Angelina Tarrant vs Shimmerlace Snuggleblossom - Gibbet Match

[Monsy]

A truck lifted off her shoulders when she heard it.
Ding fucking ding.
She sat on her legs, finally taking that deep breath in. God it sucked. There wasn’t enough oxygen around to really gain her wind back. Panting is just the norm. And it’s times like these, where the threat is gone, the hype instincts all putter away and your mind and body become separate once again -- you can tell yourself to calm and push. None of that anymore. The wounds bit with serrated teeth. One’s a pudgy, sticky grape leaking all sorts of juice with disfigured clotting. Her skull got itself a goosebump. Pirate Jesus knows she isn’t quite seeing singular. A bit of fruit punch was still in the water. She had that trickle down her head. Both eyes dilated until the pupil was hardly even a thing -- just black, surrounded by red and mountain range veins. Her tears and blood still trickle off the sun. She's a ghost-pale face from hairline to chin, looking up, sighing.

The key is taken off her head, still holding the thread where it’s hooked on her thumb. She dragged her knees along until she hit the outside of the cage. Her forehead met the bars, tilted down. “Heyy -- Shimland. Want some advice from an idiot?” Angelina blinked slowly, carrying a resting bitch face, “What ya can’t take -- ya don’t get. What ya can’t defend, ya don’t keep. Everythin’ and everyone is on an open pedestal and up for grabs if ya can hop high enough. So, don’t just lay there like a clipped fairy bitch who lost one fuckin’ game.”

Her key wielding hand went between the bars, still having the wool thread off her thumb. The key swung idly and Angelina kept her eyes locked on Shimmer herself. A fucking mess. Aye, but nothing she wasn’t either. “Get up -- and get me.”

[Malkavia]

Drip, drip, drip…

On a cruise ship, water is ubiquitous—you find it in the sea, in the swimming pool, in the thousands of pipes carrying liquid from cabin to cabin. So although she couldn’t see it, Charlotte wasn’t surprised to hear the split, splat of water from somewhere in the hull overhead dropping to the deck near the gibbet. By the third drip, her lips curled and jaw clenched. The fourth made her cringe.

Drip, drip…

The gibbet was tall enough for Charlotte to stand but barely wide enough for her to lay in a curled-up ball. It hadn’t been five drips, but her back already ached from spine pressing on iron, knee to her chest, head to the bars. The rest of her aches settled in, too, like one or two or three dozen orange coals growing hotter and brighter, smokier. Drip drip drip. Muscles tightened, and the open wounds started to itch. A week. She could barely tolerate seven drips, and this would go on for a week…

Focus on the kernel. The core fact. Charlotte forced herself to sit, then breathed deep—five seconds in, nine seconds out, like Madeleine had taught her. Her fists clenched. One week. Acknowledge that it’s real. It hurt. But it was finite. A week would pass, and then—then the empty bedroom. She choked, then sniffed on the third of her nine seconds out.

Heyy — Shimland

Charlotte’s eyes inched open as slits between huge welts, but she could see, if foggily, exactly what she expected—violet. And a key. Shimmerlace’s fingers twitched against the iron base of her cage. Pink gazed into the gleam of treasure. Drip, drip, drip, drip…

It was finite. All pain is fleeting. This too shall pass. Would it, though? Was she whiner enough to allow such a thing?

Shimmerlace darted for Angelina’s wrist.

[Monsy]

Almost there, girl. Quit layin’ down. This is what I came for.
You can live with being hurt. Shit comes and goes. Amongst all infinite things, like the water and air, the crowd’s murmurs and mixed reception to the outcome. Pinkies and pirates. Ya fantastical crew, got to watch an extra special episode on their favourite pair -- an undercard bout that simply leads into the next. Two small comets in one larger galaxy of a show. That just wasn’t cutting it. Where’s the fun in just leaving?

Angelina’s wrist snaps back, far out of reach. The key is put back around her neck, she holds the bars, pushes and grunts. Her knees tremble, and she chews on her lips, almost cutting it until she lands on her feet, groaning as she’s careful not to lean too far one way.

“I’m happy that ya still with me. Because I got one last trick for ya.”

AHEM--

She walked over to the staff, leaned over on one foot, whining and swiping her little fingers to pick it up, stumbling when she straightened, but combing her hair back. It’s used as a cane, walking to the pool’s edge, then lifting it up, pointing at the stands. One point for each section.

“Ahoy all ya fuckin’ pickpockets, penny thieves, petty perpetrators, marauders, pirates and bandits! All ya fuckin’ low lives, look here, yo! Look here and only here when I tell ya, this ship is fuckin’ OURS! Yeah! It belongs to each and every one of us! And I say, for all ya time, all ya attention, ya fuckas deserve a little more pinchin’ for ya penny, eh? That’s why I bring ya…”

She points at the gibbet, and Angelina paused to cough a couple times, then continued.

“--The cage with our de-winged Scion! Naked and tired, bleedin' and beaten but still has the itch to take MY gold. I say, to the pink rapscallion who still bites, and to the petrifyin' pillory that held our kind, kept our thievin’ hands bound and our bodies still so they can hang us without a head! -- What shall we do before we let her skin flake, peel and rot under the summer plight?”

The crowd murmurs. Her staff points out, slowly going from one side to the other, “Anyone?”

Finally, she got someone. Skull shirt, eye shadow, black hair and way more muscle than her. Which wasn't hard. “TIP THE BITCH!”

“AYE?” Angie pointed her out.
“TIP THE LITTLE PINK BITCH!”
“Aaahhh! Yes! I fuckin’ love it! Alright, yee hardy miscreant crew.” Angelina walked, more like limped toward the gibbet, then pointed to it. “All in favour of tippin’ our sour tired fairy, SHOUT AYE!”

“AYE!” The crowd said, semi in unison. More joined in late. You can see the fairy marks begin to look at themselves, bite their lip. Large swaths start to stand -- from singular brave souls to pairs and friend groups.

“I said, all in favour of tippin’ Shimmahlace Snuggleblossom, get over here and shout AYE AYE!!”

“AYE AYE!!” That oughta do it.
You got sections of bleachers now displaced. Your colony of fans that begin to move congregate at the fenced gates. Security be damned. Some stay behind here on the other side of the pond. But a good sum also climbed over, the daring who came in small clumps as Angelina laughed to herself, looking at Shimmer and offering a shrug. Low and behold, it’s a mixed party from pirates to fairies.

“Don’t take it too hard, Shimma. It just goes to show -- this breed of dorkstick will do anythin’ to anyone if ya give them a pass. Papah’ thin loyalty, I tell ya. But, what can ya do?! Haha! Alright--”

A good number surrounded the Gibbet. They’re all congregated around the Marauder and Seelie Scion, many ranks deep. Angelina points Shimmer’s staff. Many put their hands on the bars.

“-- On three. ONE. TWO. THREE!!”

All together. They push. Our dear eye-shadow friend took the lead -- to teeter the steel goliath off its base to the edge, over and yonder to see it smash against the deck.

[Malkavia]

Bars caught the fairy and treasure floated away. Shimmerlace pressed her face to the bars, glowered. Bars bars bars—for a whole week. That would be the hardest pill to swallow, she realized. All that wasted time when she could be spinning and gathering.

The Pixie couldn’t help but enjoy what Angelina said next. Her speech carried glittering sonority like it was delivered to the high arches of the Golden Lord’s hall. Bombast, color—she almost found herself nodding along, until she realized where it was headed. Then she sighed and collapsed back into a sitting position.

She recognized a handful of faces—people who’d lit up with delight when she pulled the King of Diamonds from her deck of cards. She’d thought there had been connection, something personal, an exchange. She gave her work as a gift, and their gift was an upward turned face, bright eyes, grins. Like the hundreds of assistants in her performers’ memory. It was her wee mental treasure, shared with not a soul but often revisited.

As the crowd formed under Angelina’s stolen baton, Shimmerlace stared at them. Ladies and Gentlemen of the Eastern Hemisphere… She did not blink or speak. Her fists clenched in her naked hips. The marks formed a mass against the gibbet. Up close, you could see the flaws harder to catch from an auditorium’s length: the acne on the face, the scrawniness of their arms, the unironed shirt, the sheen of sweat from the summer heat. One big boy huffed from the exertion of climbing down a flight of steps.

In the week to come, Shimmer would revisit this moment, when they crowded and pressed together like ants rolling over some carcass for the hive. A couple of the Pinkies got stuck in front, a crowd behind them. Pressed against the bars, they had no room to maneuver. It would have been easy for Shimmerlace to dart up to them, grab their head, pull them in. Sink her teeth into their nose and suck on the blood. Easy.

When the gibbet fell, it tipped off its raised platform, meaning that in addition to rotating horizontal, both it and Shimmerlace fell half a foot in addition to deck. Shimmer’s shoulder blade and hip banged against iron bar as another GONG zithered in the air.

”Fuuuuckin...fuck—” The shadow of two bars cut across the face as the coterie milled and cheered around her. The sickly sweat sheen on the fairy’s face grew shinier as she gasped and clutched her side. Anyone caring to watch could see the pain welling in her face, from blanched white to rosy red, from grit teeth to arched neck. Gasps became audible as she slammed a fist into the deck, repeatedly. ”C-cunts…fuckin'...cunts...”

Or, as she would later come to more inclusively express it, cunts and cuntesses.

[Monsy]

Ya just don’t know what ya can do until ya strut. Walkin that walk and talkin like ya know what ya doin. It would’ve been awkward if it failed. Hilarious -- maybe, but aye, look at that. A whole army came to the rabbit-skull banner, heaving and hawing, giving one - two and three big pushes until it crashed. It’s a steel clap that gives your eardrums a nice slap. Angelina pops her brows up, whistles, “Phew…”

Cheers cackled like flames before, but now you just chucked in the gasoline. It’s a whole fuckin’ fan op with no lines and fewer boundaries. Cameras are taken out. Flashes are semi-common. Your naked, busted-up Scion and your half-naked busted-up Pirate, captured in an assortment of shots as personal space wanes. Can they even bother to see their pale and blemished faces? Just whose blood are they walking on, right now on this deck? Who’s bruises are they pointing at? Lacerations. Dislocations. Ya possible concussions. Bitten hands. Sheesh.

Angelina stared, worked up a grin and poked the deck with her staff.

“ALRRRRRRIGHT!” It grabbed their eyes, watching her hobble and struggle to pick up the pile of torn clothes, tubes, plastic ears and accessories. Yet she stands up again. Like always. Sometimes when you’re riding someone’s wave, you can think of them as invincible. That’s the only way to describe it. Expectant stares.

“Ya girl A.T got a gift for thee hardy miscreant crew! Spoils of our take!”

And she tossed it into the crowd. Underhand in this great ball that fell apart into fragments. Everything but the barrette. They grabbed it. Ripped it. Tore everything to get their fair share of the loot. How much would this shit sell online?? Just WAIT til social media sees this!! Mine has spicey soap on it!!

It kept those goofballs distracted, enough for Angelina to walk up to the cage, put the cane down to lean on and hover over the cage, tilting her head to meet the eyes of Shimmerlace Snuggleblossom. Or was it someone else? “Oi, cunt.” Said in her best mimicry of Shimmer’s voice. “The soonah ya laugh at this, the soonah this becomes fine. Feel me?” She nodded, chuckling almost. “Probably not. Stay pink, Shimma.”

Angelina turned around, standing tall and limping away.

[Malkavia]

Angelina Tarrant wins via gibbet capture!