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.

[DSX93]

Entrance Jacket

Wrestling Gear

had been reminded of someone. A fierce redhead he'd faced months ago. In taking a look into Tris Harper, he couldn't help but wonder if someone had seen something there too.

Oh yeah. He'd seen her interview on the Fox Hole too. There was no missing those brutal scissorholds. Her body had been built damn strong all-around, but with killer legs in particular that could turn a watermelon to pulp in six seconds flat.

Scylla was different beast from Titania, though. Not just in where she'd come from -- both geographically and competitively -- but in who she is. She was more in your face. A touch more aggressive. And she was rather used to getting her way, he could tell. Expectant, almost. She glided about the arena, the ring, like they were the pole. The classic mats prepared for that private scuffle or a session.

Home. That was the word: Watching her on the television screen in gorilla, she was making it look like he was walking into her house.

Let's go get comfortable, then.

https://youtu.be/zuggR47-wtU

The darkened arena would be illuminated by it: On the screens, a bright 3D plasma ball that contained a swirling miasma of vibrant purples, pinks, and blues (with a red warning note for flashing lights in the corner). Each drone would trigger another explosion of light within it, electronic shockwaves that radiated for just a second before it faded, only for the next to spark it back to life. White lightning would flash in the background. The arena proper would be lit up with flickering purple strobe lights, in the same manner

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2Ch2lno8lU0

would be. Smoke would obscure the stage.

Severin and his Lady had come up with this mixture of their separate entrances for what was originally supposed to be a tag team match against the Takeuchi siblings, but the set-up had really struck a chord with him. Purple was already one of his favorite colors. Hell, it was the color of his favorite flower. The switch from what had previously been gold to go along with the black, and the other factors...They'd not only made him feel all the more connected to her, but also a little more grounded as a wrestler. He still hasn't decided on the song to come out to for his Hentai matches, but he had something locked down for the Standard stuff now. It was another step towards secured footing.

The masked man would step through the smoke, the purple lining and effects of his gear -- the emblem on the sleeve of his jacket (a domino mask enveloped in electricity), the contacts, the highlights in his hair -- glowing int he darkness that had been beaten back just enough to reveal his shape, but not his features. Not until a few seconds before the beat came in; that's when the spotlights started flashing. He stood in place, hood up, allowing a camerawoman working the stage the time to come in for a close-up shot that would be displayed on the jumbotron above for the viewing pleasure of those in the nosebleeds, and perhaps his opponent too. Starting at his booted feet, and slowing to a crawl when it reached his chiseled abs and traveled to his chest, eliciting some appreciative hooting and hollering from the ladies, and even some of the fellas.

A crooking pointer finger gestured for the camera to be risen, up to a playful grin.

"And introducing her opponent, standing at five feet and eight inches and weighing in at one hundred and eighty-five pounds...! From Milwaukee, Wisconsin...! Blaaaaaack! Seeeeveriiiin!"

He peeled his hood back and started on the way down to the ring, clapping any hands that were held out for him. With a few running steps, he slid beneath the bottom rope,

https://youtu.be/7okb0nDg5og?t=24

then kipping up into a three-point landing. Timed just right with the build-up to the beat drop, his hood flying back into place for maximum style. He held the pose. Waited for the second pulse in the build-up, then threw his head back, flipping the hood back off his head, and his dreads from his face so he could make eye contact with the camera outside of the ring. And then some footwork to set up the move that's become a staple of his entrances in the arena: The windmill.

The drop finally hit, and the strobes made the place look a lot more like a dance club. Some people were even busting a move, to varying degrees of success.

To match the amped up energy the arena had taken on, Severin transitioned to

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=D-j8mxDWU0I

eventually finishing up with a sweet

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=q5Xr0F4a0iU&t=78s

to make his way back onto his feet. He slid his jacket off, brought it around to his side, and tossed it over into the crowd before turning to the nearby Tris with a wave and an easy-going smile.

"Come on down! The water's lovely!"

[Liesmith]

While Tris had done what she considered her due diligence in looking up her opponent, she hadn’t actually checked out the guy’s entrance.

She was glad she hadn’t because now she was getting a better-than-front row seat for the live version. And she was digging it. It made her feel a little bit at home – the lights, the music… Hell, give her a pole and she’d have been in her element right there and then.

As it was, the redhead sat and watched, almost imperceptibly bopping her head in tune to the beat as she let herself enjoy the show all the way down to the ring. ‘Cause Severin, it turned out, had some sick moves to go with the looks (and the abs).

Tris couldn’t remember wrestling a man in a mask before. It leant Severin a certain air of mystery, of intrigue even though (or perhaps because) it barely covered any of his face. She liked it.

She could already tell she was going to enjoy rolling with him – she just hoped he could last. So many boys just didn’t have the stamina…

After he spoke, Tris peered down on him for a moment, trying to decide if he was mocking her with that ‘water’s lovely’ line – he knew what her own nom de guerre was, right? But his mask made the endeavour almost futile, certainly from this distance – for all that Tris prided herself on reading people at a glance.

Hmph.

Standing in a slow, sinuous motion, the redhead paused, as much to let her opponent and the cameras take her in from head to toe as to ensure she had the proper footing. Then she threw herself through an aerial cartwheel, landing in a three point stance of her own with feline grace. Tris rose with a hypnotic, predatory swaying motion and a toss of her hair, as though she was working a pole, throwing Severin a wide, almost wild grin as she came to her feet.

“Careful there, handsome,” she smiled, “Some waters run deeper than you think. And here-” She spread her arms theatrically wide to take in the ring around them, “Be monsters…”

Tris gave him a playful snap of her teeth, acting as if she was about to lunge though she didn’t actually follow through.

[DSX93]

The reference? Surprisingly, a complete accident. Words said without really thinking. In doing his research, he did look into that mythological sounding nickname. In his extensive experience -- his lifetime as a fan and year as an active participant -- with combat pro wrestling, he's seen that these things always have some meaning to look out for. Rarely chosen just because they sound cool, they often reveal something about the owner. Personality, tactics, fighting style...Something about who and what they are. Even "Black Severin" fell into it.

Going by that, it would be safe to assume that Beatrice here has that femme fatale thing going on. Certainly tracks. And he'd already figured that he should avoid taking this to the ground. Diving into the sea -- her sea, where she would most likely prove to be faithful to Charybdis too: Wanna cross? Don't have any goddesses or prophets to protect you or show you a safe route? Well, something bad's gonna happen. Pick your poison and hope you live to tell the tale.

But a means to slay the monster had been found in mythology, and there was a way to take her down too. Those legs, he felt, were the ticket.

Those thick, powerful legs. Mmm!

Their audience had scooted to the edges of their seats as she stood to length on the top rope. Steadily, with tight control of every muscle. A moment of pure design, intended to get that exact reaction. And to get his eyes sticking to her too. Ever the showwoman. And what the hell, he took the bait. She'd obviously put the work in, and he caught it. Enough of it, anyway: Game was recognizing game.

His purple eyes followed her arc through the air, all the way to a sweet landing that prompted a whistle from him. Yeah, that was the Charybdis that he was gonna have to face, but you when you're teaching yourself gymnastic maneuvers and you take up parkour, you learn real quick: That ain't easy. So to be at this level they're at, able to pull off moves like that and make it look like it is?

Respect.

And what a showwoman, indeed! Knowing just how to move to best show off her assets. Well, duh, but...damn!

That look she gave him. The bite she took out of the air...It was too bad that this wasn't a different kind of match. Because again, damn.

He acquiesced her point with a tilt of his head, shifting into a

that she might recognize. Only a tad different: No apples behind his back, and he had to use the ropes. "Yeah, I'll give you that." He answered with a defiant grin. "But sometimes the monsters have to be on the lookout too. The passersby don't always go down easy."

[Liesmith]

While Tris’ credentials as a proud mythology geek weren’t in question, she was not as well versed in Roman statuary despite her mum’s best efforts. Hence, even when she’d realised Severin was striking a particular pose rather than just slouching for effect, it took her a moment to place it.

But, when she did, she grinned, angling her head back as she eyed him with new-found appreciation – and more than a little interest. Tris hadn’t been sure what to expect from her first opponent but a reference to the Farnese Hercules?

Not on her bingo card. She was here for it, though it did leave her wondering. Was Severin truly into the classics or had he simply been eating his Wiki-flakes this morning? An odd place to go if so, given Heracles certainly wasn’t exactly the best known hero to tangle with the mythological Scylla. She allowed herself a mental shrug – didn’t really matter.

They weren’t going to be playing Trivial Pursuit tonight, though there might be some chasing involved in their dance.

Which was fine with Tris, for the record. Having him just lie down? Far less fun than getting to pin him down.

The Brit bombshell hummed in thoughtful response, taking a step closer. Then another and another, hips undulating, one leg crossing in front of the other with the deliberate grace of a gymnast walking the beam – or a model stalking the catwalk.

“Heard that one before,” she told him as she approached, “Guys, girls – everyone thinks they’re the hero of the story.”

Tris paused, just close enough that she could reach out, run the very tip of her gloved finger down the groove of his breastbone, right between those sexy pecs of his.

“Right up ‘til they find themselves on the mat with lil’ old me.”

Those pale, half-lidded eyes glinted like cold sunlight on midwinter ice, in stark contrast to the lopsided smirk quirking her full lips.

“How ‘bout you, sweetie? Think you can handle the pressure?”

[DSX93]

Wiki Flakes. They're grrrreat!

Severin had delved into mythological stories here and there, to research for his writing. Just a hobby nowadays, though he hadn't been blessed with a whole lot of time to indulge in it in the past year. Between his intensive workouts, managing his finances, focusing more on his other favorite pastimes, and spending time with Keira and the others, it wound up falling to the wayside, when at one time, he'd considered becoming an author.

Emilia was keen on keeping that creative spark alive, though. Every so often, she'd reach out for a good brainstorming session, and they'd bounce ideas for projects off of each other. He insisted on keeping his mask on whenever there's cameras around, so there wouldn't be many roles he could play for Morasanu Productions, but it's fun to drum stuff up with her. Even the darker content that she's into.

Tris threw another hook into the water, and like last time, he took the bait, eying her graceful approach with a mixture of desire and appreciation. But his muscles would at no point relax completely, akin to a predator at rest. His gaze would momentarily lock onto her lips -- those plump, succulent looking lips -- before returning to those pale blues as she issued her challenge.

His response?

"We'll just have to see about that..." He began, moving the arm he had behind his back. A couple fingers would sweep some of those red locks behind an ear and retract with a brush of the tips along her neck. Her jaw. "Won't we?"