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Lux almost—almost—leaves the instant she sees the person bleeding all over her bedsheets.

“Damn,” she says instead, and ignores the way the stranger jerks upright in favor of kicking her door shut. “I guess that means this room is taken.”

“Then—“—a quiet hiss, like simply speaking is too much to bear, and goddamn her stupid sense of compassion—“—why are you still here?”

Why is she still here indeed. The stranger is clearly armed, light glinting off of what looks like several jagged knives, which normally means assassin. Assassins are above her pay grade. Not that anyone’s paying her for this. She should be leaving. She should have been gone the moment she saw them.

“Because I can do something about that injury of yours.” Damn, Ezreal is going to laugh himself to death when he finds out about this because he will find out about it, the idiot. “Unless, of course, you want to bleed out in my room.”

Silence, if you ignored the raspy breathing and rustle of fabric. Lux sighs when there’s no answer, dropping her pack.

“I’m taking the lack of response as an acquiescence,” she warns. “Also, I’m turning on the lights.” The starlight and moonlight is good, always has been, but she needs more. There’s a rustle of cloth as the stranger shifts, hopefully not going for a weapon. She would much rather not have to use her shield today.

The light floods the room in dim red when she flips the switch, which. Smart. Good for moving around in the dark, when the lights are shut off. But it’s not helping her right now, and she’s not quite ready to pull out her Zaunite lights in front of this assassin. She’s already conspicuous enough by staying and not killing them. Then she’ll need to use an item, if she doesn’t have light to work with.

“Have you ever been healed by an Unholy Grail?” She keeps her voice light, conversational, as she rummages through her bag. Her baton is glowing when it floats towards her, faintly purple in the darkness. Another light source. “I’ve never been, personally, but I’ve heard it’s rather strange. If you feel the urge, do refrain from killing me.”It feels like the Unholy Grail is glowing when she pulls it from her pack, red-black and malevolent, but it doesn’t bolster her magic at all. Lux takes a breath, preparing herself.

“That doesn’t… look good.” The stranger’s voice is hoarser now that she’s closer. She contains the wince. That’s the voice you get from screaming for hours on end. Damn, what were they even doing?

“I promise it’ll help.” She flicks an assessing glance at the figure on the bed. “You may want to remove your coverings. It’s hard to heal if I don’t know what’s wrong.”

It would probably be possible, just a little annoying without any light or full mana stores. Might knock her out immediately after, depending on the scale of the wound.

“I…” A pause. Lux’s eyes flick up to where the stranger is looking at the window. There’s nothing there, nothing to look at, so they must be trying to avoid looking her in the eyes. “I can’t move too much.”

“Oh.” She pauses. “Torture?”

Silence. Lux exhales through her nose. Noxus.

“Are you alright with me stripping you?” She drums her fingers along her baton, swishing the dark liquid in the chalice. “I promise I won’t hurt you.”

The stranger eyes her before shrugging and sinking back into the mattress. Okay, good. She can work with that. Lux lays the Grail on the bedside table, careful not to spill any of the liquid inside, and sits on the bed beside the assassin. “Remember, don’t kill me,” she warns before her fingers are slipping around the leather straps holding a bloodied cloak to the assassin. It gleams with blades, so she’s careful to avoid cutting herself as she guides it off.

Next comes the shirt…tunic…thing… that they’re wearing, which makes Lux bite her lip for a second. “You’ll need to raise your arms above your head. Can you manage that range of motion or not?”

A pause before they nod and their arms come up. Lux peels the top off, wincing at the stickiness before she tosses it to the side. Already she can see massive gashes rending the flesh of their back, blood black in the red light.

“Damn,” she says. “Well, this might take a while. Anything on your legs?”


Well, at least she doesn’t have to take their pants off. Lux wiggles her fingers, summoning her baton to her along with the Grail. She breathes in, re-crossing her legs. “Scream if you have to,” she advises softly before she’s dipping her fingers in the chalice and tracing designs along the assassin’s back. Instantly, they scream, loud and broken, and Lux hopes that the seedy nature of this motel means no one will check on them. It would be a problem if they found the two of them in a room that’s meant to be unoccupied, after all.

“It’ll be over soon, don’t worry,” she mutters as she traces another line directly over the largest slash mark. They look like claws, tearing through muscle and into bone in some places. She can’t help the sudden thought of Warwick before the light of her shield forms around her fingertips, glittering rainbow and throwing refractions along the walls. Slowly, the bleeding stops as flesh comes together, sealing up the wound in small increments. “Just hold on.”

It’s a while before the Grail runs dry. Thankfully, the assassin is mostly healed, the major wounds fading into knotted scars with the smaller ones only red and raw instead of weeping blood like before. Lux collapses backwards, closing her eyes against the headache that comes with draining her mana stares.

“I’ve done as much as I can do,” she says when her thoughts are somewhat coherent. Her fingers curl around the familiar wood of her baton. “Don’t exert yourself too much. Don’t get stabbed any time in the near future.” She swallows to clear her dry mouth, eyes fluttering shut.

“And drink juice or something. You lost a lot of blood and the Unholy Grail only does so much.” She pauses. “Wait, are you listening to me?”

No answer. She sighs before wrenching her eyes open with herculean effort.

She’s alone.

“Damn,” she whispers. “Didn’t even say a thank you.”