A Katarina Character Study
She's been waiting for him all night. Long ago she grew bored and began to rifle through his personal belongings. Now she was sitting on his bed, reading a personal journal, full of what a self-important idiot would consider grandiose thoughts. Those words were dangerous, even if the man that wrote them was a fool. A cruel laugh escaped her, if only he had known when he inked those words he was writing his own death warrant. How the Grand General had known of the rising attempt at treason was, as always, a secret only he knew. It didn't matter, her role in the Empire was to cut out the treason at his command.
The door to the tiny bed chamber opened to reveal her prey. There was a moment of recognition for them both where time seemed to freeze. He had once been one of her father's students, one who mercilessly mocked what had been done to her, called her weak for her failure. A wave of memories broke over her, threatening to drown her. She pushed them away and leaped up, focusing her mind on the task at hand.
He took a defensive stance as she charged at him, a smirk on his lips. No doubt he thought the brute force surge would be the whole of her attack. He brought his own blade up, attempting to slash at her, but she was already moving. He committed to the swing, leaving an opening. She feinted at it, causing him to twist at an awkward angle in an attempt to continue his defense. It was then she had him, moving toward the new opening that he had no hope to protect. "Now who's the failure?" She whispered as her dagger drove deep into his lungs.
He collapsed in a heap on the floor, his shallow breathing sure to not last long. Her task was complete, but the sight of him stoked a fury in her. What had given him the right, and all the others to revel in her father's cruelty and her downfall. They had all over time proven inferior. It was she who'd ascended, she who served as the weapon of the Trifarix. She stood over him, shaking with suppressed rage. She brought the dagger down again, he whimpered, and she smiled. "Suffer." Again and again, the blade came down, until he looked like so much slaughterhouse carnage on the floor.
She drew in rapid breaths and shouted for herself to stop, to regain her control. When she finally forced the motion of her arms to cease she surveyed her handiwork, the butchery she had wrought. It brought her no guilt, and yet it brought her no peace either. All she'd managed was to turn a man into a slick, oozing mess for someone to clean up later. She really was nothing but a defective weapon.
Leaving the ruined corpse behind, she made haste from his sparse lodging not caring who saw and took to the streets. Even in the darkness, Noxus Prime teemed with life, though much of it was going about less honest business than when the sun shone down upon the ancient city. She ignored all of it. Rained pelted her face and the sky cracked with lightning, perfect weather to be lost in. She wandered a route vaguely toward the waterfront, her favorite place in the whole of the city. She'd sit on the pier and contemplate the sweet darkness of the water below her. Her father was still in her head, screaming at her about her uselessness. She pulled her through her soaked hair trying to chase his ghost away.
She didn't see the man until he collided with her, forcing her turn. His fingers dug into her arm, but it was her father's iron grip she felt. "Watch where you're going!" His voice roared, but she heard only the other. "Stop struggling girl, or it will be worse for you I swear."
She lashed out, her dagger striking like a snake. Thunder concealed the man's cry as his arm opened. His grip released, she fled, running straight for the docks. Angry voices shouted behind her, onlookers gathered at the sight of a wounded man flailing in the street. It didn't matter, they couldn't catch her. She ran until her chest burned, until her legs felt as though they would betray, but she was where she needed to be. She clambered up to the roof of the custom's office and found another of her hiding spots. Pulling her knees up to her chest, she let the rain wash over her as her breathing still came in labored gasps. He's not here, he can't hurt you, you put him in his grave, you are better than him. It was her mantra, her holy prayer and she repeated it over and over until the clouds broke and the sun pierced the horizon., leaving her a sodden, exhausted wreck, hidden in the shadows of the roof.