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This seems a bit more aggressive than the other holiday traditions.
“Don't look at me,” Kayn shrugs as he hangs up decorations around the house, “must be a Noxian thing they adopted.”
...don't you hate Noxian things?
“Yeah but I can let it slide cause it's the holidays and all or whatever... don't they reclaim shit anyway?”
I suppose...
“Don't give me that tone, it's not my idea either, I just do what's on the chore chart.”
And the chore chart had said that he was helping to decorate – hence the tinsel and weird-ass ornaments Ezreal made, and whatever the fuck they were saying about 'missiles' to hang in the doorways. The first two were easy enough, but the last one had absolutely no directions... not to mention there's this pile of weeds or whatever that nobody even told him what to do with, but they can deal with that later.
I suppose hanging blades can be festive?
“Well what else do you want me to do with them, put it on a fishing pole and drag it around for Sett?”
Perhaps that's what they do with it.
“No way.” Kayn scoffs, eyes rolling as he balances on a chair in the doorway, stringing up yet another projectile. “That makes even less sense.”
Less sense than this?
“Well I don't see you coming up with better ideas,” he grumbles, fingers deftly tying a knot in front of the fletching of the arrows he's decided will work in this doorway... it's not like he has an actual fucking missile, so a miniature manual version will have to do – they can bitch at him later if they don't like it. They're lucky he's engaging at all, really. “You're the one that's been around long enough to know everything.”
Excuse me for being trapped in a silent prison for a few thousand years.
“Can't use that excuse every time.”
Fairly certain I get a few thousand years of use out of it, at least.
Rhaast's dry tone makes him crack a smile despite his best efforts – for all his grumbling, he's not bad company at least.
“I'll give you a decade,” Kayn offers as he hops off the stool and carries it over to the next doorway to hang more implements of airborne destruction. “Take it or leave it.”
A mere blink of an eye, Rhaast scoffs in his mind, swirling in a sulk that feels slippery between Kayn's ears. Your sense of time is so skewed.
“Yeah, well, I can't remember what I had for breakfast yesterday either. Time is funny like that, huh?”
That's because we didn't eat breakfast yesterday, we didn't get up until noon.
“Oh right.”
If they had, maybe they'd know what the fuck they were supposed to be doing with the decorations, since apparently there had been a discussion about it over breakfast – which is why Kayn got stuck with the decorating.
Whatever. At least he's not out doing the caroling with Ezreal and K'Sante.
Implements of destruction suit us better anyway.
Which is fair, he hadn't realized this holiday was so metal – if it's not a Noxian tradition it must be some sort of pagan thing. Maybe keep the invaders from stealing the presents or whatever... kill the fat guy in the suit.
Shouldn’t you have a better understanding of these things?
“Oh, my bad.” Kayn rolls his eyes again as he hangs a set of throwing knives with fishing wire – politely high enough that it probably won't catch Sett's ears. “I forgot that I was supposed to be learning about rich people holidays in the orphanage on the other side of the world.”
Oh, the orphan card again? Weren't you adopted as a teen?
“If you can use the silent prison card, I can use the orphan card.”
Hmph... for a decade.
“Deal.” He eyeballs the rest of his pile of sharp throwables, calculating how many doors he has left to fill. “But this might take most of that decade.”
Which is why it's so galling that everyone is so ungrateful when they get home.
“Is this a threat?” Ezreal asks, looking between the missiles and Kayn like he's got a few screws loose.
“My work is never good enough, Rhaast,” Kayn sighs from his sprawl across the couch, one foot propped up on the coffee table next to where he's burning the weird weeds in the incense holder. “They should just do it themselves.”
“Truly ungrateful.”
“Ah, well...” Yone coughs as he moves past Ezreal into the living room, waving away the smoke – because the weeds stink. “I see you're not a fan of mistletoe.”
Kayn squints up at him and flaps a hand toward the doorway. “I hung em up didn't I? You didn't even provide the missiles. What else did you want from me?”
Yone blinks down at him, Kayn scowls back.
K'Sante turns around in the doorway to stifle a cough before herding Ezreal upstairs with some strained muttering.
“You're right, Kayn... it's... thank you.” Yone offers with a wobbly smile and a pat on the shoulder before moving to crack open a window – which is great because the smoke from these shitty weeds was giving him a headache. “Perhaps next time you can come with us and help with the caroling.”
Yeah fuck that.
“Nah,” Kayn grunts, settling in for a well deserved lounge after his morning of hard work. “Missiles are more my style.”