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Mel has never been one for dramatic statements, but the plain fact is, she has nobody left.
Her mother, gone. Kino, gone. Elora, gone. Jayce, gone, if she ever really had him in the first place. Her fellow councillors, all gone but Shoola, and it's not as if any of them were people she felt she could rely on in the first place.
She feels a certain kinship with the Kiramman girl, born of their shared battle, shared losses, shared closeness with Jayce. Even born of the strange pain of Caitlyn briefly becoming what Ambessa had so plainly always wished Mel could be.
But Caitlyn is injured severely, and aside from making sure she got urgent care after the battle, aside from telling Vi where to find her and checking in, later, to see they were both safe, Mel hasn't seen her since the war ended. Certainly would not think to go to her for comfort.
And so, though a few still live, she has nobody left.
She has spent years standing independently, has not relied too heavily on anyone, but there is still a difference, between that and this. The difference lies in the empty echo where Elora would have been at her side, the stillness of the Talis forge without Jayce's hammer, even the knowledge that Noxus no longer holds the mother she might have wished never to see again.
(Never again, but not like this.)
And so, when she finds herself outside Lest's door, she tells herself it is because she wants to see if her ally came safely through the invasion. Wants to make sure she's all right, this person Mel couldn't ensure the safety of. Wants to make sure Lest is not yet another person she couldn't save.
All of that is true, but perhaps, if she was admitting things to herself, she is also here because she wants to see, even if just for a moment, somebody who knows her. Not a Noxian soldier who knows Ambessa's daughter, the Medarda heir. Not a civilian who knows Councillor Medarda, a leader of the city. Somebody who knows Mel.
It's a hope, a desperate one, if she were being truthful, but it is also selfish, and so she stifles it, pretends she is here on business alone, a matter of courtesy, of professional concern. That is, after all, the foundation of their relationship, for all Lest is a long time acquaintance, for all that she trusts her, for all that Mel might consider her a friend, if her life allowed much for friendship.
It takes some time for her knock to be answered, and when it is, the door only opens a crack, enough for her to catch the twitch of a furred ear, the bright amber of an eye.
Relief crashes down on her shoulders, unexpected in its strength. Lest is alive.
The amber eye widens, and the door opens further, though still not fully. Lest beckons her inside, closes it behind them both, then studies Mel, standing between her and a route further into the house.
“Wondered if you'd show up,” she says eventually. “If you're looking for more information, I'm out. For good this time.”
“I'm not,” Mel says, and looks her in the face, hoping her honesty is clear. “I wanted to see if you were safe. That my mother...” She fights a silent battle to stop her voice from wavering, cannot keep some pain from shining through. “That the invasion hadn't cost another life.”
Lest's lips twitch into the slightest smile, and Mel is briefly reminded of earlier days, before things got so dangerous, when Lest was a contact she could relax with, on occasion. Could breathe a little easier around. “I'm flattered.” She gestures elegantly at herself. “And I'm fine. Not a scratch.”
Mel nods, hesitates. Perhaps this is where she turns to leave. It should be, should it not? Her mission is accomplished, and Lest hasn't invited her in to sit, to socialise.
And yet she doesn't want to leave, just yet. Wants to look a little longer on a face she knows, wants to speak with someone who doesn't regard her with deference or fear or distaste for the name she carries.
“I heard about your mother,” Lest says, her voice going softer. “I'm... sorry it happened that way.”
Mel inclines her head. Treacherously, she feels her lip tremble, feels the burn of tears behind her eyes. Fights it back, fights not to allow it. “Thank you. It was... I had to do it. There was no alternative.”
She doesn't know why she says it. There cannot be a single other person, in Piltover or in the Undercity, who will be grieving her mother. Who would require any kind of explanation or defence for her death.
Perhaps it's only to herself that she says it, after all.
She keeps her head down, fights to compose her features. She did not come here to be vulnerable. There's no room to be, there are decisions to make, a ship that will carry her to Noxus soon, to take responsibilities, to find yet more answers she's not ready for.
She feels a hand on her shoulder, and looks up despite herself. There is open sympathy on Lest's face, sadness in the set of her mouth, in those dark golden eyes.
Mel fights conflicting urges, to shy away and lean into it at once. It has been so long since she really let anyone offer her comfort.
There is no force in this world that can control you. You will never be a passenger.
That might be the last time anybody even got close.
“Hey. You wanna come in for a moment? Have a drink?”
“I shouldn't,” Mel says, but falters, falters because she is still too human, after all, is still fracturing along a dozen fault lines and wishing desperately for the slightest closeness to hold her together.
Lest smirks slightly, gentleness still in her eyes. “Nothing illicit. Just wine. Tea, if you prefer. Not everything I stock is for business.”
Mel hesitates, then nods, trying for a smile. “All right. But just tea. I have work to get back to.”
Lest smiles, and leads her down the hallway.
In the sitting room, over the rim of a cup, Lest studies Mel Medarda. She'd heard the councillor had returned unharmed, of course she had, but she's glad to see it for herself. Those months Mel was missing, Lest had worried, even if she'd tried not to show it. For all this is professional, she likes Mel, too. Has seen her good intentions. Remembers simpler days. Remembers, too, no one is expendable.
It mattered, because Lest has been treated as expendable before. And words don't always mean much, but she saw the sincerity in Mel's eyes as she said them. Remembered it a few too many times, the months she was gone.
And now she's back, in Lest's sitting room, drinking tea, and she's different.
It's not just her appearance that's changed, although that too is altered: more gold tracing her features, her hair out of a bun, falling in long twists down her back. It's the look in her face. Though she tries to hide it, her eyes are so, so incredibly sad. There's something haunted in them. Lest can hear her heartbeat, still a little too fast, like she hasn't once let her guard down since it all happened.
She looks like the weight of the whole world rests on her shoulders.
It hurts to see it, to see how tightly she tries to hold herself together, not to show the pain that's still written so clearly in every line of her.
“Thank you for the hospitality,” Mel says, breaking the silence, trying again for a smile that wavers.
“Pleasure's all mine,” Lest replies, smiling back. “You've had a rough few months, huh?”
Mel blinks, like she isn't used to hearing it said so plainly, and gods, there's some part of Lest that kind of wants to pull her into a hug, because Mel looks like if she had an ounce less self-control, she'd be in tears. “Things have been difficult. For all of us.”
“But right now, I'm talking to you.”
“Your point being...?”
“It's okay to admit it's been hard for you personally.” Lest shrugs. “I'm not gonna tell on you.”
“Why–” Mel begins, then swallows hard, her eyes shining, and stares into her teacup, gathering a rigid hold of herself again.
“You look like you need a friend,” Lest says, because bluntness is her style, when she cares about someone. And she does, she cares about Mel, despite everything.
Surprisingly, Mel smiles faintly, and it's the first smile this evening that's looked real. “I must admit I thought I was hiding that well.”
“You are,” Lest says, and she's not even lying. “But you'd never have worked with me if it wasn't my strength to sense what people are hiding.”
“That's true.” Mel swallows. “Well, then. Yes. It has... been hard. So many good people gone. So much pain. And I am... I am expected to be a leader, a figurehead, for Piltover and now for Noxus, too. I'll have to return there, to try and unravel more of my mother's mistakes, and I'll leave behind another city that still needs my help. So many are looking to me for some kind of clarity, and I... I'm not even sure who I am anymore.”
Her hands shake, so slightly it's barely visible, but Lest hears the cup she's holding clink against the saucer. Gods, she must be going really soft, because the urge to hug Mel is getting stronger.
Mel shakes her head like she's clearing it, clears her throat. “I apologise. This isn't for you to take on.”
Lest reaches out, lays a hand on her arm. “I said friend, didn't I? Listening's kinda part of the job description.” She smiles. “I can handle it. No one can survive all this shit alone. Talk to me.”
And it takes a moment, but Mel does. Not all of it, but some. Losing her friend. Discovering her identity's a lie. Fighting Ambessa. Holding her as she died. Seeing the Kiramman girl, who she remembers as a teenager hiding at galas, lying on the ground bleeding out. Learning Jayce was gone, his partner with him, no trace to be found. So many deaths, so many funerals, so much loss.
She doesn't cry through any of it, holds herself so tightly, still, but there's a tremble in her. A hesitation, at some points, where she closes her eyes.
By the time her words die out, the half-drunk tea is cold in her cup. Lest takes it from her gently, sets it down, then touches her hand again, intending brief comfort. Mel moves then, curls her fingers around Lest's and holds fast, and Lest swallows her surprise, holds her hand in return, doesn't mention it, for fear the moment will shatter and Mel will retreat again.
“Thank you,” Mel says, her eyes not meeting Lest's, staying fixed on their joined hands. “For listening. For being here. I... I appreciate it more than I can say.”
“No problem, sweetheart,” Lest dares. She's used the endearment casually, many a time, but never with Mel. Sees the other woman's face flicker briefly, but she doesn't say a word about it. “You can stay, if you want.”
She's not sure what she's offering. How long, how much. It's an offer based on instinct, not on practicality. Just an illogical urging. Stay. Let me give you some comfort. Don't go back out to face the world alone.
Mel looks at her, just once, and shakes her head. “I can't. I leave for Noxus soon, and before that, there are a thousand things to take care of. I might not even...” She holds Lest's hand a little tighter. “I can't be sure I'll have time to see you again. But if I don't, I want you to know this meant a lot to me. And that if you need it, you will always have a friend in Noxus.”
Lest nods, smiles, tries not to show any flicker of regret. It's the answer she expected, even if it stings a little, to think this might be the last they ever see of each other. “I'll keep it in mind.”
Mel leaves not long after, pulls a white hood up over her hair and steps out of the door like the full weight of everything has crashed back down on her.
Lest watches her go, and wonders if this will be the last time.
If it is, she's glad she could be here, could offer something, help carry that weight, if only for a little while.
She's glad, even if there's still a little splintering, a crack along the fault lines of her heart.