Tonight, the bastard dines.
Good.
Varus peeled away from the window and hopped off the ledge. The delectable aromas of a scrumptious roast drifted in the thick air surrounding the Dining Hall. He has long since forgotten the pleasure of food or drink, no matter how tantalizing. He has long since forgotten the last time he's savored a meal.
No matter.
Revenge has always been a sweeter dish.
Varus moved swiftly through the shadows, watching and listening carefully for any soul that would find him trespassing the Noxian living quarters. When he found the Noxian General's room, he retched out a tendril that probed the lock on the hefty door. Varus held his breath as it twitched and turned, forged itself into a strange key shape, and slipped effortlessly into the lock.
A dull click resounded throughout the heavy wood. Varus breathed a sigh of relief as he entered the room and locked the door behind him.
The scrolls on the floor seem to be scattered in some chaotic yet orderly fashion. Mostly maps, however. As expected, a general of his stature was careful with where he kept more valuable documents. The jagged curse on his arms flickered as he surveyed every surface.
He spotted strange notch was found in the corner of the back wall. Varus gingerly maneuvered around the mess of papers to the back corner, keeping the ground as undisturbed as he could. He fingered round the edge of the tile for an unnatural protrusion, for he was sure Darius could not have made something too intricate for a Noxian's blunt fingers to open. He curled his fingers underneath the cornerstone and tugged revealing a sturdy wooden compartment. A cold draft blew in gently over the Ionian's head as he crouched over the bundle of parchments uncovered from the compartment.
So the general does keep a record of the High Command's orders wherever he is after all. He thumbed through the papers looking for places and names. Since the Ionian and Noxus Rematch years ago, the League has granted Ionia great protection from any further Noxus invasions. On the day of that Rematch however, Noxus saw perfect opportunity within the chaos to invade a few, small south-east villages of Ionia. Varus never knew why they did something so rash while both Ionia and Noxus were under direct eyes of the League's judgement, only that all he held dear was lost in consequence.
He knew that amongst the many Noxian heads he has taken that day, the General responsible for the attack remains alive, having fled like a dog between his legs. His name was unrecoverable from the bodies that Varus has slain.
And his name was not here among the parchments either.
Damn it all to hell.
Varus' frustration turned to anger, and then to rage. Before he know it, visions of agonizing death erupted through his consciousness. Bodies stacked to the sky as their noxian blood poured down onto steel and leather, the sky soaked crimson red. He felt arrows of blight piercing so easily through their flesh as they left his hand. The thirst has returned.
Teach the dogs agonizing death.
Not again.
The Pallus was grasping for his consciousness and he knew it. He gripped his head as the room swirled slowly into darkness.
Your petty time spent searching could be used to purge the guilty
Despicable thoughts, and yet so tempting. Varus stood up in an attempt to clear his mind. He will not allow himself to be taken while in the room of one of Noxus' most powerful generals.
A tinge of red and green, so out of place, abruptly pierced into his consciousness. His mind suddenly cleared. On the window sill?
Varus peered at the strange wild growth that he realized swarmed the entirety of the window ledge. In a shadowy corner of that window, a red unopened bud sits in the pale moonlight.
Zyra?
Unsure fingers caressed the leaves surrounding the scarlet blossom. Its inner petals fluttered as it pulsed steadily in his gentle grasp.
Suddenly, Varus heard a gruff voice and heavy footsteps approach from the corridor outside. In a flash, the blossom retracted away into a vine that slipped off and down the outer walls. That was rather fast for a supper's feast. He quickly replaced the parchments and sealed the cornerstone back into the wall. The wild growth quickly started to retract from the window. Wasting no time, Varus leaped onto the edge and grabbed hold of the vines as they slithered down the walls. He landed with a muffled thump into a thorny rose shrub. From above, the Ionian listened -as he lay crumpled but hidden in the thicket- to the Noxian general as he entered his room with crude footsteps, trampling over paper books and scrolls. A faint, brusque voice grumbled something about messy chambers and tiresome advisors. Then a yawn, and a bed's creaked as it held itself against heavy weight.
Varus relaxed. Quietly, he released himself from the brambles that caught his fall. From the corner of his eye, he watched the vines retract into the nearby forest.
Against his better judgement, he picked himself off the ground and followed.
Darius bent forward from his seated position on his bed and frowned as he peered at his notched cornerstone. The dust surrounding it seems fresh. He also did not remember opening his windows as wide as they are now.
He stood up from the bed and approached the window ledge, swiping his hand over it. Soil.
A trespasser.
What cowards they are to be climbing ledges and not confronting me face to face, he mused. But if they should expose themselves again, their gutlessness will be punished with my judgement.
