Naturally his first reaction is to conjure another pair of portals and redirect her attacks a second time (of course she'd be the type of person to keep trying something that doesn't work, he thinks, trying not to laugh) but he's hit upon limits he forgets he has-- has never had until Azeroth. The moment he tries to do so he feels a disturbance in his wakfu, a backfiring like the sudden snap of a too-taut elastic band, and the blue glow of his magic fades away as all of his portals wink out at once.

Qilby recognizes his mistake right around when the first missile sails above his head. He only fully appreciates it once the second one catches him in his bad shoulder, spinning him around and nearly putting him on the ground-- it's only his own sharp reaction time (sharp, even for his apparent age) that keeps standing as he steadies himself on one hand and knee.

He doesn't bother to hide his annoyance now. Never much of a brawler to begin with, he hasn't been in a real fight since-- well, since he got his arm torn off some four months ago. Needless to say he's a little rusty.

"This is how the King of the Sea fights? By throwing pebbles?" Qilby calls out as he gets back on his feet, ignoring the dull ache in his shoulder. It'll likely bruise, but it's not as if he has the loss of an arm to worry about there anymore.