I've been wanting to write something for Quinn since I started reading the pieces. I couldn't figure out what to write though. So when I finally saw the art work and read a few of the threads regarding her armor, I decided I would leave my impression of her armor in story form.
From what I've seen of the armor, I am left with the impression that the only metal armor on her body would be her boots, knee guards/leg guards, shoulder armor, the metal at her waist, and the wrist guard/perch. After looking at her pants, I think that she is wearing a bodysuit underneath and the baggy material is just connected to the metal around her legs and is just there to hold the pieces together. I think this because the straps at the top of the brown material seem pointless otherwise. Think of it like a fireman putting on his uniform, except the uniform stops at the bottom of her pelvis. Like additional pants, but better. THIS IS ONLY MY IMPRESSION. I don't think I'm correct, but I wanted to write it that way.
Quinn watched him as he climbed the steps. Prince Jarvan still baffled her. He was the opposite of everything she had thought. His steps were smooth and confident but not arrogant, reminding her of the soldiers she had seen as a child, marching though the city.
They reached the top of the stairs and Prince Jarvan lead her down a hallway and finally stopped in front of a door. He turned the knob, pushing the door open to reveal a spacious room.
"This will be your room from now on."
His tone easily implied that she shouldn't try to fight him on this. This room would be her's and there was no room for argument.
She slowly stepped into the room, her eyes quickly scanning the open space before she determined that no one would be jumping out at her. The colors were easy on her eyes, light brown walls and similar carpeting easily reminded her of the woods and the forest.
Reminded her of Caleb.
She shut her eyes and clenched her hands, forcing the thought away. She wouldn't ruin this day with such painful thoughts. She deserved a day free of guilt.
"Should you require anything, let one of the servants know. They will accommodate you," Prince Jarvan said behind her. She nodded and refused to look behind her till the door closed.
Letting out the breathe she didn't notice she was holding, she spotted a window and quickly raced over, popping it open. The cool breeze hit her and she felt the tension drain from her body. As she propped the window completely open, she spotted Valor circling above the building and raised her arm.
Valor circled once more before he swooped down and entered the window, bypassing Quinn's arm entirely to take perch on a nearby chair.
"You silly thing. Chairs are not perches." Valor just looked at her and she sighed in mock disgust, "Fine, you can stay there all night. However, do not complain to me when you wake up and your poor claws hurt."
Receiving no reply, Quinn stepped away from the window and stretched. Now that the tension was gone, she didn't feel so weighed down, so paranoid that someone would jump out from the shadows and slit her throat. Valor was by her side again and she was safe.
Out of the corner of her eyes, she spotted folded clothes sitting on the room's bed. The beige material looked more comfortable than her dirt covered leathers. The more she thought about her current clothes, the more she desired to get out of them.
Getting out of skin-tight leathers always had the chance of slipping off easy... or forcing her to make a complete fool of herself by skipping around on one foot while trying to pry the material off the other. It took some time, but she was pleased to announce that she didn't fall once.
The leather pants now laid on the pristine white sheets and she took into account the damage the material had sustained in the fight and that they wouldn't be repairable. Her jacket was salvageable, but only barely. She'd have to get rid of the sleeves entirely...
She slipped on the roomy pants, enjoying the loose material. If she had to wear pants ever again, she was going to wear nice and loose material. Sure, tight leggings always got the job done, but sometimes the leathers toughened in the middle of a journey and that was not easy to run it.
As she slipped her over-shirt off, she stopped to think. What would they have her wear now?
She wasn't so naive that she believed they would let her slip away, back into the wilderness were she truly belonged. No, they would keep her close. She was given a place among the Demacian Elite, something no one just turned down.
Grabbing her bag, she slid into the unoccupied chair and opened her sketch book to an empty page. She took the pencil first, slowly drawing a figure. She added hair and a face similar to what she thought she looked like. Several attempts later, she was pleased with the base model and sat back, pencil on her lips, and thought about what she would want to look like.
Comfortable was her first thought and she smirked. Sketching on some baggy pants, she laughed at what she had drawn and quickly erased the outfit.
Valor raised on his wings, preening the feathers. She had always admired the beauty that Valor had, the sleek graceful look of his wings and tail.
She watched him, taking in the shape of his feathers and their arrangement. She would want to look like Valor. She wanted to honor him, to emphasize him. He was a part of her as much as her weapons, and if she had the chance to make her own armor, she would make sure he had a part in it.
She sketched out a small cloak, the ends mimicking his wing feathers. She also added a perch for him on an out-stretched arm, something that would allow him to land easily and take off from. She added in mock tail tail feathers to the outfit. It would match the cloak in color, she thought as she pulled out a blue inked pen she carried. The blue carried over into armor for her legs. The leg armor would be in two pieces, she decided. They would attach to a belt at her waist and would cover her legs. Her hips would have armor that moved, that shifted against each other. Nothing restrictive, but something that would give her some protection to her hips and waist. The armor would be connected by material that would lay on top of a body suit perhaps. The bodysuit underneath would give her the movement that she required, but the armor on top would give her the protection she needed.
The material would reach her knees and connect with knee guards. She sketched them pointed, much like Valor's beak. She looked over at Valor and laughed to herself, well maybe not exactly like Valor's beak...
She didn't know how long she had been sketching till a knock on her door pulled her out of her head. She had to blink for a moment before calling out, "Come in."
A servant woman opened the door and gave a deep bow, "My Lady, if you would please come with me, the bathing area is ready for you."
My lady? Quinn snorted to herself, much to the shock of the servant, but followed the servant out, none the less.
It wasn't too long after they left the room that another knock sounded. After a few moments, the door was opened to reveal Prince Jarvan, who swept the room with a glance. His eyes didn't see Quinn, but they caught on the scraps of paper that littered the table. He thought for a moment about the privacy of woman, but quickly abandoned the thought to his curiosity. A report perhaps?
It wasn't a report that sat on the table, but a sketch. A sketch of a rather unique looking set of armor that was worn by the newly famous Quinn herself. On her arm, sat her regal Valor.
"Prince Jarvan," a voice called from the doorway. Still holding the sketch, Jarvan turned to see the tailor he had instructed to meet him. Looking back at the sketch in his hand, he made his decision and smiled to himself.
Exiting the room, he gave the sketch to the tailor, "Send this to the Armor-smith."
The tailor looked at the sketch in his hands and set a questioning look to his prince, "Sir?"
"I want it done and ready for Quinn by the end of the week. Don't disappoint me."
With a gulp, the tailor nodded, "As my prince wishes."
FORGIVE ME FOR THE LENGTH.
You've captured something here that is exactly my thinking on how I made the decisions I've made. Someone who's been thrust into the ranks of the elite, but who has their own feelings about how things should be done. How would she design her own identity? What would replace the torn leather and frayed cloth she'd been running around the forest in? What would she find utilitarian but have some over-the-top Demacian flair?
Piece by piece, everything is thematic, everything evokes the avian. That's how Quinn wants to be seen and how she wants to set herself apart as the only Demacian falcon ranger.
I'm going to show this to Runaan. Something like this should be canon.
Quick edit: Not sure if you caught that part of the conversation, but on page 5 of the journal you can see a rough sketch of Quinn's cape. Hinting that what she was wearing during this mission was not what she's wearing here. Not obvious, but it's something we wanted to throw in there. That adventure was something that elevated and defined her. That sketch was trying, even if gone unnoticed, that she was fantasizing about having something tailor made for her.