Those thoughts were distracted by the sound of her voice calling his name and his attention focused as he kept his steps in a pace that was easy for the woman to keep with as well. A soft hum left his lips as he considered her words, what exactly would one call their venture? In other circumstances, the soldier would have deemed it a date, but it wasn’t romantic enough for that.
“I would assume so, yes. Were we closer, I would say it was a date, but we have not known each other well enough for that, though there are those that do go on dates for the sole purpose of getting to know someone better, so I suppose it wouldn’t be completely wrong to say so, though were are not involved in such a way.” he had to stop himself from saying ‘yet’ if only not to make it sound like his ultimate desire was to keep the Shuriman on his arm. The wording would have made it seem like a pressure and it was not meant to be, he did not know her well enough to consider her for such things, though Amin did strike a certain fancy of his with her mysterious and shy nature.
What the Shuriman said next had the soldier giving a soft burst of laughter. “No, no, do not be sorry, Amin. Your straight forward honesty is so refreshing. You say it as you see it and that’s something I quite enjoy. And yes, I would assume it would become a common event, I myself do not tend to socialize as much as I should nowadays. I’ve become something of a hermit.” Teeth were flashed in the reassuring smile he gave her, silver hues alight with amusement.
“You needn’t worry so much about offending me, I understand what you mean.”
The red upon her cheeks still lingered with eyes committed to the ground beneath her. He was so well mannered even with her off comments. She felt almost embarrassed about her flippant words but digressed once he expressed how he felt about it. With a sigh and without thought she pulled at his arm. Not hard, but enough to give warrant that she was indeed still holding onto it. Why she did this, she didn’t know herself but something did catch her attention earlier. Calling himself a hermit. What exactly was a hermit? She pondered. As like a hermit crab? The cousins to the scuttle crabs? Amin frowned at the thought and looked up at Maurice with a face stern on deciphering what exactly it was he meant. She did not want to directly ask him, not yet anyway.
Obviously it had to be some sort of saying-- but what exactly did it mean. Her lips parted as if she were to speak but nothing came out, only a small breath in and Amin’s quick thought to look away once more.
Finally, she broke. “Wh- what exactly does that mean?” she said aloud without second thought, a tone of concern ringing through her quite boisterous outburst. “... Being a hermit? I’ve never ... heard that word being used in such a manner. I... I don’t understand it.” The Shuriman confessed. “You Piltovians are quite strange...” Amin spoke carelessly about her upset. Surely, Maurice meant no harm in the statement but she hadn’t the fondest idea what exactly it meant and she felt silly for it. This wasn’t the first time however.
“... I’ve not heard of that before and honestly it is the strangest thing I’ve heard yet. Perhaps in the company I had as a girl was not as...” The woman cocked a brow before she continued. “... elusive with their words. Vulgar would most likely be what I’ve come to know that type of language as.” A long drawn out silence carried between them as she pondered further. She immediately realized how her wording sounded and patted the Piltovian softly on his arm with her free hand and nodded.
“The men I mean, not you. You ... you just talk odd.”
// Tagged appropriately as it was before! I hope you enjoy the ending of this two part drabble. I had fun writing it! I apologize for it taking so long for me to write, work has been a real bear.
The dawn had come and for a night she had forgotten she had been taken from her family. She dreamed of her brothers and sisters and the soft forehead kisses her father would give them and the wonderful stories her mother would tell. The girl had fallen asleep on this stranger that had saved her from the rancid old man. His hand on the small of her back as they both slept in a poorly put together chair. The girl lifted her head to look at the man that held her. He did not look like the others. Much like the blonde, he looked out of place. Dark slicked back hair, tanned skin and finely groomed facial hair. He was handsome but much older. Not as old as the man he had killed but still much older. His clothes were dirty and stained with blood, some stains much older than others. Which was questionable but she dare not ask him. He stirred from his sleep and immediately sat up and placed her properly on her feet.
Are you hungry?
He asked quietly. The girl nodded hesitantly, unsure of what exactly this new man wanted from her. His hands were kind and his eyes shared in their sentiment but she was still very unsure. With a deep breath, he looked down to her shackles still attached to her wrists. During her initial attack, the prior commander had cleanly snapped the one about her neck clean off. He picked the locks to both shackles and wrapped his large hands around her tiny wrists, thumbing the side of both of them. He pulled his lips into his mouth and looked her over. He released her wrists, taking to one of the many pouches about his side.
You’ve nasty wounds on your wrists from having them bound for so long.
He said pulling somewhat clean wrappings from the bag. It took him some time but the man cautiously and with most care wrapped the little girl’s wounds about her wrists and throat removing the old shirt fabric he had wrapped about it after the attack.
I can’t let you go.
His eyes stared into her calmly.
Why?
The girl questioned but he did not answer. She asked again but still, he did not answer. He only reached over and procured week old bread from a table nearby. Breaking it in half and giving part of it to her.
Who are you?
The girl was full of questions, hoping for some sort of answer.
My name is Boleslav Fleischer. Follow my rules and you will stay alive. Do you understand?
The girl nodded her head slowly, looking up to him. What is your name? Your actual name? Not the one he gave you. Boleslav motioned over to the still body of the dead man.
Amin held her breath, thinking of whether she should say the name of the little girl. Gently, she lifted her head to see if Valentina had truly drifted off and from the looks of it, she had. “Valentina?” She called softly but there was no reply. The Shuriman woman hesitated and closed her eyes but strangely, she smiled.
El-Amin Nassim.
The name resonated within her subconscious. It was her name. Her features softened and her hand ran through the ginger locks of Valentina carelessly again. In a sense, Amin felt freedom to be able to tell her story if only to a sleeping woman. She cleared her throat quietly and continued.
She lived many a year with this man, this Boleslav. And though he was kind to her, he showed her his many faces in their time together. She learned quickly that though he was skilled in the arts of medicine, was raised in Piltover, and lost his wife before she was able to give birth to their first child-- he was also a violent drunk because of it. The older she got the more he settled but he was an angry man with a low tolerance. In these times of thrashing about, she would hide in the quarters of the blonde she had come to seek refuge with. He was not much older than her. Five or six years it seemed. His name, the blonde, was Alan. Alan Mayes and he was from Bildgewater. A captain’s boy, prominent in the eyes of the harbor. He would talk about his travels with the crew and at times he seemed sad yet he never mentioned how he came into the company of these men. These talks became more frequent. Not so much because of Boleslav, but because she figured Alan pitied her.
He protected her, the best he could, obviously not from Boleslav but he kept a watchful eye on the rest of the men. You see, Alan was skilled, very skilled with switchblades. His prided attribute, slamming blades between white knuckles on wooden surfaces. He was a prodigy among the men in terms of speed and none transgressed against him for it. He and Boleslav carried great importance among the group.
Alan being the flagship of their raids and Boleslav the silent commander. The girl however, grew into becoming efficient with tonics and other assortment of things revolving around the medicinal field. How funny it was that the one thing she enjoyed was being practiced on men with sandpaper skin and terrible manners. Of course, she would take her time on Alan or Boleslav if either got harmed. But this harmony so to speak, was not meant to last.
It was midnight when she heard it, the sound of shuffling feet into the back quarters. A shadow creeping towards her.
I’ve something to show you.
The figure called out, the voice was Alan’s and she agreed. The two ventured out of the mouth of the cave making sure not to alert the sleeping guards. The girl had half a mind to run away, to try, but in an odd way, she feared Alan. She feared them all. But mostly him and Boleslav for their quiet natures, always unsure of what they were thinking. He guided her past high dunes and eventually to what seemed like a cliff’s edge.
Look over the edge.
Why?
Again, ever so full of questions. But she was only met with a cold stare. Hesitantly, she made her way to the edge, step by step, occasionally looking back at Alan as he did not follow her. As she approached, lights flickered in the horizon. Fire.
And this is why we can’t leave.
Alan said walking up to her side, his voice attempting to imitate the roughness of Boleslav’s coarse voice.
Marauders much stronger than us. They’ll catch us, do terrible things to you and kill you after they’ve tortured and most likely killed the lot of us as well.
After he was finished, he cleared his throat and removed the dirtied keffiyeh from his head, exposing his messy blonde hair.
I’m sure that’s what Boleslav would want to say to keep you here-- but I’m not Boleslav. Those people...
He pointed again.
Those are nomads. People trying to live off the desert and they’re doing a fine good job of it. And strangely, they feed us with their mistakes but the men are growing restless...
The blonde said, pulling back his hair as he talked carelessly into the darkness. He was so free with his words with her. As if he knew she wouldn’t talk to the others but his words worried her.
What do you think they’ll do?
Kill him.
Alan responded immediately, placing a flat hand on his chest. His eyes seemed more concerned with the fires off in the horizon and once again, he pointed.
When that happens. You run. You run to those people and you don’t tell them where you came from. You just run. Don’t stay for me. Don’t stay for him.
A great heaviness grew in the girl’s heart as she listened. He was used this life and knew full well where it would end it seemed. He turned to her and nodded motioning her to walk back towards their ‘home’-- but something was not right when they returned, blood ran thick on the carved walls of the cave and Alan quickly placed his hand up stopping the girl in her tracks. She remembered the feeling of the warm blood on her fingers as she ran them through the fresh liquid. She remembers his baited breath and the last thing he said to her.
Not a word.
He whispered as he drew his switchblade, pulling a single digit to his lips as they both crept into the mouth of the cave. Singing swords echoed out from the depths and in an instant, the two bolted towards the sound. Within minutes they reached the back of the cave system, peering into what used to be Boleslav’s quarters. To their horror, they watched the only man that gave them respite die viciously in his sleep to his own men. Like a pin cushion, Boleslav collected all their daggers and all their swords.
Numb from what she had seen, the girl backed away. That was when she knew. He knew. He knew he was going to die tonight. Alan pivoted on his heels to look back at her. Mouthing the word
‘Run’.
Their locked eyes seemed to stare into one another for an eternity as she began running out of the cave and that was when she saw them. Exiting the room and swallowing the boy whole in their numbers. Before they fully engulfed him, she saw a dagger enter the side of his throat.
Amin gasped covering her mouth and muffling her sudden tears. Hers was not a happy tale and as she told it to her sleeping friend, the devastation of her own life became even more clearer than before. She never even went back to see if he lived. She had left him there. Her eyes but a blurred gaze as they fell to look upon the top of Valentina’s head, tears forming to the lines of ruby spheres. With her voice shaken with her upset, she drew whatever air her lungs would allow and pressed on with her story.
Her feet grew so tired from running from that place. The soles of her boots completely worn off by the time she reached any sort of remnant of people. She remembered how calloused and pained the bottom of her feet were and how she had to tear apart her clothes to help relieve them. She remembered how bitterly cold the desert gets when you know you are alone and how horrible the smell of old blood was. How horrible cracked and dried skin felt after walking in the grizzling sun for hours and how desperately hopeless it was to keep walking.
But she did.
She did until the golden fog of Zaun filled her senses and left her in the streets. No one knew her, no one cared. She was no one and all they saw was a beggar. Her hair was matted and her body ached, this was surely the day that she thought she would die...
The Shuriman closed her eyes softly, stroking the top of Valentina’s head. She pressed her own head against the other’s lovingly and cried tenderly.
// Hello everyone, I’d like to introduce you to the first part of a very long short story that I hope you all will enjoy. There are some very questionable instances in said short story and I have tagged it accordingly. You have been warned! I will not change any instances in said story as I believe it gives reasons as to why Amin is the way she is. Happy reading, it’s a long one :)
Tell me story...
Amin’s ears plucked the breathy words from Val as the thick fog of Zaun caught the sky ablaze with golden hues. There was little to tell her from the stories she had formulated herself. Only truths, only experiences now. Maybe Valentina wouldn’t tell the difference if the desert cat spun her tales the same as she always had. Her form tensed as she felt the red head press against her and tuck her hands around her torso for warmth. And with a lengthy breath, Amin began pulling whatever she could from the depths of her mind.
A story she had not told anyone else...
I will tell you one I have not told before, one you had not heard of certainly, a new web of words as it were, all for your ears only...
Amin began, resting her hand softly atop Val’s crown. Calming her voice as she continued.
A young girl, birthed to parents of faces she does not remember but whose voices still remain, lived far into the Shuriman desert with her many brothers and sisters. With white fabrics, ornate pottery and fine furniture filling their home and laughter blushing their cheeks, they were happy children and she could not want for more. She loved the stories her mother told them at night when she tucked them all in and the gentle forehead kisses her father would give them when he was there. A gentle man, she remembers and her mother all the same.
As she grew, her mother’s tender love blossomed her into a fine young lady and her brothers defended her from all the silly little boys that would pull on her hair because of their silly little crushes. And her sisters would adorn her with a crown of flowers from the desert fields making her feel the prettiest. The girl loved her siblings and though her father was not always there, he provided well for them. And as the years went on and when her tenth birthday approached, she knew he would come.
He always did, a promise he made to her, to be there for her birthday. It would usually be during mid day when he would appear on the horizon. The wide shadow of his camel wrought with an assortment of bags and other things distorted by the heat waves. The girl would always sit with her brothers and sisters awaiting him patiently, playfully jousting about the gifts he had brought for them.
but this time was different.
He did not bare any gifts for the girl this time but instead, offered to take her away. She was the oldest after all and with a grand smile she accepted and gathered all her things, excited at the idea of leaving her small village. He told her of their destination and what he wanted to do. A plan worth listening to, she had thought. Her father went through every detail of where they were going, a city far to the north west, on the coast he said. He told her she would be going to meet a boy. Which at this time, was quite curious. She knew of boys that pulled of her hair and did a plethora of other annoying things but this boy must be quite special for her to have to travel so far to meet him. A trustworthy boy of course, like her brothers she assumed. She was to marry him she found out as he expanded his plan.
How exciting she had thought.
Their travel time was long and hot but she enjoyed the soft songs her father sang to her as they rode. However, they did not ride alone, just the two of them of course, that would be quite silly. Her father always had guards. Two of them to be exact. One a larger burly man with a gold tooth and pointed ears. She had once thought him to look like a troll of sorts, the ones she had heard stories about. The other, much thinner but still in good health was a silver-tongued devil. Always bartering for her father in her village for food and water for the camels. The thinner man would make light conversation with the girl and she quite enjoyed him.
They would stop at various places and for the first time, she saw snow. Snow in the mountain pass they took to get to their destination. It was cold and turned to water if she held it for too long. And off in the distance as they took the mountain trail, she could see a large structure, an arena of sorts it looked like. A place her father said that great people went to. A place he had hoped one of her brothers to go to one day when he was strong enough.
After a time, they finally arrived in the city they searched for. Aged copper roofs and red banners filling her sights. Strong soldiers in thick armour marching past as they rode gently into the main section of the city. A grand marketplace reflecting in her bright eyes: red apples, the silver sheen of swords and pikes, gorgeous fabrics and all the like. What a marvel this place was she had thought.
The three camels finally stopped in front of a large beige building with long red banners with a crest woven into each of them. Here is where we will stay her father said plucking her from the back of the camel and placing her on her feet. His two guards entered first and she and her father followed suite.
The night would come and as always her father would tuck her in and place a gentle kiss on her forehead. As he left the room he told her...
You are a great joy in my life my little one.
Slowly the door closed and the black took the room. She laid there quietly, listening to the glistening bells of the chimes outside her window. How different this place was to her home. The sheets were softer and the bed did not creak as it was made of metal. She thought it funny that was one of the things she had thought of. As she thought of all the things she had seen that day, she drifted quietly to sleep. Dreaming of the next day and the boy she was to meet.
Suddenly, her dream was shattered as she felt her body move violently and without cause. Her mouth instantly muffled with fabric and her hands tied with rough rope. So tight, so very, very tight. The girl cried out hoping that someone would hear her but the only ones who did, were the shadows that bound her. Her heart thrashed against her rib cage as one of the figures hoisted her up and over his shoulder as he went towards the window. Desperately she grabbed at the fabric adorning the bed, ripping part of it off as she dropped it. The second man tore at her hands, hurting her and breaking one of her many beaded bracelets she loved to wear. All other sounds were lost to her as she watched the beads fall to the floor, and as she looked up, she saw the door to her room open and the larger guard of her father run after the shadow that held her.
... but he did not get her and her eyes swelled with tears.
Out the window the two figures went, the girl too shaken to cry out for help any longer. She was numb and her hands and face hurt. The rope was so tight. So very, very tight. And the fabric cut into her lips. Why was this happening?
Amin paused as she noticed her voice shaking. Her breath shallow and her chest stinging. She swallowed hard and pressed her hands softly into Valentina’s form. “F-Forgive me...” She lightly smiled. “I got caught in the moment it seems.” The desert cat ran her fingers gingerly though Valentina’s hair unsure of if she had fallen asleep or not. Regardless, it was, in a strange way, comforting to tell this story. Her story. Amin corrected herself softly and if Valentina thought it nothing more than a fairy tale, it was fine. It was all fine. At least she was able to tell her story in one way or another. “Let us continue..” The woman said softly resting her head atop Val’s.
The two shadows ran quickly and efficiently through the city without notice. Something she had hoped would not happen. The girl heard screams and lights flickering on through the building they had exited but by now they were too far and the men far too skilled in their ability to not be noticed.
Away they went on stolen horses, the girl placed in front of the first figure, who looked particularly odd. At least to her. Long black hair, tattoos on his face and a wicked scar on the right side of his neck. He smelled of old ale, sweat and metal. The other she saw, was much younger, not much older than her she thought. Brilliant blonde hair and soft features. He didn’t seem to belong here as he did not carry the same appearance as the other man. She wondered about this greatly and where they were taking her.
Two weeks later, they arrived after severe weather complications. Their place of arrival however looked nothing more than a cave and the girl dreaded what was within it. The two men released the horses after they took the girl off and hoisted her off onto the blonde’s shoulders. The black haired man took to light a torch and withdrew a odd stone key as they approached the cave’s mouth. As they ventured deeper in the dark, the blonde patted the girl on the back twice. An odd gesture, was he trying to be comforting?
It wasn’t two minutes later that they reached the back of the cave leaving the black haired man to insert the stone key in a small hole that made an odd clicking sound.
They won’t find you.
The black haired man spoke quickly looking to the girl as shifting stone formed a door. So don’t run, you won’t make it far and the vultures will eat you sooner than you can make it past the desert he continued as they entered the opening. A group of men, about 20 turned to look at the two figures that entered with the girl. All various ages and looks. However, in the back was a man, greyed and old, motioning the two over immediately. How terrified she was, small and insignificant in her strength to get away. The girl was thrown into a cage. The blonde following soon after into the opening of the cage. He removed the fabric carefully as he had seen the redness of her face.
I’m sorry we have to do this.
He said softly as he thumbed her cheek. The blonde removed the ropes and replaced them with shackles, both on her wrists and her neck. His smile was weak and pained as he exited and closed the door. The girl cried out to him.
Why must I be here? You could’ve just asked him for money! Is that what it’s for?
She begged for an answer but he did not reply. It was not his place. The older gentleman slammed his fist against the cage and with a roar he demanded her silence. It would stay this way for months. Them throwing scraps her way for her food and water every few days. They were short their supplies and often used the girl as bait for passing travelers. Having tied her up on poles or near prior wrecked caravans. This would not last however, as the older man grew impatient. He had planned to use the girl for ransom sending out man after man demanding ransom. But none never returned. He grew impatient and one night, the third month of her stay in her own personal hell. He tore open the door to the cage and broke the chains that bound her throwing her violently upon the ground.
He drew his blade screaming for compensation for her time there. I fed you, I clothed you and your shit father hasn’t given us a damned thing, he howled bringing his sword down and against her throat. Either you repay my men through servitude or I gut you like a pig the older man screamed. The girl laid motionless, feeling the pressure of the weapon against her neck, was she to die? Was this the way she would go? By a crazed old man with a rusted blade and 20 sets of eyes she did not know the names to?
Within that moment, a loud crack rang through the air and the older man fell to his knees. Behind him stood an odd man she had not seen before with dark hair and eyes and strange clothes. The odd man lifted the rock that was firmly in his hands again and hit the older man again in the back of the head causing him to fall over. The odd man’s breath was heavy as he dropped to his knees as he pummeled the man over and over until blood covered both the girl and himself.
She found herself crying, pure shock as she felt the heat of the blood on her skin. What is your name. The odd man questioned her, but she could not speak. Are you hurt? He said reaching over to her as he dropped the rock beside the now corpse of the older man. Turning her head he looked upon her throat to see a long cut. He torn off part of his shirt and wrapped it carefully around her throat and pulled her upwards, taking her into his arms. His chest was wide and his hold was strangely comforting. His voice was rough and tired.
Hush girl, there will be no more tears from you this night. You’ll be alright from here on out.
And he too, felt a bit shy. Not wanting to overstep himself, yet also wanting to be a good companion. The balance was precarious for him, because his affections came easy and often too strongly. One hand found its way into the man’s pocket but his other arm was offered to the Shuriman. There was no pressure to accept and if she declined, it was clear he would not mind as much. It was manners, perhaps a bit too old fashioned, that had him offering to begin with. Her admission was met with another smile and a look of understanding kindness.
“Worry not, Amin. I do not mind. I simply wish to make sure you do not feel too much more uncomfortable with me than you already do. If I do anything you find displeasing, you’ll tell me, yes? I am used to being…very…ah…affectionate. Sometimes I can be too, mm….cuddly.” That wasn’t necessarily the word he was looking for, but he didn’t want Amin to take what he was saying in a less innocent sense than it was meant. He was a very touch-based person and he knew not everyone else was.
“I understand that meeting up with someone you’ve only met once might be a little nerve wracking for you and I won’t say I’m not completely lacking in shyness myself. I do think the tea would certainly help, though.”
With the lift of his arm towards her, her features filled with wonder. She had read of such a gesture in some of her books that Val had tossed her way. All nonsensical whimsy of course but none the less entertaining. Her breath was shallow and as was customary of manners, she accepted his offer. Tenderly one hand tucked under his arm and the other atop his forearm. Without another word, her gaze fell to the ground beneath her.
Their walk was slow and quiet aside from those that walked around them, all busy with their own lives, carrying on boisterous conversations about what the Hero or the Sheriff had done in recent times. However, their lack of conversation wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. In fact, she enjoyed it. Knowing that another human being was beside her was calming. Amin breathed deeply and on her exhale smiled softly. It was a change from the harshness of Zaun. The fresh air, the smiles and random bits and pieces of chit-chat of denizens of Piltover flooding her senses and lastly-- well. Maurice. She thanked him silently in her mind for not belittling her for the ending of their last encounter.
“Maurice?” His name leaving her lips quickly. “What... what exactly would you call this...?” She questioned. Unsure of what the Piltovian man would say. Being kept away, hidden from the world, she was always so skeptical of the intentions of others. Having been taught what little she did know from Val and... though she did appreciate Val’s delicate and patient time with her. Perhaps her own experiences would teach her much more. She would never know until she tried and in this moment, she was trying. Struggling but trying.
“What we’re doing right now... going for tea, walking like this. You know... being in Zaun serves to stay indoors quite a bit...” She began pulling one of her hands from the soldier’s arm and gently pulling at the dark fabric about her neck. “So I read... and well... commonly-- from what I’ve read...” The woman hesitantly said, stealing occasional glances at her walking partner whilst she talked. “Well... would we be considered proper acquaintances now?”
Her thumb played nervously with the underlining of the dark coloured collar about her neck as she went on. “Surely if this goes well it could become a common thing... I don’t have many friends of course... and well...” The Shuriman smiled eyes forward as she walked. “You’re certainly not the worst company I’ve had...” Amin jested playfully. A first in their time together. She stopped abruptly covering her mouth in shock, realizing how absolutely rude she must sound. A fine blush taking to her cheeks.
Some odd minutes later would finally have him out the door and on his way to the market. That is where Amin had said they should meet up, whereafter they could head to the cafe together. Maurice had considered bringing his motorcycle, but didn’t think it would necessarily be something of comfort for the Shuriman as it was for him and the distance was not so great that they couldn’t walk there in a timely fashion, anyhow. There were many thoughts that passed through the veteran’s mind as he made his way, hands in pockets and steps a bit quicker than usual–was he excited? Perhaps.
In what seemed like simultaneously a longer time than expected and yet not enough time, the soldier reached the aforementioned market and stalked about as his silver hues sought out familiar traces of the woman he came to meet. It didn’t take long for her tanned skin and thick, dark tresses to catch his eye though, and Maurice strode up to her, looking almost sheepish.
“Amin…” he greeted softly, with a slow nod. Her clothes were different than last they saw each other, but her features were unmistakable. She simply stood out amongst the others around that the soldier was more accustomed to seeing. “I do hope I did not keep you waiting long, it was a troublesome thing trying to keep the cats off me before I left.” It was spoken in a tone laced with amusement and punctuated with soft chuckles.
At the sound of her voice, Amin took to look around her almost jumping out of her boots. It wasn’t until the soldier spoke again that she turned fully to face him. Once he had taken her vision, she swallowed. How formal. she thought looking over his clothes but-- there he was. And there was she. The Shuriman had almost thought to stay in Zaun, her heart racing inside her chest every passing moment on the way to Piltover. In fact, she could feel it now. Pounding against her rib cage like a panicked bird. However, she had to say something-- anything: a sound, a mutter, a single word. At least blink at him.
A long drawn out ‘uhm’ was all that she could manage.
Her features grew pale and her hands tucked within one another, nervously drawing her thumbs over each other as she stared. The barreling heat from the sun did her no good as well with her dreads pulled high into a misshapen pony-tail of sorts. It would look nice. she had said then. Amin had certainly attempted to look somewhat more endearing than their last venture. Though she reassured herself that anything was far better as this time she would not have blood running from her nose.
“... I uhm...” She struggled so hard, waiting and twiddling her thumbs like an anxious school girl. Just say it. She demanded of herself. Furrowing her brows at her own hesitation. If you say nothing at all he’ll think you daft. With a deep breath and a close of her eyes, she desperately tried to calm herself. Just speak. She begged herself. And on her exhale, she opened her eyes. Rubies fell upon Maurice and at once, her lips parted to speak.
“You... look nice.” Her voice almost but a whisper. A shy and withdrawn smile graced her features as she broke her gaze and looked down once again. Why was talking to him such a problem? Amin asked herself. Why was talking to anyone but Val such a problem? In that moment, she had almost looked disappointed in herself already feeling she had let the man down. I can handle the men just fine at the Royal Rose when they get out of hand... but this... why I can’t I have a normal conversation without stuttering like a fool.
“I’m... so very sorry.” Amin pulled from herself. “I am so very nervous and... I honestly don’t know what to say-- I’m... not really used to speaking to people... certainly not normally anyway.” She sighed. “Maybe getting some tea will ease my nerves-- that’s... that’s why we are here anyway.” The woman timidly laughed taking but a second to share a quick glance at the soldier.
Maurice had to admit that there was something endearing about the whole affair, maybe because it presented the withdrawn, woman of poise as someone who could also be clumsy. It was something he wasn’t sure he could really explain even to himself, but it was hard not to smile–not from amusement, but from how utterly cute Amin was when she rose. Of course, it was hard to keep that thought when it also concerned him how upset she seemed and the trickle of crimson that ran from her nose.
A small sigh exited the man’s parted lips and he lightly adjusted himself to a lower kneel and kept his arm about the woman’s curved waist. Silver hues were earnest and soft as they cast over her features. “You’re bleeding. Are you sure you’re alright? And I’m uncertain if all men here are like me, but I’d like to think at least some of them are.” Came the reply, low and gentle as he patted her reassuringly.
A smile was given with the last bit and his head tilted ever so slightly. “Well, it would certainly be unkind of me to have left a sweet woman like yourself on the ground, now wouldn’t it? I can’t think of any situation in which it wouldn’t be absolutely rude. You are very welcome and I do apologize if at any time I made you uncomfortable, as I am assuming that is what caused you to…leave so quickly.” This was sheepish, and the soldier gave a nervous chuckle which was closely followed with a gentle exhale.
The cobblestone grew warm under his knees, still hot from the many hours of being exposed to the bright rays of sunlight during the earlier hours but the fabric of his pants prevented it from being anything more than a slight warmth. It did leave him to wonder if Amin might have caused herself a burn or two with how hot the stone surely had been against bare skin. “Are you hurt anywhere at all? Besides your nose, that is.” he asked, his hand gently trailing up and down the curve of her side in an attempt to soothe any embarrassment the Shuriman surely felt for the events that had transpired.
The feeling of a warm hand shot up her spine like lightning. His hand, being quite large, not only was upon her side but it moved. If not for the rag atop the center of her face, a brilliant red would’ve shone through. She had almost felt it burn though the fabric itself and at that moment Amin wasn’t particularly sure if the sudden feeling of heat was from his touch or the cobble below. What she did know was that she had kept extended eye contact with the man in her shock. Ruby to silver they aligned perfectly. She had never quite seen a man with an eye colour like his and knowing her-- she would’ve had half the mind to question him had she not, in the most plainest way to say it, face-planted earlier.
“... I’m... I’ll be fine” she murmured almost incoherently, plucking the man’s hand from her side gingerly. The Shuriman had already botched her first experience with the man so surely seeing her like this was of no more fault than she already was at. “It’ll stop, I’m sure... Uhm...” Completely forgetting what the soldier had originally asked her about.
In a hurry, she collected the herbs and roots in their proper jars. Thankfully, none had broken as they were made of metal and reinforced, thick glass. It did not even take her five minutes to get sorted out before she stood up bowing to the man. Her basket and salvaged purchases on one arm and bloodied rag in the opposite hand.
“... You’re... so very kind...” She finally managed to say. “I... I... I look forward to our next meeting...”
And with that, the now slightly blooded herbalist waddled off, terribly embarrassed with herself. Rag to her nose and boot tip scuffed. Well-- all in all, it would certainly be an introduction the two of them would hardly forget.
And then she was…running away from him, for lack of a better word. There was little else he could call it. Of course he hadn’t expected it, but the veteran did not try to stop her, merely watching with surprised silver hues as the distance grew between them. He was just considering whether or not to turn and head home when he noted the turn of Amin’s head as she seemed to glance back at him and then she was suddenly falling forward in what would have been a comical display of tripping were the man not so concerned for the Shuriman’s well-being.
He was already jogging to catch up to her, cat held under one arm and definitely not pleased with being jostled around so much after having been so cozy only moments before. Maurice’s boots scuffed against the stone as he shifted to kneel down next to the fallen woman, free hand gently pressing to her back in an automatic display of concern. “Are you alright?” his voice came soft and low, a gentle rising and falling of tones that didn’t hold the slightest bit of amusement in their depths where one might have expected it.
“Here, I’ll help you up and we can get all these bits back where they belong.” Maurice added softly, gaze casting about to the various plants that had been dropped as a result of the topple Amin had taken.
The warm rock beneath her had almost felt comforting if not for the searing pain on her nose and chin. She had almost had the mind to lay there and wallow in her pity, knowing how incredibly insane she probably looked to her new found acquaintance. Absolutely ridiculous she sobbed to herself acknowledging that she needed to move. It wasn’t until she felt the warmth of a hand on the small of her back did she realize someone else was there. She sat up immediately, supporting herself with one hand and feeling about her face with another. It was him. Oh how incredibly embarrassed she was. Her cheeks flush with red, both from the pain and her own unease.
“I- I’m... alright... I’d have expected you to laugh rather than help though...” The Shuriman whined, her fingers finally stopping beneath her nose. It was wet and as she pulled her hand way to view what was upon her fingertips. It was blood. Amin almost wanted to cry, sitting there completely vanquished by her own absolute inability to function well socially. The only person she had held a full conversation with outside of Zaun seeing her like this only tore her apart even more.
“I... I can get it--” The woman immediately covered her mouth, choking back her own tears. “I am so sorry... I must look a total mess.” She spoke while grabbing a small rag from one of the many small bags on her side. It was a beautiful violet colour soon to be stained with the blood trickling down from her nose. “... Are all men from Piltover so cordial?” She said, holding the fabric to her nose.
Amin stayed quiet for a moment, staring down into the ground below. Where were people like Maurice and Val when she was a girl. They were so kind. Val being ever so patient and loving. And this man she had just met, so welcoming. Certainly they couldn’t have taken her from the brigands but surely they would have made it much more bearable. With a sigh she slumped further into arm supporting her.
“... Thank you... for coming to help me.” Her gaze finally lifting to look upon the Piltovian.
Maurice had certainly realized the faux pas, as it were of his offer to meet at his home for their next rendezvous and her reaction only made his face burn all the more with shame. A hand went to adjust strands of ebony hair, the action absent-minded and nervous. He nodded, almost too vigorously as he gave a wavering chuckle. “Of course, of course. I did not mean any ill intent or disrespect.” he replied quietly, clearing his throat thickly and smiling lightly. The feline in his arms purred softly and batted at the stray dark hairs that fell within reach of small paws. The soldier’s eyes and attention were all for Amin, though and he gave a soft breath of relief that the woman wasn’t wholly offended.
“I believe I can set something like that up, yes. Do you have an idea of when you will next return? We can meet up here again and then we can walk together to the cafe.” His pale cheeks were still painted with a soft shade of red and it bled into the tips of his ears which peeked out from behind pitch tresses, but he seemed a bit more relaxed now. Broad shoulders slumped some as the muscles eased and the soldier thoughtfully bit at his lower lip. “I’ll have to double check on the cafes around to make sure I can find one that has the tea you prefer. Shouldn’t be troublesome in the least.”
Amin’s eyes shone in the peak of her smile. Deep rubies all the more brilliant in the simmering sun. She could barely keep herself from moving, her thumbs twiddling about in his agreement. What joy the Shuriman woman thought. She had promised herself she wouldn’t be so easy to be swayed into such a situation but...
“I-- I would imagine in a weeks time.” She managed to say through her giddiness. A breath escaped her lips as an even wider smile broke free. It was not long after she spoke she had realized what all she had done. She had asked a complete stranger to tea. A stranger. A man she had at most talked to about herbs for but a few hours. Her smile faded and her heart sunk. Amin stared deeply into the man with an expression most dreadful, squeezing her hands together for comfort.
“I.... “ There was no backing out now. She had surely made plans with him and though he seemed kind, she felt immensely disturbed by her forwardness. “A weeks time...” Amin repeated, her words a shaken melody from her lips. “Here.... Yes... Uhm...” Her eyes grew wide, until she finally bowed her head and began to depart.” A weeks time... here...” Once more repeated from her. Her walk breaking into a brisk jog after a few steps past the man.
“I... I will see you then....”
Oh, how terribly stupid of her. Val would never let her hear the end of it-- be it good or bad. She could only imagine the bright eyes of the Zaunite woman staring up at her, pleading for more details. Amin palmed at her forehead, looking back at the ebon-haired man which at this point was a reasonable distance away and without paying much head what was before her-- Amin’s boot caught hold of a loose stone of the cobbled streets below her, sending the tanned woman to fall almost flat on her face. Jars, herbs and basket alike all went into the sky they were hardly made for. A frustrated cry left the woman as she lay on the warm rock. Tears stinging her eyes as pieces of plant and root fell about on the ground.
Accepting defeat, Amin stayed where she fell. Worse things had happened.
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