District One Tournament Semifinals: Vanburen vs Le Roux

She remembers collapsing, falling forwards with the weight of her weapon as it splintered the girl's bones. This time she did not brush the medics off, welcoming them as her vision flickered in and out like stars in the night sky. There was a great eruption around her, the crowd howling her name and stamping their feet. "Le Roux! Le Roux! Le Roux!" they cried.

But Sunny could only hear the sound of her shallow breaths as life pooled out of her stomach.

She came-to, the wound half-healed already. Some fancy medicine shipped in from Six especially for the competition. The puncture in her cheek was near-gone, just a few scratches and a faint pink line. Sunny hoped it stayed, tracing the line with her fingertip as she looked at her reflection. It told a story. Made a point.

Said to her father: I'm stronger in spite of you.

But it wasn't over. There was yet another opponent. Skinny and blonde, she could be her sibling. Her cousin. A Le Roux, were she none the wiser. The girl, Vanburen, looked more like the lions than Sunny did.

But she played her role of predator, viscious and unforgiving, launching at the girl with vigour - trying to disguise the flinch that crept across her face as she eyed her opponent's weapon.

It glinted across the lights and Sunny panicked at the memory of a sword in her stomach, side-stepping and spinning wide.

The spikes on her mace sailed passed her opponent, gritting her teeth with frustration as she planted her feet on the mat with a huff to regain balance. This was no time to be afraid, even if Sunny was right to feel it.


sunny attacks paris w. mace / spiked blunt

qrPhJAYoujspiked blunt

miss 0

0/25

Sunny knows this kind of girl. The ones at school who whisper about her, call her names just loud enough for her to hear, giggle and write cruel things on the bathroom walls. Girls her father wants her to be. Girls with fingers she thinks about snapping one by one by one.

"No." She spits at the request, wishing there was blood in her mouth. Sunny would only smile once she beats this girl, a silent promise made to herself and her opponent.

A slice, opening more than one old wound. Sunny grimaces, brows furrowing together with rage. "Le Roux!" the crowd cheers, and she closes her eyes. If she concentrates, she can pretend they're in the dark. Pretend there's no crowd. Pretend there's no swords. Pretend there's no girls like Paris Vanburen.

Just Sunny, and the dark, and the fight she knows how to win.

When she swings, her eyes remain closed.

sunny attacks paris w. mace / spiked blunt

oE0oJanduZspiked blunt

miss,,,,,, girl

8/25

I quit.

She wants to say it, writhing on the floor clutching her shoulder, but the pain takes away her voice, her vision, her breath. I quit, I quit, I quit. She's learned her lesson, shaking on her knees, begging her father to signal the referee but John Le Roux can't even look at her.

Perhaps he heard her, before she struck the girl down from before. I don't even want to be here. She wants to say it again, howl it, but all she can do is clutch her mangled arm and wipe away her tears with the back of her hand, smearing her own blood across her cheeks.

Sunny knows what she has to do. She was trained for this. Left handed, it's an advantage. It's a surprise. Her right arm is on fire but her left arm is still working, get it over with, she thinks between gasps of air.

Finish it. Be done with it.

She swings, eyes closed, as if it would make the pain any more bearable.

sunny attacks paris w. mace / spiked blunt

j7v9qbn2LHspiked blunt

GASH/BRUISED LEFT WRIST -- 3.0 damage

18/25