Talk Loud, Walk Closer (for JustAUnicorn)

Ambushes, chats, and events taking place in the backstage area of the LAW arena go here .
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Talk Loud, Walk Closer (for JustAUnicorn)

Post by Letta »

The backstage corridor of LAW was quieter than the arena beyond it, though the distant roar of the crowd still carried faintly through the concrete walls. Laxia stood beneath the interview lights with her hands loosely folded in front of herself, posture straight and composed. She still wasn’t entirely accustomed to having a camera pointed directly at her outside of a match, but she had agreed to the interview nonetheless. The reporter beside her smiled toward the camera.
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Reporter: “Ladies and gentlemen, I’m here with one of LAW’s newest additions, Laxia! You haven’t been here very long, and there are already quite a few things people have been wanting to ask you.” Laxia gave a polite little nod. “Of course.” The reporter glanced down at her notes.

“So! How are you adjusting to LAW so far? Is it true your residence has its own helipad? Do you actually commute here by helicopter? Your ring gear has gotten quite a bit of attention, who designed it? What are your ambitions here as a rookie? Oh, and the swimsuit picture you posted on the ’gram was stunning, by the way. And there’s also a rumor that you left the arena with Bandita after your debut match. Any truth to that?” Laxia stared at her for a moment, then glanced down toward the reporter’s notes. “...Was I supposed to remember all of those?” The reporter laughed. “We can go back.”

“No, no...” Laxia drew in a small breath and began working through them. “LAW has been… interesting. I’m still getting used to everything, but people have been welcoming. And no, there is no helipad. I come by car… like everyone else does. Doesn’t everyone?” That was enough of an answer. There was certainly no reason to elaborate on who happened to be sitting in the driver’s seat. “As for my ring attire… LAW arranged it. It is… very different from what I requested.” Her brows drew together as she said it, lips pressing into the faintest pout. It was a restrained little flash of irritation, almost petulant in its own way, making it rather obvious that whatever LAW had done with her original request was still something of a sore point. “And my goals are simple. I want to improve, face stronger wrestlers, and eventually prove that I deserve to be here.” The reporter smiled.

“And the swimsuit photo?” “Oh, yes. Thank y-” Laxia abruptly stopped and turned toward her. “…That account is private.” Her eyes narrowed. “How did you see that?” “Moving on! Bandita.” Whatever suspicion had been building on Laxia’s face vanished immediately. “There’s a rumor that after your debut match, you and Bandita were seen leaving the arena together.” Laxia’s lips parted. “The.. two of us?” “Mhm.” “We merely...” Her gaze drifted away from the camera. “That is...” For someone ordinarily so careful with her words, Laxia suddenly seemed to have misplaced all of them. She cleared her throat. “We left at approximately the same time.” “Together?”

“...Next question.” The reporter’s smile widened, but mercifully she moved on. “There is something else people have been talking about. Your clothes.” “My clothes?” “Outside the ring. When you arrive at the arena, appearances, events. They’re obviously expensive, but there are almost never any obvious logos or giant branding. Very... quiet luxury. Would you ever consider having one of those designers make your ring gear?” “No.” The answer came without hesitation. “I don’t think that would be necessary. What someone wears isn’t especially important, at least not in wrestling. What matters is what someone can do once the bell rings.”

Laxia paused briefly before continuing. “You can dress yourself in expensive clothes, jewelry, bright colors… whatever you like. But making yourself look impressive doesn’t make your ability impressive.” The reporter went quiet for half a second before glancing down at her phone with the faintest trace of amusement. “Well, actually, that does bring me to something else. Someone recently posted a message aimed at the LAW roster. Apparently there are a whole lot of people around here ‘feelin’ themselves lately,’ but she hasn’t seen one that’s impressed her yet.” Laxia’s brow furrowed. “...Feelin’ themselves?” “Thinking very highly of themselves.” “Oh.” “Do you think she could have been talking about you...?”

For a moment, Laxia said nothing. Normally, she might have dismissed the idea without a second thought. There were plenty of women on LAW’s roster, after all. Yet the way the reporter was looking at her made the question linger a little longer than it should have. Her lips pressed together faintly. And perhaps it was simply bad timing. Her most recent loss was still fresh enough to leave a small bruise on her pride, one she had been doing her best not to prod at. Suddenly, words like impressed felt just a little more pointed than they otherwise might have. Laxia’s eyes narrowed by the slightest degree before her expression settled again.

“I wouldn’t know.” She tilted her head, her tone remaining composed. “And if she does have something to say about me, I find it rather strange that I should have to hear about it through somebody else’s telephone.” A faint edge had crept beneath the softness of her voice. “I simply don’t think very highly of people who make grand statements from somewhere safely out of sight. In my experience, people who talk loudly from behind everyone else are rarely quite as impressive when they actually have to stand in front of you.” Something briefly drew the reporter’s attention past Laxia’s shoulder. Laxia caught the glance from the corner of her eye, though she didn’t turn to follow it. Instead, she finished calmly,

“If someone has something to say about me, I’d rather they stop hiding behind a screen and say it to my face.”
Last edited by Letta on Fri Aug 14, 2026 6:40 am, edited 1 time in total.
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Re: Talk Loud, Walk Closer (for JustAUnicorn)

Post by JustAUnicorn »

Only moments after her last match, Jazmine’s thumbs were already flying. A juicy little message had gone out on her socials, and the replies were rolling in nice and steady. Her debut run had been loud, flashy, and impossible to ignore, which was exactly how she liked it. But now that the initial spectacle had cooled, the Street Queen found herself in the worst possible position: bored.

She’d already changed out of her ring gear and was wandering the backstage halls in street clothes which consisted of a designer fit loud enough to turn heads. Louis bag slung over one shoulder, chains around her neck, fresh Jordans on her feet, the works. She settled onto a production crate with her phone in one hand and a half-finished drink in the other, messily slurping through the straw while she scrolled. That was when a cluster of reporters hurried past her, cameras and mics in tow, heading toward a room around the corner. Jazmine’s eyes tracked them, interest piqued before she eventually slid off the crate and followed.
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Rounding the corner, she found the familiar sights and sounds of an interview setup, lights, cameras, overlapping voices. Center stage stood a petite woman with bright orange hair still in her wrestling gear, posture perfect, speaking in that soft, careful tone that made Jazmine’s mouth scoff with disgust. She didn’t recognize the face at first, but the questions painted the picture fast enough: helipads, expensive clothes, "quiet luxury", whatever the fuck that meant. Some rich girl playing wrestler. Cute.

She leaned against the corner of the doorframe, staying out of sight and out of mind at first as she continued scrolling on her phone. Then the reporter brought up Jazmine’s own tweet. Her thumb froze on the screen. Eyebrows furrowed as she looked up again. She hadn’t been talking about this girl. Hell, she hadn’t even known the chick existed five minutes ago. She’d just been fishing, dropping bait into the LAW pond to see who would bite. But as Laxia answered, Jazmine’s lips slowly curled into a grin. “I simply don’t think very highly of people who make grand statements from somewhere safely out of sight"

Oh damn. She really said that.

Jazmine lowered the bottle from her lips… then burst out laughing, loud and deliberately obnoxious. Every head in the room snapped toward the sound. Cameras pivoted. Reporters scrambled to reframe. There she was, leaned against the doorframe, nearly doubled over, one hand still holding her drink. “Girl,” she called out, still catching her breath, “you really shouldn’t be sayin’ stuff like that when I’m walkin’ around back here.”

She pushed off the wall and sauntered forward, Jordans tapping against the concrete with ever step. She stopped a few feet from Laxia, tilted her head, and gave the orange-haired woman a slow, open once-over, all the way from her hair to the pristine gear to that carefully composed face.
“Well, look at this.” Jazmine took another casual sip. “I walk in here bored as hell and find myself standin’ in front of Miss Fancy Pants herself.” She glanced toward the nearest reporter with a crooked grin. “Y’all didn’t tell me LAW was doin’ interviews with royalty now.” A few of the media people chuckled. Jazmine’s smile widened as she turned back to Laxia.

“You look confused, baby, so allow me. I’m Jazmine DeLuxe. The Street Queen. The one you apparently been talkin’ about without even knowin’ it.” She gestured loosely at herself, like the introduction should have been unnecessary. “Remember the name. You’re gonna be hearin’ it a whole lot more.” She folded her arms, still studying Laxia with open amusement.
“Now I ain’t gonna lie, I can see why they all thought my tweet was about you. You walk around here lookin’ like Daddy Warbucks dressed you to play pretend wrestler in the ring.” She shook her head, laughing under her breath. “That’s some funny shit. Everything about you is screamin’ ‘Please notice how refined I am.’ The attitude. The outfit. The posture. The little princess routine. Baby, you’re dressed like a fuckin’ chandelier. So don’t lecture anybody about presentation.”

She took another slow drink, letting the silence hang for a second before her voice settled into something more pointed. “See, that’s where me and you are different. I’m from the streets. Everything I got, I worked for. Every piece of this?” She gestured at herself. “Mine. Every dollar, every scar, every damn bit of respect. I earned that shit.” She tapped two fingers against her chest. “Jazmine DeLuxe does that all by herself.” She took one final step closer, eyes locked on Laxia’s.

“So when I hear somebody standin’ here talkin’ all proper about poise and class… I’m lookin’ at you like, girl, who the hell are you tryin’ to impress…‘Cause it sure as hell ain’t me.”

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