Organised fights weren't usually Bethan's speed. They had referees, for one thing, and usually it wasn't considered good practice to grab your opponent's hair and smash their head repeatedly against the floor. More importantly, people saw her in this kind of fight, and there was an unfortunate chance that, if she got in too much of a mess, they would start asking why she didn't go to the hospital. Or trying to take her to one.
But the money was good, and her family did keep telling her she should get out more. And it wasn't like they could get on her back for putting herself at risk. Not when she had been hearing her father and her uncle try to outdo each other with cage-match stories for her whole life.
She didn't have a satin robe - perhaps unsurprisingly, given how much she generally looked like she'd never seen satin in her life. She just shucked off her leather jacket, pushing up the sleeves of her faded blue sweater, and took a moment to check the tape on her knuckles before crossing over to the centre of the ring.
Despite being tall for a woman, Bethan was pretty used to feeling small. It came with the territory - she might be tall, but all the men in her family were well over six foot and most were built - to use her mother's terms - like brick shithouses. Still, the guy in the ring was extreme - there had to be a full foot's height between her and him, not to mention the weight difference.
If this fucker pins you, it's over. So... better not let him bring his weight to bear, then.
She rapped her knuckles against his, looking up at him with hard blue eyes, her lip curled a little.
"Get fucked, asshole." Olive branches had never really been her speciality.
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2023-12-15 07:31 pm (UTC)But the money was good, and her family did keep telling her she should get out more. And it wasn't like they could get on her back for putting herself at risk. Not when she had been hearing her father and her uncle try to outdo each other with cage-match stories for her whole life.
She didn't have a satin robe - perhaps unsurprisingly, given how much she generally looked like she'd never seen satin in her life. She just shucked off her leather jacket, pushing up the sleeves of her faded blue sweater, and took a moment to check the tape on her knuckles before crossing over to the centre of the ring.
Despite being tall for a woman, Bethan was pretty used to feeling small. It came with the territory - she might be tall, but all the men in her family were well over six foot and most were built - to use her mother's terms - like brick shithouses. Still, the guy in the ring was extreme - there had to be a full foot's height between her and him, not to mention the weight difference.
If this fucker pins you, it's over. So... better not let him bring his weight to bear, then.
She rapped her knuckles against his, looking up at him with hard blue eyes, her lip curled a little.
"Get fucked, asshole." Olive branches had never really been her speciality.