It was but a split second before her sword met his and the clang of metal meeting metal rang out again. Oh, he was angry. That pleased Enyo a great deal. Warriors that fought with any degree of emotion were erratic and disciplined. Not that she was the most disciplined god of war in existence, but she didn't have to worry about fighting with her heart or having her precious pride in justice ruined. She had not the problem because she had neither obstacle. She was quite certain that she lacked a heart, which was just fine with her and Enyo didn't bother with justice. Justice was dealt as she saw fit. If it was right by her, it was right.
So she laughed, laughed, when he shouted and struck down at her. Violence also felt the need to provoke him further. It was rather like picking at a scab to watch it bleed once the protective layer was peeled away. She just need to get that layer removed. “Oh,” she remarked, in mock surprised, “you are ugly when you are angry.” Then she shoved him away and took a good swipe with her own sword. “Not that you had much going for you to begin with... being a barbarian and all.”
Enyo met most of his attacks with either her shield or her sword. He doing much the same at her attacks. This was going to take forever and frankly, she didn't care. She would fight him all day if he meant she could dance on his corpse in the end. Or even better... put his head on a pike and parade it through the streets of Rome. That would be glorious.
Her humor faded at the first draw of her blood. His sword came down, she momentarily distracted by what appeared to be a few Roman onlookers, and sliced across her bicep. Giving an irritated grunt, she pressed her heel into his chest to shove him enough of a distance away to give her a second to examine the damage to her porcelain skin.
Then she looked up, used her shield hand to also hold her sword as she pulled off her crested helm and stared him down. Oh, now she was angry. He dared to think he was worthy to mar her flesh?