Beyond the Bandlewood lie the Glade, an extension of the magically infused forest that link the wider cities of Bandle to one another. A common misconception amongst the diviners of Runeterra is that all Yordles reside in the mysterious capital of Bandle City, but other major cities and townships, connected by winding paths often inhabited by travelling caravans and the odd group of highwaymen - exist too. Without a guide or a Clairvoyance scroll the way forward more often than not was obfuscated by whimsical magics that spun complex illusions, shifting the very fragile fabric of reality to lead travelers astray. Yordles familiar with the Glade could navigate through these treacherous tricks with ease, but the skill came only with time, time that was skewed. The Glade’s massive aura of whimsy distorted more than just the path. In rare cases a caravan could be lost for years only to convey that their trip was hardly a day’s travel, while another troop could walk for weeks and emerge at their destination in just a couple short seconds by the local’s watches.

Lois was intimately familiar with this place. In a past life long forgotten she travelled these woods, plotting a map that would guide her for many years afterwards. In truth her age was a mystery to even herself, by Runeterran metrics she was approximately forty years old but in comparison to the others? She could be thousands of years older, or maybe younger. The Glade reversed and accelerated time without warning, not that time would show on her physically. The only hint at a Yordle’s true age was their hair, the longer it grew the older they were. Her hair was an unreliable tell, though. The dreadlocks were well kept and trimmed of their excess regularly, if taken down she imagined it would spill behind her like a wedding train. She looked down now at her map, the parchment old and nearly orange with weathering. Her markings and scribbled notes still shone boldly in crimson. At the center, marked with a towering tree and magnificent canopy was Bandle City. To the north-western edge of the page was a city called Stifel. Her poor handwriting brought back memories that sat awkwardly with her. It was impossible to forget but she sometimes could tuck them away and pretend they didn’t exist until something inevitably resurfaced them.

Drawn on her map were other markings, territories with hashed lines and aggressive spikes alongside numbers circled next to landmarks that highlighted points of elevation. Plans of attack previously erased, redrawn and erased again pointed towards objectives, one of which was labelled “Overlook”. A part of her wanted to smile, but another part wanted to fold the map away and never look at it again. Her eyes naturally gravitated towards other points along the main roads marked “Checkpoint.” It all led to a poorly drawn castle with the words, “The Grise,” underneath it. She glanced toward Nehel who was sat beside her holding the reins that steered their Cochchafer forward. He looked back silently, acknowledging her with eye contact. His furious coals looked somewhat modest in his shadowy sockets as he focused down on the parchment. They exchanged no words, turning about at the same time to look forward again.

She folded the map away and stood on the driver’s platform, last she checked the road went on straight and narrow through a rocky pass, not that it mattered - the animals in the spirit realm weren’t as susceptible to misleading illusions given their lack of intelligence and natural symbiosis with their environment. Lois gave it a simple command to continue forward as she pressed her stone medallion into the socket, unlocking the door. A warm interior greeted her, heat wafting at her from the wood stove in the kitchenette. Most of her company was gathered in the sitting area on hanging chairs, plush cushions and beanbags around a floor table. The floor table was an ingenious multi-functioning addition at the center of the bed pit, rising up to reveal extra storage and access to the Hextech machinery in case of emergency and maintenance. When unused it could be pressed back down to become seamlessly flush with the floor, a feature Lois particularly liked.

Mica’s fixings were fresh on their plates, still hot with aromatic steam rising off each meal. It was a simple but effective combination of chopped vegetables and meats paired with chicken cutlets and rice to make a flavorful curry. To complete the spread Mica added portions of loaf bread and a sweet but low proof mead to clash savory with sweet. Rutile and Cobalt were the first to look up, seemingly even more receptive to Lois’ presence given her assistance with Mica’s situation. Little talk about the ritual had transpired since they left Bandle City, and there was no need. So long as their baby sister was healthy they were happy.

Both siblings decided to bring their businesses on the road. Cobalt’s reason stood before him and Rutile’s sat beside her. Mica was as much an adult as her big Sister, but being the protective pseudo-mother she was, she couldn’t very well let Mica travel far from home so soon after her recovery. Or, at least not without sufficient protection.

“So, I figure now is as good a time as any to ask…” Cobalt began, “What’s our business model?” Before he could let his question settle he was already collecting his spoon to dig into the rice and curry.

“Well,” Lois gathered a plate, black and with high edges to prevent spills in their shifting Vardo, “You work wood, Rutile shapes metal and Mica mines it. There’s plenty we can do to make money. Lock boxes with metal fixtures, wooden and metal sculptures, jewelry, trinkets and mementos.”

“Not a terrible idea.” Chelle shrugged, sipping at her mead.

“Maybe we could do the opposite of that little shop in the Wyndwood and tailor our crafts to the places we visit,” Mica added, “Cogs and little machine bits for Piltover, shields and medallions for Demacia - that kinda’ thing.”

The group collectively agreed as Lois filled her plate and sat down. It had been a while since she had home cooking like this, it was the little things she missed the most about Mica, Chelle and Enzo. While decent enough behind a stove her cooking skills paled in comparison to Mica. She took a chicken cutlet into her mouth first, trying her best not to broadcast her surprise too much. It was better than she could ever give credit, swallowing it down with a meager sigh of satisfaction.

“Actually, making wind chimes would be a nice change of pace for me,” Rutile admitted. Everyone could hear the undertones of relief in her voice at finally being away from the tracks and her overbearing Father. This venture was as much a reprieve for her as it was for Lois.

“You said Mica would be good for mining metals, and I agree. But finding them would be the bigger problem, no?” Cobalt’s brow furrowed.

“That’s one reason why we’re visiting Stifel. There’s an enchanter there that sells Mineral Detectors, we plan on using the last of our available funds to purchase one - along with any material required for your respective jobs. Seventy percent of sales go towards upkeep and costs of living, the other thirty percent goes to you four. Think of it as a salary.” Lois said.

In all honesty, assuming their merchandise sold, everyone got the best of both worlds. A steady income to use at their leisure with flexible hours and plenty of country to see between business days. It was hardly a job at all. The stress of daily life had already begun to melt away, shaken from them with each rocking jostle of the Vardo. How envious her past self would’ve been right now, Lois thought - taking another spoonful of curry into her mouth. But spirits weren’t all high. Her gaze cast across the table to Rutile who was staring daggers into the side of Chelle’s head.

“And what are you going to do?” Rutile inquired with a passive-aggressive tone.

Chelle hardly paid her any mind, speaking with a full mouth. “Iunno’, I’ll figure somethin’ out.”

Mica, quick to defuse the situation before it escalated, jumped in, head swinging between the two with hands out. “Oh, hey! Maybe you could provide music! We’ll make it a whole experience, you can play your guitar and Cobalt’s a pretty good singer. Maybe we could even write some songs, how about that?” She laughed nervously as the two Yordles now glared past her to the other.

“Oh-ho-hooh,” Cobalt huffed with a lack of self-confidence, “Well I’ll be honest - it’s been a while since I sang forreal - I don’t think I’d be as good as you remember.” Cobalt rubbed at the back of his neck awkwardly. He was just fine with his singing voice, he just didn’t care to vocalize in front of his newest crush. His last attempt at romance involved serenading his date, and needless to say she wasn’t impressed.

Mica and Rutile understood immediately but feigned ignorance, “Maybe you’re right, it has been a while.” Rutile said, trying her best to bail her Brother out.

“It’s fine… We’ll do it.” Lois volunteered, meekly.

Chelle nearly rolled her eyes. “A singer and a dancer, huh? You’re so full of surprises, boss.” Her voice was practically dripping with sarcasm.

“That’s no way to treat your new vocalist, now is it?” Lois replied with a smug and knowing smirk.

Rarely did Chelle taste her own medicine, and every time it was bitter. She was disarmed by the comment, scoffing. Perhaps a year or so ago she would’ve continued to press the issue, but Lois’ jabs were relegated to glancing blows. An understanding between distant friends. Cobalt on the other hand was quietly kicking himself, what a way to bond! He lamented, fighting the urge to grimace at the missed opportunity.

Chelle’s talent with a guitar was usually a well-kept secret, but in this case she was willing to forgo her fear of playing for crowds, giving Mica a look of silent compliance. Just like her restaurant gigs it was for a cause much bigger than herself. The fact she conceded without a fuss made Mica smile, too. She was never this agreeable, the peaceful atmosphere must’ve finally worn her stress away. The past year had been an emotional maelstrom fraught with disappointments and revelations, the voices of Chelle’s past come back to haunt her took an unseen toll on her psyche, leaving hardly any time for either party to stop and smell the roses. The Carnelian couldn’t have come sooner for the both of them.

The sun never truly set in the Glade, unlike Runeterra where the heavens above remain still and the earth beneath them spun in twenty-four hour revolutions, the Glade was disjointed from reality. Night came when what Yordles referred to as the Shining Sinkhole consumed the heavens. Every night in the realm of Bandle the sun dimmed as a vague and circular shape eclipsed its magnificence, blotching it out. The object, much bigger due to perspective, severed the sun's rays whole. The sorcerers and so-called astronomers have attempted to make sense of this object but have found the whimsical verse of Yordles is not meant to be understood.

As the sky blackens a new light emerges, the object glows much like the moon would on Runeterra, but brighter and with a more saturated blue. The edges of its compass spring forth with wisps of energy like errant fireworks that splay out across the sky in a whirling pattern. As the energies span the horizon, each find their unique position, and then they pause. For an hour the motes of energy materialize into beacons of light; Becoming stars, and from these stars explode a galactic whirlpool, a sinkhole with a glowing center. Arms of ethereal star light twist outwards from their mysterious “moon”, and when first light comes the stars recede back behind the edges of the glowing object and the sun moves to overtake it like a pair of playing cards being folded behind one another. Humans who have ventured into the realms of Bandle find the phenomenon so overwhelmingly beautiful they fall unconscious and wake with crippling insanity.

Mica sat, awaiting the Sinkhole’s arrival. The stars had already streaked across the blank canvas, soon the pigment would stain it and illuminate the otherwise dark road ahead. Their six-legged stead continued on with occasional protest, letting its exhaustion be known by beating it’s massive wings. The rocky mountain pass had steepened on either side of the road, its edges were topped with trees and loose boulders, leaving Mica to wonder what kind of minerals could hide beyond the initial layers of stone. The occasional crumbling of gravel stole her attention with a gasp. Lois promised there was hardly anything out in the Glade that would challenge a Tri-Horned Cochchafer. They were just a few tiers below the apex, a challenge not to be scoffed at by any would-be predator out here in the Glade.

Stories of highwaymen were more common than beasts, though. She wasn’t nearly as confident in their combat capabilities without Enzo, for as much as she hated the killing their old team worked as well as an oiled excavator - a few hitches but well put together. Rutile wasn’t a fighter like Mica wasn’t and Cobalt had brawn but only a handful of lessons passed down from their Father for the sake of self-defense. Her worries continued for a while until the door creaked open, revealing her Brother. Cobalt gave a warm smile, dispelling her fear with his sturdy presence.

“Thought I’d keep you company.” He handed her a shawl to stave away the early night chills.

“I half expected Chell.” She accepted the shawl, feeling the expertly knitted linen so plush and soft in her bare palm. The texture made her ears rise a tad.

“Sorry to disappoint,” Cobalt said, feigning a frown.

“Stop it,” Mica chuckled, “You know what I meant.”

His smile returned as he sat down beside her. “Nah, I know. She’s getting cleaned up, I’m sure she’ll be out in a sec.”

It only just occurred to Mica that a lot of their home amenities were things of the past, a shower spigot being one of them. And with no plumbing out here in the Glade nature was their new toilet until they reached population centers. It was a discomforting thought, but that was the price paid for this new life of travel.

“Hey, I uh-...” Cobalt paused for a moment to gather his thoughts. “I wanted to ask you for some advice?”

“Advice?” Mica nearly scoffed. “Aren’t you the older Brother here?”

“You act like I’m supposed to know everything!” He exclaimed in an amused fashion.

“No, I guess not...” Mica admitted, glancing up to the cliff edges above for a moment. “What’s up?”

“I know you and Chelle, is well uh-... A new thing, but… I figure your experiences could be of some help to me with Lois? This is about the farthest I’ve come with most of my dating prospects - we’re practically sleeping right next door...” He gave a nervous laugh. “But, yeah- I was just wondering how you got Chelle’s attention? How you approached her and how you let her know your feelings without outright sayin’ em’, if you catch my drift.”

“Huh…” Mica brought a hand to her chin. It hadn’t ever really occurred to her how she went about broadcasting her affections. She didn’t really. She wasn’t the aggressive type, that was Chell’s thing. She was a much more subtle lover, dropping vague hints. Hints that were perhaps easier to pick up and put out by a female, a conclusion she failed to arrive at.

“Well, you’re kind of a shy guy, just like me.” Mica noted.

“Yeah?” Cobalt droned, following along.

“What I found always worked was like- Just being near her. I’d make excuses to try and touch her, but in a casual way, a smooth way.” Mica regaled her attempts at seduction through foggy rose-tinted glasses. She was about as awkward as Cobalt in some respects but the fact she didn’t have to initiate was her biggest overlooked asset.

“So… Askin’ to comb her hair or something like that?” Cobalt assumed, leaning a little closer with a quiet voice.

“Yeah, yeah! Just like that.” Mica nodded, confidently.

“Okay,” He nodded as she did, “Anything else?”

“Oh, uhmm… Compliments! Compliments are nice, girls love it when you compliment them on something that’s not as obvious, too.” Mica added.

“Compliments, compliments…” Cobalt whispered to himself. “Maybe I could say something about… Her eyes?”

Mica shook her head. “No, dig a little deeper! Maybe compliment her skin, it’s gray and really smooth, not many Yordles have gray skin and I bet it’s not talked about a ton.”

“Ooo, that sounds like a good idea, you’re really good at this.” Cobalt smiled.

“And soon you will be, too! One last piece of advice! Lois is kind of a quiet individual, so you’re gonna’ have to do most of the talking, don’t be intimidated by her silence!”

“Right, right. Stay close to her, compliment her, keep the conversation flowing. Stay close to her, compliment her, keep the conversation flowing,” Cobalt chanted, quietly.

Mica found the Cochchafer tugging hard against the reins, figuring it was about time to stop for the night. She hadn’t spent enough time with the creature to know it’s eating habits, but she was sure the supplies were somewhere around back in one of the lockboxes. There was a small outcropping where the mountain pass gave way to the left, leaving a cranny for them to pull the Carnelian just off the road. The Cochchafer was happy to halt when she tugged the leather left and then back, falling onto its belly.

“Alright, make me proud, big bro! And send Rutile out here to help me get set up for the night.”

Cobalt broke his focused chanting as he was addressed. “Can do, I’ll let you know how it goes!”

“We’re close…”

“We are.”

Lois’ eyes opened to see the menacing form of Nehel knelt at the edge of her bed. The room, much too small for his size, relegated him to crawling and kneeling. The sight of her Demon made small was almost amusing, an emotion Nehel read easily, producing a toothy grimace on his darkened visage. He couldn’t intimidate her like before, the days of invading her mind with ill intent were over. They were as one now. The feeling of knowing Nehel beyond just the surface facade he had risen was a strange feeling, and it was a facade. Demons were much more than nightmarish creatures from a realm over. They had desires, passions, histories, rivalries and shortcomings. Nehel had known her past for some time but the ritual gone awry gave her insight into his past, too.

A valley came to mind, red foliage and pink blossoms stained in blood. A crimson sky and red Moon that looked upon him unfavorably. Nehel and several other Demons stood at the lowest point of the valley. Lois sensed these Demons were extraordinary, like the odysseys of ancient warriors from Runeterra they all had names and titles that eluded her. But she knew Nehel’s title. “One-Horn”, they called him. The other horn he had lost in the third Hunt at the height of the Blood Moon’s cycle. These extraordinary Demons numbered less than a dozen, but stood against an army so vast it threatened to swallow them whole. Nehel, chiefest among them, ordered they fight to the last.

Among the chaff of mindless Demons summoned forth by the hateful Moon were other Demons equal in power. A sense of betrayal lingered in the air, Lois could feel the palpable emotion manifesting as the tide of demons mobilized. Nehel came to blows with the enemy, hefting his mighty cleaver to slay hundreds with every stroke of the jagged edged blade. It maimed more than it killed, leaving Demons writhing in absolute agony, too broken to fight again. The battle lasted a whole cycle, the Moon full and bloody by the time it ended. Nehel and his few remaining comrades were bested. As penance for their perceived crime they’d serve a sentence, their prisons flesh and bone, a lot only meant to be carried out by those far less important than they.

Nehel’s crimes were so great he was given the smallest, most insignificant cage. The moon ordered they subjugate a realm, another realm for the crimson tide to expand into. The Moon’s light shone in all realms and the seeds were sown before their arrival. Seeking forgiveness, or at the very least a way home, the fallen begrudgingly agreed. The Moon sent those Demons still alive and still loyal to supervise them in his stead. With their autonomy stripped from them all they could do was urge their cages in the right direction, towards the rising Blood Moon’s eventual ascendance.

Lois’ self-induced trance was dispelled, eyes falling in line with Nehel’s. She had questions, the veil had yet to be pulled away entirely, she wanted to know more - but Nehel’s tensed musculature and jagged grit teeth made her realize that recalling those events took both their minds in collaboration. She spared him further suffering, looking to her bedside table where a clock sat. The minute hand whirled round in circles five times its normal speed yet the hour hand was frozen. She turned back to Nehel, beckoning the Demon closer.

He reluctantly slumped across the length of her bed where she reached out to push aside the mess of slickened black hair. The obfuscating darkness that seemed to shroud his face was lifted as she came in contact with it, revealing his features in full. It was everything she imagined it to be, but with an odd aura of renewed humanity. Lois’ hand was drawn to the nub where his second horn once was, feeling the bone. It was a clean cut, through and through, almost too precise.

“Come…” Lois offered, “We want to show you something.”

Nehel rose as Lois bundled in a white fur cloak with a wide-hood. She looked something like a Freljordian with the head of a Juvenile Jeweled Protector resting on her shoulder. The Ionians were perhaps one with nature but not Lois, mounting such a prestigious animal on her mantle and cloak wasn’t beyond her. In the days before the Blood Moon she equipped herself with six swords, each settled in specially made sheaths that would secret her own concoctions onto the blade, whether that be paralysis mixtures of deadly poisons. They rested on her hips, three on each side. She figured now would be a good time to get in the practice of using them again, returning to Runeterra with her Blood Moon garb and equipment wasn’t wise.

With her hood up she was ready to depart, swinging the door open… Only to be met by Cobalt.

“Oh, hey there, Lois…” He swallowed. “I was just meanin’ to talk to you. Are you headed somewhere, or…?”

“Saw something interesting on our map, wanted to go investigate,” She said, dryly.

“Wouldn’t be too much trouble if I, uh- Tagged along, would it? Just in case somethin’ happens.” Cobalt smiled.

“We’re perfectly capable,” Lois replied, not convinced.

“And I don’t doubt that, I don’t! But you can never be too safe out here in the Glade.”

Lois sighed. “Fine, but you stay close to us.” She exhaled, then blew past him. No point wasting energy on arguing.

Mica and Rutile were tending to the mass of plant matter splayed before their beast of burden when the two emerged from inside the vardo. It had taken her quite a while to find the feed for their Cochchafer and now they were in the process of grooming the animal for no other reason than to stave away their boredom. Rutile was about to speak when Mica jabbed her shoulder, shutting her up. Mica smiled and winked at Cobalt once Lois had continued far enough past, and Cobalt returned the gesture with a thumbs up.

Before they could go anywhere they’d have to scale their way out of the pass. Lois found a decent face of rock and began to climb. Ahead of her was Nehel who was already half-way up before she’d begun. He reached the top, hefting himself over. Eerie half-crimson firelight flickered to life beyond the rise of the cliff’s edge, the floating lanterns now summoned to provide light in the otherwise dark forest. Just as Lois and Cobalt crested the top of the rise the sky exploded with light, the sinkhole apperating to illuminate the heavens. She could hear Mica and Rutile faintly marvelling up at it. Just like in Runeterra, and more specifically cities like Piltover, light pollution in Bandle City had an effect on the night sky. Out here in the Glade everything was sharpened, though, each star shining as brightly as their neighbor.

The “moon” was waning, so the lantern’s guidance was still very much a boon beneath the tree cover. Just like in the Bandlewood, the Glade’s trees were about two to three times taller than what was average of the material realm. The undergrowth was dense here, too, less travelled by animals and Yordles. Lois was naturally quiet, but her company found himself catching on errant branches and shrubbery, not to mention he was floating in her bubble.

“When we said close, we didn’t mean that close.”

“Oh, right…” Cobalt slowed a tad to give her back her space. “What’s this place you wanted to check out, again?”

Lois let silence linger for a while…

“An old camp… Used to belong to a group of bandits if I remember correctly.”

“Our bandits.” Nehel added as he passed behind one tree and appeared several trees ahead, his procession of lanterns following him.

A curious glinting distracted Cobalt from inquiring further as he tapped Lois on her shoulder, giving her a moment’s pause. He gestured quietly towards the object, finding several more around it upon closer inspection. They looked like jagged metal rods protruding from the earth. Rust collected at their edges and there looked to be some sort of fletching on the end, much like an arrow would have. Crossbow bolts?

Lois started towards the clearing and metal rods, not at all alarmed by the phenomenon. Cobalt was off-put by her lack of concern, but then again she didn’t seem overly concerned about anything. He watched as Lois approached one rod, imperfectly shaped and slightly bent towards one end. Like a persistent plant she tugged, uprooting it to reveal a serrated end. Its length was twice that of a normal crossbow bolt, it was more like a harpoon?

“Ammunition for Impalers. Old guns that shot long metal rods, kind of like a harpoon gun from Bilgewater Bay but without the rope.” Lois explained.

Nehel shone light on the clearing as he approached, pulling free another rod. “A vicious and effective tool for killing.” He held the rod up to the nearest lantern which closed in proximity the moment he raised his arm. It hovered there while he looked at it long ways and short, dropping it once his interest waned. “Tell us more.”

Lois continued as the map instructed, divulging more aloud without even realizing it. “Big machines called Crankers were loaded full of rods and aimed at the enemy, it was dual functioning. Softening them for a charge and delivering ammunition directly to the battlefield. In a pinch they became spears, too.”

“Huh… Sounds like an interesting strategy,” Cobalt laughed, attempting to lighten the mood some. “These bandits don’t hang around here anymore, do they?”

As if coming to from a bout of sleepwalking Lois blinked herself alert, glancing back to Cobalt with a tinge of surprise. Her guard fell quickly again, though when she reoriented herself in reality. More rods lay before them, marking the perimeter of this “bandit camp”.

“Glade bandits and highwaymen never leave for long, but no… Not these ones… Not anymore…”

Further in, a large tree stood center amongst the folding forest of the Glade, bathed in moonlight from the slowly turning maelstrom in the sky. Most of its leaves had withered, leaving it as a monolith of deadwood within an otherwise living forest. Window sized holes and larger rounded breaches decorated the bark, carved out expertly to allow passage onto balconies, scaffolding and staircases that supported worn ziplines to various levels along the magnificent height of the trunk. At the very bottom opened a circular passage into the hollowed tree four times as big as the both of them. Etched along the edges of the open threshold were runes, some sort of language of completely unknown pattern. Cobalt tried to make sense of it but failed consistently, giving up a few seconds after. Despite this it seemed oddly familiar to him.

“You said these bandits had enemies? Like other bandits?”

“Other bandits, mercenaries, officials from Bandle City… All the enemies you’d imagine.” Lois said.

The open egress was once a mighty gateway into what looked to be a Mead Hall of sorts, though significantly less Freljordian than the words would otherwise imply. Tables that once supported dozens of Yordles were turned on their sides and dotted with ugly metal rods. These metal rods marked the points of battle and even had skeletons of the deceased still trapped and rotting away on them. Day by day the marrow wore, leaving the hall to marinate with the stench of death. A throne, rather mundane looking for its title, was elevated on a dais at the very back of the Mead Hall, and to its flanks rose stairs that curved around to the second floor. Laid on a table before the empty throne was the aforementioned Impaler. Not at all elegant and completely functional, it somehow withstood the test of time, remaining assembled and even loaded. Like all Yordle-crafted firearms the weapon was two times bigger than the creature meant to carry it and made predominantly from wood with metal inlays to protect the varnished lumber.

Cobalt nearly brought up his chicken curry at the foul smell. He wasn’t an adventurer, he was a working man, so his reaction was to be expected. Still he followed Lois, keeping close as she commanded, partly because he was out of his element and partly because he’d rather be near to her anyways.

She recalled how the gun worked now, a magical piece of stone mined from the nearby quarry struck a steel frizzen, sending magically charged energies down into a pan that directed it into the enchanted barrel of the weapon, producing sudden and powerful velocity enough to propel the rod forward. She picked it up, examining its breadth. The metal was cold but predominantly rust free, preserved by the decaying interior. A blowing exhale sent dust scattering from the many crevices of the weapon.

Cobalt made an effort to stay clear of the weapon and everything else for that matter. He didn’t want to bring attention to it but it seemed like Lois had plenty of history here. Instead he tried to renew the conversation.

“You know… I’ve never seen a Yordle with gray skin like yours…” He swallowed hard. “It’s quite… Different… Beautiful.”

Nehel rounded the long table, taking a seat on the throne that seemed just about his size. He sunk into its cushioned depths, feeling along the weathered fur and splintering wood. His eyes, so full of hate, fixed on Cobalt - and Lois turned to look at him, too. Suddenly a smile was promoted, a smile that seemed unlike the alchemist in that moment. An aggressive hand came to frame Cobalt’s face, crimson eyes wide in their sockets.

“So is yours…”

“So is yours…”

“What? R-Really?” Cobalt was taken aback by her forwardness.

“Mind if we wear it?” Lois inquired.

“Mind if we wear it?” Nehel inquired.

“E-Excuse me? Must be some metaphor I’m not privy to or--...” Cobalt was silenced by a finger that pinched his lips shut.

The same finger began to run along his chin, down his neck and across his chest, feeling against him with abnormal intensity. He would’ve felt violated if it were anyone else but his crush, leaving him disarmed and completely at her mercy. She still held the derelict Impaler in one hand, subtly bringing the heavy weapon and pointed rod to his side. A pull of the trigger and he would be skewered.

“So soft,” She said, “So fragile, so tender- So… Much flesh and blood.”

“So soft,” He said, “So fragile, so tender- So… Much flesh and blood.”

Cobalt hardly noticed the gun hovering inches from his sternum as Lois’ visage closed with his, her wicked smile somewhat concerning but not nearly enough to dissuade him from following through with what he imagined would be true love’s first kiss. His eyes fluttered closed and he sought to close the gap. He was an inexperienced love maker so he could only hope he would make a good first impression. Just as he could feel the warmth of Lois’ breath gracing his cheeks, her hand touched down on the growing bulge in his pants, forcing a nervous shiver out of the Yordle. He was so close… So close… Maybe this was more than just a kiss, more than just a moment, this could truly be…

My first time…

Just then a voice from the far end of the hall stole his attention.

“I always find you in the strangest places…”