.
ðˠɫ
Embrace the Night
Diana had only been traveling for a few hours when she heard it: a high, mournful cry that pierced through the night like a bolt. She stopped in her tracks, crouching low to the ground to reduce the noise of the wind whistling through the branches above, and listened. The cry came again, anguished and despairing, and though it echoed strangely through the woods Diana was able to determine the direction of its source with little difficulty.
Changing her course, she headed deeper into the desolate darkness of the forest, seeking the creature who could produce such a melancholy howl. She moved in much the same way she had moved in Noxus; slowly, silently, careful to avoid cracking twigs or rustling branches. She knew that the beast she sought would hear the slightest sound - the huff of a breath, the fall of a leaf - so she did everything in her power to remain soundless.
On the edge of a small clearing, a familiar metallic smell reached her nose. She stopped and crouched again, searching for the cause: there, from the leaves of a sapling no higher than her knee, dripped a liquid turned black in the silver and grey mottled light from the moon above. She dipped one finger into the pool collecting on the dry earth and brought it to her lips. It was blood, still warm even in the chill of night.
The cry came again, much closer this time, and Diana straightened. Her quarry lay in the clearing just past the trees behind which she stood. She saw the creature through the waving branches and felt a sting of sympathy as she watched it lay itself down and close its dark, expressive eyes. A shuddering breath wracked its body, silver fur rippling from the effort, but it made no attempt to move. Even as Diana pushed her way into the clearing, all thought of stealth forgotten, the beast lay still; a dying animal giving up in its final moments.
The Lunari rushed to the wolf's side, brushing one hand down its back as she knelt in the tall grasses surrounding them. The wolf's eyes opened again and it let out a half-hearted growl in protest and warning.
"Hush, little one," Diana murmured, pressing her fingers lighting to the wolf's forehead. He was young, she realized with some surprise; it was atypical for a pack to leave a youth behind, as they were usually best-suited for a hunt. Examining his body with gentle hands, she easily found the reason for his anomalous lone-wolf status: a deep gasp in the canid's side, consistent with the antlers of a buck. "Someone fought back, hm?" she asked, keeping her tone soothing as she brushed the blood-matted fur away from the wound. It was deep and had bled significantly, but the wolf's internal organs appeared undamaged.
He let out a whimper as Diana removed her right glove with her teeth, the other hand still gently cupping his head. His legs kicked and his whimpers turned to howls as she pressed her fingers directly against the bloodied slash; he snapped at her left hand but she pressed his head into the grass, turning her gaze to the quarter moon above. After a few moments of futile struggling, the wolf relaxed as her power washed over him.
The skin beneath Diana's hand began to knit and tie itself back together.
It only took a few moments for the wound to heal, but by the time Diana's magic faded her vision was blurry and exhaustion was crawling over her limbs like a thick fog. She could have simply stayed at the wolf's side and eased his pain until he passed, but something about the anguish in his cries had urged her to save him, despite the difficulty. She understood how it felt to be abandoned by those who were supposed to love and protect her. She knew the unending misery of betrayal.
The magic had completely drained her; she didn't even have time to replace her glove before she was falling sideways into the grass. She was vaguely aware of the wolf standing, howling - a different sound now, a triumphant sound - and curling protectively around her spent and weary body before sleep claimed her.
ðˠɫ
Market Day in Noxus was even louder, rowdier, and more rambunctious than usual - but not by much. As much as Talon detested crowds, preferring to work from the shadows, he couldn't help smiling from a twinge of nostalgia as he made his way through the seemingly endless throng of people congregating in the city square. How many times as a child had he spent darting through this horde, picking pockets and lifting food from stalls while Kavyn caused distraction after distraction for him. They'd called him Shadow then, the Shadow that stole food and supplies without a trace.
After Kavyn's body had been found in the sewers, he was called Shadow for a different reason.
Despite how those years of his life had ended, Talon found he could still look back on them with fondness. Life had been simpler then: a day-to-day fight for survival, with moment-to-moment decisions. No politics, no diplomacy, no long-term concerns. No whims dragging him into the busiest and arguably most dangerous place in Noxus without a plan beyond talking to a volatile and powerful mage about a frustrating woman who knew too much about his life for comfort.
Yes, life had definitely been simpler as a street rat.
His gaze - constantly sweeping over the mass of people - landed on a boy, no older than ten, whose hands were wrist-deep in a bucket of berries as the stall owner negotiated prices with a haughty-looking woman with a curved sword on her belt. The boy noticed Talon's gaze and prepared to bolt, expecting the man to call him out; but Talon simply shook his head and averted his eyes. It was his duty as a military official to uphold the law within the walls of Noxus, but if a man couldn't guard his own berries he deserved to be plundered.
And if a woman didn't notice when her own weapon was lifted from her belt and thrown, jewelled sheath and all, to the feet of a surprised urchin (whose surprise was quickly stowed away along with the gilded sword) then she didn't deserve to keep it.
Such was the Noxian way.
Talon was still grinning from the thrill of a successful theft when he broke through the crushing mob of shoppers and came face to face with... nothing. He looked around in confusion. The crowd around him still milled and yelled and haggled and swore, but where he stood - practically the centre of the square - was completely devoid of people. It seemed that the Market-goers were purposely giving this particular area a wide berth, avoiding it as though it were plague-ridden. They even ducked their eyes, though several of them gave Talon looks of warning as they scurried past.
At the centre of this vacuum (20 paces in diameter, at least) stood a simple food cart. The sign above the cart read Sinful Succulence in dripping letters, and behind it stood Morgana.
She straightened her apron as he approached, and an ill-disguised expression of excitement graced her features as he stepped up to the cart and looked at its proprietor.
"Ah, Talon!" she greeted him, her harsh voice cheerful in a way that made him feel more concerned than welcome. "How can I help you today?" She waved one pale hand over the cart's offerings as though she were displaying gold and gems, rather than what appeared to be shrivelled cookies and slimy-looking cupcakes.
"Information," he said, attempting to deter her sales pitch.
Morgana's face fell. "Oh," she said coldly, then perked up again. "I'm sorry, but Information only comes in a combo deal with one of my delicious baked goods!"
Groaning internally, Talon looked over the 'treats' again, searching for the lesser of the various evils available. "I'll take a… Chocolately-Chokery Carnage Cookie," he said slowly, squinting at the small sign above a plate of suspiciously blackened ovals. The confection was pushed into his hands at breakneck speeds, and he was very aware of the Fallen Angel's eyes boring into him as he took a tentative bite.
It tasted vaguely of chocolate but mostly of charcoal, and the texture was so dry and powdery that he began gagging almost immediately. "Aptly named," he coughed, fishing a coin out of his pocket and passing it over as he choked down the rest of the cookie.
Grinning, Morgana leaned against the cart and waited for him to finish wrestling with her cookie. When his coughs had mostly subsided and his taste buds were considering a mutiny, she spoke.
"So, what information is it that you're searching for?"
Leaning forward and looking around for eavesdroppers - there were none. No one seemed willing to risk their lives on Morgana's hellish baking - Talon met the angel's eyes.
"I want to know about Diana."
ðˠɫ
A.N
Forgive me for the shortness of this chapter! I had more planned for both segments but I found myself ending the Diana section early due to story reasons (it just felt better that way!) and the Talon section early due to cliffhanger reasons.
Big, huge, massive thanks to Stolenwarpig, whose insights and ideas helped me give Diana something to do this chapter!
Now I need your help - all of you. I could very easily skip the Talon-Morgana conversation and refer to it later on. Would you prefer to experience the whole conversation right now or just have flashback-type references to it in later chapters?
Let me know right down there. ↘