#leblanc.

    They say there is no nobility in Noxus Prime.

    Everything should be meritocratic, from the smallest peasant’s earnings to those sitting in the spire as Grand General and adjacent. That to live is to work, and to work is to prosper. Such meritocracy that Khada Jhin, today Vane Pazzolo, passes by a throng of beggars the near instant he steps off his carriage, on strangled cobbles and fraught stonework. But when is reality not often disappointing?

    He’s come seeking answers.

    Pazzolo, before he became a mask for Jhin to wear, had been one of those mythical aristocrats on the eastern seaboard of Noxus. Father a winemaker, or some other boring thing, but Pazzolo had no love for the vineyard and used it as a front to finance such sympathetic activities as tracking down forbidden books which with to summon monsters from other dimensions in profane rituals. It was neither the books nor the monsters which motivated Jhin’s benefactors to take Pazzolo off the board, instead that when offered a rose of his own, Pazzolo staunchly refused. Not as pragmatic as this Golden Demon, it would seem. Nevertheless, his body made for rather the fine tapestry, when it dried.

    Jhin has no love for Noxus. Its claims of meritocracy ring as hollow as Ionia’s to pacifism, and that’s just trite. Still, he admits that the war did plenty to showcase his countrymen’s renewed appetite for carnage (yours truly included), and that’s worth some respect. It’s s shame then that so much of Noxus is as unimaginative as it is, what with the iron steeples and skulls strewn about the place as if repetition somehow made it more ghastly as opposed to irritating. But, again, when is reality not often disappointing?

    People are here to kill him.

    Jhin senses it from above—heartbeats. First, a second, a third and—he smiles—a fourth. Must have been waiting for him since he came off the carriage. It’s raining, and gently does Jhin pull his hood down and let the rain filter through his hair. He can hear an arrow being notched.

    “Let’s begin.”

    The performance, unsurprisingly, doesn’t last for long. Short and sweet, as Jhin is sometimes receptive to—together he has collected them into a lovely amalgam of parts, gold and porcelain, that will be to the horrific delight of whomever fortunate enough to find it next. The art, though perfect as always, isn’t what’s important here. This is:

    An invitation, found with one of the assassins and written on iridescent vellum. Signed with a rose.

    Hnh.

    Seems like for once, Khada Jhin’s about to be an expected guest.

    The riddle contained on the vellum was not difficult to decipher, nor did Jhin expect that it would be. Little more than necessary precaution and mood-setting, he’d suppose. He finds the empty abbey with relative ease, taking out the loose stone to reveal steps under the altar. Nor does he believe this to be anywhere but a transient site for this particular meeting—he knows better of his benefactors than to ever think they’d show him the belly of the beast willingly.

     All in due time.

    Jhin descends the steps, the underground he’s presented with rife with a musty odor and the impression of being far, far older than the abbey built above it. Whispers of magic are plentiful here, buzzing in Jhin’s ear like cicadas. Smoke… and mirrors. He ignores his own reflection.

    “Pale lady,” Jhin announces. “Suppose it’s time we’ve met in person.”

everyone knows i hate following canon.  and i’ve already had some ideas on leblanc for a while,  most of which i’ve written up on my old blog in the bio and a few headcanons.  but i was just thinking about something.

how the old leblanc lore had it that leblanc was,  essentially,  a sort of title.  a moniker of sorts.  it was an identity that different women would assume while the old,  original leblanc aged and rotted away.

i’ve always hated that lore.  before that was retconned,  i had my own idea that leblanc was an immortal witch as old as,  if not older than,  noxus,  with the black rose existing prior to its birth.  that’s still the lore i run with now,  with leblanc having her fist so deep in noxian politics,  but also in the politics and tides of peace and war across runeterra.

now,  regarding leblanc,  she is the most mysterious being in the world,  amongst those who’ve even heard of this mysterious,  pale woman.  most don’t know her by name at all.  there are a small handful of people who’ve ever even seen her face and are able to put her name to her face and know that it is she who is leblanc.  leblanc isn’t even a name the average person has heard of,  they only know of a pale woman,  all of the horror stories that wage fear and terror.  the people who do know her are swain,  darius,  vladimir,  and perhaps draven.  and,  of course,  anyone she takes control of as her puppet emperors.

leblanc’s true name is evaine leblanc,  but she has several aliases.  one she uses most often is emilia.  it’s the name she often settles on when introducing herself to people under false pretenses or in day - to - day life,  because she does go out and about in the world.  she does so freely,  because no one knows who she is,  save for those she trusts,  or those she puppeteers and are so far under the weight of thumb of manipulation that they will not and cannot act,  even if they wanted to.