@liondarius
Garen did not like Noxus, specifically he did not like being in Noxus of all things. The earth he walked on felt like it held more shadows than anywhere he’d been, the air tasted like iron in the back of his throat, and worst of all, Garen knew he couldn’t trust a word out of anyone’s mouths here. It was as if there were snakes crawling underneath his skin constantly while his own shadow felt like there might be something lurking within it. Garen didn’t trust any of the nobility in Noxus, yet decorum demanded he maintain his appearance as the esteemed Might of Demacia, Sword Captain of the Vanguard, so on and so forth, and entertain pleasantries with these people.
Of course, Demacia didn’t trust an invitation to a ball in Noxus, but a Demacian’s sense of caution often ran concurrent with their pride. It would be foolish to allow Garen to travel their alone, but even here in the ballroom, dressed in his fine white and blue, he felt utterly alienated. Noxian customs among the highborn seemed to be... complex, to say the least. Garen was used to tradition, but he was not used to so much secrecy.
The atmosphere alone made Garen feel like his lungs were bring crushed under iron, so as soon as he had the opportunity, he slipped quietly from the Noxian ballroom through a corridor lined with stone arches, and out into a courtyard. The moon was hanging overhead, not quite full, but cast enough light to illuminate the stone and gardens in a low light. It was a moment of peace, an eerie peace, but peace nonetheless. Even now, Garen couldn’t quite shed the unease that had settled around him like needles resting against his skin, but for now he simply sighed and tried to take his moment of reprieve.













