//signs i need to go to work. I have a couple drafts well... drafted. I’ll look over them tonight when i get home from work. Until then HERE HAVE SOME QUICK SKETCHES -flies into the sun-
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‘Kissed’ ¬‿¬
[33: Between the shoulder blades]
The day had been concluded in defeat. Not one singular match had ended positively for the Ranger and her companion despite how numerous they were. One failure after another after another. One summoner who did not synchronize well after another after another. But it was okay… This is simply what happened on ‘Free Week’ when Quinn’s presence on the fields was not restricted to only those qualified magically to work with her. They were all just… Learning.
But that didn’t mean she was any less tired out.
Blood, mud and sweat caked the Demacian as she sat down, hard, upon the bench within the Institutes lockers. The day was technically over and yet so much seemed to stretch before her to accomplish before her head could fall upon the plush pillows within her quarters.
Shower. Pick up Val. Eat dinner. Write-
An unexpected touch upon her shoulder and yet Quinn didn’t start.
“You look a little rough around the edges,” piped a familiar, oddly comforting voice as its bearer sauntered around to Quinn’s front. A wide smile, a body absent almost all clothing and brown eyes that twinkled warmly as they gazed down upon the weary Demacian. Kannu, on of the few Summoners that Quinn had dared to spare a moment to converse with on more than one occasion.
“Free week,” Quinn responded with a heavy sigh and forced smile of her own. “You know how that goes. How have your matches been on your end?”
The other woman’s presence jarred Quinn into action, the first being to remove the many straps and the cloak that hung over her shoulders before shifting to the metal plates upon her forearms. Kannu spoke idly then, understanding that Quinn listened though dedicated more of her focus to the many buckles and clips that adorned her armor and therefore keeping it simple. Kannu, as she was prone to doing, then offered to help remove some of the more complicated bits.
It was always so hard to tell when she was being genuinely sweet or lustful, not that Quinn tended to mind either way.
“I don’t know,” Quinn smirked, sparing a quick glance over her shoulder at the woman who already had gotten to work loosening several clips along her side from behind. “You might try to sneak some touches again!”
“To be fair I warned you first,” Kannu grinned right back, chocolate colored eyes fixed to the thick shirt that the Rangers fingers began to tug at. “Its not my fault if you can’t listen to me and tell Valor not to mess on Garen’s weights.”
Fingers peeled away the disgusting garment, tossing it onto the pile of just as filthy armor and leather that decorated Quinn’s torso. The open air was cool against her skin despite the single, thick wrap that hid her femininity from view. Eyes fluttered close for a moment, relief pulling a heavy sigh from the woman before a new sensation was registered.
Something warm, soft, pressing against the skin between her shoulders accented with the unmistakable feel of breath.
“A-… Are you kissing me now,” Quinn grunted, twisting away slowly, but with enough certainty that Kannu would know to pull away. “Kannu… I’m absolutely disgusting right now.”
The Summoner who wore her Cheshire Grin even now, only chuckled as though amused entirely too much by the Demacian’s words.
“My mouth has seen worse.”
A faintly shocked expression flashed across Quinn’s features, the woman still entirely unused to Kannu’s open tendencies.
“And I wasn’t gonna miss out on the one chance I’ve had to see you without your super, spandex leotard. Thing. Onsie?”
“……………………………… Its not a ons-… Do you have some place to be, Kannu?”
“Probably~”
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swapbats
Birds in suits is the kind of quality content I wanna see when I wake up.
Describe their hands
//Her hands are not soft things. Scars and callouses weave a unique and distinctive story, one that details a life hard earned.
One her dominant hand, rough callouses speak of the tight grip with which she has adopted to better wield her crossbow and the lifetime of bonding with farm tools. It is a strange pattern to see, given the wild difference between the tools of life and the tools of war, however Quinn would have it no other way. Because of these things, however, Quinn does not offer softer touches with this hand.
The thick skin masks quite a lot of the more delicate sensations she might seek to feel. For example, silk feels rough against fingertips that have been honed over the years for digging rocks out from beneath soil that needs plowing. However, this is where her non dominant hand comes into play.
While still betraying the labor of her life, this hand is significantly less calloused and more so marred by scarring. Anything, be it Valor’s sharp beak or the bite offered by the tips of her bolts, that might threaten injury to the most skilled of her hands is absorbed by the less. It has become clear if you examine her scars that this hand is defensive, this hand is the tester, this hand is used for preservation of the other.
Because of this, scar tissue makes her all the more receptive to the sensitive things in life. Silk no longer catches to create friction along those callouses. Instead, it feels... well as silk rightly should when runs their hands along its liquid surface. The skin of a lover is no longer only warm... But felt with such acuity that Quinn may feel as though she isn’t simply touching skin, but her lover themselves in their whole entirety.
"What is your favorite thing to do with Valor? I mean for fun when you're not busy."
“I like to watch him soar over large crowds of people after meals.”
“You ever spit on a busy ant hill and watch them all suddenly panic and scurry away from that large drop of moisture while those it hit just kind of sit there in a daze? Its like that.”
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demaciandoublerainbow
I’m Not a Tour Guide
Lux was a normally patient person. She had to be while working the world of intelligence and espionage. Not everything fell onto your lap immediately for the sake of convenience. But that didn’t stop her from getting annoyed while her patience wore on, and Quinn was late enough that it was starting to draw her patience thin.
Yet when it was reaching it’s pinnacle, news arrived. Apparently someone new had arrived at the barracks, a lost country girl. That seemed to fit the description she had received of the newest recruit. Immediately Lux’s eyes turned up to the sky. She had heard rumors the girl travelled with a supposedly extinct Demacian eagle.
She saw no sign of one in the air above them.
Still, that wasn’t reason enough to dismiss the reports. Luxanna left the parapets of the barracks and headed town toward the main entrance. There was hardly a lobby since they didn’t typically greet guests, but the main hall was still large and people mulled about there frequently.
Lux pushed her way in and looked about for the lost country girl. Typically it was easy to see someone who was new. Those who worked, served or lived within the barracks always walked with a purpose. Very rarely were they looking around. The blonde spotted her charge fairly quickly, her sapphire eyes keen at picking out minute details.
She made her way over to Quinn and grabbed the other girl’s arm. The recruit was about her age, but that was no surprise given how Lux had been advanced early through everything. “Come on, it’s too busy in here,” she said simply, dragging Quinn along with her and pulling her to an alcove in the side of the wall, a large statue of one of the early kings glaring down at the crowds.
“You’re Quinn, right? I’m Luxanna Crownguard, I’m supposed to help you get settled into the city,” she said with a formal tone, pursing her lips. “It must be daunting, the big city, after spending all your time in the country.”
Quinn shifted back and forth on her heels, eyes shifting to and fro as the bustling crowd of both soldiers and officials alike scurried about with their business. The glances spared her way only stroked her unease and part of her wished that Valor hadn’t decided then to roost upon her shoulder. Yet the comforting weight of her avian companion quickly drove all thoughts regarding such things from her mind almost as effectively as the hand that suddenly grasped at her arm.
Surprise pulled at her features then as the Crownguard girl lead her to a quieter section of the hall and Valor squawked in irritation. This was, no doubt, her guide to the city and it was this obvious fact alone that kept her from letting Val have his way. No doubt an angry peck or two would have conveyed to the blonde just how little he thought of her gruff actions.
“Yes... Quinn and Valor,” she murmured, gesturing lightly at the large bird glaring daggers at Lux from her shoulder. “Nice to meet you... And.. Its not daunting so much as... Intimidating?”
Little did she know that her description was exactly the same as what this mage had spoken of. Quinn was smart, fast thinking and resourceful... But that should hardly suggest that she was what she called as ‘book smart’ as Luxanna. The Ranger grew up in a farmhouse, after all.
“I didn’t think so many people could fit into such a small space, to be honest.”
/IM TIRED OF CHOKING ON MY COFFEE WHEN SOMEONE HAS SUDDEN, LOUD AUTOPLAY!! AUGH MY POOR EARS though i guess i could fix the problem by simply turning down the volume on my laptop but im like legit half deaf and i like my music bUT AUGH MY EARS AUTOPLAY WHY
((What would be different about Quinn's life if her brother had lived? Would she still have become the scout it have even met Valor?))
//I would actually have to say that Quinn wouldn’t be relevant even in the slightest if her brother had lived. While yes, her childhood infatuation with legendary tales of heroes and adventure would have not been abolished, they would have eventually been grown out of. With her brother at her side, the duo very well would have progressed as any normal commoner should have at that point. Quinn likely married off to the best farm boy they could find, likely the one down the street, while Caleb had done the same with the best farm gal he could get. Life would have continued on....
I mean, without his death... She would not have had her whole world shattered. She would not have found Valor at the scene of her brothers accident on that fateful day. She would not have lost and then rediscovered old or new purpose... It took nursing Val back to health to rekindle her previous desire for adventure, to make it burn brightly enough that she chose to finally act.
As much as his death has wounded her... Things happen for a reason and Quinn firmly believes that she would not be where she is now if it hadn’t been for that misstep taken by her brother all those years ago.
#its hard to say exactly HOW domestic Quinn would be#I mean her brother would have been a MASSIVE influence on her#but if HIS sense of adventure didnt wane then its safe to say hers didnt?#Idk its strange but i def think he would have 'mellowed' a bit#aka mellowing HER out#and then they'd just be another group of farmers with stories to look back on#and nothing more#posted headcanon#askelise#TY FOR THE SEND BTW#I APPRECIATE IT SO MUCH#EVEN IF IM CRAZY LATE
You gave me one now you get one, if you could describe Quinn's feelings when she first came across Valor, how did their relationship work off the bat and were there any oddities or fun stories that sprung up from when they first started working together?
//To be honest, the first thought that bubbled up within Quinn’s mind when she found Valor didn’t actually come into realization until after she had the wounded fledgling cradled up in her arms and feet had already started to carry the duo home.
But emotion? Need? Those things were certainly most immediate when she lay her eyes on Val for the first time. She had gone to the sight of the accident with a heavy heart. Distress and a deep seeded sorrow that even to this day lingers, weighted her every step and made each breath she sucked between her teeth agony. Quinn had lost her twin, her other half... But then she saw that flurry of feathers, a lavender color more than the Demacian blue Valor would eventually grow into, fluttering helplessly upon the dirt directly where her brother had previously laid.
Sorrow soaked or not, Quinn’s desire to help a creature who was quite obviously in a lot of pain and fear (I have a whole ‘meeting’ headcanon that details Val’s injuries) kind of overwhelmed all of that. Her father, an honest hunter, had told Quinn of a duty she had as one herself to the creatures of the forest. Never let one live on in agony, as you would most certainly not do that to a human after all.
So those teachings kicked in and she found herself a bit relieved then that she didn’t actually have to kill the poor bird to accomplish that task. But she would have to tend to him herself, something that was significantly more preferable to her. Sadness forgotten, at least for that moment, Quinn scooped Val up and started down the path she’s on now.
As for quirks and hitches in working together?
They most certainly had their... Bumps. Valor, for as smart as he is, was still very much so a wild animal. Untrusting, fearful and in pain, it took more than just a few soft words and edible offerings for Quinn to win him over. But even then that should not suggest he really understood the words that left her lips or that his talons damaged her quite a lot if he landed on her while she was absent her thick leathers. With each day there seemed to be two new problems between the duo, but their willingness to make it work most certainly paid off in the long run.
This is already like, too long so I’ll spare the stories for another ask, or perhaps a drabble BUT THANK YOU FOR SENDING THIS AND IM SORRY IT TOOK ME AGES TO RESPOND!! I have this tendency to hoard headcanon asks while I mold them in my head ;u;
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ask-the-sinisterblade
Blue and Green (Katarina and Quinn)
A day’s work done and over with, although it really took her a week and some to properly track down the target. Luckily, he went exactly where she expected him to— the Marshes of Kaladonn. Had he decided to be smarter, he would’ve taken the longer route through Mogron Pass and then turn to the Great Barrier for refuge, or hide somewhere in the wildlands. It would’ve been a race between her and the Demacian forces, risky as it was, but still less obvious.
He didn’t have a chance anyway. A low-ranking High Command official, easily overshadowed by his peers with no work worthy of mentioning. It was only a matter of time before he tried for recognition through desperate measures, but this only ended badly for him.
(It was disappointing, in a way, but she felt no pity for him.)
Now, his body lied dead on the rocky terrain of the hills, a slit adorning his throat as his life essence pours out and down to the currents, a red tainting one area of it.
Katarina was ready to depart, until she felt a shadow overhead.
The assassin looked up just in time to see sharp talons fly towards her face, and only by the grace of her reflexes does she manage to dodge out of the way… and down tumbling into some shale by a slip of her feet. Rocks scraped and impaled her in her fall, and it felt like she was being cut by a thousand each second before finally managing to get a good grab on a part of the cliffs.
“Fuck,” she grunted in pain. She didn’t know the extent of her injuries yet, and there were still enemies to worry about. A huge, blue-feathered bird, to be specific.
(It was always the gods damned birds.)
Quinn heard the commotion before she happened upon it, Valor’s cry telling her of the trouble just as she topped the peak upon which she had to be so delicate with where she tread. A flash of red and black, silver glinting as the woman before her scrambled to regain some semblance of control as gravity dragged her down the mountain side.
It was easy to recognize her by that simple description below, the limp and lifeless man positioned higher upon the mountain only a confirmation. Katarina, one of Noxus’ most lethal individuals, the best assassin they had to offer. Quinn had read plenty about her and couldn’t help but to be.. Somewhat shocked as she withdrew her crossbow and leveled the thing directly at the Sinister Blade.
“Do not move,” she growled, just as uncertain as to how injured the assassin might’ve been from the rough, merciless tumble down the mountain with shale and sharp brush alike to break her fall. “You so much as breathe wrong, Noxian, and I’ll fill you with more bolts than blades you have on your hip.”
Overly aggressive... Sure, Quinn could admit to that. But considering her company? Perhaps it wasn’t threatening enough.
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rulebreakertoph-deactivated2017
A grubby hand reached up to nudge at one of the flowers.
[ 石 ] “Ya tryin’ to get me to attract bumblebees?”
“Uh. Well I don’t think he was thinking about that. I mean, he look kind of glum, looking down all the time. Prob’ly just wanted to cheer you up. Or apologize for something. Depends really.”
What is one of their favorite items?
//Quinn is particularly fond of her cloak. Or really, almost any cloak that she can get her hands on. Even during the summer months, the Ranger wears a thin swath of fabric around her despite the heat it tends to hold against her.
Its oddly comforting regardless to feel something always there to pull around her form. To fiddle with during situations of unease or to simply nestle into, hood pulled high... A cloak, with all of its simplicity, serves many uses and offers many comforts to the Demacian.
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Naughty Ptichka (Closed)
The wind picked up and carried dust through the air. The dust hit his mask and augments and all of the machinery giving off slight clinking sounds. The worksite had gone quiet because it was break time. Ten minutes filled with dust and the soft howl of the winds carrying said dust. Viktor was surveying the edges of the work area and something, but he couldn’t put his finger on it, didn’t feel right. He stared off into the distance, away from the worksite. A single silhouette showed in the distance. He motioned for another surveyor to come near.
“Poluchit’ dvoye muzhchin i razvedat’ . Yesli eto prokhozhiy , pust’ oni budut . Yesli ugroza , zakhvatit’ ikh.”
The surveyor nodded, and motioned for two others to come along with. All of the workers on site were able to defend themselves well against any regular threat all thanks to Viktor giving them a variety of augments.
Viktor turned back to the workers and raised his hand to signal them to start again. He hoped that word had not gotten out of his location, him being so close to Piltover and whatnot. If it was that imbecile Jayce, he would let him get back to his precious home so easily.
( withvalor )
It was only a routine excursion, or at least as routine as it usually got whenever Quinn’s skills were needed. Ninety percent of the time, ‘go investigate whatever area due to suspicious activity’ reports were about as suspicious as an elderly woman shopping in a bakery. So commonplace it was more of a wonder as to why she had been sent than what exactly was taking place.
So when her gaze fell upon an obvious work site, the Ranger hadn’t spared herself the effort required to mask herself from these workers nor from their lone surveyor, outfitted in metal if she should make assumptions based off of how he seemed to glint within the few flickers of light present. It was hard to see what they were doing, but Quinn found herself... A bit uncaring. Regardless, perhaps she ought to approach, ask for papers.
... Can’t be caught digging illegally, at least in Piltover. The fools had taken their technology a bit too far, burying their electric cables below the earthy surface and in turn, creating a new threat for workers.
Valor let loose a shrill cry from above, alerting the Ranger to the small group of metal men who approached. Maybe they were doing some illegal digging, judging by how cautiously they seemed to move with each step that closed the distance between them. The Ranger, now quite aware of the fact that any cover she didn’t care to have had been blown, shifted so that she may be somewhat more visible. If she did not appear to be a threat, perhaps they would lose interest... Return back to the dig site.
“Oi!” she called out, golden gaze narrowing in slight as the men came to roughly twenty paces from her. “I don’t mean to dig... But why the digging? Seems to be a weird place to do so!”
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Headcanon Meme Time!
⌆ a nervous tic or habit they do
⏀ describe their usual smile
⇅ do they look up or down while thinking?
❧ describe their usual sleeping position
✑ describe something they like without naming it
✜ what’s their posture like in a normal situation?
❖ describe their hands
❞ write a quote they would find themselves saying
§ how would their hair gray? or would they lose their hair first?
❤ describe how they show affection.
✭ what is one of their favorite items?
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blood-of-the-frostfangs-deactiv
A Northward Encounter
Storm-ice clung to the barren trees of the southern Freljord as the maelstrom of clouds loomed in the distance as the rage of the north would be upon the area soon and the barbarian did not want to become an icicle. The demonologist strode southward, his home long behind him as he had hoped they would take him back… only to find their scorn and disdain as fresh as it was the day he and his mother had left. Belkor’s eyes flicker past the miniscule flurries of white as he caught the glimmer of metal catches the male’s eye as he immediately ducks his large form behind the shadow of a large pine.
The light tone of a female flitters into his ears, unable to make out much of what the person was saying, keeping still as he is content to let the passerby be as he made his way home to the Ironspike Mountains.The seconds flitter by as the muffled tones of her speech reverberate through the barren trees, the trill sounds of some sort of bird or beast intermingling with her words and phrases as he watches them head right towards the deadly tempest. Even if they were to turn back and run like an elk they would not be able to outrun it… they would be swallowed by the storm’s fury.
Belkor gnashes his teeth as he comes to a quick choice that he may live to regret as he raises his large form from the shadow of the trees as he clears his throat and attempts to greet them civilly. “Hail travelers! ‘Ere ye be headed?” He calls to them, keeps a firm grip on his shortsword, hoping he wouldn’t require it.
But if this was a southerner, they could very well be killed by their ignorance of the north.
The wind was picking up, hardly uncommon in the North, as for every towering mountain range the Frejlord possessed there seemed to be wide, vast expanses of little space, peppered with trees and shrubs. Wind ran across Valoran unchecked here, yet even so Valor was agitated. A storm, a big one judging by the blackness that loomed overhead only a handful of miles away.
“I know Val,” she murmured, doing her best to make it through this swath of pines to seek better refuge within the closest rocky mountain. A cave sure would be nice, but if they didn’t hurry, any travel time remaining would require her to dig one from the snow. “If I had wings like you this wouldn’t be a problem.”
So intent on her goal, the ordinarily observant Ranger failed to miss the man entirely even before he called out. When he did, the woman visibly started, the avian perched on her shoulder unfurling his wings in a display of both threat and loss of balance. But this man had used a friendly greeting. He did not seem to bear any mark or color that betrayed him as Winter’s Claw.
“Oh you know,” she responded, voice made somewhat more faint with a particularly harsh gust of wind dusting her form with the loose surface snow from the ground and flakes it carried. “Out of the snow. Do you know the area? If you do would you please direct me to the closest cave?”
Simple demands, a rapidly relaxing demeanor. The Demacian hoped then that by appearance alone that she could convince this man that she was not worth pulling that blade on. Not that Quinn felt, even with Valor’s distrustful coo in her ear, that he would be any real threat. It was two against one, after all.
I can totally see Quinn being all about fixing up other injured birds she finds in the forest. And Valor getting totally jealous.
//VERY MUCH SO XD Quinn can’t just… LEAVE An injured animal, bird or not. Whether that’s helping the poor creature heal or to put it out of its misery.. Well, we all have different definitions of ‘helping,’ don’t we.