Noxians Being Noxians || ƒeral x Kaybee

[ƒeral]

It was late evening; the crescent moon hung lazily in the sky, partially concealed by rolling, dark clouds. But in the center of the Noxian capital, even in spite of the hour, the streets were well-lit and the foot traffic dense. Nox, the upscale bar nestled halfway between the trade district and the political arena, was unsurprisingly brimming with customers this night. The light, dimmed just so, maintained enough visibility for comfort and yet retained the mysterious aura nobles sought in their nightclubs. If the pristine half-moon lounges and polished flame-wood tables weren’t enough to announce the decadence and grandiose of this establishment, the marble-encased bar and alluringly-clad waitresses available at nearly every corner were certainly enough to alert even the most dim-witted. Not that it mattered; anyone who even made it through the door was a somebody or knew somebody.

Of course, Darius and Draven were more than mere somebodies. The famed commander and executioner disdained even the decadent lounges; a quick nod more than enough to be shown to a private booth. Pristine sofas mirroring the lounges outside, but coming stocked with a private mini-fridge and, more importantly, relative privacy via the semi-opaque moon-shaded drapery. Darius did not particularly care for the lavish establishment, but Draven had no qualms adding to his older brother’s tab. The first round of drinks arrived and were devoured long before their guest arrived, even in spite of this being a sort of homecoming drink held in her name. A sort of, because although the three were drinking buddies of sorts, they never exactly did see eye-to-eye. Draven, in particular, was all too fond of goading the assassin into one verbal spat after another, and it would be obvious from his increasingly widening smirk that he was all too ready to rip Katarina a new one after her most recent narrowly salvaged mission.

"--and she murdered the wrong guy? Can you believe it?" Belligerent words followed by raucous laughter, his trembling mustache making him look that much more like a jokester.

"I hardly think she slew the wrong target on accident, Draven. A greed for glory is not to be mistaken for simple foolery." The elder intoned in a much more serious voice, his face ever the image of calm Noxian might.

"How would you know? Maybe she was drunk and --" And younger bickered, taking another gulp of his drink.

"Hush, she's here now, why don't you ask her yourself?" Darius interrupted, alert senses picking up the nearly silent footsteps approaching outside the drapes. He stood, pulling it aside.

 

[Kaybee]

Katarina was never without a blade, but the fact that none of those she carried now were visible on her person spoke to the upscale nature of the establishment she stepped into. A few men and women wore dueling swords at their hips but it was held in silent understanding that the weapons would never be drawn within the building. In fact, for the sake of decorum, any challenges that were made were often seen to their violent conclusions out of sight of the bar's door. It wouldn't do to have them fighting in the street right outside such a place after all...

Where the lower nobles crowded outside in hopes of passing through the doors, Katarina simply strode through them, acknowledged by a nod and a raised eyebrow from the bouncer. Hardly the first such look since her return to Noxus... While the stain on her honor had been wiped away in deed, it's taint would likely continue to color reactions to her for some time, particularly with the scar tracing above and below one emerald eye to remind all who saw her of what she had done -and more importantly what she had failed to do- in order to earn it. She glared back at the bouncer as she past, and while it was testament to his strength of will that he stood fast against the venom in the assassin's eyes, it was a testament also to the position she held despite her lingering disgrace that he made nothing of it, turning away to bring his attention back to the crowd.

She could already hear Draven laughing as she stepped from damp cobblestones to dry and polished wooden floors, following the sound as she navigated the small maze of corridors that connected the many booths. The curtains and thick walls muffled the sound at first, but Katarina tracked it easily enough, padding in near total silence despite that her hard-soled boots should have clicked and clattered against the floor, managing to move lightly despite the anger that roiled within at Draven's words.

The curtains swept aside as she drew up to them, and she only just barely managed to keep from looking a fool with one hand raised to part them herself, glaring at Darius to cover her surprise before she turned the anger of her stare on his younger brother who sat across the booth. Unlike the bouncer, the glare Kat fixed upon the mustachioed executioner as the drapes fell closed behind her and she slid into her own seat opposite did nothing to cow him, much to her annoyance. "Unlike you, I am never so stupid as to drink when I do my job." She retorted acidly, she reached down for the fridge and let her fingers glide over the bottles, collecting condensation on their tips until she felt the glass-inscribed seal on a bottleneck and -with a quick glance to confirm that it was indeed what she sought- pulled it up and set it before her, a knife appearing in her hand as though from nowhere to pry the fitted metal cap off the top and disappearing just as quickly afterwards.

She took the first long drink straight from the bottle in silence, grimacing at the bitter taste of the beverage before setting it back on the table. "Any other stupid questions?"

 

[ƒeral]

Darius did not acknowledge the glare, expression impassive before he let the drapery fell, returning to his own seat. He wasn't surprised as Katarina picked the seat furthest away from Draven, leaving the three in a nearly perfect triangle. A hint of a smile tugging at his lips at the assassin's rancid temper; the feisty Du Cousteau was nothing like her calm and collected father beyond their shared hair color, and it never ceased to amuse him. He was about to offer some neutral remarks when Draven beat him to it.

"And unlike you, I never miss my mark." The executioner only seemed encouraged by the prospects of a verbal spat, retorting back with a guffaw. Slapping his own hand on the table repeatedly, laughing at his own joke as if it were the most hilarious line in the world. While Darius seemed ever composed, it was clear that Draven was already more than a little drunk. Then again, he was always a little bit drunk.

He leaned in, smirking conspiratorially, before adding. "Nice scar, Kat. Make you look a little more assassin-y." Whatever that meant. Draven never one to let the English language stop him from expressing himself. "You are gonna need one more line to match my glorious tats though." His tone wasn't malicious, but quite likely more vexing to Katarina nevertheless. "Or maaaaaaaybeeeeee," He sing-songed dramatically, before leaning even further into the table, as if sharing a secret. "You are trying to match Darius?" He gasped, pulling back completely, twirling with a strand of mustache as if he'd discovered the most shocking scandal of the century.

The elder Noxian's eye twitched, further highlighting the thin scar across his left eye. It was a bit longer than more diagonal than Kat's, but as far as facial scarring went, the resemblance was uncanny. "Draven..." He growled a warning, un-amused to be part of the joke, but the executioner was all too happy to continue his rambling train of erratic thoughts.

"Damn girl, you could have just asked me to introduce you to my tattoo artist you know? No need to go so far to imitate my big bro--" He didn't quite get to finish as the commander, moving at a speed startling given his powerful build, went to the side of him and slapped the back of his head. Quite forcefully, if the fact that his forehead impacted the table with a rather resounding "fwap" was any indication. Darius looked nonchalant as he returned to his seat, as if he wasn't the one who had just committed the violent act.

 

[Kaybee]

Katarina snorted at Draven, and leaned back despite that she could not possibly smell the alcohol on his breath from so far away. "And what would you know about being an assassin?" She shot back. "You need ten thousand people cheering you on to so much as twirl an axe!" Another swig of the bitter drink, "And even now I've never missed what I was aiming at." It was a technical escape, but it was an escape...

Her eyes flicked to Darius as he growled out a warning but continued undeterred. "Can you even kill someone who fights back Draven? That's what your job is after all, killing people who can't fight back because you're just not good enough to take on someone who can-!" Later on she would blame the alcohol on how she raised her voice, but even though there was already a haze of it over her senses (to be expected given the zaunite label on the bottle she'd been swigging from) it was not so much that she would have made such a slip in other circumstances. Draven simply knew to get under her skin, and had incredible persistence in doing so to boot.

Still, Katarina's shouting was cut off quite sharply as Darius leaned over and knocked his brother upside the head, stunning Draven into momentary silence with it's force and stunning Kat into the same state with it's unexpectedness. Then the redhead turned her nose up at Draven and sat back down, taking another long drink from the bottle at her hand and blowing one errant crimson lock out of her eyes. "I could take you on with my hands tied behind my back you simpering idiot." She blinked, and looked at Darius. "Isles... I could take you on even if you had your brother to back you up. No offense to you Darius..." It was less that she considered Darius to be as low as Draven, and more that she viewed him at least as capable of giving her a good fight while Draven would add practically nothing to his Elder Brother's strength.

 

[ƒeral]

Draven seemed absolutely scandalized by Katarina's accusations. "My lovely audience watch me because I'm good at killing. Beheading is art. It is drama. It this something a mere assassin like you would never understand." He declared, downing his goblet in one long swig. "And if it's a fight ya want, Draven will give you a fight." He roared back rowdily, standing up, a hand on the table, looking ready to get into a fist-cuff. Darius, of course, wasn't about to see his name disgraced by all three of them being thrown out for public violence.

The renowned warrior, for the first time tonight, smiled. The hardened lines of his square jaw and dark brows tightening, looking quite intimidating even whilst smiling. "Deal." He remarked simply, gaze turning predatory as he eyed the youthful assassin. While Katarina was hardly a juvenile, she was younger than the seasoned commander by at least a decade, and her relative inexperience showed as she allowed her better judgement to be crowded by alcohol. Calmly Darius stood, all but towering over the assassin. "One versus two and with your hands tied behind your back? Bold move, Du Couteau...Now, shall I tie them for you or will you do it yourself." He smirked, waiting patiently.

Draven was about to grumble something about how he could easily take Kat on without these restrictions, but one meaningful glare from his brother silenced his tongue. The elder Noxian considered to smile, eyeing Katarina much like a cat eyed its next meal. The night had suddenly gotten that much more interesting.