Poking the Stem [Ban vs. Shimmer]

[dlamp]

Standard Match
Win via Pinfall, Submission, or Knockout

"This... is different." It was the first thought Yi Jun had as she looked at herself in the mirror. The outfit she was wearing was a mix of some martial warrior and some kind of shrine maiden. It felt... odd on her. It was something those advisors said would make her popular, but she couldn't see it. It just looked too outlandish for anyone to cheer on. With a pout, she gave a short little shake of her hips, noting the short skirt as it swished about. She gave a few low kicks and felt how flimsy the sandals held on. She sighed. At least the longer sleeves looked cool. “Okay, no more complaining.” With a slap on her cheeks, she pushed forward.

Ban walked onto the stage, seeing several people did, in fact, cheer for her as bright music came on to celebrate her arrival. A few people were chanting her name, some people clapped, others smiled and waved. She found her cheeks burning at the sight, and the crowd cheered and laughed at her reaction. So odd... With a little embarrassment, she walked down the ramp faster than she planned, deftly hopping onto the ring and looking around once she was in the center. She took a breath, letting all the excitement and emotions wash away, then gave a small smile, nodding to herself before she made it to her corner. I can do this. Her first match in LAW, her first battle without her master's supervision and instruct, her first steps on her own after being given her goal of seeking further strength.

She was ready.

Ban

[Malkavia]

When the truth is found to be lies...

When the Jefferson Airplane vocals hit the speakers, and the spotlights swivelled to the entrance ramp, they'd find Shimmerlace, for the first time in any match, in her entrance gear. Here were the gauzy, translucent fairy wings; there the feathery white cape. She wore shoulder-length white ballroom gloves, all to complement the already baroque ring gear underneath.

Yet for all the glamor, all the production, all the layers of makeup and the artfully bare thighs and teased midriff—for all the hundred ways the spotlight reflected off this and that detail of her outfit, and despite the way she beamed at the audience and met their eyes and waved...the audience responded lethargically. Muted, like a trumpet with a wad of dirty socks in its horn.

Once she reached the ring apron, she slid between the ropes and stood, back to her corner, and scanned the audience. As her entrance theme wound down — You better find somebody to love! — she blew a kiss left! Right! Then with two hands across the ring and POP! Pink smoke burst from between her hands, billowing around her, and when it cleared, the entrance gear was gone.

The Feychild

And the cunts are still grumbling she thought as her eyes scanned the seats. Maybe it was in her head. Shimmerlace had gotten so accustomed to looking for disappointed fans, for enemies, for Kazikuristas, maybe she was just hearing the lame non-enthusiasm she expected to hear.

But she didn't think so.

Her eyes slid back to this evening's opponent. She squinted, clicked her tongue, and immediately forgot for the moment about the idiots in the crowd.

What an elegant fucking look. Shimmerlace cocked her head back, half-smiling. "Ey!" she called across the ring. "Don't you look—Eh...Composed." Which was true enough. It was hard to get a read on this one. Behind the lovely, near-ceremonial flow of her white top, there was a stoic athlete, powerfully built yet with the kind of flat look in her eye where you couldn't be sure if she was repressing a bag full of nerves—or staring you down with unfettered confidence.

"Whaddya call that top piece, by the by? A bolero? Bishop sleeves?" Such was definitely the most eye-catching item in the decidedly eastern-styled outfit, though now Shimmerlace's eyes flit over the rest of the woman, especially that tiny skirt. Evidence of a kickboxer, perhaps? "I ask 'cause I dig it! Very unique, and kinda sexy the way it flows with your movements. I imagine it must look incredible when you're moving fast, ey?"

By the time Shimmerlace spoke, the speakers had gone silent, and the audience was settling down into that special weight that always became most acute immediately before the bell rings. Shimmer, though still expecting an answer from Ban, pushed off the ropes and, without taking her eyes of her opponent's striking blue irises, adopted what she imagined to be a karateka's pose—one foot back, one fist forward. All grins.

[dlamp]

Ban had to admit she was a bit enamored by the display of her opponent. Once the lights flashed on the woman Ban was greeted by a dazzling display of glitter, shine, and flare. The flashy wings, the flowing fabrics, the pageantry of it all. It was a far cry from Ban's simple entrance, that was for sure. This was clearly a person in their element, showing off their craft to the world. Even as she entered the ring the show wasn't over as she practically transformed with a wave of her hands into a proper combat attire. Ban’s blue eyes sparkled as she watched, taking in the craftsmanship of the performance. It honestly made her own entrance feel lacking.

But... it seemed the crowd didn't seem to agree.

Disinterest. Displeasure. Disdain. The audience seemed more annoyed by this woman's arrival than anything. It made Ban almost feel guilty for being mystified by the woman's display. Ban knew some wrestlers didn’t get good reception due to their more dishonest nature, but someone putting that much work into their performance couldn’t be that bad of a person… could they? Even as the music died down and the woman in question spoke, Ban didn’t sense any dishonesty in her words nor in her obvious interest in Ban’s own attire.

Ban gave a curt nod and a small smile in response. "Thank you." She said simply. "I... admittedly don't know the specific name of the top, but I'd like to think it invokes the image of a martial priestess... Someone who studies and trains in martial techniques to the point of worship." She gave the woman a critical look, examining her outfit in turn. "Though... you give the image of a forest spirit. The markings on your arm and leg are eye-catching..." Ban's hand went to just below her chest, at her own marking.

Seeing the woman take her stance, Ban brought a fist to her palm in a martial bowed, a practice that she hadn't broken quite yet. "Right, I am Y-" She cut herself off, catching herself. "I am Ban, or Hua Ban, Warrior of Flowers and Petals, and Practitioner of Huayequan." She took her stance, hands up, legs apart, palms facing toward her opponent. "As my first opponent in LAW, I thank you for facing me." She then gave a smirk, her blue eyes flashing with challenge and excitement as her body prepped itself to lash out. "While I won't disclose the specifics of my techniques, my blows are pretty fast. Please prepare yourself appropriately and hold nothing back."

[Malkavia]

Up to this point, Shimmerlace had performed her part with the fatigued competence of the worn-out professional. Here were the beats—she hit them, smiling, but always with one eye out at the cunts in the seat. The spirit from her first matches was not gone, but it did shine a bit...plastic.

But as soon as she heard Hua Ban, Warrior of Flowers, her whole mien lit up. Her back stood a little straighter, her hips moved with a looser, more feline grace. "Weeeeell, well-well-well! A Warrior of Flowers is it then—now that, friend-o, is a powerful moniker. A name with kick! Spirit! A seeeeeeense of...self."

She broke the feigned karateka stance as the bell rang — DING DING DING!! — and began instead to deliberately pace the perimeter of the ring, eyeing Ban up and down with the concentration of a lynx.

"True Names are powerful shit, you know. Terrrrrribly powerful." As Shimmerlace spoke, she kept her eyes trained on the space between the two combattants, judging the space. Am I within her reach? Now that the match was live, the shifting and rustling from the crowd died as a thousand eyes and ears leaned in towards the pale blue mat. "Wanna know mine?"

When she asked, she was staring into Ban's eyes like she was clasping the Petal Warrior's hand and asking her to dive out the backside of an airplane with her.

Then—quick as you blink—she charged, pounding across the mat with a wild whoop as her arm extended for a lariat!

[dlamp]

The bell's ring snapped Ban into the fight fully, her eyes narrowed and focused as her opponent started to circle Ban at a relaxed pace. The air around the woman was different now. For all the playful nonchalance and teasing of the woman's tone, her eyes spoke a different story. Focused, examining for weaknesses, waiting for the smallest opening to capitalize on. She's trying to distract me. It was obvious, almost painfully so. As if the woman was testing a theory she already had the answer to. No... she's testing me. Ban didn't lose focus or concentration, her eyes locked onto the now-hostile forest spirit before her, shifting her feet and body as the woman moved around the ring.

Then, the woman charged, her arm extended as if a blade to cut Ban down.

Ban stayed light on her feet, quickly twisting her body and giving a swift pirouette around the extended arm. She could feel the air cut between the two, a bead of sweat sliding down her forehead from the narrow miss. Fast. She thought, her mind quickly developing a profile of her opponent from their short exchange. Fast-moving to match her lithe figure, observant enough to look for weaknesses and openings once the match started, seemingly deceptive through mixing conversation to hide her intent, if sloppy at it. All signs of an opponent that knew how to fight and had several tricks up their sleeves. Ban would have to stay on guard.

"I would," She answered curtly. "But if names are as powerful as you say, I shall refer to you as ‘Spirit-san’ until otherwise."

Ban moved in for her offense now, darting in for a quick palm strike to the woman's shoulder to test things out.

[Malkavia]

The ropes rattled as Shimmerlace pivoted off her charge and slammed into them back-first. Her stomach was still recovering from the flip it had performed. A dodge was one thing, but to spin on the ball of her foot, her sleeves fluttering as she cut a god damned pirouette?

This chick had style.

She pushed herself off the ropes, combing her hands through her hair as she got back to circling and watching—and listening. Spirit-san, says she? Shimmerlace — the name she'd been given on the card and by the announcer — would have been the easy, if incomplete answer. But no, not for Ban, ey? Ban opted to involve her own...taste. The Feychild cocked her head, hunched, stalking a circumference about her opponent while the newly baptized name rolled in her head.

She liked it...a lot.

"Wellll, tell you what Ban—"

—But then came the strike. You had naught but to glance of Ban's biceps to know hers were strikes meant to split stone, but her speed—that made Shimmerlace blink.

"—Damn!!" Quickfire instinct alone saved her. She turned her side to Ban and leaned out of the strike's whistling path, her pupils dilating the blurred fist sailed past her. There but for the grace of God— Her own arms snapped upwards, aiming to implement a plan her mentor had chiselled into the Feychild's lizardbrain through Spirits only knew how many repetitions: Grab the elbow. Trap the wrist. When the joints are stiff and you have this hot, sweat-slick lever, then — breathe — and TOSS the cunt into an Irish Whip!

If it worked, then in the same motion she'd launch herself at the ring edge opposite Ban's trajectory. Charge through one, two, three giant strides. And bounce of the ropes one more time so she could come in and meet Ban mid-ring with fire in her step.

[dlamp]

Ban didn't expect her strike to hit. At the very least, she didn't expect it to do much damage. It was a prodding blow, something to test the waters and see if her opponent could handle basic offense in turn. So, Ban wasn't surprised when Miss Spirit dodged the strike. However, the surprise on her opponent's face and the knee-jerk reaction as she dipped out of the way told Ban she wasn't expecting a speedy strike in turn. Even more so the snap reaction to a counter told Ban more, a reflex clearly drilled into her opponent from training.

Regardless, Miss Spirit immediately moved to punish Ban for her narrow miss, grabbing her by the wrist and elbow before flinging her into the ropes on what felt like a reflex.

"Whoa-!" Ban practically staggered into the ropes, sandal-clad feet barely keeping a steady forward momentum and billowing sleeves flailing before she felt the taut pull of the ropes as she pushed against them. Her eyes widened at the realization as they started to fight her momentum and push back. Crap! Of course, Ban knew the ropes were meant to do that, but feeling it was a different matter entirely. She only had a second before physics did their work and shot Ban back into a charging Spirit.

And similarly to Miss Spirit, years of instincts and combat clicked. She stomped hard on the ground once she saw her charging opponent, blue eyes narrowing into concentration as she regained her balance and once again spun her body about, this time twirled around Miss Spirit as if she was a pole, her leg subtly kicking out low toward her opponent's ankles to try and trip her, a common technique in Huayequan.

[Malkavia]

The mat was loud—as you might expect from loose plywood under a foam cover. This made every wrestler's footfall crack—a bit of extra spectacle for the audience, but a source of insight for the wrestlers as well.

So even if Shimmerlace didn't see Ban's teetering footsteps as she sped for her own rendezvous with the ropes, she could hear the uneven rhythm in the stride, a wobble that hit her ears near as sweetly as that whoa—!

But her stride across the mat gave no time to savor mere wobbles. She was already bouncing off the ropes, already galloping over the mat, hair flung in a flag behind her. Her pink, fey eyes locked onto Ban's blue. She had a flash of a moment to turn over her opponent — this elegantly flowing priestess of combat — like a Rubik's Cube, and to settle on the right move. Dropkick said her gut.

But just as she was bending her hips for the leap, Ban closed the distance—and twisted around Shimmerlace like a petal dancing from treetop to grass, except about ten dozen times faster.

The feeling in Shimmerlace's gut was less a word and more an eruption of inchoate command: JUMP!! She dove forward, hands out to catch the mat. Her body weight leaned into her wrists and momentum carried her body vertical into a handstand. The momentum kept her moving, one hand crossing the other, and as she twisted around her opponent, caught the blur of her heel finishing its arc—one she sensed to have missed her ankle by a fly's wing.

And then—there she was. In a handstand. Ban crouched beside her, almost in her shade. And here's the Feychild, with no clear plan of what next.

"—Fuck sake...!" she hissed as she found her what-next, but only after a half-second's deadly hesitation, heaving her weight towards Ban so she'd come tumbling down, knee-first into her opponent...if that lost moment of certainty didn't cost her everything.

[dlamp]

Ban had to admit; she was impressed. Her kick had missed, but Miss Spirit didn't just take to the air to avoid it. No, she was able to go right onto her hands and remain standing... well, sort of. An impressive feat of quick-thinking and athleticism that had Ban give a small smile of appreciation. The crowd too was impressed, absolutely buzzing with excitement at the nimble feat on display from Ban's opponent, and Ban might have even said a compliment or two in turn if the atmosphere wasn't so serious.

But it couldn't last.

Whether as a desperate attack or a lack of balance, Miss Spirit was tumbling down, and her legs were in prime position to drop onto Ban for heavy damage. But it was slow. No, not slow, but the short pause and not-so-quiet curse from Miss Spirit was enough time to react. Ban skidded back in a quick hop, her feet gliding along the ground as she moved out of the way of the crash, hands still up and ready just in case the drop was feint into something more damaging.

[Malkavia]

It was one of those moments—you cast the dice and see the snake eyes a breath before the hammer hits. Ban moved before Shimmerlace, but she was already in gravity's grip and couldn't do shit but slam empty mat.

Her one cold comfort, as her hip cracked against the ground and she scrambled to get turned around and halfway towards standing, was that if Ban hadn't slipped from under her — if our so-called "priestess" hadn't had the chops to punish a fuckup like that — it somehow would have been even more disappointing.

She bounced, and the mat rumbled like a jumbo-sized snare drum, and Shimmerlace rolled without missing a beat to her knees. She spun to face Ban, but even moving quick as fey celerity could carry her, she was only up to one knee when her eyes locked with her opponent's.