|Silent, But Not Still
Author: megicci PM
Mercy is a privilege of humanity. But what, then are promises? And what, truly, is the bridge between hearts? Sona/Ahri; Plot Device/Ahri, in order of importance. Recently revised parts of Chapter 1! Rating will always be T; all sexytimes will be located in separate stories. On hiatus. Check back November!Rated: Fiction T - English - Romance/Friendship - Ahri & Sona - Chapters: 5 - Words: 9,928 - Reviews: 14 - Favs: 22 - Follows: 37 - Updated: 09-04-12 - Published: 06-22-12 - id: 8245267
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
In the two weeks following the incident, Ahri attended every Pentakill concert staged.
It wasn't Karthus' high dynamic range or his ability to have both a smooth and raspy, guttural voice.
It wasn't Mordekaiser's brutal guitar riffs, backed by Yorick's forceful and melancholy bass.
Ahri attended these concerts to hear the etwahl – to hear the "voice" of the Maven of the Strings. For some reason or another, her curiosity about the Maven's condition only rose with each passing day. Information about champions' pasts usually was divulged at their discretion, and... Sona couldn't talk. Obviously, her past was confidential, by a trick of fate.
The Nine-tails Fox hoped to gain some understanding of Sona by listening to her music. This pastime seemed to give Ahri reprieve from her days of solitude (peppered with people attempting to pick her up), and she was thankful for that, if reluctantly so.
After nearly every concert Ahri attended (and they were nearly daily!), Sona made congress with her. After all, Ahri's condition needed checking on, and despite the Maven being the second most popular member of Pentakill, she managed to make time. Most likely, she made arrangements with Mordekaiser to distract the screaming fans.
Irelia, at these times, was nowhere to be found. She was a busy Ionian, after all, and the Demacian songstress couldn't quite get a translator without a summoning link.
"Sona," Ahri muttered during one of these meetings, "you never talk. Ever."
Sona nodded. This was obvious. She was mute, and though unbeknownst to most, by choice. The etwahl was her voice – perhaps it contained her very being. It was controlling, commanding, yet gave her the freedom to communicate flawlessly and freely. Her voice filled opera halls, clubs, ampitheatres, and all other venues of entertainment. It blended seamlessly with all the other instruments, yet was immediately outstanding. She could speak this way. The etwahl was all she needed. Lestara was someone unneeded. Sona came to understand this years ago.
"It's not like I mind," Ahri said. "It's nice to be able to talk as much as I want without any interruptions except for pleasant ones."
A fluttering chime of notes ascended from the etwahl's strings. Sona was laughing. It was obvious she was used to compliments, being a prominent member of the most popular band on Runeterra.
"Sona, you're..." Ahri began. She paused there and looked at the ceiling, debating whether or not to count the marble tiles. The Maven had a pretty amazing dressing room.
Sona only smiled, allowing her fingers to soundlessly pass over the strings, with an occasional muted pluck.
"...Interesting. Since I met you, it's like all my troubles have disappeared."
Ahri blew a strand of hair out of her face. She had become accustomed to dropping the seductress act around Sona.
"They've been replaced – or hidden – by an urge to know about you. I mean, not in a creepy stalker way. It's just..."
She couldn't really help fumbling with her words. It sounded like a confession. Ahri didn't consider her feelings for Sona that strong, nor did they feel similar to that time. It was sympathy. Empathy. Camaraderie. She could relate, but Sona's struggles were foreign all the same. But through all these excuses, Ahri didn't know what she was feeling. It was different. It felt weird, even, and she felt a bit guilty for being so obsessive about Sona – meeting her using her earlier breakdown as a pretense.
"... I don't know. It feels like there is something bothering you, just as something is bothering me. Or was. I'm not asking you to tell me a secret or anything, but... I can't stop wondering, and I'd love to repay you for the therapy."
The Maven of the Strings smiled as warmly as she could muster, with a bit of mocking coyness somewhere in there. Ahri, as charismatic as she was sharp, could tell – this was not a genuine smile. Sona was hiding something, or perhaps couldn't say it. It was at this moment that Ahri decided it was her job to extract that information. It wasn't a game, of course. The former fox felt obligated to help the maiden in front of her, who began to break her smile.
"I knew it," said Ahri. "That's all I need to know, though; that I was right. I don't need specifics. I... wanted to know if I should try to help or not."
Sona cast an unsure glance at Ahri. Her eyes wavered. Doubt. Not something Ahri commonly saw in the people she charmed. It was often seen in those close to her victims...
… An acute pain shot through Ahri's chest. The diaphragm area. No – it couldn't be – do I care this much? Not that again. It wasn't that again. No, she still had a promise to keep. Even if she had forgotten it.
"Somehow, I don't think this is working out," said Ahri nervously.
And equally nervously, Sona took Ahri's hand – soft of touch – and brought it to her throat, once again.
She began to mouth words. "I don't..."
She didn't want to speak. This was violating her promise. Promises, promises...
Ahri froze up from the moment Sona touched her. A soft, ticklish sensation spread across her hands from the point of contact, and flared up into a burning feeling, permeating her body like a wildfire through dry brush once the focus of Ahri's eyes shifted to Sona's lips. She grew tense, and had to swallow and avert her eyes to quench the fire. This was the first time Sona had touched her since their initial meeting.
Ahri realized it, at this moment. Yes, these were the feelings. Different, matured from before, but still the feelings. She was infatuated with Sona. The pangs of her heart were burgeoning into full-blown love.
It felt nice. It was great. Perfect, even. Everything made sense. Even so, Ahri didn't want to break her promise. It wasn't right. She was expecting a happy return. Or at least, Ahri hoped so. But her cares about this promise diminished more and more the longer Ahri's hands intermingled with Sona's.
When Sona relinquished her (delicate) grip from Ahri's now tense hands, the temptress had to exhale forcefully all at once. She was being tempted, and not at all on purpose. How pleasant.
At last, Ahri caught her breath. "You don't want to speak. That's okay. I..."
That was too impulsive. Ahri wasn't that person.
"...Well, it's getting late. And as you can see, I don't really need therapy." Ahri grinned. "Is it okay if I leave?"
Sona nodded, her eyes downcast a bit. Guilt. Guilt. Guilt. It shot through Ahri, the pain concentrated in one area. In order to avoid more of this feeling, Ahri turned her back to Sona and exited the dressing room as quickly as she could bear to leave the Maven.
Suddenly, a figure moved out of the shadows. It was Akali.
"Are you also a Pentakill fan? I doubt it. I heard you like Sona," she opened.
As Ahri was about to ask, "So what?", Akali finished her regal opening speech.
"So many boobs. Will matchmaking ever find true balance?"
Ahri was a traveler by profession. She upped and left as often as she could. Getting situated would be bad.
Kyou didn't like this. She preferred to just stay in one spot and nap. This afforded Ahri the risk of being discovered, though.
As such, the two designated roles to each other. Ahri would be the "hunter" and travel from village to village to obtain sustenance for the two of them. Taken by dubious methods, of course. Meanwhile, Kyou would maintain watch over the paths they typically traveled so as to make sure they were undiscovered. She would make anyone who knew too much "disappear." To this end, she made the center of the paths her abode, and Ahri's only permanent residence.
A place for the two of them to go home to.
It was nighttime. Ahri finished her weekly meal and brought home some trout for Kyou to eat. They watched the stars amidst the clamor of Kyou noisily eating her favorite food.
"Does it make a difference whether or not it's cooked?" asked Ahri. She had long forgotten the difference, as she never had time to catch her own meat, and never bothered.
"It does," Kyou said. "I like it better cooked now."
Ahri murmured affirmatively, and allowed her eyelids to shut.
"Hey, Ahri?" beckoned Kyou.
"Don't leave me alone, okay? Promise?"
A questioning hum escaped Ahri's throat.
"I love you, Ahri," said Kyou, pressing her lips against Ahri's own.