The last time she had been too close to demacian lands, things had not gone exactly like planned.
Truth be told, planning had never been her favored way of acting, but even one as impulsive as Katarina knew better than to enter Demacia without a plan to escape. That had not saved her. Though they attempt to drag her back when she was nearly out of the country’s borders entirely, she had been caught; and though ultimately she had returned to Noxus safely and (mostly) unharmed, carrying information she had been sent to retrieve, that had been in no small part due a demacian and unlikely alliance.
The enemy of my enemy, or something like that.
That truce had ended as soon as she ran towards home, leaving Garen Crownguard behind to never see him again. True, he had aided her when he was under no obligation to, but she had repaid it by saving him in return --- that had been the end of it. Survival was no longer a concern, and so neither was there any reason for their little truce to be maintained. From then on, he would be but another high ranking demacian noble, and she would not see his face again lest the noxian high command chose to send their best to kill him.
Katarina expected so, at least. What she did not expect was to find him here, walking the streets of a country neither of them belonged to. The buildings do not provide her easy cover she would have had in own homeland, architecture not built for the sort of defense Noxus had, but few can get close to comparing to her when it comes to a rogue’s skills. Still undetected, she watches, trying to gather more information before her presence is known; but when enough time passes and no answer seems to come of it, Katarina tires.
There are more efficient, quicker ways to gather answers, after all --- and if somehow Demacia was there due to the noxian presence, well, they would have to do better than that.
The assassin continues, quiet as a shadow, as she slips down from rooftops to fall at darkened streets, distance only enough that he would not be able to detect her through sound of movement; then, in the blink of eye she is behind him, dagger at his throat ready to draw blood at slightest movement.
“You need to be more aware of your surroundings, demacian. It is unbecoming to get caught unaware like that.” Arrogance colors her every word -- almost greeting, for one who would not often waste words on prey at all -- but Katarina is quick to move on to what matters. “Amusing, that we simply happen to be in the same place again.”
“Now tell me if there are others and why are you here, and I may not kill you tonight.”
