It was important to remember that the sense of victory is always a fleeting moment, and it was an emotion that the famed crimson haired assassin, Katarina constantly reminded herself. Today's victory on the Fields of Justice was the same; while her former teammates reveled and congratulated each other and their respective summoner's, Katarina merely scorned them. Of course they couldn't see the fact that they won by sheer blind luck, and luck was not a factor in any assassin's traits. Skill, efficiency, and deadly prowess were all that mattered. Sheathing her blades, she ignored her teammate's calls for an after party celebration; perhaps tasting Gragas's newest concoction and drinking the night away.
The assassin merely scoffed and strode past them down dark hallway, more amused by their invitation than flattered. To her, social gatherings were pointless and monotonous. She would much rather do something more productive; perhaps training, or if she was lucky, Noxian High Command would have another mission for her. It had been so long since her last outing, a thrilling assignment on a rogue Zuan scientist. He put up a subpar fight but his death was oh so gratifying, he never even knew he was dead. The thought of it brought a small chill to her spine. Perhaps it was time to try and find another assignment, the assassin thought to herself as she strode down the halls of the Institute of War. But the thought would have to wait as the assassin suddenly stopped at an intersection in the hallway, leaning against the wall with her arms crossed.
"Kat?" came a gruff but stoic voice from around the corner.
The assassin flinched at the name. It was a nickname she was not proud of and the sound of it still caused an involuntary twitch of annoyance. Not even her own father called her that. But for this instance, she let an exception, like she always did.
"Of course, now what do you want?" she replied sternly. Her eyes darted back down the hallway, keeping a constant vigil to ensure that no one would intrude on their conversation. No doubt the figure around the corner was doing the same.
"Well…I was wondering if you wanted to go out for dinner tonight," Said the voice hesitantly.
The renowned assassin couldn't help but raise an eyebrow at the odd request. It was rare for him to take the initiative, much less actually invite her to dinner. And although she hated social gatherings, in this case, she would make an exception, like she always did.
"Fine…but there better be good wine." The assassin replied likewise, although perhaps with a softer expression. And although they couldn't see each other, she could already tell that the stoic figure was grinning like a schoolboy.
"Fantastic…I'll see you tonight then." came the voice again, as the unmistakable sound of armored boots began to echo down the hall away from their brief encounter.
The assassin merely shook her head, smirking to herself at his brazen persona. The man wouldn't know stealth if he looked it up it in the dictionary. Nevertheless, the ruthless assassin found herself somewhat drawn to that aspect of him. While she was required to plot and lurk in the shadows, he could rush forward with sword and banner in hand; a perfect foil for her.
She took her leave as well, continuing on down the dark hallway still remembering the dinner plans. Although she hated social gatherings, and she may have not been the most feminine of women, she was still in fact a girl. Even she wanted to be treated like a princess every once in a while, although she would never admit it. The assassin let out a long sigh as she suddenly realized that she would have to come up with a new disguise again. Makeup was effective in covering up her distinctive scar, but her hair was always a problem to deal with. There have been multiple calls for her to simply cut it, from both her superiors and even herself at times. She silenced them all with her trademark death glares but for some reason she never did cut her hair, for what reason, even she didn't know. But something new suddenly caught her attention; the sound of flapping wings. The crimson haired assassin looked up to see a black feathered beast flying towards her. To call such a vile and disturbing beast a crow would be an insult to nature. It's four red eyes gleamed at Katarina, and the pseudo-crow let loose a single shriek before turning back the way it came. Katarina knew what it meant, her eyes narrowing at the thought of it.
A personal summons.
She cleared her thoughts and proceeded down the corridor with a quickened pace, passing by both summoners and other league champions as she made her way to the ambassadorial offices of the Institute of War. These were where the dignitaries and ambassadors of the City-States resided. Queen Ashe was probably the most famous for having her own quarters now, drawing much ire and jealously from other league champions who were secluded to less lavishly styled rooms, not that she cared or minded. Eventually she reached her destination, a set of massive black stained oak doors. She didn't bother to knock as she strode inside the dimly lit room and immediately stood at attention. The room was decorated with a variety of maps and banners of Noxus, with black candles illuminating the room. The floor was littered with the discarded feathers of the crow beast, which now snuggly rested upon the shoulder of its owner, Swain.
"Efficient as always…I'm in need of your services again." The Grand General of Noxus exclaimed while seated at a small table, his cane lying across his lap as he calmly poured himself a cup of tea. The crimson haired assassin stared at the tea, no matter how often Katarina made these visits; the general never did take off his scarf to drink it.
"I thought we were done with these sessions." The assassin replied annoyingly at the seated league champion. Ever since Swain seized power in Noxus the famed assassin reported directly to the enigmatic crippled tactician. The masked man grabbed his cane and struggled to his feet, the crow flapping wildly to maintain its balance as he proceeded to walk over to the crimson haired assassin.
"I'd like to add a few finishing touches to my painting. I hope you remember the pose from last time." The league champion said in his signature raspy voice as he limped past her to a small corner of the room where an easel stood, set upon it was a fairly large canvas painting.
Although Katarina couldn't see what the painting was, she was rather happy she couldn't. But she knew what she had to do; this wasn't the first time she had to do this act. She began to slowly remove her many swords and many knives laying them upon the desk where the tea was settled. Next came the boots which she kicked off forcefully and placed her jacket upon the chair. The next part she always hated, not because she had to do it in front of him but because it left her so exposed. After unlacing a few knots her corset, the armoed piece effortlessly falls off and is placed upon the table alongside the swords and weapons. The famed assassin then slid down her black leather tight fitting leggings, stepping out of the clothing and placing it upon the table, leaving the crimson haired woman completely exposed. She hated this feeling, the feeling for being naked, unarmed and unarmored; but it was for a purpose. She strode to the opposite side of the room, the cold air her causing her skin to prickle, where a deep red satin curtain hung from the ceiling. The assassin wrapped herself in the cloth, it hung loosely form her body, barely covering anything at all while arching her back and placing a hand on her hip, retaking her previous stance from before with her back facing the easel.
"Good, now hold that position." The raspy voice ordered as the tactician began to work upon his painting.
Katarina didn't respond but merely held her pose as the Noxian general painted her. It was an odd predicament, but something that came out of necessity. When Swain became the de-facto leader of Noxus he was granted information that wasn't readily available, especially information regarding General Du Coteau disappearance, Katarina's father. She failed to find any clues to his whereabouts until the crippled tactician offered her a deal. It appeared that the enigmatic grand general had a hobby of painting and in exchange for information about her father's disappearance; she would have to pose for him. Normally, the famed assassin would have outright refused, the thought of a nude portrait of her hanging in some noble's mansion revolted her; but this was the only lead she had. But she did make one stipulation; she would be painted from behind, so that she couldn't be identified. And for the last few weeks Katarina had been making regular visits to Swain's quarters, each time disrobing in front of the Grand General and posing for him in the same fashion as she was doing now, and each time the tactician would add few new details to his painting.
But she could never tell whether her artist ever took some sick pleasure in painting her. On the occasion she did glance over her shoulder to spy on the painter, all she could tell from his expression was a sort of, as best as she could put it, intent disinterest, as if he was merely doing a chore. The sessions would last hours, which was no problem for the assassin. Physically fit, standing still for prolonged periods of time was an essential skill for her. Hours did pass and eventually the sound of a paintbrush being set down caught the assassin's attention. Evidently, today's session was over. Relieved, she separated herself from the cloth and strode towards her clothes with pride; it was always important to keep appearances. As she began to redress herself, again in full view of the grand general, she couldn't help but ask.
"Is it finally done?" she said without turning to him, all the while pulling on her leggings and various belts and knives.
"For now at least..." came a short raspy reply, words that she was hoping not to hear. That could only mean more sessions and all the while she would still be without the information. But she would play his game for now. An assassin's greatest trait was always patience. For now all she could do was wait for the painting to be finished. At least he never offered to show it to her, she wouldn't know how to react if she did see it.
"I also have a mission for you tonight as well so I hope you didn't have any dinner plans." The general said as-a-matter of factly. The assassin couldn't help but flinch as she put on her corset. It was only a momentary lapse, but she quickly recovered her composure as she continued to dress. Fully dressed with her blades snuggly sheathed she turned to face her Grand General.
"Of course not, my blades are always ready for Noxus." She replied firmly. The crippled tactician merely regarded her with an amused look as he handed her a small brown scroll. Taking it, the assassin finally took her leave from Swain's office as she clutched the piece of paper in her hand. It would only be a matter of time before she would be summoned again, but for now she would have to endure it. She would always be loyal to Noxus, no matter what anyone would say or do to her, she would always be loyal.
