The sun was slowly trailing off towards the west, a sure sign that night was about to befall on the two warriors. The market square had begun to fill up again, sensing the pursuit had reached its end and danger was out of the way. Hungry eyes never failed to find the most beautiful bodies, yet the whole town was used to Miss Fortune's outbursts of rage and knew when to avoid her deadly stare. At once, they were hugged by the sweet scent of vanilla and exotic flowers, sensual oriental beats sticking to the pores of their skin. Sivir relaxed when she felt the looks shift from her to the goods offered on the stalls. She had almost forgotten the proximity of Miss Fortune, close enough to see her skin shine with sweat, yet far enough to resist temptation. She was quite red when she realized how close she was standing, and too impulsive when she pushed Miss Fortune's shoulders, nearly knocking her backwards. She stammered when the angry sailor demanded an explanation for such "unethical behaviour in public" and turned several shades of red when she realized they were creating a scene again. Decided no to allow the merchants a minute more of entertainment, she forcefully grabbed Miss Fortune by her sleeve and led her into the maze of the city.

It didn't take long for the monkey to conclude his journey with its new found master. Although both of them had been too absorbed by their coincidental reunion to notice when he went missing. Miss Fortune's emotions sailed between hatred and what once could have been called love, although the word had never arisen a particular idea in her mind and was simply to be replaced by fondness, lust and a shameful period of stalking. She recalled the long past events with a very playful smile and had to admit she had never felt so satisfied and herself with anyone else, yet that had to be darkened by... She shook the memories away, feeling a bitter tear making its way to her emerald eyes. Bile had crept up her throat and was threatening to become spiteful words. She spit the venom away, earning a surprised look from Sivir. She smirked defiantly, yet wondered where had all her manners gone. The night was glowing with with the delicate swaying of oil lamps, just like coloured dragonflies, foggy clouds brushing their cheeks. The stone paved road thinned into a narrow pavement, acre smells scraping violently their lungs. The whole city was blowing a humid, thick black smoke; virtues of modernisation that had occurred when she had left her beloved little island at the age of sixteen. Resent burnt her heart, torn between shooting Sivir and hugging her, she broke away from the hold that had loosened. As her pace quickened with the descending slope, she looked at the moon sadly, feeling she was running for her life - or the shattered dreams that were left of it – once again. Sivir was too astounded to go after the woman she had loved endlessly since their first kiss, eight springs ago. Staring at the vanishing figure, listening to the clacking of the boots retreat, she looked bewildered at her hands, then back again to the empty street. She recognised the bullet-shot inn sign that was swaying mischievously not too far away, but her feet took her to the bench opposite the imposing cathedral. Caressing the gruesome wood, memories flowed back, unleashed by the small carving of their names circled by a heart. She felt at a loss, standing between the past, the present and the future that had escaped her once again. Had they both known this was a night for death, Sivir wouldn't have let her Sarah run into such terrifying hands.

Unbeknownst of the gloomy destiny that was hovering above the two ex-lovers, Sivir sat on the bench and faced the moralistic building. She closed her eyes, remembering and almost feeling the same morning dew, the cold kisses of the rain on her nose, a young and mischievous Sarah Fortune looking at her through black and shinning eyelashes. Her heart had thumped against her ribcage, screaming and demanding that the rapid flow of adrenaline be released. Now, it pumped with the slow pace of experience, but hoped to be tainted by novelty. Sivir had tried to fight her most animal instincts, the ones that threatened her sanity with every breath of violence she drew in. But this one was the only one that did as it pleased, waking her up sweating in the middle of the night, a thin seductive streamline of sweat trickling down the curves of her muscular body. Full, red lips would plead for a soul to love, burning with a desire that could take anyone's breath away. Sometimes she would settle for muffled screams and satisfied smirks, but these never really fulfilled her. Craving for something real, she bit her lip, thinking, going through every possible outcome and sighed. She looked back at the imposing stone cathedral, waiting to feel the familiar shudder of respectful fright. The columns seemed to be elevated as far as the sky, pleading absolution for humanity. Another night, she might have marvelled at the heroic chants that emanated from within the saintly prison, but her mind was aching for darker ways of release. Her eyes quickly darted around, and when she was sure no one had seen her, she entered the inn, the sad lullaby of the cathedral a warning she quickly shrugged off.

Sivir was an unexpected visitor, yet too quiet, so easily forgotten. Only one person thoroughly observed her, and that was the one she was hoping to find. She wore an elegant crimson dress, matching the desire burning in her chestnut eyes. Her hair was a darker shade of black than night itself, ready to enter the mind and haunt many dreams. Biting her lip, she winked at Sivir and resumed her work. She was sitting on the lap of a brute, big – although hard to believe they were muscular – arms circled her waist possessively, her game of seduction making the body of the man beg for a few minutes alone. She escaped kisses yet remained sensually provocative, and after what seemed an unbearable eternity to Sivir, she whispered prices into the ecstatic warrior's ear. She caressed his scruffy beard half-heartedly when he showed some hesitation, and seemed relieved when she was judged a too expensive amusement. Their eyes met, intrigued chestnut against hungry oak, fragile against powerful. The woman walked towards the darkest corner of the inn, caressing the female warrior's body with her lustful glances. Sivir didn't think twice before following her into the shadows of the night.

Miss Fortune had become anxious at the prospect of leaving Sivir alone in this city. It had been a lively place at one point, merchants coming from every possible place in the world, ladies and men opening up to new concepts and pleasures, children rejoicing in the simple fact of flower-picking and friends happy to share a laughter. The picture was now turned upside down. Murder, thievery and other doubtful practices happened around every corner. Where once could have been bought the most colourful sweets, fire guns and katanas had replaced them. Her shoulders felt heavy, yet she didn't know which responsibility was causing it. She clicked and clacked her boots against the stone road, observing the closed doors, black windows and the occasional beggar. The full white moon wasn't as pretty and bright as it could have been. She walked slowly towards the docks, taking in the scenery she was used to live in. Noise, poise, insults, games for adults, spits, punches, matches, rum and gum were part of her life, part of what stitched her together. She arrived pretty quickly to her destination, unconsciously taking the quickest route. The small port was completely deserted – which should have surprised her – not an ounce of living or dead was to be seen. She sat on a barrel, her right foot pushing against a heavy crate. Cigarette after cigarette she inhaled, mixing the smoky venom with sea smells. It took her some time to settle the quick pace she had been used to, and the eighth was the only one she had time to enjoy. The number ringed a bell, and when she felt the gush of wind tickle the hair on her arms, she remembered Sivir's playful kisses filled with indescribable feelings, kisses she would later come to miss. Smiling to herself, she tied her hair back, but the scar on her arm was outstretched too far. Cursing, she let the violent outflow of contained emotions come to the surface. She punched the barrel she had been sitting on, screaming in frustrated anger, and broke through many strips of wood. Bewildered by the fleshy substance she encountered inside, she removed her hand, observing that copper hair now covered the hole she had just made. She staggered back, but quickly regained her composure and looking around to check if anyone had witnessed the scene, tipped the barrel over.