[Story] Humble Interaction

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Farnbil

Senior Member

12-27-2011

Sona Story, 11k words, Companionship

An unsure and desperate summoner seeks a new champion to add to his roster. With the influence he accumulated, the summoner efforts to recruit Sona. What follows is a journey of self discovery and an exchange of condolences.

The Concert

I must admit that summoning is not a strength of mine. In fact, I’m quite bad at it. It was a miracle I persisted playing past the tenth level. Perhaps not a miracle-more of an exhibition of the incredible stubborn baseness of my own mind. So when I was informed that my influence had reached the third tier in terms of pointage I was intimidated with the choices presented to me. With a jarring experience interviewing Singed some time before, I had questions about whether I should even be pursuing my summoning career at all on top of keeping my sanity. One could equate that period to a mid-life crisis. I felt detached and incompetent, giving up on everything else except summoning in a savage effort to prove myself. And while interacting with Singed produced splendid results on the battlefield I felt like he was becoming more dominant. More and more I felt helpless in the face of my fellow summoners and to the mad chemist. Thankfully I came into contact with a supportive clique of summoners who recommended I acquire the services of a support champion and take some steps back from summoning corrosive personalities like Singed for a while. His nearly stripped me of empathy, nearly drained me of the capacity to even care of my own safety, let alone that of others. That is the mind of a mass murderer.

The Demacian concert hall stood as a testament to just who ‘big brother’ was in the contest of culture. I traveled there by airship with a trio of summoners from Piltover. The Institute of Justice paid much of the expense for the trip, as we were on official League business. Inside the domed building every piece of architecture seemed to crush you down with their weight. Especially when sitting in those small theatre seats, the scale of the place looked as if it were to come at you like the bottom of a large drop, which made for good acoustics. That night belonged to Sona the Maven of the Strings, a popular champion which I had not been exposed to at all until then. The Institute must have made much effort in securing the spots for me and the other summoners and I must thank them along with my friends who recommended the trip. They gave me a gift to remember.

The lamps dimmed, and the ambient noise ceased. On the stage I saw some gaseous blue form slowly make its way from the side, marked with streaks of gold. Her face was bold, enticing, yet soft and delicate. Forgive me for indulging in this language, but for a presence like Sona’s what else could do justice? Everything about her is iridescent and flowing. Awe inspiring, heart stopping, etcetera, etcetera. Don’t take this as feelings for her. I was nothing more than infatuated, but deeply so at the time. So the champion appeared on stage, playing at the strings of my heart before she even started her performance. Everyone else must have felt something like that at one point when going to her concerts-but that magic, it is so alien to me! Is it of the nature born in our animal blood that she manipulates, or a lustrous mineral that drives men to climb mountains and conquer the seas? That is the question of music, to me at least.

I heard that she improvised the whole show that night, but it sure didn’t feel like it. I use the word ‘feel’ because ‘sound’ is only part of the experience. Sona plays an ‘etwahl’, a large stringed instrument, a bridge of strings with no frets, a beautiful instrument in its own right. She started out with a contemplative tone. The etwahl reads off the exposition to an incoming stream of music. My mind was gently prodded into a state of intrigue. Then she opened a trapdoor under my feet with a single deep and resounding chord. The progression that followed left me battered, thrown out of a strange home she only just showed me. Stuttering notes slashed at my arms and legs with a tingling sensation, leaving me helpless to react mentally. After a bit of this, a tune started to form, hesitant and hopeful. She led me up a ramp, slowly but surely and…picking up speed. Dissonance began to burst outward from within the structure. Defiance, rage, desperation, I remember gripping the armrest and sweating profusely at this point. And then suddenly it dropped, very loudly, on a very deliberate and booming arpeggio. Laying on the ground, broken, I was lifted by a misty wave of impressionist color, just inches off the ground. The last notes trailed off like light does in a thick fog. And then silence settled into the architecture, a jarring movement in its own right. I took in the air. Needless to say we applauded with great fervor.

In a room backstage the four of us summoners were to have an audience with the maven herself. We were nothing short of excited. While waiting for Sona to appear, I learned from one of my compatriots that he was learning how to play the etwahl himself. I still wonder-to what end? The door opened, and there she was, standing as one of her promotional posters framed on the wall and scaled to life-size. I mentioned earlier how smitten I was sitting in the audience. In person that changed into an enveloping cloud of uplifting enchantment. My heart was racing, which would be foreign to my condition in the time before coming to Sona’s concert. Floating behind her as she walked into the room was her etwahl, plucking idle notes that rippled through us. We told her about our intent, how we wished to be able to summon her outside of “free weeks” and of the interview required to develop trust between the two parties. Remember that the summoner is the one being judged in this instance.

She sat so immaculate on that stool. I could be satisfied just by being in the same space to marvel her. However, the conversation didn’t amount to much because of her stoic silence that persisted the entire time we were there. Sona never uttered a single word as she sort of took in all our voices, reading our language like sheet music (if you look at it that way). In the back of my head I could feel an unpleasant tinge of guilt, wondering if we by our own fault had stifled her being under us.

I was surprised to learn that she is mute. Apparently that was news only to me, for I had mistaken her initial silence for an attempt at cordiality. What she expressed in her performance-that was her true voice. And I bet that was her story as well. But what of me, who can say so much yet fall short of moving a leaf? The thought of my words being used by another-that idea somehow came to mind when recalling Sona’s performance. It troubles me greatly. We established dates for our individual meetings. My interview will occur next week. The summoners and I expressed how we were moved by her music. With a warm smile, the League champion shook our hands as we departed. Ackwardly, I gave her a thumbs-up as I walked out of the door. There was a very slight bewilderment on her face as I ran to catch up with the others.

Now I must measure myself. Am I good enough for her? Am I good enough for anyone?


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Farnbil

Senior Member

01-01-2012

The Snowdown and The Interview

I haven’t uttered a word in three days since I communed with Sona. It’s sometimes painful yet liberating at the same time. Conversations are such treasures-the exchange of ideas between two bodies is a ritual I exercised frequently on and off the fields of justice. Communication between your teammates is vital to success in any team endeavor (especially League matches). However, my first real exchange with Sona made me reevaluate the importance of speech in our civilized Valoran.

Being audience to Sona in the Institute of War is a big deal. As a musician first and foremost her visits to the Institute of War are sporadic and infrequent. There was much fanfare on her arrival, and rumors of a performance were spread around the building. I watched among a large crowd as she glided through the main entrance in a distinctively festive red cloak. The champions Karma and Swain were present for a small welcoming celebration (riding the wave of Snowdown festivities still in full swing). Among the whirring noise of conversation and reverie, the alienating effect of muteness was most uncomfortable. Especially with such personalities like the champions and celebrity summoners dominating the scene I felt passed over like furniture. Perhaps if I ran around flinging tables over my head I could have started a pleasant conversation with someone while holding back fits of maniacal laughter. Trade one set of shackles for another.

When Sona got on the stage at the end of the entrance hall, everything slowed to a stop. The rumors were true! I was so elated my heart skipped a beat (followed by an aching chest pain-don’t eat too much during the holidays!) We recognized the song as a familiar Wintersday tune. ‘The glitter of snow” is a Freljordian love song known by most of Valoran. It goes something like this:

In the night is a chill that cuts deep through my skin as I call for a sign of love that burns within.
Now the earth spins a death that no lover should know, time goes on, and my love is lost to the storm.

Climbing high on a mountaintop, in time to see the sun. Left behind is a world where my words failed to show my heart.
This voice will cry in pain as I stand grasping for your hand. But no sound will heal my hidden wounds deep inside.

And now, while I gaze at the snow, I see your eyes twinkling brighter than stars. I’m yearning for warmth.
Where, where on this callous earth is your embrace? How can I tell you I love you?

About halfway through the audience began to sing along. I can’t remember if I did so as well. What I do remember distinctly, if anything was to become ingrained into my memory of that evening, was a single tear on Sona’s smiling face. In a sort of irony, have we provided her with a voice with which she could speak to us? And did I fall right in with the rest? Or is it just me getting used to singing again?

Later in the week I got some of my answers straight from Sona herself.

The chamber is dimly lit in a familiar purple-bluish shade. In the center of the room are two seats sitting back to back. Miscelaneous plaques and notices can be read for reference if one were to switch on a few more lamps. They are purposely left dark to increase concentration. Summoners and champions use these rooms for practicing summoning magic in a safe environment. That is a relative tern, for particularly volatile champions must be restrained in some way or another. We were fairly sure Sona wouldn’t mean any danger. And to a slight hint of disheartenment from me, we were right. Outside the room Sona and I exchanged smiles. I felt no need to explain the procedure again-she had her time with another summoner some days before and the process is straightforward enough. Caught off guard by my silence, the musician raised an eyebrow offering a queue for me to start talking peasantries. I coughed nervously and remembered why I was there. Trying to be prompt, I stuttered something like “If you’re ready, Ms. Buvelle.” Sounded like an absolute tool there. Still, Sona was human after all and to my relief she nodded her head in confirmation. Fog is the stuff clouds are made of. Up close, the sun shines through better.

We both sat on the two stone seats facing back to back. Looking over my shoulder I noticed that same perfect posture from the concert. I straightened my back and shoulders. It felt good, empowering. Try working on your posture sometime, reader. With this, I concentrated on my magic. While incantations are part of the manual, verbalizing them only serve to help one focus. It never worked for me-I always had trouble articulating them. In no time I had a C-Ball formed between my palms (C is jargon for ‘Client’) swirling with blue energy. And then with a great deal of mental effort I sent out a wave of magic across the room. With that, I sent out a part of my own being. When a summoner does this, they are briefly at the mercy of any mind in the general area as they can ‘catch the wave’ for themselves. Sona grasped it with a surprising eagerness. This business I assumed was so mundane to her, as I supposed was with any champion of the League. At this point I precariously started to lose my physical self. Talk to any summoner about out-of-body experiences because they can describe it better than I can. As I entered Sona’s mind I expected pain. After summoning Singed so many times the sensation of scarred flesh is familiar. However, this experience was something very, very alien.

I was assaulted with an enveloping awareness of sound. What came at me first was Sona’s heartbeat. Rhythmically her body acted as a metronome to a softer beat, washing in and out like waves on a beach. The walls reverberated everything, and it seems that Sona can see it happening! As heat distorts light, so does sound distort the still air. I tried to identify that beat which ticked so harmoniously with hers. It was water, a thick liquid, passing through something muffled and coarse. And then I heard a voice-her voice! Strong, airy, powerful yet gentle it was. What she said comforted me overall, yet unsettled my nerves with a haunting familiarity.

“I hear you.”

Thumping now was the sound that played alongside Sona’s heartbeat. I sensed she was grasping something warm and coarse. It was my own limp hand, pulsing with assurance.


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Farnbil

Senior Member

01-03-2012

What makes my story so inaccessible?

I posted the first chapter of 'Humble Interactions with Sona' on three different sites and not one of them yielded feedback in any way shape or form. After posting the second chapter nothing's changed. I need the feedback to improve myself as a writer and keep my drive going.

So what makes people pass over a slice-of-life story and go nuts over TeemoXSona?


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Gaspump

Senior Member

01-03-2012

I'm baffled as to why no-one has commented on this. It's interesting, pretty well written, and not too long. Keep up with this, It'll be interesting to see where it goes.


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WhaleIord

Senior Member

01-03-2012

This is a pretty good read! Don't let the lack of replies drag you down. Keep going!


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Ozlin

Senior Member

01-04-2012

teemo/sona is garbage, this is good. Maybe people didn't like that it was smart and clever? Anyways, thumbs up.


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Zunqivo

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Senior Member

01-04-2012

I really like this story. I'm sorry for not posting on this earlier (drawbacks on using the Kindle...), but I really like the style you presented the story in. It reminded me of books than a short story, because your descriptions were well done.

Also, because Sona's my favorite character.


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Farnbil

Senior Member

01-07-2012

The Performance


And so it was that I joined countless other summoners who can call Sona their own. Not in a possessive fashion-that would be demeaning. I can write another one thousand words about her beauty, her grace. But I must not forget where my obligations lie. The Institute of War is such a fanciful place. Deciding the fate of nations on the line of gladiatorial battles looks like a very Utopian, very dystopian concept that I support with my feet on the ground. War is a nightmare, a ball-gag forced on the people while they are deafened by a horrid dissonance, a very tired song and dance. The champions who volunteered to be a part of this I must commend for their inhuman conviction. Takes at least that much to surrender yourself to this punishment. Among this league of legends here is a musician. And she's mute! Who has time to appreciate music during battle? Who has time to sing, let alone have the voice to sing while it's not talking? Or explaining? Laughing, joking, ordering, pleading, QUARRELING, PROMISING! NOISE! ALL NOISE NOISE NOISE ALL SPOT ON TIMING WITH A BLOODIED TUNING FORK ALL WAITING FOR AN EXCUSE TO END IT ALL! **** it all! Why was it all fine and dandy just days ago? To leave me behind to hang myself before I have to hear it all! But what do I fill this void with?

She has no voice, and she wears her blue hair in ponytails to match her sky blue dress. Every day the noise builds on her as it does to all of us. And a few days ago we went together to Summoner's Rift to breathe.

I entered Sona's mind soaked in past tears, a mangy helpless thing. That time she took me in with a great deal of hesitation. She picked me up and shook me off, murmuring something into my head with her etwahl. The anticipation was nerve wrecking. I stood over my C-Ball concentrating with four other summoners in the Institute, while Sona and the other participating champions arrived to Summoner's Rift in rings of blue light. As soon as she touched down, her fingers ran across the strings on her instrument. She started an idle melody, a song of noble strength which honed our senses. On our blue glowing platform was the silent armordillo Rammus, the indomitable iron man Mordekaiser, the large and intoxicated Gragas, the instinctual voidling Kog'maw, and Sona. She closed her eyes and sighed contently. Quickly gearing up, everyone headed out to their lanes. A pang of fear froze me for a moment while Sona floated on, a fear for her well being, a dangerous sympathy. As I shivered in this panicky fit, Sona reached out with her mind and grasped my hand in the same manner as before. Like setting time on a metronome, she stilled my pulse with hers. With hands like those, everything is an instrument that can be tuned.

Kog'maw's summoner lengthened his leash, and the void creature merrily followed behind Sona with what looked like a smile. And then we heard the most perculiar thing to escape the mouth of the void-he began to sing! Yes, the mouth of the abyss began to gurgle out notes alongside Sona's song as we walked together. "Laaa la la la! Largh garr gaah!" No audience could be more heartwarming to perform for. Sona led him along as she played. Kog'maw began to sing quieter as we reached the outermost turret, turning into a content humming as the clock ran down seconds. Briefly exiting Sona's mind, I turned to my teammate next to me and got a glance at his face. The summoner was blinking sharply as if something were in his eyes. They were bloodshot-probably from lack of sleep. Behind us came the blue minions marching without a sound. They clashed with the purple minions up ahead. We could see a grizzled walnut of a man emerging from the fog of war, a soft talking gunslinger named Graves. Kog'maw eagerly began to spit at the purple minions, felling them one by one as he was biddened by his summoner. I was obligated to simply wait for an opprotunity to strike at our opponents. Graves fired a buckshot round at us-there was a distinct blast of sound which distorted our vision. It caught on Sona's arm and on her instrument. The pain was sobering, yet not acute. Sona's face didn't chage one bit while I frowned in concentration.

We responded by forcefully strumming a chord on the etwahl. Her mind guided me through this maneuver, and I yeilded quietly. Dialogue would put us off timing and serve no end. A cone of blue magic honed in on Graves, and he staggered backwards. Sona took this opening and fired a high note that pierced his gut, causing him to bleed. His summoner backed off while Graves growled to himself. At first I thought this power was unreal. To inflict that much damage at such an early point in the match astounded me. Other summoners tell me that this ability is a major strength of hers and advise me to use it frequently. But its potency falls off later as the other champions gain power, so one must abuse this advantage early.

How fitting! It is always said that actions speak louder than words. Graves was escorted by Soraka, a pious mystic with an extensive knowledge of healing magic. Her summoner liberally casted these spells on Graves to keep him standing. It seemed that their endurance would win out against us. Thankfully Kog'maw had brought healing potions to keep himself healthy (and to quench his thirst). We managed to push them back to their own turret, securing our small victory in the earlygame. Both of us teleported back to the summoning platform to recover and prepare. Kog'maw idley bobbed his head to Sona's envigorating tune. I still wonder why such a being could react in such a way. We sensed his own heartbeat keeping time to a different drummer. He is a slave to instinct-yet the creature sings and dances. Is this an exertion of Sona's enchantments? Or does that same instinct drive him to take pleasure from her song?

Our dominence was felt sorely by the other team, appreciated by our allies. Then the beat changed. Baron had emerged from his slumber in the river, and both teams were eager to fell it and gain his power. As everyone grouped up in the forest, a flurry of alerts and talking took shape. Earlier Mordekaiser's summoner and that of Gragas began to spout insults to eachother. The former got royally irritated that the latter had let Gragas die one too many times. Sona expressed her annoyance through her face, and played louder in a vain attempt to calm them. They started to yell over her. While this was going on, Mordekaiser himself boomed in an echoing voice so that everyone heard. "Stop bickering like fools! Let us strike in tune to Sona's music and not your cacophanous squacking!" His will subdued the two summoners like a fist. Grabbing them by the neck with his voice, he shook them violently and said menacingly "We have the advantage! You will not squander our victory by making our ears bleed!" Sona retreated backwards, hesitant. She stopped playing.

For the first time in the entire match, there was total silence. "Now...if you please my dear Sona, let us shred." Mordekaiser said, as if he expected us to find the keys and emerge from our paralysis that quickly. Sona and I did so, thankful for his strength. Metal is receptive to sound, and we felt his entire body resonate with music. He gave it a deep and oppressive accent. Sona smiled as she and Mordekaiser walked side by side towards Baron's nest-occupied already by the other team. I caught a deep sense of companionship between them, although I do not know how deep. It translated well into the final battle of the match. I directed her behind Mordekaiser as we dove in headfirst to strike the final blow against the giant worm. Kog'maw and his summoner expertly did so with a single blast of his 'Bio-arcane barrage' technique. With an absolute power flowing through us, we turned to the enemy and engaged. A parental side of us elated when Kog'maw proceeded to mercilessly pelt all of them with his caustic spittle. Mordekaiser lumbered about, practically executing each champion one by one with his gigantic metal mace. We scored a total wipe, an 'ace', in that battle. And with that the match was won in a quick stroke afterwards.

I had a brief moment to thank Sona before we broke the link, in words this time. There will be another concert later in the month, and I'd like to meet her again, one more time, just to make sure I'm not dreaming.


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Zunqivo

This user has referred a friend to League of Legends, click for more information

Senior Member

01-07-2012

Do you wonder if people aren't reading on this because of the title being incomplete? You had mentioned that the complete title is 'Humble Interactions with Sona'. If Sona was in the title, I think that people would click on this story more. XD


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Ozlin

Senior Member

01-08-2012

Another 'flaw' might be in the fact that it's labled 'Humble'. The internet doesn't take kindly to anything Sona related that isn't smut driven (I blame her art). Luckily I'm not the internet and this story continues to be awesome.

Edit: Music calms the savage beast- love your dancing Kog'maw. The engagement in bottom lane was quite a read as well, along with Mordekaiser sticking up for the other Pentakill member


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