Beatrice Harper [D] vs Black Severin - Still Waters

[Liesmith]

Match Type: Standard
Victory Conditions: Pin, submission or knockout

It was midway through the evening and, with the dimming of the lights, the fans quietened to see what the night would bring for them next.

As the first words of ‘Devil Within’ echoed through the arena, Tris Harper pushed through the curtain for the first time on a LAW stage, sauntering out with her broad hips swaying in time with the beat of her theme. The curvaceous redhead paused for a moment at the apex of the ramp, running her hands up her body and striking an expert pose for the benefit of those fans nearby. A flash of a wink to the cameras and she was stalking her way down to the ring, eyes fixed forward as though the fans calling out or proffering hands didn’t exist.

As always before a fight, there was a barely contained anticipation thrumming through her veins, the keen expectation of imminent action, but this time measured with – if not worry – then at least cautious wariness.

These were her first steps onto a larger stage. She wanted it, needed it to be just right.

Her opponent… intrigued her. That her first match was against a man didn’t bother her. The size difference didn’t bother her. This Black Severin had a couple of inches and maybe twenty pounds on her. She’d fought bigger – had dismantled bigger back in the UK.

Those had been slow, puffing bodybuilders though with little training and less stamina. Not a professional wrestler in a professional wrestling ring. Which suited Tris down to the ground – sure, she liked to win but the risk made the reward so much sweeter. Beating jobbers paid the bills but, like stealing candy from babies, it was so easy as to be boring.

She wanted a challenge, something (or someone) she could tease apart. It’s why she’d taken up LAW’s offer, now she got to see if they were going to deliver. From what she’d seen looking him up, well… She liked what she’d seen.

Reaching the ring, she disdained the steps in favour of a graceful leap up to the apron, a little spin so that her half-skirt flared out to show off her full, muscular backside took her to a corner.

There, Tris boosted herself up, taking a seat atop the turnbuckle, crossing one meaty leg over the other as she settled herself comfortably so that the curves of her thigh flared with the power hidden underneath. Despite the seemingly insubstantial nature of her roost, the redhead seemed entirely secure in her position, one hand clasping the turnbuckle cable behind her as her support.

From her lofty perch, Scylla cast a glance around the arena before her hungry gaze zeroed in on the entrance – eager to catch her first glimpse of her opponent in the flesh and uncaring who saw. A small, unreadable smirk played about her full lips as she waited. Patient, as a spider in her web.