On all her breezes borne, Earth yields no scents like those;
But he that dares not grasp the thorn should never crave the rose.
-Anne Bronte
In Bloom, Chapter 1
It rained a lot in Noxus.
Talon lay on his bed, one hand resting atop his midsection while the other stretched lazily across the wrinkled gray sea of linen that made up his bed sheets. He was clad in nothing but a pair of tight black boxers, the silken material damp from all the sweat and moisture clinging to his hips and the slim, sinewy 'V' of his lower core. The tattered ribbon holding his hair back did little to keep the bangs out of his eyes, long locks of feathery chocolate sticking to his temples and the sides of his angular jawline. It was hot. Really. Fucking. Hot. Summer had arrived early this year and with it, as always, came the gloomy skies and warm winds that were so typical of monsoon season in Noxus. It rained quite often around this time and tonight was no exception. A torrential downpour had beaten out a steady rhythm over the crown of the city for nearly three days now, leaving the entire province a steamy, muddled mess in the process.
Of course, it hadn't helped that Katarina had insisted on training with him out in the courtyard all day, weather be damned. They'd been at it for hours on end and when all was said and done, the two of them had finished their mock battle completely soaked from head to toe. Talon remembered watching her afterwards as she moved to retrieve her throwing knives from the garden grounds. Her sopping wet leggings had clung to the backs of her thighs like a second skin, the sheer, faded material leaving very little to the imagination as to what lay underneath. At that point he really couldn't help himself. And who could blame him? Talon was a man after all. Every time Kat bent over to pick up a knife, he'd catch a glimpse of that cheeky black thong hugging her backside, the flimsy fabric never ceasing in its seemingly endless mission to ride up as snugly as possible between the curves of her pert… little…
Fuck.
Katarina was beautiful. Perhaps one of the loveliest creatures in all of Valoran. She was built like a tigress – slinky, yet tone and firm. Petite too, with just the right amount of curves in all the right places. So pale, so pure… her skin shone like freshly fallen snow, laced with a menagerie of thin and jagged records from battles long since past. Her fiery tresses seemed to shimmer like a cascade of lava down the small of her back… and of course there were those eyes of hers too. Gazing into Katarina's eyes was like staring into a pristine meadow, untouched by human hands. She was gorgeous no doubt, but the thing that always seemed to get him – really get him – believe it or not… was…
Her scent.
Yes, her smell. It was a subtle redolence indeed. Perhaps a less keen sense would have never picked up on it, but Talon's was about as sharp as they came. Her scent never faltered, no matter how hard they'd train or how much she'd sweat. Katarina had such a sweet, delicate fragrance… like a wild rose in bloom, tinged with the faintest hints of iron, arcana and blood. Intoxicating to say the least.
Indeed, everything about this woman was beautiful.
Well…
Almost everything.
As breathtaking as she was to behold, Talon also happened to know – from first hand experience, no less – that this woman was a gigantic… colossal… utterly royal pain in the ass. Kat was about as tactless and ill-mannered as they came. Bossy too, in a less than endearing sort of way. Couldn't forget that. To put it bluntly, everything had to be done her way or not at all. Honestly, on more than one occasion Talon had come this close to slitting her pretty little throat, just to shut her the fuck up in the tepid hopes of achieving one single moment of peace and quiet… the only thing stopping him the fact that she was, for all intents and purposes, his sister.
…Fuck.
And… to make matters, oh, only about a hundred times worse, Talon could still recall with almost perfect clarity… the moment he realized he'd somehow developed some semblance of feelings for her.
Fuck… fuck… fuck!
Something was off though. Kat wasn't her usual self, and she hadn't been for quite some time now. Today in particular she just seemed kind of… out of it. Her footwork had been tentative, her movements sloppy and overly predictable. He'd even had to pull his punches and dial down the intensity during their training, simply out of fear that an errant blow might have actually connected and gravely injured her had he not held back. Of course, on top of that there was the usual sort of quirkiness to boot. Kat had become far more subdued these days, prone to bouts of silence and melancholy. Not that Talon disliked any modicum of tranquility, but… it all just felt… wrong for some reason. Case in point: Kat would keep to herself during the day for the most part, an attempt (Talon surmised) on her part to minimize any sort of interaction between the two of them.
But then… at night…
Well…
That was a different story altogether.
You see… Talon was a bit of a light sleeper. Call it a force of habit if you will, but every night for the past week or so Talon had been waking up in the early hours of the morning only to find… his sister… fast asleep beside him. She'd always seem to slip out of his room before the first rays of mottled sunlight ever crested over the cityscape, but without fail that very next night… much to Talon's chagrin… he'd find Kat at the edge of his bed again, in nothing but her negligee, back turned and head resting on the corner of his pillow.
Not a word ever exchanged between the two, let alone a glance.
Talon exhaled softly. His tired gaze now rose to fix upon the lacquered blades of the ceiling fan spinning above him in a wobbly circle... an endless, tireless circle as it were. Ceiling fans were a bit of a novelty in Noxus, a status symbol found in the homes of only the wealthiest and most influential figures. They were all steam powered, with the heat channeled through ventilation shafts stemming from the sewers of the lowermost districts. Talon couldn't help but shake his head at the utter irony of his present situation. It was hard to imagine that only a few years ago he'd been sleeping next to those very same sewer shafts just to keep from freezing at night. How far he had come then… from a child of the streets living in the most abject poverty, to a ward of the DuCouteau family – one of the most feared and respected surnames in all of Valoran; the crème de la crème of Noxian society.
Talon scoffed at the thought, his pale lips parting into an almost derisive sort of smirk as his fingers continued to drub against the taut musculature corded around his navel. The wounds of his childhood were still fresh in his mind and yet… all of it seemed like a lifetime ago. He had done things… to people… for people. Seen things no child should ever have to see. And yet… had his life really changed all that much since then? Much like the ceiling fan spinning above him Talon sometimes felt as though he were stuck in some sort of loop; an endless, vicious cycle of violence and sorrow. And through it all, the only thing that ever seemed to remain tangible, constant even… the only thing that seemed to keep him rooted in this new reality… was Kat. But now, even that anchor seemed to be on the brink of crumbling away into nothingness…
Oh well.
Whatever.
Gradually the assassin's eyelids began to grow heavy from the weight of slumber, and with a soft yawn Talon let his head sink back into the gentle caress of his pillow. The world grew dark and distant, and the muted hum of that ceiling fan overhead grew fainter and fainter still.
Author's Notes: Finally, another tale finds its way to the page. If you've read my other stories you might have an idea of what to expect but then again, who doesn't like surprises? Talon x Kat. What could -possibly- go wrong? ;)
