Thread: ≒ Tit for Tat | League of Legends | HeavenSundered ≓

RE Tit for Tat Krimson HeavenSundered This was a matter she'd long pondered over, mulling over it at length, preparing her response accordingly. On one hand, despite her propensity toward bloodshed, she wasn't fond of wasted efforts and lives. Unlike some other Noxians, notably Darius, Katarina didn't buy into the grandeur of conquest strength was self-evident, it needed not subject all else in order to prove itself. An avid pupil in her youth, she still heeded the stories her father told her. Stories of the two rune wars, one of which General Du Couteau fought in himself. Those were grand tales, but every words true, she still recall his solemn voice telling her about mages shattering the very fabric of reality, of creatures from the Void, tearing through the rifts created by men, drawn by the irresistible allure of rune magic. Of craters and explosion, irrevocable marks upon the very core of Runeterra. All in the name of glory, all because men with excessive prides wanted to butt heads against one another as though nothing but rams attempting to prove their manhoods. She would hate to see her homeland torn asunder by a pointless war, and though she didn't have concrete proof one way or another, her instincts told her that Darkwill was not assassinated by Demacia. On the other hand, war offered an opportunity. She was well aware of Swain's ambition, and knew that the Master Tactician would seize this opportunity by the jugular. But similarly, so could she. Even if not directly, perhaps she could work her influence by the young Darkwill. He was young, brash, but not foolish - intelligence shone in his eyes, and he had the kind of charisma needed to lead. She was concerned, however, about his strong advocacy for war, Noxus hardly needed another warlike Grand General. At the same time, she couldn't very well oppose him directly. It would be unwise for the vaunted House Du Couteau to take a strong position one way or another, at least not before she heard what that snake Swain had to say. Her foresight to have thought the whole thing through was most fortunate indeed, because at present, she was finding it hard to concentrate, much less to analyze the delicate issue. Ahri hadn't ceased at all. She couldn't even profess surprise as the vixen only pressed her attack, growing bolder with each passing second. Ahri was deliberate, every lick placed just so, hinting at something more. A deliberation frustrating patience was not her strong suit. She half wished the fox would just get to it already. They both knew that Ahri wasn't going to stop at merely lathering her inner thighs. But the fox seemed to wish to take her time, and every teasing touch only fanned the flames of her lust. Katarina clenched her jaws tighter, biting at her own tongue with a hint of pain, needing to remind herself where she was, to remind herself why she most definitely couldn't just reach down and force the fox to desist or carry on, to do anything but teasing her so cruelly. Very well, Katarina, please share with this council the stance of House Du Couteau. Keiran spoke again, acknowledging Swain's decision to speak second. And even his voice just barely pierced the fog starting to settle over her mind, those gentle motions combined with her vulnerability pushing her into a maddeningly susceptible state. The assassin reminded, once more, of exactly where she was and what she was supposed to be doing. Katarina glanced down, those emeralds usually as sharp and penetrating as the edge of her blades carried a hint of pleading, silently imploring the mercurial fox to relent long enough for her to finish her address. Something not granted, but at least Ahri did not seem intent to escalate her ministrations. She inhaled, steeled her will, and gathered what remained of her wits before beginning to speak, her voice admirably smooth and eloquent given the unseen menace between her thighs. I would like to remind the council that I am acting in my father's stead, that only his words would mobilize the Du Couteau swords. That wasn't true. The men were as loyal to her as they were to her father she'd made sure of that, ensuring that their basic needs were met, spending time training with them, personally pulling the strings to fix some of their problems. An untruth more intending at tact than an outright lie, indicating that she wished to remain neutral on this issue. However, should it be proven that Demacia was behind this cowardly assault, we would most certainly not relent until -- Her words interrupted by an untimely pause, Katarina barely managing to choke back a needy gasp as Ahri suddenly intensified her actions. Gentleness forsaken in favor of sudden pleasure and heat, the wet embrace of those perfect lips sealing around her sensitivity almost made her buck. Her nostrils flared, her lashes fluttered, her breath caught as the pleasure was near mind-numbing. A pleasure only augmented by the fox's prior teasing touches, having successfully built up her anticipation, making her all the more susceptible. She tensed noticeably, hands digging into the dais as she struggled to maintain her composure. -until our... What was the word she wanted? It was hard to think. Ahri only continued her own brand of torment, assaulting her clit and lips alike, barraging her with unrelenting pleasure. ...peerless leader is avenged. She wanted to say more, to emphasis that her point was the need for certainty rather than a rallying cry for war, but simply could not find the words. I second that assertion. Jericho Swain echoed, his expression perfectly impassive, revealing absolutely nothing. But there was a curious glint in his eye as he regarded the flame-maned assassin. It wasn't like Katarina to stumble over her words. The pause was brief, easily dismissable as entirely nothing, but Swain knew better. It would be a mistake to regard Katarina as merely a skilled assassin. No, the young Du Couteau knew her way around politics, transitioning almost seamlessly into her father's shoes. His glance lingered for a moment. Interesting. Meanwhile, Keiran had began to speak again. The young man unsatisfied with such a vague response from both Katarina and Swain, but knew better than to press for a firmer stance from either. The conversation, if it could be called such, continued between the Nine, some fiercely opposing the war, others candidly supporting it. Some of the other councilmen's voices were now heard as well, standing in a center podium before the Nine. Katarina was only half-paying attention now, concentrating the majority of her efforts toward maintaining her appearance, keeping her breath as even as she could, her posture straight and valorous still. Her platform was too high for the councilmen below to notice the obvious signs of her discomfiture, but it was questionable whether members of the Nine were entirely oblivious. Her cheeks were tinged with the lightest of flush, something she couldn't control as her pleasure mounted. Her forearms strained as she clawed at the runestone. The tension in her jaw, her neck, her almost too uptight posture...