Spitfire Soul, Heart of Gold
Outfit: Fighting Clothes | Robe | Glove
Weapons: Fists/The Force
Azurine staggered slightly backward when she felt the fist collide with the side of her head. The cheering, shouting, and booing in multiple different languages from the crowd that surrounded her and the opponent across from resounded as a cacophony through her ears. Deep down, she knew she shouldn't be doing this, but here she was, in a fighting ring within the understreets of Coruscant at an ungodly hour of night. Everything was just too much for her right now, and she needed something. Even if that coping mechanism was clearly unhealthy, it was a familiar pain. She still remembered all those times she had dreamed of what Coruscant might have been like. Now, though, she felt suffocated under the weight and confusion that brought her here. Briefly, she wondered what Master
Valery Noble
would think about this, and what Kynn would have thought... but the pondering was quickly dissipated when the next punch connected with part of her face. Now clearly wasn't the time to ruminate on multiple shades of disappointment.Her opponent was at least twice her size, and though he looked human, she had a feeling there was more than just human in him considering his muscle mass was pretty outrageous. She brushed the back of her right hand across the underneath of her nose, a small blotch of blood smearing across the metal of the prosthetic that encompassed the entirety of her arm up to just below her right shoulder where it attached to thick, dark scar tissue that looked as though the skin had been seered by a laser. Had she been human herself instead of Zabrak, that hit probably would have done much more damage than just a bit of blood. A small smirk crossed her face when she felt the emotions radiating from the other in the ring spike with anger to see that she had remained on her feet. That's it; throw them off balance. Sweat streaked down her forehead and body, only wearing a chest wrap made for marital arts, lightweight pants, and a singular glove on her one biological hand.
The fight would go on for multiple minutes, both being battered in the process, before Azzie managed to gain an upper hand. Before she could react, it was like she could see silvery cracks shimmering and shifting around him. Whatever it was was so overwhelming that she nearly staggered right into his next kick. One of them a bighter glowing color than the rest, a weakness in his leg from old injuries? As quickly as it had appeared, the fractured lines were gone, leaving behind only dull pain behind her eyes. Ducking under a wild haymaker, she sidestepped and slid her foot into a smooth arc, unbalancing him just enough to make his bulk work against him. He stumbled forward, momentarily off-balance, and she pressed in, her compact frame weaving under his limbs like a tsunami through the seas. Without hesitation, she dropped to the ground, sweeping his legs out from under him. As he crashed to the floor, she flowed seamlessly into a grappling hold, trapping his arm between her legs while pressing his chest to the mat. Her body coiled tightly around his, and his strength dwindled with each second as she applied a chokehold, constricting his airway. He thrashed but couldn't shake her. Only when he desperately tapped the mat in defeat did she loosen her grip, her breath heavy from the fight.
"And the fight goes to the Canyon Viper!" She heard the words echo through the room (followed by the name they insisted on using instead of what she'd given them), yet it didn't seem to make much of a difference. She pushed herself to her feet and grabbed the small towel hanging on the corner of the ropes. It was time for a long round of alcohol before the next bout in the ring. At this rate, at least I'll make enough in bets to keep up with my tab.
