Eliza Harenwood vs Beatrice Harper - Red On Purple

[Deus001]

Match Rules: Standard

Eliza Harenwood was booked for a match tonight, the law universe had been craving more of the dancing passion and tonight Eliza would be all too happy to oblige. While often Eliza had been facing the men of law who she made a sport out of dismantling and cutting down to size like water against a rock she was always the sort to accept any challenge, hence she was here tonight facing a noteworthy sort called Beatrice Harper. A fellow Brit from the looks of it and Eilza instantly mused on her days in the indies as she dressed in her locker room, she had nostalgia for sure.

The aristocrat would be donned in a red mini ballgown of sorts, which hid her wrestling attire underneath it. On her face was a black masquerade masque with silver gems around the eyes and her hands held a pair of red feathered fans. A knock on the door told her it was go time and out strode Eliza to the entrance ramp as her theme song hit. Bailie De Batalla as it was called. The crowd were cheering loudly in approval to the song of dubstep with Spanish guitars as the dancing passion emerged.

She bowed to the crowd before striding down the ramp, every step of hers precise yet full of passion. Eliza lept to the apron and casually a split jump over the top rope before rolling forward and entering an elegant kneeling pose in the middle of the ring, after pausing for a few seconds she'd walk to her corner and wait for her opponent to arrive......

[Liesmith]

Eliza wouldn’t be kept waiting for too long. While silence descended in the wake of her theme, it only held sway briefly before the low throbbing beats of ‘Devil Within’ filled the arena.

Tris Harper sauntered out from behind the curtains a moment later, moving with a hip-shot swagger – the voluptuous redhead never shy of confidence whenever she stepped out onto LAW’s stage. And yet something was different; tonight, Scylla’s wrestling gear was concealed beneath a short black kimono patterned with coiling sea monsters to match her nom de guerre.

Tris adored it. It had been a gift from one of her fans since she arrived in Japan and she’d been waiting for the right moment to break it out. Wearing it, she looked sexy and dangerous, the dark silk perfectly setting off her pale skin and crimson locks.

She paused at the top of the ramp, running her hands up her body and through her mane of hair before spreading them wide in open invitation for the gathered fans to stare. While the applause for her might not match that for Eliza, there was still a significant part of the fanbase willing to cheer the gorgeous redhead – whether that be for her sex appeal or her submission wrestling skills. Or both, of course.

Ahead of her, in the ring, her gaze snagged for a heartbeat on the figure of her waiting opponent. Her third – fourth? – in LAW, but a fellow Brit; Tris felt almost right at home. A dancer too, though she understood Harenwood to be more at home on the ballet floor than Tris’ beloved pole. Easy to see why management had thrown them together, and Harenwood certainly posed a riddle or two worth sinking her teeth into.

Tris was looking forward to teasing her apart – not to mention showing her why a pole dancer’s legs beat a ballerina’s any day.

Reaching the ring, she disdained the steps in favour of a graceful, running leap that carried her up to the apron. Tris followed up with a little twirl, giving the front row a superb view of her full, powerful haunches as her skirt flared, before she dropped into a full front split with impressive ease.

The redhead held it for a beat, giving the fans a knowing curl of her lip, before she bent under the bottom rope and spun up to one knee. Though her head didn’t turn, her eyes flicked to where her opponent waited, Tris’ lush, dark red lips curling in a feline grin as she slowly drew her forefinger across her throat.

She held the pose for a moment, tilting her chin up, her lidded gaze playing over the ranks of faces – taking them in, relishing the power she held – before twisting to her feet like a cat.

[Deus001]

Eliza wasn't one to be outwardly entertained by her opponent's entrance displays, most were simplistic showboating from men who thought could impress the dancing passion. Or they wasted no time in getting down to it and facing her in the ring. Not so much with this one however. Eliza was instantly clocking her opponent with their exotic entrance with a fancy short kimono that contrasted her own elegant dress. And the colors too and even the people themselves were somewhat rooting for her when usually Eliza was the audience's darling.

Tris's running jump and splits too was something Eliza felt contrasted her own, Eliza never played up a seduction factor. It was never in her nature to play that up instead favouring grace, Tris though wore it on her sleeve and rocked it. Eliza kept herself neutral though and stretched and knew she couldn't play around thanks to her time on the British indies.

Eliza would effortlessly slip out of her mini ballgown and rested it on the iron corner post with her fans and masque underneath it, she assembled into her dance stance. Legs curled into a ballet stance with her arms down and tucked under her navel. Legs poised to move. "Good evening, I'm Eliza Harenwood your opponent. Let's have a good bout." Eliza said in a calm tone as she readied herself.