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Vi knew a lot of things.
She knew that it was a truth universally acknowledged that a zombie in possession of brains must be in want of more brains. She knew that the best way to kill said zombies was to dismember them, destroy their brains and bury them for good measure. She knew that she and her family were at a distinct disadvantage when it came to the scourge that had plagued their nation since her parents were young.
It was frustrating on the best of days. No matter how many drills Sevika made her do, no matter how clever Silco’s traps became, no matter how many kooky inventions her sister and Ekko slapped together with the few tools at their disposal, Vi’s family would always be more vulnerable to the army growing just outside the bounds of the Royal Canal.
Growing up around all that death and destruction couldn’t have been good for her mind, but it wasn’t a topic she was fond of thinking about. After a day doing everything she could to keep her family safe, all Vi wanted to do was lose herself in a jig and a glass of spiked lemonade.
If only Powder could stop gossiping about the new inhabitants of Netherfield Park.
“Did you know it’s been let out to Jayce Talis?”
Vi hummed, her eyes raking over the crowd as she mentally kept track of her siblings making adorable fools of themselves in public.
“I heard he made his fortune designing Hextech devices to help fight against the undead.”
Eugh, Mylo was slobbering over Gert again. Vi debated intervening before things came to tears; she hated consoling Mylo after a rejection.
“And he’s come here to harvest our brains to feed them to the zombies to buy time for the Pilties!”
Vi choked on her lemonade, the burning liquid shooting straight into her nose. She gasped for breath, grossly snorting out whiskey and mucus. “What the fuck, Pow?” she snarled, glaring at the grinning genius.
“Just making sure you were listening,” Powder chirped, casually pulling a handkerchief from her sleeve like she had been expecting this exact reaction. “You seemed kind of tapped out, fat hands.”
“Can you blame me?” Vi accepted the poorly embroidered cloth with a roll of her eyes as she cleaned her face. “It’s not like I give a fuck about what rich Piltie comes strolling into the countryside for a bout of fresh air and sniffing at the dreaded poors.”
“These guys are different,” Powder insisted, her eyes shining with a manic gleam that was only slightly concerning. She dropped her voice into a low whisper, leaning in conspiratorially. “I heard there’s a Zaunite in their party. Dr. Viktor. Some genius who went to Piltover from the corners of the canal.”
That was new. Vi cocked an eyebrow, but before she could ask anything, a hush descended over the hall. The dancers backed themselves against the walls, making way for the new additions.
She turned her head, craning her neck to glimpse a view over the crowd. The newcomers were led by a tanned young man, wearing clothing that seemed a little too pristine and a smile that was a little too bright. He was flanked by another man with a cane, gaunt and pale-skinned in a way that marked him out as the only Zaunite.
“That’s Mr Talis and Dr Viktor,” Powder whispered, very indiscreetly pointing out the members of the Netherfield party. Next, she gestured to a gorgeous dark-skinned woman who looked like she was put on Earth to make other humans feel inferior. “That’s Mel Medarda. She’s from Noxus, and I heard her family is like—”
“And her?” Vi asked, her gaze lingering on the final addition. A tall, sleek woman with razor-sharp features, dressed in tight pants that covered most of her body, and a tightly fitted purple tunic on top, which seemed to do wonders for the sinful curve of her waist. When the navy-haired beauty turned, Vi caught sight of a dark purple eye patch and a bright blue iris that sent electric shivers down her spine.
“Must be the Kiramman girl. Caitlyn, I think?”
Well, Vi didn’t need an elaboration on that. She, and every other kid in the country, had grown up hearing about Cassandra Kiramman’s prowess on the battlefield. Based on the rifle the Kiramman heir had slung over her shoulder, she had taken after her mother.
The Piltover group started moving through the hall, making introductions to the different families. Vi would have kept staring if Powder hadn’t gripped her by the arm, dragging her over to a beckoning Vander.
“On your best behaviour, okay?” Vander gruffly warned his kids, nodding to Vi in a way that signalled she was responsible for the circus around them. She clenched her fists, turning back to face Silco as he guided the group.
“This is, of course, my family,” Silco said, and Vi had to suppress a snort at how lovesick her father looked for a moment. “My husband, Vander. That’s Powder, Ekko, Mylo, Claggor, and Violet. Children, meet Mr Talis, Dr Viktor, Miss Medarda and Miss Kiramman.”
Vi jerked her head in greeting, only to be elbowed by Sevika for her lack of civility. “Just Vi, but, yeah, um, pleasure to meet you,” she gritted out with a short bow, her siblings following suit with a chorus of half-hearted hellos.
Vi turned to look at Sevika for help, but her honorary aunt was already kissing Medarda’s hand and leading her to the dance floor. When she turned again, Vi found her siblings crowding around Jayce while Viktor made polite, yet friendly conversation with her fathers. That left her with the aloof goddess.
“So, Miss Kiramman,” Vi began, feeling slightly insecure in her own billowy shirt and pants. It wasn’t a formal ball, so she hadn’t bothered with anything nicer. Although, why did she care anyway? Clothes had never been a hindrance for her in the past. “Do you dance?”
“Not if I can help it,” Caitlyn shot back with practised bluntness. She seemed to realise how her words came across, clearing her throat before finally fixing that discerning gaze on Vi. “It’s rather common, don’t you think? I imagine even zombies could do it to some degree of success.”
Vi’s blood boiled, her fingers digging into the meat of her palms. “Well, I’m sure our country dances may seem that way to you. For now, I’m afraid my attentions are being called elsewhere. Good evening.”
She moved away almost immediately, ignoring the way Caitlyn’s eye widened. Probably shocked at Vi’s poor manner of comportment.
Throughout the evening, Vi stayed as far away as she could from the Pilties. Especially Caitlyn Kiramman. She had no interest in that rich princess. None whatsoever. The only reason Vi kept glancing back at her was to scoff at her distant expressions, even going as far as to mock that irritatingly sweet accent for her siblings’ enjoyment.
“You do conduct yourself very awkwardly, my dear.” Vi happened to overhear Mel whispering to Caitlyn. The Piltovan women seemed unaware of Vi’s presence in the corner. “I wish you wouldn’t haunt the edges. Particularly when there are so many handsome women to dance with.”
“You are dancing with one of the most handsome women in the room,” Caitlyn muttered back with a pout of such distinct superiority, Vi almost missed the faint blush on Mel’s cheeks. Interesting.
“She is certainly, ahem, an experience. What about her ward? Vi, was it? Fairly tolerable.” Mel smirked, and Caitlyn turned an impressive shade of red. Upset at the prospect of having to engage with a lowly Zaunite, in Vi’s expert opinion.
“Fairly tolerable,” Caitlyn agreed, making Vi sit up, just a little. “But she didn’t seem to appreciate my conversation. It seems gawking at me is more interesting.”
Vi had put up with a lot of things in her life, but being called stupid in enough words to fill the fucking Magna Carta twice over was a new low. On any normal day, she would’ve stormed over and demanded to know what the fucking problem was, but today was important to Silco. They were important to Silco.
She huffed, her scuffed boots loudly thumping against the wooden floors as she shoved her way out of the hall, accidentally checking Caitlyn’s shoulder in the process. In hindsight, Vi may have exposed her eavesdropping, but she was too incensed to think clearly.
“Fucking rich Pilties,” she ranted to herself, pacing in the low lamplight outside. “Fucking Kiramman, what the fuck do you know about me? Of all the—”
“Caitlyn Kiramman?” A Scottish accent echoed hollowly. “I must agree with you there. She’s rather a proud sort, isn’t she?”
“Of course she is! I’m glad you agree, Miss… Nolen,” Vi trailed off, her diaphragm seizing painfully in the cold night air as her gut’s warning signals finally registered to her. She turned, freezing in place as she took in the half-stripped face before her. Layers of skin dripped like wet tissue, exposing bulging pieces of rotted flesh, and pus bubbling into sickly little pools. Large sky blue eyes peered up at Vi, the whites faded into a diseased yellow, eyelashes floating down with each forceful blink.
The undead Maddie Nolen seemed to look insecure, patting her peeling cartilage back into place over her exposed jaw.
“Oh, don’t worry about that.” The zombie laughed nervously, triggering Vi’s curiosity. She had never seen a zombie express such emotion before. “I’ve come here to tell you—”
BANG
Maddie’s head exploded into a nauseating mix of viscera and slimy fluids. Vi jumped back, just barely missing the spray. Her ears rang, and she swung her head around, trying to figure out what the hell had just happened.
“Vi!” She heard Powder before being pulled into her sister’s arms. “What were you doing?”
“She very nearly became a victim of a zombie. I narrowly saved her life,” Caitlyn announced, stepping out of the shadows as she lowered her rifle.
Vi narrowed her eyes. She stepped forward, cursing herself for being too short to level with the woman in front of her. “Miss Nolen seemed perfectly tolerable to me. Real appreciative of conversation, too.”
She didn’t have time to relish in the softened look of guilt on Kiramman’s face as the iron bell sounded out, signalling a zombie attack.
Vi removed her trusty knife from her boot, gladly accepting the sword Powder threw her way. All the petty gripes faded away, and what remained was a single-minded focus on protecting her village.
The next few moments were a flurry of motion. She lost herself in sharp slices and harder punches as she worked to knock the undead out so Claggor and Mylo could bash their heads in. Vaguely, she noticed a few zombies crumpling into the ground around her before they could get too close. Maybe Powder had gotten faster at reloading her pistol.
“Fuck!” Vi cried out as a zombie swiped at her. The creature was mercifully unable to break through her skin, but the shock was enough to drop the sword from her hand. She planted her forearm against the zombie’s chest while the thing pinned down her other hand, leaving her dagger useless, too. Her arm sank into its gooey flesh, lessening the distance between her and its gnashing teeth.
Suddenly, the butt of a very expensive gun hit the back of the zombie’s skull. Not enough to knock it down, but enough to leave it dazed. Vi reacted instinctively, whipping her hand across the monster’s face and snapping its neck in one fell swoop. She glanced up, catching sight of a panting Caitlyn who was wiping her gun clean of splattered brain.
“Thanks,” Vi murmured, a little stunned. Around her, the bell rang again, and the adrenaline deflated from her body. She grunted, practically collapsing onto her ass as her knees gave out.
Caitlyn perched herself on the grass next to Vi, primly crossing her ankles. She pulled out a gilded flask from her tunic, silently offering it up, her fingers trembling with the force of her grip around the container.
“I’m not thanking you again,” Vi snarked, even as the warm liquor put the life back into her bones.
“I don’t expect you to.” The reply was gentle and surprising. There was a quiet pause, though not entirely awkward. Vi heard Caitlyn inhale, and she turned her head to see those soft pink lips parting.
“Violet! We’re going home!” Silco called out, breaking the moment. “You ought to be going as well, Miss Kiramman. I believe Mr Talis is waiting for you by his carriage.”
Caitlyn nodded, easily slipping back to her stiffened grace. “Of course. I, uh, do hope to see you and your… family again.”
Vi watched the gentlewoman bow before stepping back towards the most expensive-looking carriage in the drive. She wanted to chuckle at the ostentatiousness of it, especially when she noticed that one of the velvet curtains had been torn off in the zombie attack, but something held her back. A sense of burgeoning change.