Chapter Text
. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁
The rain pounds down on you relentlessly, and you scrub your soaked sleeve over your eyes, trying to see through the downfall. You crane your head left and right, but nothing you can see looks even remotely familiar. All you spot is a thick forest of trees to your left, and to your right, a huge, old-fashioned looking mansion looms in the distance.
Piltover University’s campus, however? Nowhere in sight.
You probably should have thought this little excursion through a little more carefully. To be fair, the slight fever you’re currently battling isn’t exactly helping you think clearly. It’s only your third week at university and you’ve already managed to catch whatever bug has been going around campus.
Going to the pharmacy for medicine seemed like an easy enough task…at first. Your roommate had told you there’s a twenty-four hour drugstore half a mile from campus. You aren’t exactly great with directions, but you figured you could find it even with a low-grade fever and a cough that won’t leave you alone. And maybe you could have, if your phone hadn’t died ten minutes after you left campus. And if it hadn’t started pouring and you hadn’t gotten hopelessly lost.
And so here you are, somewhere on the outskirts of Piltover, shivering, drenched, and with absolutely no clue how to get back to campus.
It’s evening, and you know the sun will be setting soon. You cough heartily, wiping your nose on your sleeve, feeling utterly miserable.
There’s no other houses around and not a soul in sight. Unless you want to die of hypothermia, your only hope is that whoever is living in that mansion is nice… and preferably not an axe murder.
The house seems even more foreboding as you walk up the winding pathway to the front door. The mansion is absolutely enormous, two stories tall with balconies lined with wrought iron banisters and thick vines of ivy climbing up the walls. It’s dark too, as if the building somehow manages to absorb sunlight itself. You can’t see any lights on within, but it’s still your best shot right now.
You push some of your damp hair out of your face and wipe more rainwater off your cheeks, trying to look at least a little presentable. You still look like a mess, no doubt, but maybe your sorry state will soften the heart of whoever lives in this massive place.
You hesitate just a moment before gently lifting the brass doorknocker that’s shaped like a lion’s face, then rap it twice. You shift on your feet, wrapping your arms around yourself when you shiver again. The rain pounds down around you as you wait. The huge, black double doors seem impossibly intimidating.
Then, suddenly, one door opens with a long, slow creak. Your gaze snaps up, and you lose your breath almost immediately.
The woman greeting you at the door is stunning. She’s much younger looking than you imagined whoever lives here would be, probably only a few years older than you. She’s so pale her skin almost looks translucent, but it’s as smooth as porcelain. Her eyes are a sharp, stunning blue, so bright they almost glow. And she’s tall too, towering over you in an impeccably tailored pair of dark pants and a high-necked, ruffled top that looks like something straight out of the 1800s.
She’s so beautiful that your words die in your throat.
She eyes you curiously, her gaze intense as it sweeps over you. It almost feels…predatory, and another shiver courses down your spine.
“Can I help you?” she asks in a smooth, silky voice, one delicate eyebrow raised.
“Oh, um, sorry –” you stutter, feeling yourself blush. “It’s just – I’m a little lost, and my phone died and I –” you sneeze suddenly, barely raising your arm in time. “Sorry!” you squeak, blushing even harder..
“Oh, you poor thing,” the navy-haired woman says, kindly, although her eyes are still sharp. “Do come in, you’re soaked to the bone.”
You hesitate on the threshold for just a moment. You can’t put your finger on it, but there’s something that just feels off. Goosebumps are prickling on your arms that have nothing to do with how chilled you are. But as a clap of thunder booms overhead and you shiver violently, your doubts wash away. It would be silly to stay out in this weather, and the woman seems kind. So, somewhat tentatively, you follow her inside.
You enter into a dark foyer that’s lit only by candlelight. The floors are dark and polished, reflecting the flickering of candelabras lining the walls. You can see what looks like huge sitting room to your left and a grand staircase in front of you, and you can just glimpse a kitchen breaking off from the hallway to your right.
Before you can get a better look at your surroundings, however, a second figure joins you in the foyer, moving so silently it almost seems like she appeared out of thin air.
“Bringing in strays, Cait?” the muscled, pink-haired woman asks, her sky-blue eyes fixed on you. A lopsided smirk creases her face as she traces her gaze over you, crossing her arms. She’s dressed much more casually than the other woman, just in a faded Guns N’ Roses t-shirt and a pair of dark jeans. “Well aren’t you just a delicious little thing?”
“Vi,” the other woman says sharply. She’s holding a towel – when did she even go get that? – and moves closer to drape it around your shoulders. “Behave.”
“Oh, you’re no fun,” the second woman – Vi, apparently – pouts playfully. She brushes her thumb over your cheek, and you shiver at the cold feel of her touch. “What are you doing out in the rain, sweet thing?”
“I got lost,” you say through chattering teeth, hugging the towel close. The taller woman starts leading you toward the hearth in the sitting room, and you follow easily, drawn by the warmth of the fire. “I was looking for the drugstore and I –” you break into a coughing fit, which you muffle into the towel around your shoulders.
The navy-haired woman makes a concerned noise. “You aren’t well, darling. Please sit down.” She guides you to sit onto one of the velvet couches in front of the hearth, her touch surprisingly firm. She towers over you, frowning down at you for a moment while you blush. “I’m going to brew you some tea,” she says decisively, turning and sweeping out of the room.
Vi plops down on the coffee table in front of you, legs spread wide. She props her chin up in her hands with her elbows on her knees.
“Cait’s gonna fuss. She has a soft spot for sick humans,” Vi says, peering at you curiously as though you’re a particularly interesting science project. “And we don’t get many visitors.”
You laugh awkwardly at the ‘humans’ comment, assuming she’s joking. But then you sneeze again, sniffling miserably into your sleeve. Vi retrieves a nearby tissue box and hands it to you, her face softening slightly.
“Are you okay?” she asks, tilting her head. “You sound…not good.”
“It’s just a cold, sorry,” you say, blowing your nose as quietly as possible. “Thanks. I’m Y/N, by the way.”
“Vi, and off procuring tea is my wife Caitlyn.” Vi grins, her teeth gleaming an almost unnatural white. She spreads her arms wide in a dramatic flourish. “Welcome to our haunted house.”
You chuckle nervously, trying not to show how much the statement unsettles you. You pull your dead phone from your pocket, holding it up.
“Any chance I could charge my phone here?” you ask, glancing around. You don’t see any outlets, or any modern technology for that matter. They don’t even have a TV.
Vi grimaces. “We’re a little old-fashioned around here, sorry honeybun. Don’t have a charger for you. But I can offer a warm fire and –” Vi tugs a thick blanket off the corner of the couch and drapes it over your lap, “– an even warmer blanket.”
“And plenty of tea,” Caitlyn adds, gliding into the room with a tray in her hands. There’s a steaming porcelain teapot and a matching teacup on the tray. She sets the tray down on the table in front of you and carefully pours a cup of tea, the calming aroma of chamomile filling the air.
“Here, dearheart, I added honey for your throat,” Caitlyn says, handing the cup over to you. “Do be careful, it’s rather hot.”
“Oh, um, thanks,” you say awkwardly, accepting the cup and taking a sip. The warm, honeyed liquid does feel amazing on your scratchy throat, and you let out a little contended sigh.
Caitlyn joins Vi in sitting across from you, studying you with an equally intense gaze. “What are you doing all the way out here, darling?”
“I was trying to find the drugstore.” The tea makes your nose start running again, and you pluck another tissue out of the box to blow it again, flushing slightly with embarrassment. “But my phone died and I got turned around. I’m not super familiar with the area, I just started at Piltover University this semester.”
“And you wandered into our little den,” Vi smiles, leaning forward. Something mischievous glints in her pale eyes. “Lucky you.”
You swallow thickly, taking another sip of tea. Your heartbeat ticks up just a notch. “Yeah, so…” you clear your throat. “If you could just tell me how to get back to campus, I can get out of your hair.”
Caitlyn refills your teacup, her hands so steady she almost looks like a statue. “Oh, sweetheart, we can’t possibly let you go wandering about in this storm. Not with a cold like that.” Her voice is gentle, but there’s also a firm note to it. “You’re more than welcome to stay here until the weather clears.”
“Oh, I couldn’t –” you start to protest, but Vi cuts you off.
“We insist,” Vi smiles again. It’s not unfriendly, but you still feel slightly unsettled for some reason. “We have warm showers, fluffy beds, and food…uh, we have food, right?” Vi glances at Caitlyn.
“Of course we have food,” Caitlyn says, giving Vi a look that you can’t quite decipher. “Yes, darling. We have everything you need. Would you like a change of clothes, perhaps? You’re still trembling, poor thing.”
You know you should resist. You don’t know Caitlyn or Vi, it’s getting late, and your phone is still dead. But lulled by the warmth of the fire and the intense but somewhat comforting energy coming from the strange women across from you, you can’t quite find the will to resist.
And so, with a small, shy nod, you allow Vi and Caitlyn to help you to your feet, and lead you up the huge, ornate staircase.
Upstairs, the two women lead you into a softly lit room. There’s a giant four-poster bed in the center of the room, elegantly made up with an expensive-looking duvet and matching pillows. There are thick, velvety curtains hanging over the window, blocking out any vestiges of the evening light outside. Across the room, a fire cracks merrily in the hearth, already roaring. It strikes you as a little odd – do they always keep the fire in their guestroom lit? But you’re too exhausted to really contemplate it.
You sit down heavily on the side of the bed with a small groan, muffling a rattling cough into your elbow. Vi and Caitlyn settle down on either side of you.
“You poor darling,” Caitlyn says, her voice as sweet as honey. She tenderly tucks a lock of hair behind your ear, and you give an involuntary shiver at how cold her fingers are. “You must let us take care of you.”
You’re still feeling a little taken off-guard by how attentive these two strange women are being. But there’s also a part of you that feels safe in a way you haven’t for a long time. Even though there’s definitely something odd about Vi and Caitlyn, you kind of feel like you never want to leave.
“How about you go hop in the shower, honeybun?” Vi nods toward the ensuite bathroom across from the bed, rubbing gentle circles on your back. “Should warm you up. We can leave you some fresh clothes to change into.”
Caitlyn hums her approval. “And I’ll make you something to eat…” she trails off, pinching her bottom lip between her fingers, looking troubled. “Would you like…oh – yes! Soup.” She snaps her fingers, straightening. “Sick people like soup.”
You laugh nervously, a little thrown off by her strange behavior. Maybe she and Vi just don’t get sick very often? They do kind of seem like hermits. “Uh…yeah, sure. That would be great, thanks.”
“Soup and clothes coming right up,” Vi grins, standing and offering a hand to help you up. “You get warm, and we’ll be back to pamper you in no time.”
You nod, still somewhat woozy, and watch the two of them slip out the door.
. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁
As promised, a neatly folded stack of clothes waits on the bed when you finally get out of the shower, and there’s a steaming bowl of chicken noodle soup on the nightstand. You slip on the borrowed clothes, which are soft and warm. The t-shirt is way too big and hangs nearly to your knees, but you feel cozy.
The hot shower had helped you shake off the chill from the rain, but now you’re feeling even more exhausted and just want to get in bed. You glance warily at the gold jacquard duvet spread over the bed. You feel like you’ll stain the fancy linens just looking at them, but surely they wouldn’t have left the soup if they weren’t okay with you eating in bed, right?
Your stomach growls impatiently. Figuring you’ll just risk it, you throw back the heavy bedcovers and slide between the smooth sheets. You give a happy sigh, immediately relaxing against the fluffy pillows behind your back. This is the best you’ve felt all day.
In eerily perfect timing, a knock sounds on the closed bedroom door just as soon as you’re settled in bed.
“Sweetheart? It’s us,” Caitlyn calls. “May we come in?”
“Yeah,” you croak, your voice reduced to a low rasp from all the coughing. “Come in.”
It seems like the two women are suddenly at your bedside faster than you can blink, but you blame it on your woozy head that feels like it’s filled with a thick fog.
“How’re you feeling?” Vi asks, settling down next to you. Caitlyn sits down too, studying you with her penetrating blue gaze.
“Oh – um, the shower was great, thanks. And thanks for the clothes too.” You almost feel like blushing again with how intently the two gorgeous women are staring at you.
“Well, you must rest,” Caitlyn says decisively, reaching for the bowl of soup. She holds it out to you expectantly. “And eat. You need your strength.”
You tentatively accept the bowl, taking a sip from a small spoonful. Your eyes bounce between Vi and Caitlyn, curious.
“You guys are…” you clear your throat, averting your eyes. “Um…awfully nice?” You feel your cheeks darken. “I’m just not used to a stranger caring about me so much.”
“Like I said, we don’t get much company,” Vi grins, her pearly white teeth shining again. “Especially not –”
“Sick university students,” Caitlyn interrupts whatever Vi was about to say, shooting her a sharp look. “So we’re happy to look after you, darling. Don’t fret about it, alright? Just rest.”
You slowly take another sip of soup, considering. “Okay. I’ll try not to…fret.” You grin a little at the old-fashioned word choice.
“Caitlyn is secretly hundreds of years old,” Vi smirks, giving you an amused look. “You’ll have to forgive her for speaking like a grandma. And acting like one.”
You laugh, although Caitlyn doesn’t seem amused by the joke for some reason. You quieten quickly, in case she’s offended.
Caitlyn lays her hands in her lap elegantly, letting out a small sigh. “Is there anything else we can get you, dearheart?”
“Do you have any painkillers?” you ask hopefully. “I’ve got a bit of a headache.”
Caitlyn looks stricken all of a sudden, and Vi frowns.
“Ah – sorry, sweetheart. We don’t have much by the way of medication,” Vi grimaces apologetically.
“That’s okay,” you say with a shrug, but Caitlyn shakes her head firmly.
“We’ll make a supplies run while you sleep, darling. You should have whatever you need.”
“Oh that isn’t really neccess–”
“I insist.” Caitlyn holds up a hand and has such a determined look on her face that you can already tell she won’t be changing her mind anytime soon.
You nod silently, taking another spoonful of soup instead of arguing. The two women stay sitting next to you, fixedly watching you eat as if you’re fascinating. It’s strange, but you’re beginning to expect that when it comes to Caitlyn and Vi.
It isn’t long before you start yawning and your eyes grow heavy. Before you quite realize what’s happening, Vi has taken the bowl from you and Caitlyn has tucked you warmly into bed.
“Sleep well,” one of them murmurs, you’re not quite sure who.
“Thanks,” you mumble, yawning again and curling up on your side with a small sniffle. “‘s warm.”
You think you might feel a touch of cool lips to your forehead, but you’re asleep too quickly to tell for sure.
. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁