Noxus.

Noxus was the city the reaper did not trust. Noxus was the place that which complicated the reapers job, that were he to have veins upon his forehead, would surely make one burst. Would redden his eyes with the sheer pressure of intricacy that complicated the otherwise simplicity of gathering souls. Noxus was the place where things, creatures that were simultaneously alive and not- alive crept and crawled and slithered about as though they were nothing more than a typical human mortal. Noxus was the place of lies and trickery and things he disdained.

But this? This was Ionia.

A place of purity even in death. A place where the only thing that he needed to avoid was the flickering light of souls as they continued to live, that were not yet cultivated for collection. He sensed no demon thing, no thing with life still within its lungs, and so he came to collect. The human's soul flickered above its chest by mere millimeters, for the kill was fresh, but he had only sensed one in the area when his hooves touched down upon the ground. He had failed to detect this thing, for in her hunched frame, he dared not refer to her as woman. She appeared human, and yet he knew with absolute certainty, she was devoid. She bore no soul, no humanity, no heart of her own. A husk.

A husk with sparkling, golden eyes.

Eyes that bore through him as she looked at him. She swallowed, her weight upon her elbows as she hunched over what was once a man. He knew she was a thing of Noxus, for Ionia bore nothing as repulsive as her. Nothing that would dare take the still warm meat and blood within its own body. She was the reason he avoided the city of darkness. But here she was, before him, in the twilight.

Feeding.

It should have repulsed him, to see a woman with blood dripping slowly down her chin. But the reaper was far more disgusted by the very thought that one had turned upon her own. He turned away, swishing an ebony tail, but before he could take a step she spoke.

'Wait.' Her voice was soft, and far different than that which he had expected it to be. 'I am nearly done, and you may take that which you had come for.' He turned his head back, to find her still gazing at him with those eyes. She closed hers, and smiled softly. 'Forgive me.' And for some reason, he felt as though he would, without her even asking. He turned his head away to not forsake her privacy, dragging his axe through the stagnant air as though he were unable to hear her. She, in her defense, had maintained the attempt to remain as refined and ladylike as possible.

Despite this, he could hear each ounce of liquid as it slithered past her teeth and down her throat. Could feel the thing so far away that as she fed, it became stronger. So, he surmised, she fed not only for herself, but for something else. The reaper only turned back when she silenced, and he witnessed her in much the same state he had first met her in. Blood trailed from one corner of her mouth, down an elegant neck, over the bone beneath her collar. Lower, he thought, with an immediate one after reminding him not to leer. He stepped forward, expecting her to recoil from his hulking form, as the ghostly soul rose to meet his outstretched hand. Instead, she did quite the opposite, lifting herself to stand beside him.

'He was not a good man, you know.' She spoke, shifting her clothing around herself. He knew, for the moment the soul had touched his hand he received its memories, the moments before it's death, and the things it had thought of her, this beautiful woman. The reaper shook his head slowly from side to side, stopping only when he felt her hand, laid gently against his forearm. She smiled at him, and he leaned down towards her. 'I am Evaine. Do you have a name?'

He stilled at this, for he once had. He recalled when he first became the bar ringer of souls, he had repeated his name day in and out, over and over again.

He had forgotten it after many years.

'No matter.' She spoke softly, and her fingers danced over the mask he wore. 'I am certain we will meet again, in time.'

Yes, he supposed. That was true. She had no qualm for killing a man, and he was the gatherer of souls that brought them toward the ferryman.