[A/N:] Chapter 02 of Kat's ordeal! This is rather long and there'll be a ton of shilly-shallying with no actual plot, but it's the bits and pieces that make the cake, right? ;-)
If the flowers in her hands weren't enough out of place, it certainly was the red, low-cut dress he had put her in. Her eye twitched dangerously and the Sinister Blade did her very best not to rip him to shreds right then and there. The Crimson Reaper swooned all over the outfit and how good it was on her and that she looked totally lovely in it; it would have driven anyone mad.
And that wasn't even the top of the cake. No, the cherry was the face her sister was making — or rather the howling laughter she had tried to contain for the past twenty minutes. The Serpent's Embrace had made herself comfortable on the wide couch across the room, cushions piled up under her, and observed Katarina intently. Her cheeks were flushed with glee, eyes full of tears of mirth, and she constantly had to hold at least one of her clawed hands over her face to cover her mouth and keeping from cackling like a madwoman.
Vladimir the wicked bastard had dared to tell her sister of this.
I swear, I will kill this idiotic moron as soon as I get out of this offense to a Noxian General!
Cassiopeia contently rolled onto her side, supporting her head with her hand and tried to calm down, lest she died from laughter. "Wow, Kat, you never cease to amaze me. This is definitely a new highlight, even for you." Katarina just glared at her, already tugging on the dress in a somewhat nervous manner. She felt uncomfortable, and it certainly showed.
"Keep your split tongue behind that sharp teeth of yours, bitch." Cassiopeia simply darted her tongue out and hissed lowly at her sister. "You're most amusing thing I have seen in a while." She turned her head to the side and added a mumbled "And I constantly have to put up with the weirdest shit…"
Vladimir came sauntering back with a — and now both Du Couteaus nearly lost control of their facial features — large, fluffy feather boa in dark purple. "Katarina, darling! I just saw Fortune wearing this in one of her recent matches and I thought it looked wonderful! I'm sure it would fit you as well!" He was about to throw it around her neck when she finally snapped.
"TAKE THIS THING OUT OF MY FACE AT ONCE, VLADIMIR!" The hilt of a blade hit him right in his eye and the Crimson Reaper recoiled sharply, mewling as he held his war wound. "Holy bloodshed, what do you think you're doing!?"
"You are an insult to all of Noxus! Go keep your twisted fantasies to yourself, faggot!" The bruised blonde looked up at her through one watery eye, feeling hurt. "I was helping you! Women like this kind of stuff! I must know, I've had—" She interrupted him, "—like not a single woman in your entire, worthless life! Now get off me, you gay fairy!"
"Yea, right! Because you are just soooo straight as an arrow!" Another knife flung itself at his head, narrowly avoiding him as he Sanguine Pooled right out of harms way. Approximately two seconds later he reappeared a few meters away from the fuming assassin, a shocked expression on his face. "Did you just try to kill me? As in, actually tried to kill me?!"
Cassiopeia giggled and watched the little scene unfolding before her eyes; the two hot-headed Noxians throwing insult after insult at each other. They were like an old married couple sometimes and that promptly sparked a thought. "I wonder if you and Riven would be like this too." That had them turning their attention to the Serpent's Embrace.
The younger of the Du Couteau sisters slithered off the couch and casually waved her hand at them. "You now. Like this." Her rather annoyed expression suddenly turned into a full grin. "Oh, but of course, for me to find that out, you'd have to hook up with her first. Ahahaha."
Her bellowing laughter erupted from the room as she slithered away, Katarina was only barely held back in her plain fury by Vladimir. "I'm gonna kill the both of you! Unsupportive back-stabbers!" the Sinister Blade yelled and managed to pull herself out of Vladimir's grip.
She ripped the dress from her body and hastily retrieved her leather uniform. She instantly felt way better. Damn this nonsense… As if this will help me getting closer to Riven. Mmh, closer to Riven… An image of the young Riven, hot eyes and tanned skin, appeared before her mental eye and Katarina shooed it away with rigorous head-shaking.
She was getting paranoid. She couldn't keep drifting to day dreams about some woman who she didn't know anymore when she should be concentrating on the here and now. After all, she was the Sinister Blade of Noxus and she had a job to do.
So when she had all of her belts and straps arranged, the Du Couteau straightened and threw a glance at the Crimson Reaper who still stood a fair distance away from her, glaring.
"Vladimir, I'm going. Training has been overdue." Her expression was bored at best, "And you should really go talk to Taric about that little problem of yours." With that, the Sinister Blade of Noxus left and threw the door in her displeasure.
Vladimir didn't move until he couldn't hear her swift footsteps anymore. "I'm not gay…" he mumbled to himself as he picked the feather boa up and petted it as if to soothe his own wounded pride.
A few moments later, the Sinister Blade was inside the training room. It — just like the Fields of Justice and the Institute of War themselves — was neutral ground where every Champion enjoyed complete diplomatic immunity. Sparrings were allowed, but no actual bloodshed. Everyone who disregarded the rules would be punished accordingly.
The training room was a large hall with various pieces of equipment suited for most of the Champions' basic needs. Since most of the others would often seek privacy while training in the vast forest outside the Institute of War, it came as no surprise that the Du Couteau was alone. Katarina walked up straight to the dummies on one side of the hall; they had multiple targets of varying sizes on their bodies to mark vital points.
She fumbled with a knife in her hand, lazily swirling it around her index finger. Her swagger stopped and she rolled her shoulders. She began with her usual warm-up — throwing daggers at the largest marks on the dummies' bodies. In a wide swiping motion, she fanned out and blades hit the targets. She hit every one of them right in the bull's-eye, naturally, and repeated this several times.
Annoyed at the monotony already, Katarina stepped it up a notch. There was a pretty little mechanism in the rail under the dummies that made them drive up and down the side of the room. If she remembered correctly, the Yordles of Piltover Customs had built this. She snorted; at least she could give those little pests credit for their inventions.
Movable targets were harder to strike of course and the engine could make the dummies go quite fast. It was nothing compared to the speed some of the other Champions were moving with, but it did the trick and Katarina could stay in shape even when she wasn't picked for matches.
She continued her training session for about an hour until someone new interrupted her solitude. The Sinister Blade stopped in her attempt at murdering yet another imaginary Vladimir and turned her attention to the door.
There in the frame stood a petite feminine figure, four tips of sharp blades standing out and Katarina instantly knew who this was — Irelia, the Will of the Blades. Karma's lapdog, she thought disapprovingly.
The woman looked at her unblinking for a moment before inviting herself in. Her blades hovered around her body and Katarina was tense. She hated Ionians with a fervor.
These were the people who took the Exile away.
The red-head clenched her fists around the hilts of her knives, not wavering in her threatening stare. Irelia however, didn't seem fazed at all. She sauntered over to the Du Couteau and crossed her arms. "Katarina. I haven't seen you here for quite some time. Do you feel the need to hone your skills?" It was a blatant hint to her match yesterday.
"None of your business, midget." She overheard Katarina's insult completely and simply smirked. "Well, that's too sad. I would have loved to see your improvements firsthand." Katarina quirked an eyebrow. Is she challenging me? Her lips twitched up in a sly smile, "I never said I wouldn't enjoy a little spar once in a while."
That made Irelia return the hostile grin. "Delighting. I have long wanted a test of prowess against you." She let her arms fall to her sides, her body visibly tensing up. Training sessions were always the same, dull routine. It has been quite a while since she last had a sparring partner and Katarina would not let this opportunity slip — especially if it meant beating the living shit out of pesky little isle apes. She grinned devilishly at Irelia, "Come at me, Ionian."
She had closed the distance in an instant, her four blades striking at Katarina, and the Du Couteau had to make a dash out of harm's way to not get caught. The League's magic immediately sensed the two engaging in combat and weaved the protective blue veil around their bodies. Katarina twirled her blades in her hands, dropping into a fighting stance. This would certainly help to take her mind off things — or people.
Irelia struck first. She flew toward Katarina in a Bladesurge, bringing her weapon down with a battle cry. Katarina rolled to the side to avoid being hit and instantly turned, slashing at Irelia's calf. However, the Ionian saw this coming and took a step forward, whirling around to strike once more. Katarina heaved herself up the ground and their blades rattled.
The Will of the Blades moved quickly, erratically, to out-step the red-head's ferocious lunges. She was quite light-footed and it proved actually hard to land a good blow or two. Katarina had never crossed blades with Irelia before — she was naturally covering mid lane while the Ionian was on top lane — and she was irritated at how graceful she moved.
She twisted and turned, jumped and spun, and the two assassins were exchanging hits and strikes wherever the opportunity presented itself. They flew across the room and back again, dodging blades behind the dummies and counter-attacking effectively.
Their dangerous dance continued for a while, leaving them both breathing heavily, muscles weary from their clash. Irelia huffed a chuckle, "Heh. You're good." — her eyes sparkled — "Just like Riven said." That made Katarina halt in her mental attempt to rip the Ionian apart right then and there. What the hell does she mean by that?
Fear gripped her and the Du Couteau wondered if Vladimir or possibly her sister could have told anyone of her infatuation with the Exile… No. They wouldn't have…! Irelia noticed her uneasiness immediately, but fortunately mistook it for irritation. "Yes, she told me about you. Said you were one of the most dangerous soldiers of Noxus' glorious military." Katarina let her words sink in, while the women continued to circle each other warily.
Quickly enough, she regained control over her features and her face turned to stone. "She said you were as deadly as you were passionate and that she knew of not a single target you haven't successfully eliminated." Somehow, that made Katarina proud. Did Riven really say she was passionate? And if so, what exactly did it mean?
The Sinister Blade couldn't help but smirk, imagining Riven. However, she covered it up as a blood-thirsty one. She was up and ready to get at her throat again when suddenly Irelia got completely distracted. She halted in her attempt to slice the other woman to shreds.
The Ionia's eyes were glued to the entrance, which Katarina couldn't see since she had her back toward it. She did not move to risk a look however, in case it was a trap. It was probably just some peasant anyway.
"Someone's watching us," Irelia commented and relaxed. The Du Couteau snorted and put her blades away as well, annoyed at their distraction. She turned and threw her best evil glare at the door, but her fury evaporated in an instant. Beside the door frame stood Riven.
She didn't know whether to yell at her for intruding and effectively putting a stop to their fight or be delighted at seeing her here. Irelia didn't even spare the red-head a glance when she spoke, "Ah. I'm sorry, Katarina, but we have to continue this another time." With that, she ignored her and walked past the fuming assassin. Katarina saw how she had her eyes set on the Exile.
Riven herself didn't say a word. She just leant there on the wall with her arms crossed over her chest, one foot against it. Her eyes were boring into Irelia's — and hell did Katarina know why. The Will of the Blades continued her strut out of the room, adding a somewhat sultry-sounding "Wouldn't want to give my moves away." Riven slowly turned her head to follow her movements, eyes never leaving the dark-haired beauty, and Katarina was not quite sure if she saw the beginning of a smile on her lips. But she didn't look close enough, or maybe it was the burning anger at the scene unfolding that made her vision blurry.
However, Katarina resumed the action of twirling a knife around her finger, trying to focus on something else but the two women in their annoying little game.
When Irelia was finally gone, the Exile turned her glowing gaze to the red-head. It took her a great deal of self-restraint not to lose her cool at those eyes. "Are you free?" the Exile asked and immediately, Katarina's mind answered with a naughty "Free to do anything you want me to."
She did not reply outside of the realm of her brain however and with the way Riven just smirked a bemused little smirk at her, she assumed she must have had quite a stressed expression on her face. The warrior pushed herself off the wall and walked toward her, not waiting for anything else.
This insolence to think that she was actually okay with having a new sparring partner was getting under Katarina's skin. She barked at the Exile, "So you're looking for another beating? One might think you've had enough after that match yesterday."
It was true; though Katarina had been awfully intoxicated, she had been making short work of the Exile four times — in complete and utter rage, that was. Nevertheless, it didn't make up for the amount of her deaths at all.
Riven shook her head in slight amusement, "Yes, you got me a few times, I'll give you that. But in the end, you lost." Her face became stern, "'And it is regardless of how you achieve your goal. The outcome is what is important.' Your words exactly." Reciting this sentence — this attitude to life that the Du Couteau was living and breathing by — was making her squirm in rage.
Whatever these damned Ionians had done to her, Katarina was sick of having to endure it. She just wanted to rip this woman before her apart and fling the parts away. Maybe that would help Riven reconstructing her mind.
"Stop trash-talking and brace yourself, Exile! I'm not going easy on you!" the Sinister Blade exclaimed and raised her knife at Riven. "Better make up for interrupting my fight!" She didn't give her newest opponent the time to get ready and draw her blade before Shunpoing behind her and slashing away at her unprotected back.
Riven must have seen it coming a mile ago, because the white-haired warrior just rolled out of the way and came to a halt in a crouched position. Her eyes blazed as she took hold of her weapon's hilt, unsheathing the remnants of what once was a symbol to all of Noxus.
Katarina laughed at the broken piece — still being even longer than one of her own swords — and gave chase. Their blades clashed in an explosion of tiny sparks, a loud clattering sound being thrown into the room. Katarina immediately felt the exhilaration of battle pulsing through her veins again. She felt light-headed and let her anger out in each strike.
Riven had been a lot more defensive in their match upon the Fields yesterday, but the Du Couteau was too far down the spiral to notice. Maybe it was because she herself was a lot less wasted this time… She dodged and evaded, countered and blocked.
It was a pretty even match to say the least, both Noxians proving skillful enough to not underlay. Katarina felt excitement mixing up with her anger and the little moment with Irelia popped up in her head again. She smirked and locked eyes with Riven, "So, you and that Ionian? Why am I not surprised?" Riven blinked before using her strength to push Katarina away a good distance. "I have no idea what you're talking about."
"Oh, come on! I just saw the two of you being all lovey-dovey. Just there, a second ago! Don't tell me it was just my overactive imagination," she taunted and grinned at Riven. The warrior however, was just striking a rather confused face. "Sorry to disappoint you, but I guess it was your overactive imagination. Irelia and I are Champions of the League, nothing more."
Katarina grit her teeth in anger, her eyebrows pulled low above her emerald eyes. She scoffed, "Whatever you think, Exile." She spoke surprisingly quietly and Riven wasn't sure if she had heard her correctly before she had to parry the next knife to her head.
Katarina growled in her fury, closing the distance between herself and the white-haired warrior, attempting to gash her sword right through her stomach. There was such a wild force behind the attack that Riven was able to block it, but it also effectively threw her off-balance. Katarina Shunpoed away the next second, only to reappear a few meters before her.
Riven barely had time to gain a solid foothold again when Katarina jumped in the air and flew toward her, blade raised above her head. She wanted to skewer her. And sensing the blood-thirst in her move, Riven was positive the League's magic would punish her severely for it… A ferocious battle cry on her lips, the Du Couteau had her weapon already drilled through Riven's ribcage in her mind.
But despite clearly being in the advantage, what happened next was turning the tables completely. The Exile took half a step backward and braced herself. She discarded her massive sword and it skidded across the floor with a loud 'clank'. Katarina's body was aware of the movement before her mind could catch up and it moved on its own — letting the hand with the blade shift to the side.
"Whaa—" She collided with the Exile, now-empty palms crashing onto strong shoulders and her legs stretched out awkwardly to cushion the jump that had just so ungracefully turned into a fall. Her cry died and changed into a surprised yelp as she bumped into Riven's front, her legs reflexively settling on either side of her middle. She screwed her eyes shut for just a moment.
Arms wrapped themselves around her thighs and Riven stumbled another step backward, but managed to keep standing. They came to a halt and Katarina opened her eyes, meeting a blazing red.
Her breath caught. Riven stared right back at her, their faces only inches away from one another. All thought was eradicated from her mind and she got aware of the position they were in — she was practically sitting on Riven's stomach, while the Exile had her hands on her thighs and Katarina's bosom was painfully obvious pressing into Riven's larger one.
She felt her face heating up, spreading from her nose to her ears and even down her neck. Holy shit! How the hell did this happen?! Riven's face was turned to stone. Why is she looking at me like that? Why the heck is she looking at me like that?! What does she…
Her voice was weak and it surprised them both. "Riven…" Katarina breathed, and stopped herself, suddenly torn. She was angry, furious even, and had attempted to impale the white-haired warrior just a second ago, but now… She wanted to do something else suddenly. Her eyes, wide in shock and confusion, flickered to Riven's lips—
—but Riven inhaled deeply through her nose and blinked, dropping Katarina in an instant. She turned around, rolling her shoulders and keeping her head down. "Guess we can call it a tie." There was a pause before she continued, "I gotta go."
And just like this, Riven picked up her blade and walked away from her. Katarina sat there on the ground in a daze. She blinked a few times, her eyes firmly trained on the Exile, and she wanted to shout at her and tell her to stay. But no words left her sealed lips when the door behind Riven fell closed.
Katarina didn't get up for a few moments, her mind in a disturbing state. Why the fuck… did she catch me? Why the fuck did she have to catch me?! Gah, Riven, you oblivious moron! Her mental rage manifested itself in a string of muffled obscenities that she pressed through her gritted teeth, while she picked herself up from the floor. Her butt hurt.
Angrily brushing her hair out of her face, the Du Couteau recollected her arsenal of weapons and decided she better waited until her face cooled down before she left the training room.
Katarina was even grumpier than usually and it certainly showed in the way she pushed her way through the crowds of people in the hallways of the Institute, or the deep scowl she wore on her rather delicate face. Even the scar over her left eye seemed to glow with hot fury.
She didn't stop for anyone who called after her, didn't acknowledge anyone who greeted her, and even walked past an irritated Jericho Swain who had meant to ask her a question of importance. The man narrowed his eyes at her and stroked Beatrice's neck with two fingers as he turned and whispered something into the annoying bird's ear.
Her behavior had been strange to say the best. She had locked herself into her room for the majority of the evening and not a sound could have been heard from in there. So, naturally, Vladimir became quite worried.
He was still a bit mad at her for dismissing his fashion tips for nothing, but he had promised himself he would try and help her with her little issue. So later that day, the Crimson Reaper stood before the red-head's door and knocked. "Katarina, I know you're in there. The Summoners have seen you enter and you haven't come out since then, so don't pretend you're not there."
He was regarded with utter silence and his patience was already running thin. He really wanted to avoid having to Sanguine Pooling through under the door — once more satisfiedly acknowledging how very useful said skill was — since that would mean invading her personal space without her compliance and he hated doing such things.
After another round of persistent knocking, there was finally some shuffling from inside the room. He waited politely and straightened when the door was suddenly yanked opened and he was met with the face of a rather furious Katarina Du Couteau. She didn't give him time to adjust; no, she just screamed — "AAAHH!" — and threw the door closed again right before his nose.
Vladimir flinched, his eyes blinking uncontrollably, and took a moment to realize what had just happened. The air from Katarina's prompt movement blew a familiar stench into his face and the Crimson Reaper grimaced. "Katarina Du Couteau, have you been drinking again?! The inside of your room just stinks like Rengarbräu!" He bumped his fist against the thick wood, "I thought Gragas told you to sleep it off before you asked him for anything again!"
"Go away, I hate you!" was the endearing response to that. There was more shuffling and Vladimir assumed Katarina had been in bed, hidden under her blanket with a bottle of the whiskey. He clenched his jaws, wanting to smash in the door and slap her in the face. It was a complete disgrace to see the famous Sinister Blade reduced to this picture of misery.
But however long he stood there before her room trying to get her out, she wouldn't move. He gave up after at least half an hour looking like an idiot and instead shook his head with a sigh, "Fine, stay in there. I don't know what happened during your training, but don't overdo it with the drinking, Katarina! Better go to sleep, before you do something stupid…"
He left, and Katarina slowly placed the almost empty bottle of booze down on the nightstand beside her bed. She wiped her salty eyes, holding in another sob, and killed the last light in her room…