Starter for @demacianmage ;;
Demacia’s borders encompassed a land ripe with honor, glory, and patriotism. A glance in any direction revealed banners, flags, and emblems graced with the city’s regal colors of white, gold, and cobalt. The architecture, grand and stunning, declared the Great City one of wealth and prosperity. Indeed, within the city’s walls, it almost seemed as though the perpetual struggle with Noxus was nonexistent. It appeared to be a utopia, unburdened with poverty or war. Truthfully, the empire was free of neither, but its population was skilled at masking that fact.
Despite the nation’s citizens typically consisting of individuals with welcoming and hospitable natures — a stark difference to the opposing empire Kayn had been born into — he’d learned over the years through various diplomatic or other efforts that such kindness did not extend to people like him. Demacians were cordial, sure, but they also feared that which they did not understand. On some levels, their prejudices rivaled that of their enemy’s, which the young man found to be ironic. They were just as hypocritical but far more cowardly.
Their good favor had never been offered to Kayn; a glowing red eye and corrupting skin tended to strike fear in the hearts of the average Demacian long before they learned of his past or his skillset. He practiced some dark forms of magic, and they knew that just from looking at him. Even in lands teeming with spiritual effects like Ionia Kayn stood out, and so within the Great City, he likened himself to the only black sheep in a herd. Still, he had few other places of refuge these days; Noxus was a hellscape that he would never return to except to destroy, and Ionia had cast him out when he’d — according to the peasants which roamed the majestic island — ”succumbed” to his dark fantasies in wielding Rhaast. Even the Order no longer wanted him.
And so, though the people of Demacia feared him, Kayn found that to be just fine. He could walk in shadow and avoid them as he pleased, and as long as he could slip into a cellar or store before nightfall for a roof and some rest, he was surviving well enough. For now, Demacia would do.
Despite no longer being an acolyte, Shieda Kayn refused to let his skills falter. On nights like these, killing was not his sport, but remaining undetected was. Sheltered as they were, Demacians rarely understood how to secure their homes from his ventures — and even then, seldom did they possess the intelligence to learn of his presence in the first place. Magic was as foreign to them as he was to their great nation, and Shieda’s unmatched hubris quickly led him to press closer and closer to whatever boundary that marked what he could and couldn’t get away with. In short, while he had first begun settling in for the night in the basements of taverns or the cellars of lonely widows, he very rapidly climbed up to spending his nights in the homes of Demacia’s highest citizens.
He didn’t know that this residence belonged to the Crownguards; he’d never so much as heard the name. What he did know from its outward appearance were that they were clearly of high status. Intrigued, he’d slipped inside, and finding no one to challenge his entry, begun to investigate. It was not long before he’d found a great library within the estate and, still believing himself to be alone, decided to examine their titles. Kayn was quite fond of reading as it was his main method of managing his way through sleepless nights and the extensive collection of books exploited his scholarly weakness and resulted in him dropping his guard.
It was only minutes before the shadows harboring him dissipated. A light shone over him, illuminating his presence; he’d been caught, but by who? Kayn whirled around, knuckles white and fingers wrapped tightly around his terrible scythe, and fixed blue-and-red eyes on a girl surely not much different in age than himself. His voice a harsh whisper, he hissed at her through gritted teeth: “Stay back, or I’ll cut you open, Demacian.”
