Enmity
incrosada:
[ x ]
Twelve schools of Demacian dueling had been burnt into her mind and carved into her body—and all of them were dominated by forms, names and numbers.
Un, deux, trois, cinq—battre de main, fleche, riposte— don’t lean. Keep your feet apart.
Uno, dos, tres, cinco— desvio, arrebatar, estocada– eyes on your opponent’s body language. Prioritize reach and flexibility.
Uno, due, tre, cinque— denti di cinghale, mezzane— keep your sword free. Grip your sword with knuckles down and palm up.
Ein, zwei, drei, fünf— langort, oberhau, vom dach—place your sword against theirs without touching them. Take control of their blade.
It was very easy to ignore everything else while she was practicing, because all she ever cared for during her sessions was the perfection of her craft, and the condition of her body following every thorough session. All she focused on was the small rubber ball.
It was terribly difficult to find a fencing partner who was not afraid of her, or her family’s reputation. Her father had made up for it by devising clever ways to keep her occupied and on the road towards constant improvement. Her target at the moment was a rubber ball the size of a small coin. She had hung it on a nearby tree in the courtyard, and she was using a weighed rapier with a blunted end to hit it repeatedly.
Precision and grace, her father had always said. And she had been faring relatively well—by her admittedly high standards—when her concentration was broken by a quip from a passing public menace.
At least, that was how she saw Luxanna Crownguard.
An elegant brow cocked in suspicion. Infamous Laurent blue eyes narrowed. What did she mean by it? Was that an attempt at friendship? Since when did a Laurent ever take a Crownguard’s pity?
“It will be even lovelier,” Fiora said with a barely-withheld sneer as she looked to her weighed and blunt rapier in an attempt to make it clear to the Crownguard moppet that she had no desire for conversation. “When you leave.”
As expected, her response held a certain animosity. There were much more important things to attend to, but the Crowguard daughter so seldom conversed with people of her class that she figured he may as well seize this opportunity. Besides, it would be easy to spin together a white lie to cover her rear lest Colonel Freud interrogate her later on.
Turning on her heel the Tactician made for where the Grand Duelist stood poised with her rapier. It appeared she was swinging at nothing, and although stepping closer would’ve given her a better view and allow her to see what it was she was hitting, Luxanna wasn’t stupid enough to walk straight into Fiora’s personal bubble. She stayed a good distance away by another tree, propping herself against the trunk.
“Is that any way to speak to your senior, Lady Laurent?” Luxanna dared to smirk, though she was sure to cover her mouth with a gloved hand so that she would not see--or at least not so clearly. “I am free to do as I choose so long as the time allows. I would like to see your skills up close--though maybe I should wait until you have one of those famous Laurent duels?"
It was difficult for the Tactician to stifle a laugh, both hands now covering her mouth as her shoulders shook. When she settled soon after, she cocked a brow and smiled widely. It crossed her mind in that moment that this may be what it was like to have a younger sibling, since she herself had been in that position although Garen was hardly the one to tease to this extent.
“Wouldn’t that be just wonderful? To see me along the sidelines spectating you as you fight? I’ll be sure to cheer for you when I do attend!”
A small voice spoke that perhaps it wasn’t the wisest decision to test the duelist’s patience, but it was already too late the moment she chose to respond.
