A Light to Call Her Own: Winter Songbird vs Shimmerlace Snuggleblossom (Apex Qualifier)

[Malkavia]

Fortissimo. The word made Shimmerlace cringe. As if homegirl hadn’t swung enough strikes already, she had to pull on the kinds of metaphors that rung too close to ye olde maison d’or home. Still, curled nose to the side, Shimmerlace gave her opponent the space she needed to spruce up the outfit—Lord of the Hunt knows she could respect that much. But it’d be the last quarter Winter would be receiving.

—And possibly the last she’d need, if her next featherburst was any indication. In spite of all the intricacy of her outfit, once Winter got moving, she could blur. Black and pink and purple melted together in a whirl as she lowered into her ball, and Shimmerlace barely had the time to reflex into a grin.

The burst of force knocked the boot out from under the fairy. Her back slammed the ground, and she had to spiral around her own spine like a cat finding its feet to get her belly against the mat. A sharp intake of breath cuts her throat, and now her eyes settled glittering on Winter.

If she can move like that…

Time to get moving herself. The Seelie Scion pumped her thighs, put some OOMPH in the mat, and charged to meet Winter halfway with a spear into the now-soaring bird’s gut.

[Monsy]

This woman was wonderful.
So full of advice and kind things to say. The yelling was such a welcome passionate empathy and the earlier knee was caring and sweet. She even had the gentleness to hold her wrists and set her back down on her feet. And now, she gave her another chance. A true best friend made in five minutes. How could she not bend to their request? Full steam ahead, and it dropped them, hopefully as they wanted. And Winter used that landing like a baseball slide, and made a smooth ascent, catching the ground and coming back up.

One hand went across her midsection, and another up over her head, fingers flexed and spread to present herself dignified, with closed-eyes and shameless smiles for all to bask. She twirled when coming up, stopped with a firm stomp, then turned around.

And they were right there.
BAM! -- Up raised a knee, straight from the Songbird’s second verse, with a quick left to see this woman’s nose become a mould to her striking bone.

[Malkavia]

BAM — up raised the knee, alright, straight from the corner of Shimmer’s vision, after Shimmer had crossed the line past which she'd judged any such counter to be impossible. The speed was breathtaking—almost enough to distract from the cannon-ball dent that knee left on the brick wall of her jawbone. Clutching at her jaw, she stumbled off and away.

It was the kind of strike that leaves the deck of a girl’s ship swaying, up and down until just weaving her feet flat and staying upright is a task that needs effort. She shook her head, spat, and rounded on Winter. Steady now, Shim.

What was this girl’s trick, though? The fairy squinted and rubbed her jaw as she took half a second to glance from boot to dress to lacy mask. It was hard to see past the sweet-girl smile. Serene and light as a cherub was she, you could almost see the wings sprouting out of her back. Was she laughing, under all that silk, or…

—Didn’t matter. Shimmerlace charged again, only this time she pumped. Boot into the mat, full gale ahead, fast as a fairy can fly…which she knew wouldn't be as fast as bird could loop, which was why when she'd got within leaping distance, dive into a baseball slide and aim to grab our Masked Nestling around the knees in a suprise attempt at a takedown.

[Monsy]

By all things glittery and sweet… Ow.
She took a skull to the knee. Even when postured up, bringing forth counter-force, the collision created a spike right through the joint, and she would’ve collapsed if they didn’t stop dead like deer in headlights. She cringed, twisted and contorted that look as she made her hobble away. Weight on the foot was like over-extending the bent knee. Like somehow, making her leg straight was asking the leg to bend forwards. The Songbird’s smile piped up, even if uneasy, turned to face then ate a fairy bull charging into her legs.

She flew.
Hit the mat with a quiet, but painful thud. It’s the kind of winding strike that puts her lungs into double-time. She heaves, but isn’t stagnant. Instead, she works on getting herself up on her elbows, a hand pushed onto Shimmer’s head to stall it. Her legs wrestled and writhed, to pry one leg out, put it on the shoulder and wedge her second. If that didn’t work, then her leg would find itself wrapping over Shimmer’s nap, moving her upper-body to align with Shimmer’s collar, use that leg to envelope the neck on both flanks and hook her toes beneath the other knee. Headscissor.

[Malkavia]

Power had never been the fairy’s dream when it came to wrestling. She preferred to feel the wind in her face as her body soared. But as she lifted Winter in her arms like a sack of potatoes, she started to think there might be something to this muscly, growly business. It had almost the same feeling as Sky: You arc up, over, down and—THUD, as a grin curled at a face starting to glow.

Then Winter’s legs slipped around her throat. They were soft at first. Most wrestlers at LAW were beauties with smooth skin, but with Winter the touch was like velvet. A bunny-rabbit touch that made the hairs stand up on the back of Shimmer’s neck, until they tightened.

“GRK—”

The squeeze filled Shimmer’s head with high-pressure blood. Her skin turned purple, which tingled on the skin and made her nose feel numb. Splotches in her vision failed, as if her eyesight was a canvas and holes had been torn in its center, black and fuzzy. Spittle bubbled at her lips, as she kicked and squirmed.

A plan unfurled in her head on instinct. The first step would be to get her belly facing the ground, so she clenched her teeth and aimed to yank a barrel-roll inside Winter’s clutches.

[Monsy]

It got easier from here on. Two legs sunk around Shimmer’s head, which left her upper-half to do whatever. Just what was she supposed to do? Maybe, oh maybe, if she wasn’t too busy staring at her Sun’s fishnet legs then she would’ve retained more of that specific lesson. Maybe. Posture up? Take a seat, put the hands down, back and straight down beneath your shoulders, then squeezy-squeeze. The way they looked had brought her to smile. She was doing good, it seemed. “Laaa..Le-La. Hm-hum-hm~…” And she started to hum as they kicked and tossed, rejuvenating her lungs. At first, it’s nothing that really concerned her position. Arms taut, thin but strong. Sitting, almost, where she can counter-weight and let herself slide than fight everything which she couldn’t.

So she thought.
“AH!” Winter is tossed. She flops on her front and feels a little turned around like she stared out the back of her head, and there was lag input keeping it from correcting. Just a touch of motion sick. “… Pink.... croco-dill.” Winter huffed under her breath, then pushed on the canvas to try and seat Shimmer’s shoulder blades. Once there, she raised her arms like a bird about to take flight, then flapped with open palms to strike over Shimmer’s ears. Clap!

[Malkavia]

The odd thing was that Winter's hands hit at slight intervals. The left one popped first, then the left. Pa-pop! That made the instant vertigo feel a bit less like a spin and more like a gloopy, wobbly kind of gyroscope. She flinched, grabbed her ears.

"C-crocodile?" She was outraged. Her boots scraped the canvas, sliding until her toes found purchase. She wanted to lift Winter, and that meant pushing forward to get under so she could engage her thighs and deadlift. "Where in the devil'd owl's fuckin' banjanxed skull did you get fuckin' crocodile? What, 'cause o' the...the fuckin' spin?"

Actually, the deadlift wasn't so bad, once she got the momentum moving—like giving a piggy back ride to the wee sis, if you had plans for braining your kin against the nearest sharp corner. So, exactly like giving a piggy back ride to the sis. The challenge was holding steady after that PA-POP sent the world all whirligig.

"Fuuuuuck sake. Crocodile. I mean I get it, but..." Alright—there's the center. Shimmerlace found it between her boots and settled. She took a deep breath. "How about like WHIRLY' DUST DEVIL or—fuck I dunno, Songbird, but—crocs? Crocs are ugly wee beasties. Tho I guess the grin's neat. Anyway, eat shit."

Something Shimmer was discovering she appreciated about Winter was just how light the girl was. It was another argument for strength: bulk up and the world gets lighter. Notes for another day. In any case, it allowed Shimmer to try things like squatting and jumping to toss Winter off her shoulders, tossing her over Shimmer's head and down into a grip primed for a suplex.

[Monsy]

Well! That was the hard part in Winter’s plan dustin and doned. Getting them all dizzied up and helpless. It was a progressing plan. One that she made up on the fly, and it changed, changed and changed to whatever Shimmerlace did. All good plans were flexible, they say, especially when it came to its one simple objective. . . .

Currently, that objective switched to surviving. Shimmerlace had gotten up too fast for Winter’s liking — with some discrimination against reptiles to booting! Winter had wobbled and stretched her arms out into a wingspan. “Wooaah! Where are you going to?”

Up. The world got a decent amount smaller and Winter was taller than she’d ever been. How tall could they be? Maybe seven feet with the head piece? Heh. If only she could wave to you-know-who. Then, she’d ask her love just what exactly was Shimmer saying.

“Eeeehh?” And it went on for glitter ever. Winter never endured a mind-fuck before, where it went through the ears and into the brain to turn you all mellow-eyed, brain goopy and losing IQ out your nostrils but here it was: gibberish. “Please-uh… repeat?”

But Shimmer’s customer service was dogshit and downright abusive, tossing her overhead and into the open air. Winter had reflexes to either roll and place her hands out in front. Then, Shimmer had sunk a grip into her midsection — right into the belly button, where her abdominals crunched over them. Winter reached out and grabbed the ropes to stop this momentum flat. Like expired soda. “I think we stay here.”

[Malkavia]

You can just grab the ropes?

Fuck.

All this time. All those dizzying little suplexes into the stratosphere, that Shimmerlace ATE LIKE IT WAS BEEF ON TACO TUESDAY, and you could...grab the fuckin' rope.

FUCK.

Shimmerlace stood at the edge of the ring, a Winter captured in between her gable-locked mitts, staring with furrowed brow at her prey like she'd just seen a leprechaun breakdance in her Seelie Court. "Y'know, I should really be thanking you right now. On behalf of future incarnations of this fairy and other matches and the like." she intoned, looking down Winter. "But eh...." She shrugged, then flexed her hips and aimed scooped the girl up by her slender, kicking little legs. "Still gonna have to chuck you outta the ring, though."

Up and over the top rope, was the plan, like a sack of potatoes, with a suicide dive to follow glimmering in the back of the Feychild's mind.

[Monsy]

Winter was surprised too..
Especially when she learned what you could do to avoid all those flippy-slippy-dippy moves.
Just walk awa-- No. She shouldn't jinx it, because that was the peanut butter on her soda crackers. And while telepathy hadn't been invented yet, she was taking no chances.

"You welcome! But, can we skipping on the--" Nope, you most certainly cannot.

Winter's hips nearly rose above her torso. Instead, they came forward, curled into a coil and the dump became more like a catch. Two feet on the top ropes, perched perfectly in a sudden momentum that saw the entire rope shake. She let go at once, then spung into a twisting dive. Her head careened back, arms spread, legs flung. A flying projectile that tried to swallow Shimmer's upper torso into her angelic shadow. Crossbody!