It didn't take much for Ahri to force a stoic face. She wondered why, when humans placed so much value on names, they didn't ask during the most intimate act possible of two humans.
Kyou stood on the tips of her toes and reached her entire arm-span to pat Ahri on the head, behind her ears. Ahri let the slightest grin show – not because she thought it was cute or because she enjoyed it, but because of the irony. “I don't think foxes purr, Kyou.”
“Oh,” came the disheartened reply.
“You wanted to hear me purr?”
“No, it's just... I always purr when I'm happy.” That explained the cacophony heard while they walked to the next village. Ahri refrained from commenting, though.
“I am happy,” said Ahri. “Happy enough, anyways.”
“Really? What do you even do every day? Like, I climb trees and talk to the tigers. Sometimes I go to eat rodents, but there aren't a lot around.”
This was quite the predicament. Well, to be able to transcend, she must have gotten to that age as a cat, at least. It wouldn't be ideal to tell Kyou, though. Ah, geez, thought the gumiho. Whatever.
“I eat the souls of humans by sort-of-kind-of having *** with them.”
Kyou stared blankly at Ahri. “Sounds interesting. Can I try?”
Ahri looked cynically off to the side. “I don't think you have the, uh, set of tools for that.”
Arms wrapped around Ahri's waist. She knew they belonged to Kyou, and didn't make a big deal about it. Cats were strange, needy creatures, she found. The only problem was what Kyou would do after hugging. At this point, Ahri found herself hoping nekomata didn't have claws.
Kyou nuzzled her face into Ahri's back, and placed a kiss on her shoulder blade. This elicited a jolt, and Ahri made her way out of Kyou's embrace.
“You really don't have the set of tools,” muttered Ahri.
“And I was sure you'd make erotic noises.”
“And I am more sure than ever that you'll never be able to do that sort of thing.”
“Really? 'Cause, I wanna be as good as you.”
Ahri glanced at Kyou in disdain. Was she serious? Moreover, how did Kyou know if Ahri was any good at all?
Kyou continued. “How else am I supposed to satisfy you?”
“Are you serious?” Ahri shot back reflexively, as if she was gagging.
“I like you.”
Ahri would have blushed if her mental guards weren't so sturdy. This was, after all, the first time anyone had told her that while sober. It was also the first time she heard it from a girl she met two hours ago. “Do you really? Are you sure that's not just my natural sexiness rolling off of my body?”
“I think you might like me back a little, huh.”
“Do not!” yelled Ahri, flustered. It seemed Kyou had more experience in this part of interpersonal relationships than the gumiho did.
“You so totally do,” replied Kyou. She then skipped ahead and stopped with her face in front of Ahri's, lips puckered. The target of Kyou's kiss didn't really appreciate this behavior. It reminded her a bit too much of the men she sometimes charmed near taverns. This girl, at least, did not force herself upon the gumiho.
Ahri stopped in front of Kyou and stared past her, waiting for the girl to get bored of waiting for a kiss. Apparently, though, all nekomata had Heart of Patience +5 equipped constantly. Getting bored herself, Ahri redirected her gaze at her new-found traveling companion.
Kyou was trembling.
That's right. Cats do get attached to people this quickly. Ahri sighed. “I give up.”
Ahri's lips brushed against Kyou's forehead. The latter squealed in excitement. “I do too have the tools!”
Ahri nodded with a sarcastic grin and continued on, motioning for Kyou to follow her. They walked in silence the rest of the way.
Fiora and Shyvana died to Sona's Power Chords. Ahri could faintly feel the trauma of being ripped in half mentally that emanated from their bodies. She tensed – still on the floor – bracing herself for death, as well. It wasn't exactly a good day.
Sona played the Aria of Perseverance, allowing Irelia to stand up from her sustained wounds. Each soft note swathed itself upon Ahri before moving on, carried by the wind. Each time, Ahri's emotions decided to smack her upside the head. She held in a new wave of tears, making an effort to swallow.
The Aria abruptly ended in the middle of its sixteenth measure. A hand, delicate fingers, placed itself atop Ahri's head. Sona knelt down and placed her other hand on Ahri's shoulder. The nine-tails fox met Sona's eyes, her vision still blurry from tears. Sona smiled softly and nodded to Irelia, her lanemate.
“She asks, 'are you okay?'” relayed Irelia.
Ahri took a deep breath, then exhaled, lowering her eyes. “Why don't you kill me?”
The Maven of the Strings mussed Ahri's hair a bit and, using the gumiho's chin as leverage, brought their gazes together. She shook her head and smiled. The Nine-tails Fox opened her mouth so as to speak, but was interrupted by Irelia.
“She says, 'This is a practice match between two allied city-states. Would it not be rude to kill an ally offering no resistance?'”
A revelation was made. Ahri pointed at Sona, noticeably more chipper, and asked, “Is she mute?”
Sona nodded. She took Ahri's hand – Ahri was startled, but didn't quite have the energy to resist – and brought it to her neck. Sona's vocal cords moved. Her lips and tongue did indeed form words. No sound came forth. The point being made, Sona released Ahri's hand. The latter withdrew her hand as Sona stood.
“I believe we should adjourn this match,” said Irelia. “We clearly have been neglecting one of our champions' mental state.”
Ahri did not look forward to having to go to one of the infamous League therapists. “What do you mean?”
Irelia's face fell. “You cried to the point of catharsis in the middle of a teamfight. There is something wrong, and not something minor. We do have Judgments for a reason, you know.”
Groaning, Ahri asked, “Is there a process I have to go through? Monitoring, anything?”
Sona, still near Ahri, placed a reassuring hand on Ahri's shoulder, patting a few times. She averted her eyes to look at Irelia.
“We will discuss that after you've calmed down. Sona doesn't think kindly of those therapists, either. Mostly because she can't talk.”
Ahri let loose a relieved sigh. She'd gotten caught up in her solitude. Just this exchange gave her a little confidence boost, enough that she could focus on the present – not what she was fighting for or any other intangible concepts.
The grasp of the summoning slowly loosened its hold on Ahri. She saw the faint, ethereal glimmering on Irelia and Sona as well.
“We'll be in the lobby for this match. Meet us there? Surely, you do not want to deal with those obnoxious summoners.”
She made a weak gesture of agreement. Following that, the summoning contract lost its hold entirely. Ahri's feet touched the tiled floor of the Institute's central hall. There wasn't much else to do, so she began striding towards the lobby for that match. Lobbies typically weren't too crowded, either, even if the atmosphere was somber and stagnant.
She passed by different people on her way: humanoid, bird, what-have-you. Each one, she supposed, shouldered a burden; most of their faces were stoic, solemn. Those who were smiling had lips too upturned to be that idealized bliss. It wasn't a big deal that she had no one to talk to. No one else seemed to be bawling because of some Ab harmonics. She made these observations, unfazed by the prominent catcalls echoing from every corner. I'm a fox. Why can't they at least get that right?
Ahri only put up her seductive act for the show of others. At one point or another in her life, it had become second nature to her. What was first nature, she did not know. There wasn't much of a point in wondering. At the top of her list of priorities, however, was not appeasing the occasional hedonist, but finding Irelia and Sona. She really didn't want to have to deal with another mortal buffoon asking for her number, so as to call her maybe.
Having pondered for a while now, Ahri's blank gaze defrosted itself to reveal the match lobby. Also, Irelia and Sona's puzzled faces.
“You have been staring at that couch for a while now,” mused Irelia.
Sona smiled warmly. Her lips, too, were too upturned. Ahri exhaled and said nothing of it. The Maven of the Strings motioned for Ahri to sit on aforementioned couch, a single eyebrow twitching. She was clearly fighting the urge to reveal a silly facial expression.
With all three seated (Ahri a bit higher up, thanks to her tails), Irelia began interrogation.
“I think we'd all do well to skip the chit-chat,” she said. “Ahri. You do know the only way we can avoid informing the League of a champion's volatile mental state is if we know what is bothering you?”
“I'd assume you know more than me,” said Ahri.
“Good,” replied Irelia. “Then I would ask you to share at least some of the details. Sona would like to know, too.”
Did the Maven just enjoy listening to other's troubles so she could take her mind of her own? Even with this thought, Ahri couldn't feel irritated.
“I'd rather not.”
“I'd rather not resort to threats.” This elicited a bit of a slouch from Ahri.
“Fine.” Ahri paused. “I'm lonely.”
A look of non-comprehension crossed Irelia's face. Of course the coveted child of Ionia wouldn't know that feeling. When Ahri looked to see Sona's reaction, curious, she met the back of Sona's head. It wasn't as if she didn't know Sona felt at least a little lonely before. Ahri didn't know, though, that Sona felt it so strongly she had to conceal her tears at someone else mentioning it.
“Well,” Irelia began, “I think that's a problem a lot of-”
“Shush, you,” Ahri parried, and reached over to tap Sona's shoulder. “I think you have been overlooking someone for longer than I've been overlooked.”
Sona turned and gazed at Ahri, unblinking. Tears still gathered and rolled down her cheek, although no sounds of sniffling or sobbing or other such crying noises escaped her mouth.
Ahri smiled softly. It was genuine, for once; she had, of course, used it for other not quite as truthful purposes, but this time, she couldn't help but feel joyful that someone else out there was in the same wallowing pit of despair as her.
“Sona, it's okay,” she said in as comforting a voice as she could. Normally – before she joined the League, her voice was used to... “energize,” not comfort.
Sona clearly detected the cadences of sympathy in Ahri's voice. It was only something natural for a musician. She motioned a finger upwards, and her etwahl came to her lap. A few light, quick measures came from the instrument, working their way up to a fortissimo, then calming once more into a pianissimo. It was Sona's thanks for the concern. A generous and most certainly true expression of thanks. She gave up her genuine emotions so easily (in musical form, at least), in contrast to Ahri's near perpetual guise of self-assured *** appeal.
So it was natural that Ahri's heart fluttered with each time the notes built higher on the treble staff, and each time the notes hit lower on the bass clef. She could sympathize, and at the same time these emotions were incredibly foreign to her. Different, yet similar.
She'd felt something similar to this before, though not with quite as much a sense of sameness – it was more of an opposites attract sort of thing. And that ended pretty badly. So Ahri just smiled and said,
Vague as it was, no one else in the room divined the true meaning behind that word.
P.S.: I am fully aware that I stretched Ahri's character quite a bit. It just sort of spills out. I think I'm projecting a bit of myself into every character I write. Plus I have this weird image of Ahri as secretly sweet and motherly and stuff. No idea where the angst came from, though.
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