The serenity that had embraced the blonde moments earlier seemed ephemeral at best. Continuing to be ignored and being forced to sit around in the same cell that had constrained her the last month threatened to shatter her newfound peace. Honestly, dealing with Demacians might even be a pleasurable turn of events compared to interacting with the scum that inhabited the seas. At least they were prompt. Timely. If this were a Demacian Vessel, she was rather certain she would have long already arrived at the Crownguard Estate. Of course, if this were a Noxian Vessel, the king would already be dead. But no matter. Perhaps her keeper had boozed up too much and fallen overboard- then again, probably shouldn’t push her luck. She would need any she could get her hands on- marching into enemy territory without any advance intelligence with obscure instructions for further orders.
Thumping. Someone was coming. The pace and uneven gait was indicative of those who dwelled upon this ship. About time. This was late, even by pirate standards. The other girls gradually noticed the approaching footsteps as well; everyone’s attention focused on the door that then swung open after a lengthy delay that seemed to drag on for hours. The slow, annoying creak that she had gotten accustomed to over the duration of her stay still managed to evoke the strange desire of cutting something- anything, to pieces. The man that appeared, disheveled as he was, seemed like a good enough target for her… affections.
She blinked, turning towards the girl next to her and meeting the warm cerulean spheres that awaited her own. Soft, reassuring whispers accompanied by an innocent smile. Katarina raised an eyebrow. How adorable. The girl seemed unnerved herself, yet sought to calm her down? The blonde returned the smile, taking the lead, and standing up together with a few of the other maids- helping her ‘friend’ up from their makeshift beds; tentatively approaching the man as he beckoned. It seemed their time had finally come. Soft footfalls along the wooden passageways, the pack of girls followed closely behind the man; the volume in both sound and frequency of their whispers growing as they neared the surface. Bright smiles adorned each and every one of the women’s faces as the group was bathed in the light of day. For many, this was the first time they had been exposed to the open air throughout the entire journey.
Her jaw almost completed dropped as silence spread amongst the girls like a plague- an affliction running rampant as one by one the scene dawned upon them. The familiar golden towers gleamed on the horizon- yet these spires were all that remained untainted. The rampant destruction that had seemingly torn across the once pristine city was more than apparent. What could possibly have- She exhaled. The scars upon the city were likely not inflicted by mortal hands. This supported her theory, but she made the mental note to make a more concrete confirmation at another time.
She was brought out of her trance as other pirates besides her keeper had begun to grow impatient. A familiar voice. Female. She attempted to maintain the same expression as she poured through her thoughts. Where had she heard such a voice? It was almost distinct. Regardless, her questions were answered as the woman came into view. The Ranger. Of course. She glimpsed towards the others- no sign of recognition. That made sense. There was no reason why they would recognize the woman considering when the maids had been intercepted; as such she, too, must remain oblivious. It helped that the woman’s name had slipped her mind. What didn’t was that she had but caught the tail end of their conversation- potentially missing valuable information. She suppressed the urge to cheer, forced to maintain an expression and demeanour fitting the somber ambiance as the girls were rather unceremoniously deposited onto the docks. Solid ground for the first time in what felt like years. She was unsure of whether she even remembered how to walk properly without the ground shifting about beneath her. Regardless of the numerous questions each of them looked like they wished to ask, they were still trained maids. The gaggle lined up in front of Quinn, awaiting further instructions. Katarina desperately resisted the urge to stretch out her tired limbs- her muscles almost begging to be used after having been forced to remain so passive for an extended period of time. Demacia wasn’t quite as she remembered it the previous time she had graced the city with her presence- nor did she have a Prince for a guide. Yet, somehow, she felt this journey would bear much greater fruit. The veiled assassin parted her lips as she breathed in the fresh air, her fingers tapping against the base of her palm in a rhythmic motion. Much greater, indeed. A smile broke through her defenses and slowly crept onto her face as she heard the man shouting behind her. It would be the last she would hear from him for a while- not to mention it seemed nothing had come of her little confrontation on board. Beyond the rather unfortunate travel time, things were going smoothly.
The fact that her illusion remained in place signified that the king still drew breath. It made sense that the Demacians would rally behind their king in such turbulent times. That her citizens would look to their liege for comfort and leadership. A pity should something happen to him in such dire times of need.
Post by Demacia's Wings on Jun 3, 2013 5:54:54 GMT -5
"There is hardly a difference," Quinn began to respond, but she was hit with the realization that Gangplank was not about to listen to her. Pirates, bandits, marauders... they were all the same to her. Insufferable, intolerable and completely grotesque. Still her expression remained perfectly stoic, save for the continuous twitch of her eyebrow in annoyance. The citrus-y smell that began to invade her senses was also beginning to grind her nerves, but for other reasons. The pirate spat upon the deck, the pulp of orange flying out accompanied by a few drops of spittle and the ranger could only force an eye roll back.
As Gangplank's... lackey ushered the 'cargo' forward, the Demacian immediately turned her attentions away from the Saltwater Scourge. His rough shouts went unheeded, her eyes only turning slightly as Gangplank offered her a bow. Valor swooped his head forward in kind, his call ringing through Quinn's ears even as she smiled slightly. When the pirate had left, she could finally focus on why she was here. Because the spark had told her that something was amiss, and so she must investigate. It sounded a little strange, even to her, but she knew better than to ignore it. Who knew what would happen if she did.
Further observation of the girls showed that their month at sea had not been too kind to them. In terms of information, anyway. They looked shocked, surprised that their beloved city had almost been turned to dust. Quinn bit back a retort. That's right. Because in the end, we are all vulnerable, and if it weren't for the League's assistance, we would be a part of the Shadow Isles by now. But she remained silent nevertheless. She cleared her throat softly as she attempted a small, reassuring grin. "Quinn and Valor, at your service," she tilted her head up and down slightly before continuing. "I understand that you have been boat-ridden for a while, but bear with me. Our journey to the Crownguard Estate will not take long at all."
Many of the girls would have a general idea, though she was also aware that the ruined city would have shook many of their minds. The pathways through Demacia were split and cracked, the base of buildings rotting on unsteady surfaces. She inhaled softly, exhaling a few seconds later as she motioned for the group to follow. It seemed silly. As if she was a tour guide and these girls were simply here for a vacation. To see the lost ruins of Demacia, complete with postcards and pictures. Quinn scoffed beneath her breath as she lead her 'pack' through the bustle of the docks, leaving behind scents of orange and gunpowder and piracy. They were slow. Slow and uncertain, as their legs failed to supply them the necessary energy to walk but the falconer was patient. Though she had never gone on a boat before, she had heard stories that made her rather proud of the fact.
As they traveled through, her eyes roamed back onto the demure looking maid who seemed to be taking great pleasure in the walk. She supposed land air was a little different from sea air. However silly that may sound. She directed the group ahead, falling into step next to the blonde who seemed to send her spark into a craze. Valor continued to soar at the head of the party, and whilst some of the females looked at her strangely she paid them no mind. "Where did you come from?" She asked, attempting to sound as affable as she could. "You were out there for a long time. What made you come back?" It was meant to be a general question, but Quinn could not help but emphasize many of the words to make it sound... personal. She was without tact, as she had been told plenty of times before, and she was not about to start practicing now.
Although initially a little worried between the current state of their believed home and an unfamiliar face, the very mention of their familial name brought forth a wave of relaxation amongst the girls. Murmurs of appreciation and gentle smiles were returned to the woman; many of the servants peering forward the bird rather curiously. Falconers were already quite rare, this was something else entirely. If Quinn had expected some sort of verbal response, Demacia’s Wings would be sorely disappointed as the only affirmation the crowd had given were nothing more than demure nods; quieting down once more within moments. It was a strange mixture really. The excitement of finally having been returned to their homes and finally having disembarked from an eternity on a pirate ship- versus the sorrow of returning to a place that looked nothing like the image they had cherished for so long.
Coming to the realization that Demacia had fallen under siege, of course, tinged with the slightest bit of pride they have prevailed, was one thing. Realizing the extent of how pyrrhic the victory really was as they walked through streets they once knew was another. Their cumulative speed only fell as emotions ran rampant amongst the group- the reaction of which was something that had unfortunately gone unnoticed by a rather distracted blonde. A smile and joyous laughter was all that was missing from her demeanor as a curious set of eyes wandered from place to place. She had only been here a few times, of which only a single was considered a guided tour, but things were rather… fascinating to say the least. There was no city state brave nor powerful enough to have mounted an assault on the place- not to mention inflict such impressive damage. The way magic seemed to have scoured through the lands. The way death seemed to have made itself at home, even if just for a while. As much as she would love to have taken claim for inflicting such a blow on their hated enemies, such was not their style. The blatant calling card etched throughout the city’s streets. The signature so arrogantly scrawled upon the once pristine face of a proud nation. This was not the work of Noxians. But what could have invited such an aggravated assault? More importantly, how did Demacia leave victorious? There was much information to be gained here. Perhaps a little side quest for just herself. Information that she could use for the defense of her homeland. Information she could tuck away for future… endeavours. Once a real Noxian was once again at the helm of High Command.
The same rich, silvery voice that had spoken to them prior. The lullaby bordering on sensual bringing her from her thoughts was almost a pleasant sensation- realizing the danger only moments afterwards. She turned towards the source of the sound, her expression a mixture of surprise and astonishment. Wide eyed, and innocent. She took care to have her head lowered ever so slightly. The woman had shoes, that, combined with whatever strange headdress she had on gave Quinn the height necessary to make whatever servile gesture the blonde had attempted much easier to carry out.
She cursed her neglect- the inattentiveness that got her into this shoddy situation. If she had acted more similarly to the others she wouldn’t find herself speaking to the stupid bird lady. Where am I from? What. What kind of question was that? Katarina shifted to a more neutral expression as she contemplated killing the fellow Champion. Would she be able to do it while unarmed? She did have the element of surprise. Yet, the odds were in the golden eye’d woman. A pity. Then again, Demacians did have a rule of ethics. Perhaps with some underhanded play… Really. What kind of question was that. She mimicked the woman’s voice in her head in a much more ridiculous way. Stupid was almost the only way to describe it. ‘Where did you come from.’ Katarina resisted the urge to burst out laughing. How immature. Perhaps she had been on that ship for far too long. She had more dire things to consider. For example,actually where she was from. The gut feeling that answering with ‘Noxus’ would not be acceptable should probably be heeded. Regardless- the bought of immaturity helped bring her back to her senses as she digested the next few words Quinn had said. The intonation. The emphasis. She wasn’t even sure if Quinn really was quite so blunt or if her senses had simply been sharpened. The blonde opened her mouth to talk. Irritating, really. She wasn’t sure whether she hated choosing her words carefully or spinning up extravagant tales on a whim more. Now, if Swain hadn’t half assed everything and she were actually sent deep behind enemy lines with actual intelligence on the situation like. Oh. AN INVASION. Things would be different. At least the question made more sense now. That was a plus. But of course, a little manipulation might allow her to gleam information she otherwise would not have had the chance to know.
“The outskirts. My parents served another. My father a councilor guard, my mother a servant as myself. They… After they…”
She averted her gaze, feigning remorse as she choked softly, turning back towards the woman with a pained smile.
“Ah- You… You meant…”
She swallowed, hesitating a moment before continuing.
“We were ambushed. It was a routine errand run. We…”
She motioned towards the others.
“… joined to gain experience accompanying our charge in the event we were to service them outside the manor. Our guard was overwhelmed. We found ourselves scattered in Noxus, serving those we once called enemies.”
A light shudder as she seemed to finally regain her composure, taking a deep breath before continuing.
“I’m just a maid. I don’t know why we were returned. But we were. We’re just happy to be back… “
She furrowed her brows, taking the opportunity that presented itself as she took upon a slightly more agitated look. Perhaps a girl placing the blame of all her problems on the only thing that was available.
“What about you? What happened here? To Demacia?”
Emotional states were curious things really. Known to override training. To overcome rationality. She ran with it as others seemed to nod. Although not quite brave enough to voice their affirmations, body language and expressions they hadn’t been trained to hide all but announced their curiosity. What had happened to Demacia?
Last Edit: Jun 5, 2013 20:03:00 GMT -5 by katarina
Post by Demacia's Wings on Jun 5, 2013 20:18:03 GMT -5
Quinn watched carefully as the strangest of emotions began to roll about in the woman's eyes, flickering first to the ground then to the ranger herself as her inquiry was seemingly tasted with utmost caution. Almost as if this blonde maiden wasn't sure, as if her information would somehow be false and so it was absolutely imperative that she get it right. The spark could not detect lies, only magical falsities and Quinn was certain that this woman was playing a game. She tilted her head as the maid began to speak, this time adding a few more dramatic actions and sounds into her work. She couldn't tell if she was fibbing - the hitch of the throat sounded real enough, but it all felt a little too forced. As if her previous attitude didn't match up at all. Still Quinn waited politely for her answer to come to an end, all the while mulling these words about her head.
She inhaled sharply at the mention of Demacia's rival city-state, her amber gaze narrowing briefly. Her old, nationalistic senses were brought back to her as her nails subconsciously wrenched into her palm. "I see," she responded, her voice remaining low. So these girls were from Noxus, if the other was to be believed. And why would she lie in the face of the others, who were gasping quietly at those ruined buildings they had once known so well. Quinn was no fool - Noxus would not simple release what they procured without a hidden agenda. There was always something within those walls; politics and deceit, spread like a plague; like death that trembled in their very steps.
The ranger shook herself from her reverie at the soft voice. "War happened," she said simply. Quinn thought she was doing the girls a favor, omitting the gruesome details. Yet it was not just that, but the very memory of the Invasion itself left her heart quickening, both anger and sorrow etching her face as she glanced away to look at the spiral towers of the Palace. Still standing strong. Just like their King. Their Prince, on the other hand, remained out of sight for whatever reason, though she strongly suspected she had a good guess. A sigh escaped her and she looked back at the blode. "I am sure the Crownguards will offer you ladies a little more detail, though the wound is still fresh. Nevertheless, Demacia has walked away victorious and that is all that matters." Her smile was a little bitter, forced in a way. "The ghosts of our past will always haunt us, but we must make do with the present."
How ironic.
She bit her lip roughly, tearing away those images that threatened to force her motions to unrestrained anger. "Are all of you headed the same way?" Quinn was reminded of the reason why she had pulled this particular girl from the crowd, the spark practically burning her. "It's odd, is it not. I never expected Noxus to release their prisoners."
Katarina cursed herself at the conclusion of her fib. She had never particularly appreciated the use of acting in her line of work. Prolonged exposure and full length conversations that weren’t merely interrogations weren’t exactly her forte. Her problem solving skills revolved around use of sharp objects. Knives. Swords. Daggers. Needed information? Get creative with the aforementioned. Her missions consisted of an objective. Anything that got in the way of obtaining said objective? Solved with artistic grace as she courted her opponents in a waltz of death.
Save for one. Her mind momentarily drifted to him. Ever since joining the league she had met plenty of challenges. Plenty of worthy opponents. Many who invoked an almost perverse sense of enjoyment within the assassin as she dispatched them. Yet why… Why was he the one who came up? Was it because he was her first? The first to match her on the fields of battle? Was it because they were so different? Everything from their beliefs to the way they waged war- yet managed to come together in such a sensational duet as metal sparked across all of Runeterra.
A light blush adorned her cheeks as she returned to the present. There would be time to think further on this matter. Her attempts at getting a read on the blunt Demacian bore some fruit, but she was uncertain as to whether it were truly any indication that she was to eliminate all witnesses present. The following concoction of emotions that danced across the other’s visage at least slightly only served to confuse the assassin further. Not to mention the woman’s reply to her question. Was she supposed to be satisfied with that? Truly a series of disappointments. She had also lost the momentum as the other maids began to cool down from her impromptu rabble, continuing their pace as Quinn only seemed to slow down in the blonde’s mind.
“I thought we were doomed to serve our cursed Masters until we outlived our usefulness. I had all but given up when we were sent to the docks.”
She feigned thoughtfulness once more, attempting to at least pretend to think of an answer to the strangely dressed woman.
“Perhaps a sign of good will? Noxus left the League, right?”
She paused, her hands swaying by her sides as she remembered exactly why she had absolutely abhorred the journey to the ships- and just how badly she missed her leather boots. “Oh!” She exclaimed, shifting from reflection to excitement in a smooth transition as she turned once more towards Quinn. “We are all heading the same direction. We all serve the same House, after all!”
Katarina maintained the cheerful smile, praying that this pained interrogation would come to a swift end. Just how far away was the stupid place, anyway.
Post by Richard "Scrod" Wiedemann on Jun 6, 2013 20:22:54 GMT -5
So that seemed to be the end of it. From Scrod's perspective it was at least. Truth be told he was slightly disappointed, not that he didn't love being on the sea, he just was expecting more. From the way Gangplank had recruited him for this he thought there'd be a little bit more action and excitement than just watching after a few mild mannered maids, most of whom were too afraid to speak with him or even leave the room in the hold provided for them. Of course there was the one maid he saw on the deck that one time who he felt was quite a bit different from the rest of them, but he wasn't going to give it anymore thought now that they were all out of his hands.
"Reckon' that's that then...you don't need me doin' anything quick-like at the moment right? I'm fixin' to go get me some booze n' grub seein' how were docked n' whatnot..." he said to Gangplank as he slung his pack that he had brought along with him for the trip.
"Also wonderin' if you had any bright idears what to do with these." he said much more silently as he gave Gangplank a quick look inside his pack. Inside were several very powerful explosives that he had brought with him.
Post by Demacia's Wings on Jun 7, 2013 3:10:11 GMT -5
Sharp, eagle eyes fixated themselves on the crowd below as Valor continued to soar. Though their destination was not too far off now, his beak remained shut. Quinn had given him a look earlier that said she was rather interested in what the maid had to say. He stretched his wings out, dark blue shadowing against the midday sun, the flap of his feathers long yet elegant. It was a nice day to be flying despite all that had transpired in the past week. Even if he himself was not completely aware of the repercussions of the Invasion, Valor knew that Quinn had been changed - for better or for worse, he remained loyal.
The ranger, on the other hand, was less content with her state. She grimaced lightly, "No-one outlives the usefulness of their lives," she responded, more to herself than to the girl she was conversing with. Despite not being completely in agreement with Demacia's royalty, she was still a Demacian with their ideals etched into her skin. If you were powerful, then you were useful? No-one was without their use. She shook her head. "It is fortunate that you did not give up hope."
Again, her eyes roamed the group, noting nothing but blonde and brown hair, and though barefoot they did not look any worse for wear. No visible bruises or scars, no sobbing, no missing limbs... it was slightly jarring in a way. She didn't expect Noxus to be so forgiving, and made her doubts very clear as she huffed lightly at the other's words. "Noxus left the League, but that does not leave them void of evil intent." To this day she was still uncertain as to why Noxus left. Her induction into the Institute was brief before the League suspended all matches indefinitely, where city states from every direction raised their voices. It had been a peculiar situation.
Quinn arched an eyebrow at the other girl's sudden exclamation. "The same house?" She smiled wryly, "I do not serve the Crownguards. Nor do I serve the Laurents, or the Buvelles or even the poor House of Vayne." Her thin shoulders rose up into a half-hearted shrug. "I serve my city," her smile flickered for a brief moment, etching pain into the curves of her lips, "The shining city of Demacia," she spread her hands out, flourishing them towards the broken, crumbling buildings and the cobblestones wiped clean. "It is strange," she continued, her voice dropping down into a hushed, direct tone, "I've seen maids. I've befriended plenty in my life, and never has one shown an attitude so... false." The spark thrummed within her leather bag and she hummed softly. "Such falsities are always unbecoming of Demacian ladies."
Post by The Saltwater Scourge on Jun 7, 2013 16:05:41 GMT -5
The pirate laughed as the old man showed him his bag of explosives. The man was crazy, implying he wanted to blow up a building in Demaica of all places. A plan Gangplank would have backed entirely had the circumstances been different.
"As much I be wantin' tah' blow a chunk of this place up, I think we best be savin' those for latter. I wan'tah be outta here before any of dem' noble Demacians starts poking inta' me business here."
He slapped the older man on the back in camaraderie. "Enjoy yer' self tonight, ye ol' sea dog. It's gonna be a few days on the sea before we make it tah' Zaun.
Post by thegrandduelist on Jun 8, 2013 2:21:56 GMT -5
Fiora watched as Quinn led the other girls away, she was relieved that the Scourge was leaving. Dealing with such people was...much to beneath her. She sighed a bit inwardly, a mixture of pained time being wasted away and pure boredom. She had only quickly glanced over the girls, none of them catching her interest. They were after all, only commoners. Her interest shifted as one of her servants ran up to her.
"Lady Laurent, your presence is required at Crownguard residence!" The servant relayed to her, panting and out of breath.
Fiora pushed herself off the wall and sighed. She replied with a slightly pained voice.
"Tch, very well. I shall be there momentarily.
She once again glanced over in Quinn's direction, they were all heading towards the same place... No no. A Laurent cant be seen with such...low class citizens. She quickly turned heel and took the long way around, surely "Demacia's Wings" would take the shortest route to the Crownguard's Estate. Fiora held her head up high as she walked away from the docks, her mantle fluttering a bit with the motion.
Post by Richard "Scrod" Wiedemann on Jun 9, 2013 17:48:53 GMT -5
"Alrite, your the captain n' whatnot...just thought it'd be rude for us to leave without a partin' gift, hahahah." Scrod replied.
"Reckon' I'll be seein' ya' on the ship before we leave then...gonna go see if these pompous Demacians got any decent drinks...I ain't holdin' my breath none though." he said as he waved over his shoulder to Gangplank. He figured he might as well see at least some of the sights here, not having been to Demacia before. He would be back on the ship before it set sail.
She sighed, referencing Noxus had brought an involuntary wince to her eye. Noxus. The way her home state was referenced as such did not sit well with her. Trash talking Noxus was one thing. There were dissidents everywhere. The greater issue was more that she, herself, could no longer adamantly defend her nation. Noxus herself was pure, but her leadership corrupt. High command had been tainted and was leading her beloved nation astray- not to mention taking with them her own family name. She parted her lips, speaking slowly.
“We were scared. Definitely. The darkness that surrounded us in a foreign land. Yet, hope was not lost. We had faith. We believed. The night only held so much sway over our hearts and minds, for we knew that the light was but a heartbeat away. If I had power… then perhaps I could have grasped the light for myself rather than relying on blind faith.”
She spoke words that were adamant- but in a halfhearted way. It was as if she were trying more to convince herself that the shroud over her home would be lifted in time. It merely so happened that it fit this situation as well. Power. She was an accomplished assassin, yet- there was much more at play here. She needed more strength. Strength to find her father. Power to dispose of the usurper. She blinked as the woman continued, her own inner monologue having distracted her for a moment as she blanked a few seconds- a little confused before the realization set in. A faux momentary flare of sadness and anger shimmered on her face as Quinn listed the various Houses. A familiar name tucked within the list.
She breathed in… then out- following it with an uncharacteristic giggle, the sickening sound summoning forth a mental image of the younger Crownguard. A rather putrid thought, but she supposed it may have been fitting for yet another blonde Demacian. An attempt to cover for her own lack of paying attention. “I meant us!” She motioned towards the gaggle. “Of course, we too, serve king and country- but our primary charge lies with House Crownguard.“
Her attempt at maintaining an aloof attitude was slowly breaking down. Her mind raced. Had this ranger seen through her guise? Impossible. The illusory magicks were definitely strong. She was assured of such- yet she herself was no mage. There was no way she could confirm the sorcery. Had she been delivered into the maw of her enemies as a present from High Command? The Du Couteau assassin wrapped up in such a humiliating form and delivered to her enemies? She looked towards Quinn with innocent eyes. Absurd. Yet, she constantly diverted the conversation- looped it back to the falsity that lay before her eyes; not to mention with such… bluntness! Could it be the bird? Was the harrier the key that allowed her to view the blonde’s true nature? This woman was dangerous. The blonde broke eye contact, looking forward instead as she pretended to gaze off into the distance. They were so close… Stall a little longer? Or silence Quinn here and now. Regardless of High Command’s questionable leadership- her mission came first and foremost. Blood for Noxus.
“I apologize, Lady Quinn. Perhaps a little bit of Noxus has rubbed off on us.” She lowered her head, her blonde locks concealing a glare. “I’m sure our charge will take the necessary steps to purge any bad habits we may have picked up while we were lost.” She paused. “Until we are fit once again to serve our respective Masters.” She placed a slight emphasis on the pronouns- hinting at Quinn and the maid this time around.
Post by Demacia's Wings on Jun 10, 2013 8:54:15 GMT -5
"Sometimes blind faith is all we have." Quinn responded, adverting her eyes from the blonde and allowing them to fall instead on the crumbling structures up ahead. She was very familiar with the concept. Breaking down and building up, only to fall again. She had reached her hand out for the ray of hope, and the glimmer had come on strange wings. But who was she to deny the opportunity, especially when it had presented to her the ugly truths of her own beliefs and all that she stood for. The ranger shrugged thinly, her eyes returning to the maid's form, "There is no reason to turn away, even if the light should blind us, we should remain prepared for such salvation." The words tasted bitter in her mouth. She was speaking partial nonsense, though she hoped she had said it with at least a believable intonation buried within.
The girl's own tone was odd, however. Whilst it was bold, almost forthcoming, it appeared to Quinn that she was attempting to hide something more. As her syllables flowed, she pinned her attentions upon the other's bright blue eyes and it was there she saw the glimmer of something dangerous. She never saw handmaidens as people of lesser stature, but never had she seen such boiling disappointment and rage, all rolled up into a single mass of pulsating destruction. But it was brief, and for a split second, Quinn was uncertain. Was it all a ruse? Why would the maid react as such to the names of the royals, the esteemed aristocrats of Demacia?
Then, the giggle and the ranger's eyes narrowed ever so slightly. It was out of place, like a splash of color upon a pure white canvas. But it was faded. Tones and hues, transitioning into a blur and all of a sudden, Quinn felt her stomach turn. "Right," she responded, her small smile cordial though she refused to force more. The maid was beginning to frustrate her in ways she was unable to understand. There were flashes of falsities, flashes of truths. The manipulation of emotion was one way to act, and the same goes for the lack thereof. This girl appeared to have some difficulty in deciding which path she wished to go and such indecisiveness was... well, irritating. The doe eyes the female pierced her with seemed to support such thoughts before eye contact was once more lost.
What remained was a feeling that largely resembled a loss of integrity and innocence. She had all but forgotten the spirit fire in her possession - the girl's facade was almost palpable, though she suspected it had something to do with the detection of such magic. Nevertheless, her single step away was enough distance. Then when the blonde ducked her head, she was no longer able to detect such... emotion. Quinn twitched slightly at her response to her rather invasive accusation. Her lips echoed a smile she had long since discarded, "I am no lady," was her relatively soft response. It was the only thing she could say that would not betray the rough edges of her voice. It needed to be said, however.
"We always become what we hate, if given even the ghost of a chance," she mused. Quinn was well aware that they were nearing the Crownguard's Manor and she was also aware that the maid was not interested in her inner thoughts. Still, such inconsiderate rambling may yield valuable information. Something that may reveal to her what this maid was up to, how she managed to invoke such feelings of suspicion and above all, who she really was. Though the ranger was not aware of the female's true identity, there was something... off. Before she could entertain this thought any further, the maid continued and all Quinn could do was listen and learn.
However, the implications that spilled forth from the maiden's lips almost forced her entire body into a halt, but she quickly recovered. Her body remained tense, her hands gripped at her sides. If the maid was truly an actress, then the ranger's own skills in such an area paled in comparison. She could not hide the way her jaw set, the way her amber eyes flashed and the way her single step had halted before her pacing became a little faster. There was no evidence showing that this maid... this barefoot girl, could know about her. Nobody in Demacia did, save for Valor and he certainly couldn't tell anyone.
For once, Quinn had to force a neutral expression, keeping her mouth shut to avoid the way her voice had lowered to an uncomfortable octave. It was only when a few silent seconds had passed did she trust herself to speak, and when she did, it was littered with the very same falsities that she had accused the girl of not moments past. "Perhaps it is not up to the masters to purge such habits," a single breath, harsh to both throat and lungs, "Perhaps the responsibility lies on the individual." But the ranger hated such lies, and she desperately sought to fit some piece of truth. "It's unfortunate that people are unable to accept such responsibilities and so instead wallow in their own despair." Truth. Bitter, sour and sweet. "Until we serve no one but ourselves." Her last sentence was barely a whisper, barely even spoken but the meaning was there and it drifted.
Blind faith. Katarina took the chance while Quinn glanced away to stare back towards her keeper. She exhaled, some of the stresses of the day shrugged off her shoulders as something resembling a more genuine smile crept onto her face. She rejoined Quinn in gazing off into the distance, hopefully before she had noticed the shift in expression; however brief it was. Although the fellow Champion’s words were far from adamant, it was still somewhat reassuring. To have another voice besides her own. To actually hear someone bring calm to one’s worries. What Katarina had needed wasn’t a game plan. Wasn’t another to lecture her on how to react. On what to do in this situation. She desired not more orders, but words to help steel her against the coming tides. Regardless of how… absurd the statements were. Quinn was a Demacian after all. Can’t expect too much from their kind.
There were more important matters at hand. Although she did a rather small favour for the assassin, small favours did not make them a couple. It was unnerving really, even now. The blonde locks that fluttered before her eyes with the cool, shoreline breeze. The wind that raised itself past the mountains, danced amongst the buildings, and came swirling amongst them. The others had all but phased into the background, returning to their carefree ways, conversation filtering past her ears together with the squawking of birds- the rustling of leaves. Where was the Noxian scent? The crimson strands? She sighed softly, her feet were somewhat numbing- already past the initial irritation of walking barefoot. It was always like this, she mused. Get past the initial pain and struggle and everything worked out. She vaguely registered the woman's responses. Be prepared for salvation. Become what we hate. A strange mixture.
She raised her head, lazily coming to face the woman as she concluded her little monologue. However dull the conversation was, Katarina still did want to hear the woman’s response. Perhaps more inane babble about light? Ah, maybe even something about their king and country. She hadn’t spoken much about those two in a while. Perhaps this was good for training. Learning to speak with another who interwove the name of their country into every other sentence. Oh? The Noxian failed to suppress her force of habit, running her tongue along her supple lips to dampen the flesh as she stared into the other’s eyes intently. Relishing. Savouring the woman’s distress. It was almost pleasurable to watch the Champion writhe as if one had pierced her with a serrated blade. Gently easing it further into the woman’s body. Feeling the warmth as sinewy muscles gave way to the cool metal. Twisting the handle ever so slightly… the soft trickle as her clothing grew damp- the sensation of watching another’s life bleed away. Holding the rate of their demise within one’s hands as the blade finally erupts from the other side. The gentle spray as the edge turns, cutting away at the flesh and distorting her vitals- the victim already much too weak to resist. Stunned by the loss of blood. Nothing for her prey to do but watch… feel… her last precious moments within her mortal coil.
The assassin entertained a moment of uncertainty. Interrupting her reverie as she saw herself within the Ranger. The way the woman’s mask fell to pieces at the slightest touch. Was she quite so obvious with her own demons? The turmoil that bubbled away underneath the surface? Not merely for her current mission, but also deep in the heart of Noxus. Every time she reported to High Command. Every time she spoke to that despicable creature seated upon his tainted throne. She flinched, irritation seeping back into her form and mannerisms at the very thought of the Grand General. Either that, or from the increased speed at which they marched. The sharp pains of pressing one’s tender flesh against the rocks and pebbles summoned her to the present, back to the awkward silence that bound both Demacian and Noxian alike.
It only served to amplify the sounds previously muted. The girly giggles. The talk of the maids’ lives before their little accident. How lucky they were that they were assigned to their various Houses. And how they longed for their true Master. The cleft in the man’s chin. The width of his neck. The number of eggs he ate each morning. She wasn’t sure how much of anything was even relevant, ceasing to listen as the topic wandered once again to who the men all wished to be; which side they would take. Katarina and her keeper were getting uncomfortably closer to those who walked in front- the gap slowly bleeding away as their voices grew louder. The assassin had wished to remain distant. They were most likely too simple minded to make much of their conversation, yet it was an unnecessary risk. She attempted to mask her irritation as purely from their increased gait. She was wrong. The initial irritation of walking barefoot was only hidden away as they slowed down. Once they had resumed their original pace she came to hate her mission even more. How was this good use of her time? Sitting around babbling with a Ranger. Prancing about and forcing rocks into the sole of her foot. This, she was sure now, was something one would never get used to. Slightly distracted from her current situation, she raised an eyebrow at Quinn's words. Her lips curved into a smirk as the characteristic expression crept back onto her face. Her voice rang out, amusement all but dripping from her taunting words; the borderline sadistic appearance manifesting on her face- the prior complaints all but forgotten.
“Until we serve but ourselves? That sounded almost Noxian.” She observed the woman carefully, noting the potential that she may be going too far but her self control, something that had always been lacking, had already been stretched thin by what seemed like a lifetime at sea. She moved her hands behind her back, grasping her wrist as she leaned over on her tippy toes- her voice adopting a somewhat flirty intonation as she decided to continue pressing the woman’s buttons. “A merit based system where most serve no Master other than themselves.” Katarina purred softly, the words gently cascading from the tip of her tongue- her words almost disgustingly sweet. “I hear they’re very accommodating to any with the necessary drive.” Too far? Quite possible. Her voice had already dropped to what was barely a whisper.
Definitely too far. Katarina cursed herself for indulging in her desires. This was a Demacian Champion. How was she so stupid? Acting this way. Quinn was a commoner, but still a Demacian trusted enough to represent her country in the League. She arrayed her options, weighing them one by one. She had already all but taken off her mask, should she go all the way? She created what was essentially a loose end. Kill her now? Attempt a full conversion? Katarina breathed in, the material of her dress much too thin. The sensation of wind piercing the fabric. Nature's gentle caress enveloping her form- taking away with it the heat radiating from her body. Wiping away the light beads of sweat threatening to develop on her skin. Easing the pounding of her heart. The adrenaline coursing through her veins.
Please.
When was the last time she succumbed to such an amateurish reaction? She laughed, yet another girly, disgusting laugh that seemed it was taken straight from her Mistress. The assassin adjusted her mask, taking on a more playful expression. “Always good to have a contingency should one fail.” CONTINGENCY? What kind of maid speaks with that kind of vernacular? Her digits danced along her palm, feeling a very strange sense of déjà vu- as if the two’s positions had been reversed; Katarina’s hands again swinging by her sides. She had to, yet the action felt unnatural. She calmed down further with every breath, suppressing her urge to abort her mission and simply slay everyone around- regardless of the probability of success. “It’s in situations like these, right?” She broke eye contact, entertaining her previous hobby of mindlessly staring off into the distance. “That we must stare into the light regardless of the consequences.” She paused. “Blind faith that we may overcome human nature." Katarina swallowed. The unnatural sensation of saliva pooling in one’s mouth. Feeling every moment as the saliva trickled down her throat… "That we may shatter the mold and take responsibility, maybe not just for our own actions- but our peers as well.” "
Time seemed to slow down as she waited for a response. Taking responsibility for one’s actions. The hand shielded from Quinn's vision clenched into a fist. Had she volunteered herself to be the first? Her brows furrowed ever so slightly, hoping her hair would conceal the shift in expression. Was it time she atone for her sins? Penance? She parted her lips, exhaling. Hah. Blind faith. Time to see if there was any merit in the Ranger’s words.
Last Edit: Jun 22, 2013 23:25:58 GMT -5 by katarina
Post by Demacia's Wings on Jun 22, 2013 23:21:55 GMT -5
When Quinn found she had lost meaning in her own mind, her eyes shut the world away. It was for a brief second or five, but it was enough. The colors swam hazily in her vision, pricks of silver and the darkest blue venturing back and forth, teetering along the edge of conscious thought. She could still smell the faint tang of salt from the docks, and she recalled the pulpy orange mess that lay like an oyster on the wooden surface. She recalled the violent spark, the threatening magic and the mind numbing curiosity and Quinn slowly realized that she was dying. Not physically, but in every way in which she fashioned herself. Her eyelids flickered open, turning slowly towards the maid.
Though she was clothed, she felt exposed by the way those bright blue eyes beckoned her flesh to bend. The flicker of a tongue unnerved her further. Her chest tightened. Quinn did not see herself a coward, nor was she frightened of the dark or of strange creatures. But there was something in the way the maiden seemed to savor her discomfort, pulling at the strings like a small child with a toy that would not break. She met this feeling with a mild frown, amber twisting into an inferno of sinewy uncertainty as she felt her shoulders tense. It was the murderous intent that caused her blood to freeze so quickly. Not fear, but the idea that life could be taken so cleanly. There were many who could boast that they could kill without conviction, but there were few who could say so confidently that they enjoyed every second. The feeling seemed to broaden as the ring of virgin giggles gripped the air around her, but she was unwilling to give it thought.
She felt the metaphorical thorns around her throat constrict, and Quinn let out a slight breath that broke against her teeth. Noxian. She could feel the girl's eyes on her, the way they studied her face like a surgeon ready to make the first cut and then the way her toes pressed against the dirt to lean forward. She heard it. A lowered seduction, nothing sexual but to provoke. She knew women who did that, she hated every inch of it. It was only when the maid seemed to withdraw from her own convictions did the ranger produce a sound that could only be described as obsequious. "There is no meaning to it," she ventured, feeling the rub of leather as she wrapped her fingers against her arm brace, "Is it Noxian when you think for yourself? Is it Demacian when you want to protect the innocent? If you dabble in the course of nature, are you suddenly a Zaunite? Does being peaceful make you Ionian?" She did not continue, simply letting the syllables dance and sink like a rusty anchor at sea.
The meaning remained afloat, and for a brief second, she saw the slight shift in thread and her heart pounded. Blood for Noxus. She was uncertain, and her hesitation was displayed like a feast for Kings. She gritted her teeth; the girl was pushing her, it seemed. As if baiting her to take the poison and to chase the shadows like a fox would a rabbit. Except it was not a rabbit, but a tiger, ready to turn and pounce. As if reversing her own ideals, she began to wave the thoughts around. Accommodating, the female had said. Sweet and smooth, a cherry a top a mountain of cream. Then the laugh, a knife against the throat and flashing red like the bleeding dawn.
Quinn's eyes burned, stopping the maid right in her tracks. Her previous gesture had commanded Valor to lead the contingent of Demacian maidens to their destination, but her hand was now gripped around her unruly companion's arm. As if her action had suddenly hit her like a storm, the ranger dropped the appendage like a burning sword. "A contingency." She had picked out the same word the female had, though for different reasons. Quinn took a step forward, "So that if--" She broke her teeth against her tongue now, forcing the words back. No. She refused to play the game. She did not know who this maid was still, but it was clear to her that the Demacian ideals were falsified. Parroting her own words like a mockery, and the ranger could not help but feel foolish despite it all.
She shook her head viciously, "Human nature can never be overcome," her look was pointed, almost accusing as she glared at the maid, "Life knows this, as does Death. They both sit on their richly painted chairs and they laugh at each other, flicking pieces of their kingdoms down - one with their gnarled fingertips, and the other with smooth digits. They clash their cups together, nectar flowing from the brim as it spills upon a blood red carpet," like paradise, she thought to herself as her mouth closed. Much of what she had said came from the stories she had been told, distorted by her own undoing. But she was done; her chest was heaving slightly, her cheeks flushed as if she had been sprinting and her eyes were cast downwards.
"Your companions are leaving us behind." As if nothing had happened, she turned and continued to walk once again. "We best walk quickly to catch up."
The grasp upon her heart relented. Breathing out, hiding her sigh of relief- yet her senses remained sharp. She remained tense despite the momentary respite. Her reprieve as she was finally liberated from awaiting her verdict would be fleeting at best. She forced her fist to relax, stretching tired digits that felt as if they had been flexing from minutes to hours. The tendons pulling, acid released from her muscles as her fingertips tapped along her palm. Katarina was not a patient woman, despite it being a rather important trait for those in her craft. Although there was a certain… satisfaction to hunting- stalking about the shadows as she watched her victim squirm; waiting for the perfect moment- for all obstacles and objectives to be cleared before striking. The gratification from a clean kill was nothing compared to the blood bath of merely charging into a mess. Appearing before dumbstruck soldiers and taking them apart one by one, the glimmer of silver and a swirl of black and red the last they saw before being freed from their mortal coil. The pleasure derived from such an act was something she used as an excuse to explain her impatient personality- yet there was no escaping it. The wait terrible- definitely worse than actually being sentenced. Forced into inaction. Forced to remain still as the other slowly moved their pieces. Just like that bloody ship. Sitting… Merely waiting about. The realization dawned, one that perhaps she should have reached long ago. It was less that she was unable to wait. It was not her hate of tardiness. That in itself was not the problem. It was the helplessness. The vulnerability of being subject to another’s whims. The antithesis to that which she loved so much. The tip of the gleaming metal pressing against the nape of her neck, just enough to apply pressure- yet not create an incision. The blood within her veins pumping mere moments away from the cool steel.
Locked between the woman’s words and her own thoughts, she had merely parted her lips to speak when the sudden glare hit. The maid’s eyes widened, reactively taking a step back, ceasing her march and raising a hand instinctively as the other slide along her outer thigh- as if grasping for a blade that wasn’t there. Her brows furrowed, teeth gritting; her foot drawing a slight arc in the soil as she repositioned herself defensively. The sudden shift in the woman’s demeanour. Was it a trap? Was the inability to properly mask her emotions merely a façade? The subtle nuances of motion. The light twitches on Quinn’s gentle features. Those golden eyes. Had she misread the woman? Fallen for her ruse? Katarina’s nails dug ever so slightly into her pristine flesh as she remembered her current state. She was unarmed. She was a maid. She cursed to herself. Once again, she had been so wrapped up in her own thoughts that she slipped up. It was too late to abandon the obviously defensive posture. She had reacted too fast-
The moment of hesitation as the realization dawned slowed her down, wincing as gloved fingers closed around her slender arm. The fourth dimension came crashing down. Time was meaningless for a moment as azure spheres glared into the burning golden wheels. The leather almost felt warm. It was a false heat. An illusion generated from the pressure exerted on her arm. She watched the individual colours dance in the woman’s eyes. Gold melting, flowing into brilliant yellow- mixing seamlessly into the orange tinged ring as it slowly melded into the abyss. A solitary beat of her heart as her fingers left her thigh- the blood beneath her skin reflecting the line she had clawed along her leg. She had barely avoided breaking skin. She couldn’t shunpo without taking the woman with her- not to mention such a signature ability would seal her fate. Her eyes dampened. She hated weakness… yet she stood here- caught. Her toes dug into the soil, her other arm flexing as her hand balled into a fist. Her voice called out to her. Screaming from the dark recesses of her mind. Strike. Strike first. She leaned towards Quinn, her arm tensing under her grasp as she sought to pull the woman closer even as she would punch forth. The universal truth. The answer to everything. She would strike down her enemies. Anything else could be questioned in the crimson seas- within the mountain of lifeless corpses. Her hair fluttered with the breeze as she prepared to pounce, red strands threatening to burst out amongst the blonde. Her true colours. The banner she wore with pride.
She blinked. The contact that ended almost before it had even began. Time resumed its normal course as reality reconstructed itself around her. The melodious sound of the Ranger’s voice graced her ears once more as she instead took a step back together with the Ranger’s step forward. Her chest expanded, the fresh, cool air filling her lungs as she stood up straighter. She briefly attempted to resume her illusion, but stopped halfway as she, almost in the same instant as her retreat, stepped forward once more. A slight spin as she found herself blocking the Ranger’s path before so much as a step had been taken. A single smooth motion that mirrored the way a stream broke and parted, swirling about the object that dared interrupt its flow. The other woman’s presence was evident even in the passing moment when eye contact had broken. The way the wind funneled between and around them. The flapping cloth and feathers. The Ranger’s breath warm as it tickled Katarina’s skin. Quinn’s words were nearly unheeded, tossed aside and carried away by the breeze.
How dare she. She growled as anger simmered and flared up within her. How dare this… woman put her into such a position of vulnerability? How dare she exploit her weakness. What was once a series of rapidly fluctuating emotions dancing about within her mind was parted with a single sweep as fury seared its way through; scattering all lesser sentiments.
“My companions?” Her voice had completely abandoned any demure tinges she had so carefully woven into her speech. Aggressive. Quiet, yet unwavering. Resolute as she stood tall, raising her head to glare into the woman’s eyes. “Look at them. Without a care in the world. Let them wallow in their ignorance.” Her legs remained slightly parted, evenly distributing her weight as she broke into the other’s personal space- disregarding the sanctity of one’s psychological needs. Advancing and violating the woman's intimate territory. She focused entirely upon Quinn. That grab was evidence enough. The Ranger, even if unaware of the specifics, knew something was wrong. The Crownguards would be made aware. Katarina’s mistakes would come to haunt her. Please. She would rather pay her debts sooner rather than later. The assassin would drop the curtains here and now. Disadvantaged as she was from being unarmed, she wasn’t entirely foreign to hand to hand combat. If there was to be any opportunity it would be at this instant as the woman’s pet herded the other maids to their destination.
“Individual traits do not make a country, yet the association is there as such simply because that is the dominant attribute of her people.” The assassin thought back to her observations and experiences. Where the woman’s armament was placed. Her speed. Her accuracy. Any attack patterns. Regardless of how many possibilities one has to strike each person has her personality quirks. Preferences in the way they waged war whether it was a conscious decision or not. She would be ready. She would not get caught again. She was prepared, confident in her footwork. “Your statements reflect just that. The revolting naivety that seems to fester within your people. Life and Death have always been but two sides of the same coin.” She remained careful even as she rambled, prepared to disappear at a moment’s notice. Preempt everything. “A contingency, yes. The way that word slid so easily from those lips despite your talk of salvation and allegiances. Of faith.” She slowed down, the anger dissipating ever so slightly as a path revealed itself to her- a conclusion drawn from hearing her hostile words out loud. “Of course…” The volume began dropping steadily once more as she nearly breathed out the words; the cruel grin creeping back onto her face. "Why would she known as the Wings of Demacia let someone quite so suspicious simply… walk?”
Last Edit: Jun 23, 2013 21:49:45 GMT -5 by katarina
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