It had been quite some time since Camilia had stepped into the ring. Her time as of late had been spent recovering from a recent drunken ambush. Her mind is still hazy from that night but she recalls the face, the voice. She can feel her anger surge, like a burning hatred attempting to overtake her and make her rampage like her namesake. Clasping her worst she shakes herself away from that thought. The two weren’t one and the same, her opponent tonight had nothing to do with it, a sigh leaves the bull’s lips as she calms herself.
In her pursuit for revenge, the Latina pushed herself to her limit feeling the pressure of it all on her shoulders until she built up her body from the ground up. Her mothers gift which she wore with pride was now too small to slip past her shoulders. Even so the Bull laid it over her shoulders, content with this at least now the threat of damaging it is off her mind. Her usual shorts were gone as well, replaced with with tights and her usual brown snake skin boots were replaced with white boots, adorned with snake skin. Pleased with the results but an outcome she didn’t expect.
Her fingertips settle over her left eye, covered by a patch as it heals for how long? Not even she knows that. It had been difficult at first bumping into things outside her peripherals, focus askew but over time she managed to overcome it and built her confidence in a strong foundation. When she returned and received the invitation, Camilia was ready for action, not even the recent attack could keep La Toro Blanca down.
With her locker door shut, she heads out adorning a hat her brother had sent as a get well gift. Camilia was eager to get her life back together, the one piece she had been missing for so long with it now just within reach. Following the symbolic yellow brick road, she arrived just to see her opponent settle into the ring as their theme died down. Only for her own to begin.
The drum roll leads into a blast of trumpets signaling for her to appear. Like an explosion, The white haired Latina bursts out from the curtains the crowd mixed with fans old and new shout in surprise and admiration to see the familiar face. Standing there, taking it in, this was the life she missed and just down this ramp was the part that would tie it together.
Camilia didn’t showboat at the entrance like her usual self, instead she’d head down the ramp, focused and collected. This was definitely out of the ordinary but she felt a good first impression had to be made with results not poses. Nearing the ring, the Latina would inspect her opponents build, rather impressed with her physique that matched her own. She supposed she did say she wanted a challenge well here they were, prepped and waiting for her arrival.
Climbing those steel steps, she’s reminded of the matches before, this would be her rebirth, her night to be alive again. As she slipped into the squared trap, she makes no effort to pose or gain any brownie points with the fans. She could feel it, this one wasn’t someone she could take lightly. With a beckon of her finger, the official steps up to her. The Latina in one shift motion removes the jacket, handing off to the referee for safe keeping before placing her hat in their head.
”Could you do me a huge favor and make sure nothing happens to these? They’re super important.” she explains with a gentle nod from the red who quickly folded it up and tucked it away.
She grins as she turns to get another good look at her rival for the evening. Roughly the same height, bulky just like her, she could tell from a mile away that this was going to be difficult. Then again, no one said this job was easy.
”Hey there, chica, guess it’s you and me tonight, eh? Don’t let this eye patch fool you, La Toro Blanca is [ready to go]. Camilo couldn’t help but slip into her mother tongue when she was pumped. She extends a hand to shake, showing her pure intention for a friendly match.
”Let the best woman win, right?”
