[Entresol]
"So… You left your world, where Vander's alive." Ekko swallowed hard. "Where Benzo's alive. Where Piltover and Zaun are at peace. All because of what, another traveller you met?"
Powder let out another one of her faint, anxious smiles in response. She raised her head, glancing nervously toward where the boy sat.
A monumental disbelief was etched into his young face.
He was judging her.
And she didn't blame him.
"Stupid, wasn't I?" She muttered, running her new metallic hand over her remaining arm. "I… Didn't even expect it to work to be honest." She sighed regretfully. "But here I am. Minus an arm, minus my fucking watch, and no better off than I was before."
The blue-haired woman pulled her knees even closer to her chest, hiding her face from the boy's view.
A moment of silence passed between them.
"How does it work?" Ekko asked, trying to keep his tone casual.
The boy caught a glimpse of Powder's bright blue eyes as she glanced up at him through the crack in her arms.
They looked sad. So sad.
"I can't tell you." She replied, her voice quiet.
The boy uncrossed his arms, staring ahead at her in a shaky denial.
"Why not?" He said, his tone destabilising. "We can fix it, surely? Send you back?"
When Powder looked back at him again; Ekko could see the pity contained within her soft round eyes.
She knew exactly what he wanted from her.
"You never were good at hiding things from me, were you?" The woman muttered, a dark chuckle forcing itself out of her throat.
It was a dry, depressing noise that struck a chord with Ekko's lonely heart.
She continued, her gaze moving away from him blankly, her eyes glazing over. "Not from me."
"If you can fix it. I want to come back with you." He told her, his taut voice steadily rising. "I have nothing left for me here. Nothing. Everyone worth a damn is dead, and Silco runs the lanes - Hell, he runs the whole fucking underground now." Ekko's voice cracked, his frustration bleeding through. "I don't… I don't have a place here anymore."
Ekko looked away from the blue-haired woman, blinking away tears.
He had already cried enough today. No more.
"I can't fix it, and I can't tell you how to fix it." Powder repeated, her voice growing stronger. Firmer. "I'm sorry."
Ekko stared at her before laughing in despair.
He flopped backwards onto the wooden planks beneath him.
He put his head in his hands, trying to hide his crumbling expression from the world around him. From the strange but familiar woman sitting before him.
Powder too, unclasped her arms before lowering herself into a cross-legged position. She leaned toward the boy, slowly crawling forward on her hands and knees until she finally laid herself down beside him.
The woman stared up at the underside of the miraculous tree that towered above them. At the canopy of unpoisoned green leaves.
This tree was a wonder in the underground; uncorrupted by the chemicals that had poisoned every other inch of the lanes.
Powder opened her mouth, hesitating slightly, but ultimately pressing forward with what she had to say. "The traveller who came to my world. He came from yours, I'm sure of it."
Powder heard Ekko's breathing still.
"How do you know that?" He asked.
The woman bit her lip, wondering how much she should reveal.
"Because I met him." She said, making her decision.
Ekko bolted upright, turning to face her.
"But you said you didn't find him." He protested. "Or was that also a lie too?"
The pure hurt contained within the boy's tone stung at Powder's conscience. The words pained her, especially so considering who they had come from.
She rolled over, desperately trying to escape from his accusatory gaze, tears pricking in the corner of her eyes.
Why could she not bring herself to act like anything other than a little girl in front of him?
He just wanted the same as she did; to get her family back. All of her family. She couldn't blame him for that. She wouldn't.
"No." The woman replied, trying her best to keep her voice steady. "I came here too early in the timeline. He didn't even know who I was when we first met."
"Oh." That was all Ekko could say in response. He was quick to understand what such a thing meant.
Her efforts had been for nothing.
The boy flopped back down onto the ground, looking utterly defeated.
"I'm sorry for snapping at you," Ekko muttered, his voice sounding so unbearably hopeless.
Powder swallowed hard.
She had cultivated that hope and then crushed it. Unintentionally or not.
"I'm sorry too." She replied, her apology aimed at a far broader audience than her younger companion could possibly realise.
Vander… Silco… Heimer… The gang…
She left them all behind. Unwarned. Unknowing of her intention to leave.
Powder thought back to her traveller; the Ekko whose passion she had fallen back in love with.
The woman sniffled, wiping away her tears before they could begin.
She'd take care of his younger self as best she could.
She owed him that much at least.
—
[The Great Ixtal River - Onemonth later]
Zeri froze in a muted shock as Callian's closed fist slammed into the upper-right part of her abdomen.
The girl couldn't feel her entire torso for a full dreaded second after the strike. She couldn't even think.
Then the pain hit.
Her jaw dropped open, gasping for air. Her eyes widened, suddenly watering due to the horrible combination of nausea and her unbelievable sense of discomfort.
Callian watched as his apprentice hit the ground, hard. The teen looked as if she couldn't breathe.
It had been a while since he had hit her with a real, powered liver shot.
The girl had quickly learnt to guard against it after the first time it had happened, though that wariness seemed to be slipping now that he had stopped going for them during their recent matches.
The deckhands around them roared at the knockout with an equal mix of anguish and approval.
The whole crew had practically turned their sparring sessions into a public event during their extensive time at sea - as they didn't have any other form of entertainment so far out from civilisation.
"Good fuckin' try girl!" A man shouted, smacking his friend around the back of his head. "That was more an' five minutes. Hand that shit over right bloody now."
His fellow shot the masked man a dark look before slapping a gleaming Piltovian coin into his hand. "Bet he threw that fucking match." The man grumbled.
Callian ignored the accusation, instead striding to grab his apprentice by the hand and hoist the girl back onto her feet.
She moaned loudly, tottering as she pressed a gloved hand over her mouth. "O-kay," Zeri wheezed, barely managing to get the words out. "I learnt- my lesson. Please, please don't do that- again."
"Then block it next time," Callian replied, unamused by the girl's inability to retain information when said information was left unutilised. "We will stop here for now."
Zeri gritted her teeth in something that looked akin to shame. She clenched her fist tightly.
Good. Frustration almost always bore fruit in the form of improvement. Zeri would be no exception to that.
The blue-haired man eyed the girl critically, before turning away from her, cutting through the gaggle of observers and making his way up to the quarterdeck.
She didn't need his consolation - not that he would give it to her anyway.
Negligence was an affliction that was common amongst prodigies. They sped through everything thrown at them, replicating feats within their area of expertise with an unnatural ease.
This unfortunately resulted in some practices being left behind in the dust, discarded or forgotten in favour of completing more advanced techniques.
Neeko was sat against the edge of the railing, her legs were slotted through the thin support beams, her feet dangling over the ship's edge.
The Vastaya was once again assuming Zeri's form, one that Callian had noticed was becoming something of a favourite of hers.
He knew why too. That much was obvious.
"Hello Sleepy." The creature murmured, staring out at the lush jungle lining the opposite side of the estuary with an undisguised longing. "How's Sparky feeling?"
Callian walked up to the railing and placed a hand onto it, staring ahead at the dense Ixtal treeline. He turned around, pressing his back against the wood and leaning against it.
The man now stared across at the other side of the estuary, at the wide expanse of dark Shuriman sand that continued on into the horizon.
"You would know that better than me," Callian replied, drumming his fingers against the wooden railing.
The man was referencing Neeko's ability to sense the emotions and memories of those she transformed into. The input, much to Callian's surprise, updated in real time.
As long as she held the form, the connection stayed.
It was a wonder he hadn't heard of this creature in his old timeline. The Vastaya's aspect was quite frankly incredible - moreso even than Zeri's own.
Neeko kicked her feet up and pivoted so that she was lying with her back pressed against the deck's wooden flooring. She pouted heavily, crossing her arms with a near-cartoonish emphasis.
"Yeah, and she isn't happy right now. That's all your fault."
Callian snorted softly. Neeko's childish nature was oddly refreshing, more than he would ever admit to out loud. The creature's enthusiastic temperament had grown on him.
"No, it is her own fault." The man countered, before staring up at the cloudless blue sky above them. He sighed deeply. "And partly Arthur's, for dying so easily."
Callian's eyes flickered towards Neeko's masked face, watching as the immature pout slowly fell away, her expression turning slightly wistful.
"Neeko knows that," The Vastaya murmured quietly, closing her eyes and taking off Zeri's signature half-mask, allowing the hot sun to bear down onto her pale skin. "Arthur meant a lot to Sparky, and she didn't even realise it." The pout suddenly returned in full force. "But you! Your training is making her unhappy!"
Callian stayed silent for a moment. Then he spoke.
"Put that mask back on. It's Zeri's choice to keep her identity hidden, and I will not have you compromise her wishes because of your carelessness. If you wish to sunbathe then change out of that form first."
The creature blinked in confusion, before running both hands across the front of her face.
"Ah." She said sheepishly, retrieving the half-mask and hastily replacing it over her forehead. "Neeko forgot about that."
The masked man's gaze returned upwards, toward the sun that was blazing high in the sky above them.
With this kind of weather, it was hard to believe it was still spring.
Callian shook his head in bemusement.
It was too hot.
The man was gaining more and more appreciation for his shimmer-enhanced physique by the day; as without its incredible temperature regulation, he would likely have passed out a long, long time ago.
Growing up in a bitterly cold cavern system unsurprisingly didn't do wonders for one's ability to withstand heat. Zeri was extremely lucky she had an aspect to shield her.
Callian's mind wandered back towards Neeko's earlier words - prior to his well-timed deflection.
Zeri had indeed been too attached to the scarred Zaunite lookout.
The man was thankful that he had possessed the foresight to burn that particular bridge early on, before Arthur's relationship with his apprentice escalated into something he couldn't undo.
Callian unconsciously curled both of his hands into fists, until they shook from the effort he was driving into them.
His sharp finger armour pierced into the skin of his exposed palms. Darkened blood dripped down his knuckles before splashing onto the deck loudly, catching Neeko's attention.
The creature's yellow eyes widened. She rolled over, making a grab for his injured hands, securing them between her own roughly.
Neeko gently tried to pull his fists apart.
Callian let her do so, waving away the Vastaya's concerns as his advanced regeneration quickly sealed the holes shut.
Arthur's death was a shame; but a necessary one.
Zeri needed to stay solely and securely within the palm of his hand.
She was a card that was far too valuable to let slip from his grasp because of some fleeting attachment.
Love was the most powerful and influential force on Runterra - magic be damned.
It had the potential to both ruin and maintain everything.
He would not underestimate it again.
For Zaun's future.
For Piltover's.
There could be no distractions allowed.
For him, and for anyone who he deemed it necessary.
Arthur was just unfortunate enough to become one of them. Just another distraction. A child caught in the crossfire.
Just another innocent Zaunite dead by his hand; another body added to the pile.
"Cal?" Neeko's soft voice broke through his brooding. "It's okay." She whispered soothingly, holding both of his hands gently. "It'll be okay."
The creature let go of one, reaching up a hand to his mask. She slid the tip of her finger through his eyehole and slowly moved it across the base of his eyelid.
It came away wet, glistening underneath the bright sunlight.
Callian blinked, bringing up a thumb to wipe away at his other.
The man quickly gave up on his endeavour, instead choosing to close his eyes; an overwhelming tired washing over his soul.
He allowed himself, however reluctantly, to be comforted by the small hand that was gently squeezing his own.
Callian thought back to the Vastaya's uncanny ability to link with other people. Perhaps that was what she was doing now. She may be the one that was causing this weakness.
Even so, the man allowed himself this small, brief moment of frailty.
To mourn Arthur; who had been so much like him and many others he had known - all those years ago.
Before the void.
Before the war.
Before the revolution.
Before the gas.
To mourn the friends who he had left behind.
For the first time since Callian's arrival in the past, he let go of the plan. He let go of his revenge. Of his sense of burden.
He let go of everything.
And he cried with a silent, unspoken regret.
—
And I'm back! My apologies for my terrible upload schedule (Even more terrible than usual, somehow).
In any case, I'm now back onto this story after spending a few weeks refining my writing skills through another new project of mine. Not to say I'll ever be abandoning this, or Shattered Glass, but I'll be focusing on it more on the latter until its chapter count evens out with Painted Tapestries' extensive one.
Let me know what you guys think of Callian's regret in this chapter. I know I've portrayed him outwardly as a man driven by solely duty and revenge, but inwardly - this isn't even remotely true. It's just a part of him.
This is just the first time that his mask has cracked, meaning it's the first time you readers have gotten a good look at what lies beneath - if only briefly.
Still, this moment of weakness is practically a one-off, with it only coming to light because of Neeko's aspect unintentionally unwinding Callian's defences.
(What I'm trying to say here is don't worry, he won't be crying every chapter).
—
(Total word count: 2589)