Once more , the two were face to face . . . emerald locking with emerald . . . intentful hunger in one set whilst calculated defiance loomed in the other ; warmed breath brushing against one's cheek before evolving itself into another sequence of sultry promises , ❝ And sense when has the word ' easy ' ever appeared in a Noxian's vocabulary . . . him ? ❞ it was an inquiry grounded in observable truths , Noxus was a region where warrior's might and a death before surrender mentality had been championed by its people for centuries of recorded history . . . to even suggest that Sarah should forfeit not only the conflict , but her pride as well ? It was unanimously laughable at best . . . and outright insulting to Katarina's ancestors at worst .

     Their faces , more especially their lips , proved all too tantalizingly close to one another . . . painting an image of intimacy of the sexual variety all beneath an effective guise of heated contest ; it was ever apparent that under different circumstances that the two women would most certainly be exploring one another in a different light . . . one brimming with vigorous passion ; the tender digits of the assassin etching along Sarah's jawline proved the exclamation point on this concept .

     An illusion of choice was present to the pirate ; the options of which undesirable in every conceivable manner . . . fortunately , or unfortunately depending on your narrator , that illusion would prove not something to be acted upon as Sarah's attention and gaze was stripped away from that of Katarina's dance .

     Commotion appeared to envelop the deck of The Syren , those Noxian souls who had earlier come under pressure and eventual capture thanks to the work of Sarah's boarding party seemed rallied by the fight being showcased by their fellow countrywoman . . . a shoving match was in progress , the aggressors desperately hoping to arm themselves in defense ; such resistance was met with discipline from Sarah's side , momentarily subduing the lot with non-lethal means . . .

     . . . but that never was the end goal of the Noxian saliors .

     From the otherside of where Miss Fortune and The Sinister Blade stood was a thunderous boom of gunpowder much like the one from moments prior . . . summoning forth a bullet rippling through the air and threading the narrow spaces that lurked between both women's legs , grazing both with an expectation of blood to begin flowing ; despite the stinging sensation it sent up Sarah's nervous system ? It proved a golden window of opportunity to not only free herself , but establish well and true distance from the other woman .

     All Hell was now breaking lose . . . the affair that was once a violent tango for two spiralling into a fully fledged battle . A singular shot from Awe was all it took to send the armed straggler rendered deceased in a fraction of an instant . . . purely self defense .

katarina’s     breath     came     fast,     but     it     was     controlled,     her     chest     rising     with     a     rhythm     honed     by     countless     battles.     she     didn’t     chase     immediately,     watching     the     pulley     system     pull     sarah     skyward.     no,     a     chase     was     a     fool’s     errand     without     the     right     footing.     instead,     she     moved     to     the     edge     of     the     deck     where     the     battle     now     raged,     chaos     swirling     like     a     storm     around     her.     the     noxian     sailors     fought     with     the     kind     of     fury     that     only     the     desperate     could     muster,     their     attempts     to     regain     control     rippling     through     the     mob.     the     sinister     blade     used     their     distraction     to     her     advantage,     leaping     onto     a     barrel     and     kicking     off     with     a     fluidity     that     turned     her     into     a     crimson     blur.     she     landed     lightly     on     the     mainmast’s     rigging,     her     boot     catching     the     netting     with     precision.

from     above,     gunfire     rained     down,     the     sharp     cracks     of     her     pistols     punctuating     the     fray     below.     bullets     hissed     through     the     air,     one     grazing     katarina’s     arm,     tearing     fabric     and     flesh     alike.     the     assassin     hissed     through     her     teeth,     the     pain     sparking     a     dark     exhilaration     that     set     her     nerves     alight.     there     was     no     allotted     time,     no     space,     seemingly     timeless     ventures     into     emerald     harbours,     docking     to     receive     the     abstruse     mutterings     of     an     entire     world.      

the     sting     in     her     leg     was     a     persistent     throb,     the     bullet’s     graze     leaving     a     trail     of     crimson     that     trickled     down     her     thigh,     warm     against     the     chill     of     the     night     air.     she     didn’t     falter;     pain     was     an     old     companion,     a     whisper     of     mortality     she     had     long     since     learned     to     ignore.     bullets     cracked     through     the     air     around     her,     sharp     and     relentless,     their     paths     slicing     the     dark     like     streaks     of     molten     silver.     one     ricocheted     off     the     mast     inches     from     her     head,     the     spark     illuminating     her     sharp     features     for     the     briefest     of     moments.     another     grazed     her     arm,     the     fabric     of     her     sleeve     tearing     to     reveal     a     shallow     wound     beneath,     the     raw     sting     flaring     up     her     nerves.

     Every mocking syllable that oozed out from behind the veil of Katarina's tantalizing lips only sought to amplify the tightness of the air enveloping them ; Shock and Awe swaying gracefully in every direction . . . hungering for the opportunity to send hardened iron careening between the alluring pools of emerald that were the other's eyes .

     Miss Fortune continued tangoing backwards with poise , her boots clicking against the sea worn planks beneath her feet . . . increasing the distance that she possessed away from where the two women had first converged minutes prior . . .

     . . . but that course seemed futile ; the sudden jolt that coursed up her spine as the blade now pressed against the rear of her ribcage . It was at this stage that Sarah could feel her muscles tighten . . . her trusted grip of the pistols faltering ever so slightly as the weapon teased along the still covered skin of her side .

     Then came the whispers . . . those sultry whispers , imposing as equally as they proved seductive ; the challenge being posed all too clear . . . the closing of the gap between their figures , the weight of the assassin's knee delicately positioned between the pirate's thighs ; the temperature in the air only continued to crescendo . . . a cocktail of mixed thoughts , emotions , and desires rushing through her bloodstream . . . causing time to seemingly wind itself to a near stillness ; the beating drum of her heart becoming crystal in her ears , the weight of her breath measured with precision .

     Surrender ? Perhaps she had given the other more credit than deserved after all ? The mere thought of that notion caused a smirk to return to her face . . . time speeding up to normalcy as a result .

    ❝ Perhaps one day I'll grant you the sight of my body coursing with heat . . . ❞ she cooed back to her assailant , was that confidence coating her words ? ❝ . . . but at this moment I'm afraid I'm a little pre-occupied with queenly duties , sweetheart . ❞

     Drawing a breath .

her     eyes     roved     over     sarah’s     face,     studying     the     bead     of     sweat     tracing     its     path     from     beneath     her     hat.     it     wasn’t     fear     that     intrigued     her—it     was     the     stubborn     defiance     in     those     sharp     green     eyes,     the     way     the     pirates     smirk     twitched     at     the     edges     as     if     daring     katarina     to     push     harder.

the     word     came     sharply:     "rafen!"

her     composure     unfurling     in     a     maelstorm     of     malignity:     eyelids     twitch,     lips     pull     taut     and     a     snarl     twists     her     visage     whilst     fists     clench;     the     sudden     spike     of     intent,     even     before     the     gunshot     rang     out.     time     slowed,     the     sharp     hum     of     gunpowder     slicing     through     the     moment.     her     instincts     flared,     and     she     twisted     her     blade     out     of     the     bullet’s     path     with     fluid     grace.     sparks     flew     as     metal     collided,     but     her     grip     on     her     weapon     remained     steady,     unyielding.

nhaling     sharply     and     straightening     her     posture     to—perchance—mask     how     spiteful     she     has     become,     sinking     sharp     teeth     into     her     lower     lip     until     it     contuses     and     turns     three     shades     of     purple,     beads     of     blood     burbling     up     from     the     bold     play,     reckless     even.     "cute,"     she     whispered,     her     voice     a     silk     thread     woven     with     menace,     "but     not     nearly     enough     to     stop     me."     her     blade     shifted,     the     flat     of     it     briefly     grazing     the     edge     of     bilgewaters     side,     and     in     that     moment,     the     noxian     closed     the     distance,     her     knee     pressing     between     the     captain's     thighs     once     more,     claiming     the     space.     her     breath     was     warm     against     sarah’s     skin     as     she     leaned     in,     her     voice     now     low,     sensual,     a     dark     promise.

“I feel that stroke coming on.”