Nova Steele
Cassandra Blake
Name: Cassandra BlakeCassandra Blake
Stage Name: Nova Steele
Age: 26
Birthday: June 3rd
Hair Color: Pink
Eye Color: Blue
Height: 180 cm / 5’11”
Weight: 84 kg / 185 lbs
Alignment: Babyface
Nationality: American
Fighting Style: Powerhouse Professional Wrestling/Momentum Striker
★Appearance★
Wrestling Gear
Wrestling Gear2
Wrestling Gear3
Rear View
Casual
Poolside
Exhausting Defeat
Starcourt - To Hell and Back
Crust Buster - Spinning back fist.
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Orbit Breach - Opponent is lifted into a held muscle buster position before being swung out into a power slam.
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★Likes★
Romance Novels: Still a guilty pleasure, especially ones that are space adventures.
Massages: Professional massages primarily, though she won't turn down a nice shoulder rub.
Oversweetened Coffee: Sugar will do, but she prefers lots of caramel.
Bubblegum Flavored Ice Cream: Sugar will do, but she prefers lots of caramel.
Lavish Bedsheet: For... no reason. No reason at all.
★Dislikes★
Butterless Popcorn: Just a little salt and butter go a long way.
Alarms: Loud sirens and repetitive beeps annoy her.
Snapout: While enthralled by her impending defeat, an opponent does or says something that snaps her out of her dreamy haze.
★Personality★
Cassandra Blake lives in two worlds, and neither feels entirely her own. In the ring, as Nova Steele, she’s a figure of strength and defiance, standing tall against punishment with a grit that wins admiration even in defeat. But that same resilience masks a dangerous truth: Cassandra is vulnerable not just to her opponents’ holds, but to her own hidden cravings. The pain, the closeness, the sensation of being bent or beaten down… these ignite something in her she cannot deny. It makes her flustered, reckless, and, in the hands of a calculating enough rival, utterly exploitable. Some opponents stretch holds longer just to watch her squirm, and the crowd reads her crimson cheeks as determination when, deep down, it’s something far messier.
This duality defines her. She wants to be the noble heroine, unshakable and incorruptible, but she can’t escape the thrill of surrender. She hates it in the moment. Hates that she blushes when she should grit her teeth, hates that losing makes her heart race faster than winning… but afterward, when the aches fade and the adrenaline cools, she can’t help but crave it again. It’s a cycle of shame that she slowly, reluctantly, is learning to savor.
Outside the ropes, Cassandra is warm, approachable, and genuinely kind to those around her. She listens more than she talks, is generous with encouragement, and still tries to live up to the “good girl” her upbringing demanded of her. To fans, she’s gracious and sincere, always thanking them, always smiling even when she’s battered. Among peers, she’s respectful and unpretentious, treating even rookies as equals.
Her struggle is that she wants desperately to reconcile the two sides, the honest, good-hearted Cassandra who believes in dignity, and the side of herself that blooms in the heat of struggle, where desire stains her sense of purity. She tells herself she’s tainted by it, a heroine gone crooked. And yet, in the quiet moments when she lets go of guilt, she admits to herself that it's what she enjoys.
★History★
Cassandra Blake was raised in a household where obedience was gospel and joy was rationed like a sin. A strict Catholic upbringing shaped every part of her childhood: prayers before every meal, curfews carved in stone, and a private all-girls school where individuality was something to be smothered, not celebrated. Each day bled into the next. The same uniforms, the same rote lessons, the same silent reminder that expression was dangerous, frivolity forbidden.
And then came contraband.
One of her classmates smuggled in a stash of pulpy romance novels, their spines cracked, their pages dog-eared, the kind of books meant to be hidden under a mattress. Cassandra opened one out of idle curiosity and found her universe rewritten. The heroine wasn’t some chiseled knight or charming rogue. She was a woman. A swashbuckling space explorer with blazing confidence, whirlwind romances, and no patience for apologies. She fought, she loved, she lived loudly. Everything Cassandra had been forced to repress came alive in those pages.
She devoured the stories in secret, flashlight in hand, the words staining her imagination. To her, the dashing spacefarer wasn’t just a character, she represented freedom incarnate. Desire, danger, and shameless femininity. For a girl told to sit down, smile politely, and never want too much, it was intoxicating.
College cracked the cage wide open. With her parents’ grip loosened, Cassandra found new friends, and those friends dragged her along to her first wrestling show. The lights, the music, the roar of the crowd, it was theater with muscles, melodrama made flesh. It reminded her instantly of the stories she used to sneak, only here the larger-than-life heroes weren’t on the page but breathing in front of her. She was transfixed.
Wrestling became her new obsession. She switched her major to theater, thinking she’d find her path on the stage, but life had other plans. When graduation came and the auditions fizzled, she stumbled into wrestling training as a stopgap. What began as “temporary work” quickly became the most real thing she had ever known. The training was brutal but exhilarating, each slam and suplex rewriting her body the same way those novels had once rewritten her heart.
And soon, the girl who once whispered over paperbacks became something more: Nova Steele, the “cosmic defender.” Draped in her form-fitting gear, cutting promos about fighting darkness and championing the light, she became the heroine she once idolized. Crowds ate it up, and Cassandra finally found her stage, even if it had four corners and ropes instead of curtains and lights.
As the years went on, the cape and comic-book speeches were quietly retired, but the heart of the act never left her. Cassandra no longer played the wide-eyed superheroine, yet the ember of that dream still burned inside her as the restless flame of the girl who wanted to be free, who wanted to be like her daring space explorer, and who had finally found her escape in the squared circle.
But freedom came with complications she had never anticipated. Wrestling brought her a rush unlike anything else: the heat of battle, the tight holds, the sheer physicality of testing herself against another body. Somewhere in that tangle of pain and performance, something new awoke inside her, something she didn’t want to name. She began finding herself flustered in matches, her focus slipping in the haze of adrenaline and closeness. At first, it was just a distraction, a fleeting blush she hoped nobody noticed.
But opponents did notice. And they exploited it.
The more she struggled to bury it, the more it surfaced. She made mistakes. She lost matches. And, to her horror, part of her enjoyed it. Being outpowered, trapped, stretched to her limits. It lit up the same secret corners of her that those scandalous novels once had. The ring became a place not only of triumph but of temptation. She discovered her masochistic side at the same time her rivals did, and they leaned into it with merciless precision. Holds lingered longer, slams hit harder, trash talk grew more pointed, and Cassandra found herself caught between resisting and relishing every second.
Her victories became fewer, her defeats sharper, yet her conflicted smile grew harder to hide. The audience saw a woman who never gave up, who fought with grit even when pushed to breaking but inside, Cassandra wrestled with herself just as much as with her opponent. While she thought her career had fallen into decline, others believed it to be a beneficial new beginning. When she was offered to sign with LAW, she didn’t think twice about accepting the new opportunity.
