The woman looks familiar, but Katarina can’t place a finger on it. For an assassin, it’s never a good sign. The faces you see in the capital, in army camps, on the streets on a lazy afternoon— all of them make for potential targets. One homeless man on the street could become Noxus’s greatest general one day, or the traitor that leads to the empire’s demise. People grow, people change.
She’s not sure if this woman has ever changed. Her smile looks like the statues she sees in the Immortal Bastion; old, stagnant, a fixed passage in time. She looks at her the same way they stare down at her as well. Her eyes know, have watched her for a long time.
Katarina’s fingers brush the line on her leather.
“You have some nerve,” she says, and her jaw finds itself tightening uneasily. “State your name. You act as if you know me.”
It came as little surprise the woman didn’t remember her. There wasn’t much reason to, really. They had encountered each other, crossed paths before, but they had not truly met. The assassin had been prevalent in Noxus Prime during much of Darkwill’s reign, and Morgana had certainly been no stranger to it then.
But a decade to Katarina was nearly half a lifetime. To Morgana, it was a mere sliver of time. How easily she could be forgotten to the mortal, when the Fallen’s own memories were vividly clear. Her expression does not change, her gaze unwavering as she continues to scrutinize the girl. She knows nothing of the red-head’s personal affairs, but she’s been around long enough to sense when something has fundamentally changed.
“Know is a strong word.” She responds, voice as cool as ice. “But there are few within these walls I don’t know of.” And few as well who hadn’t heard her name before in some manner.
“Morgana.” She states, offering no further titles or descriptive. The name accompanied with her appearance was enough, and if not, she was one to show who she was: not tell. “And I speak only of what I see, and ten years ago, that fire in your eyes was of a different form.”
Of course, it was no secret that General Du Couteau had gone missing somewhere in between. But it would be a lie to say that Morgana had kept up with the details of it. She cared not for politics, even those of Noxus, despite her relations with the Grand Generals over the years.
Yet still, there are those mortals whom she considers a waste of space (most of them), and those few whom she finds...interesting. And much of Noxus’ elite fell into that category.