Gibe n. 1: to utter taunting words, 2: to deride or tease with taunting words
Diana swung her khopesh experimentally, darting back as it was predictably swatted aside. She was outmatched here physically, she knew, and in experience. But she had the moon, and there was no way she would even compare her intelligence to that of the lout she fought.
She could feel Pantheon's gaze following her, though it was hidden by his helm. He hadn't taken a step from that spot, Diana noted, annoyed. His posture, if anything, had relaxed since the match started, his shield and spear dangling at his side.
Arrogant prick. Diana snarled and charge in.
The day had started simply enough. Diana woke a little past the hottest part of the day, as she liked to. She didn't have a match that day, so she took her time in the bath and with her makeup, little luxuries she had never been allowed before the League. Just because she didn't have a match didn't mean she could slack off. Or not look her best. It was not vanity, simply that she was the sole representative of the moon on Runeterra.
That the Solari would disapprove had nothing to do with it.
As she did on all her free days, she grabbed her khopesh from its stand and headed to the practice yard. Combat was her new area of study, and she would put as much or more effort into this one. At least with blades, someone would listen.
The vast courtyard was the largest and simplest of the Institute's many training venues. At this time of day the yard was sparsely populated, with several matches currently ongoing.
Diana preferred it that way.
Retreating to her favorite corner of the yard, Diana threw herself at the training dummy, hacking and slashing at it with all her might. Soon she was panting, arms burning. Her stamina had improved in leaps and bounds, she knew, but how quickly she tired still disgusted her.
She heard someone approach; it would have been hard not to, given how the person made no attempt to hide their ridiculously heavy footfalls. Purposely ignoring him - anyone that large and ungainly had to be a him - Diana redoubled her assault on the magically reinforced wood and straw.
When she paused to take a breath, the man spoke.
"You are a disgrace to the Mountain."
Diana's fingers tightened on her blade, her lip curling. Of course, it was the sun bitch's lackey, the other barbarian from that accursed place she'd been forced to call home. Tossing her head, she threw back, "I am no passive Solari thrall like that cow you make eyes at. If I must kill for what I want, I will do so, happily."
She could hear the scorn in his laugh. "That you took that as my meaning just makes you more of a disgrace. Executing old men who never in their lives held a sword simply makes you a greater coward than those pacifists you so despise."
Diana did turn now, face twisted in a sneer. "We obviously have vastly different definitions of 'pacifist' and 'disgrace.' I would expect nothing less from a muscle-bound barbarian knocked in the head so often he refuses to remove his helmet."
"The Art of War is not so difficult to understand, to those worthy of it." His posturing annoyed her. Did the Rakkor learn arrogance as an integral part of their culture? Because the two she'd met certainly had plenty of practice. "I will not be lectured by some little girl who does not even know how to use her sword."
Diana did snarl this time. "You want to know how well I use it? Brave words from someone too scared to fight me!" She tensed, calling the moon's power.
He laughed, a real laugh this time. "After so many challenges, it would be rude to deny your death wish. But if I am to battle an unruly child, I will not do so when you are tired from that sorry excuse for practice." He pointed his spear to the sun. "We meet after dusk, the time of your power so you can at least offer some challenge."
The crescent moon bathed the training yard in cool light. A breeze carried a few stray leaves across the wide expanse of empty space.
For Diana, it was a perfect night. She had spent many like this, alone, staring into the heavens and contemplating a life beyond her own. Now she had it, but, if she wanted it to go as she planned, she would have to fight.
And like hell she would let that overgrown teenager stand in her way.
Diana muttered the last few lines of her prayer, stood up, and stretched. Only a few other people remained at this time of night, a summoner or two and some support staff. Whether they were here as spectators or just in the way meant nothing to her. It was almost time.
Diana turned at the creak of an opening door. Her opponent emerged, looking as just as he always did. Diana wondered if he even owned another set of clothing. Or a pair of pants.
He cleared the doorway and Diana could suddenly see his companion.
Of course she would be here.
Diana felt her face heating up, her careful composure evaporating in an instant. Her hand clenched around her sword hilt, and she thrust the blade into the packed earth to avoid its shaking giving her away.
"I'm surprised you came!" the Rakkor dog exclaimed, voice booming through night's serenity. "At least your word still means something."
"Are you here to hurl insults like some schoolyard brat, or are you here to fight?"
The laugh echoed from the depths of the helmet. "And here I thought that was more your style. But very well."
He moved to one side of the field, spinning his spear idly and assuming a fighting stance.
"Diana, wait!"
"YOU STAY OUT OF THIS!" Diana spun, screaming at the meddling bitch. "THIS HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH YOU! GO BACK TO YOUR TEA PARTIES AND SUNNY MEADOWS!"
Apparently it was enough to shut her up, because, despite the woman's neurotic need to have the last word, she didn't respond.
Diana spun and stalked to take the field across from Pantheon. She bent her knees, and staring across the emptiness at her opponent.
Was there a signal that was supposed to start such things? She didn't know and was too angry to care. She charged.
Diana cleared the space between them in the matter of seconds, the moon lightening her steps. Her first strike met the shaft of his spear. His shield lazily deflected her second. The third time she swung with all her might, only to have it nudged to the side and miss him by a hair's breadth.
She took a fourth swing, watched to see how he reacted. He barely moved, turning the whistling blade aside with the slightest of taps.
Her head had finally begun to clear. She circled, swiped again, and reevaluated.
He hadn't moved, she noted with annoyance. If anything, he seemed to have relaxed, not even bothering to maintain the semblance of a fighting stance.
Her plan filtered back to her now that the haze of rage had lifted somewhat. She narrowed her eyes, screamed, and charged.
Even in the darkness, she met his eyes for a split second through the slit of his helm. There was no contempt in his gaze, only boredom, as if even as he fought her he'd already forgotten her.
She'd make him regret that.
She swung. She saw his parry rise, even if she couldn't move fast enough to prevent it.
But she was fast enough to phase behind him to finish her swing.
He lurched forward with a grunt, finally taking that step forward as his blood splattered back on Diana's face.
Diana had half a second to celebrate before his shield slammed into her face.
Her vision exploded into scattered bursts of light as she hit the ground hard, rolling in the dirt. Blood covered the side of her face, matting her hair and coating her cheek in dirt. She blinked hard, trying to rid herself of the stars and dust and ringing in her head. She scrambled to right herself, thanking the gods she at least had the wherewithal to hold on to her sword.
A boot stomped on her back, crushing the air out of her. She struggled to regain her breath, clawing at the ground with her free hand but managing nothing besides grasping a handful of loose ground.
Gritting her teeth, she called the moon's power, pulling Pantheon towards her and off balance. She forced herself up, lunging with her handful of dirt at his face. He managed to knock her hand aside, but not before her handful of dust connected with his eyes.
Diana flung herself up and away, just long enough for a complete breath before diving back in.
A flurry of spear strikes met her charge. One caught her cheek, another her thigh before she phased out of the way. She summoned her pale cascade, just in time to be slammed in the side and sent tumbling away. She felt the spheres detonate; at least she was getting some hits in.
How long it continued on like this Diana couldn't say. She just kept attacking and attacking, and getting punished for it each time. So many times he almost had her, but each time she called the moon to get away to attack again. But each time it got harder, took more of her waning strength.
Finally, after losing count of the times she'd gotten back up, she could not summon the power to get away.
"Well, that was more interesting than I was expecting."
His helmet was battered, his arms black and silver with blood and sweat in the moonlight. After all that, his arms barely shook as he held her limp body up by her hair, inches from his face. The razor tip of his spear tickled her throat.
Diana could barely draw a breath, barely had the energy to stare him in the eyes. But she held his gaze - as best she could, her face being a swollen mess - unwilling to give up her one last act of defiance.
His grip tightened. "On the field of battle, you would be dead."
The helmet turned, looking past her to someone beyond her left shoulder.
Diana lurched forward, seizing him by the breastplate. "If you're going to kill me, kill me. Don't you dare take her into account."
"I wouldn't have fought you if not for her."
He tossed her aside, striding away before she even hit the dirt.
The battle over, Diana had nothing to distract from how much her entire body hated her. She just wanted to sink into the ground, and sleep for about a month.
Or she could watch the two Targonian lovebirds whispering in the moonlight.
She closed her eyes.