Koa
You keep telling me to live right
After you get your heart broken, what's the logical next move?
Get the rest of your body fucked up, too.
It started, as is tradition, with alcohol. From the Celestine, Koa'd gone straight into town, making a beeline for the red-light district that is the Silk Houses. In his wilder days as an upstart boxer, these streets had been his frequent haunts; now the dark alleys seem to welcome him home, back to the smoke and the booze and the dirt. He hits one bar, and then another, and before he knows it he's at the Hart, five shots in and three sheets to the wind and itching for a fight.
And when the fight finds him it's hard to say if it's his fault or the other guy's. He knows there's been a challenge to his history as a boxer, accusations of going soft. A well-aimed fist had ended that quickly, but somehow or other things had evolved and the barkeep had told them to get the fuck out of his establishment and so Koa and some others rolled out into the night, and now they've wound up here.
From outside it's a massage parlor, but for those in the know it's the most infamous underground boxing ring the Silk Houses boasts. In one corner, a hulking bear of a man stands ready to take out anyone who challenges his (current) position of Stormbreak's Heavyweight Champ. Cavebear Chad, that's what he's called, though his real name is in fact Herbert - but who's ever been intimidated by a guy named Bert?
And in the other corner our hero sways: Koa Carpenter, prodigal son, his fists wrapped for boxing and his jaw ready to break.
A good size group of people has gathered, cheering on the scene. It's going to be a bloody massacre, or so they predict, though there's a small yet vocal minority who seem to think Koa has a chance. In shadowy corners money swaps hands, bookies eager to use this impromptu cage fight as a way to make a dirty buck. Come see the Bear take on the Dragon! they sneer. 30 to one says the pretty boy only takes one hit!
Koa doesn't hear any of it. He's shirtless, though where his nice button down wound up is far beyond him. His vision swims; he tries to focus on the brute who towers above him, tries to breathe and steady his heartbeat and remember how the fuck to fight. At least the imminent threat of being beaten to a pulp has forced Flora out of his mind.
Except for right now. And ten minutes earlier. And probably again, three minutes hence.
Get the rest of your body fucked up, too.
It started, as is tradition, with alcohol. From the Celestine, Koa'd gone straight into town, making a beeline for the red-light district that is the Silk Houses. In his wilder days as an upstart boxer, these streets had been his frequent haunts; now the dark alleys seem to welcome him home, back to the smoke and the booze and the dirt. He hits one bar, and then another, and before he knows it he's at the Hart, five shots in and three sheets to the wind and itching for a fight.
And when the fight finds him it's hard to say if it's his fault or the other guy's. He knows there's been a challenge to his history as a boxer, accusations of going soft. A well-aimed fist had ended that quickly, but somehow or other things had evolved and the barkeep had told them to get the fuck out of his establishment and so Koa and some others rolled out into the night, and now they've wound up here.
From outside it's a massage parlor, but for those in the know it's the most infamous underground boxing ring the Silk Houses boasts. In one corner, a hulking bear of a man stands ready to take out anyone who challenges his (current) position of Stormbreak's Heavyweight Champ. Cavebear Chad, that's what he's called, though his real name is in fact Herbert - but who's ever been intimidated by a guy named Bert?
And in the other corner our hero sways: Koa Carpenter, prodigal son, his fists wrapped for boxing and his jaw ready to break.
A good size group of people has gathered, cheering on the scene. It's going to be a bloody massacre, or so they predict, though there's a small yet vocal minority who seem to think Koa has a chance. In shadowy corners money swaps hands, bookies eager to use this impromptu cage fight as a way to make a dirty buck. Come see the Bear take on the Dragon! they sneer. 30 to one says the pretty boy only takes one hit!
Koa doesn't hear any of it. He's shirtless, though where his nice button down wound up is far beyond him. His vision swims; he tries to focus on the brute who towers above him, tries to breathe and steady his heartbeat and remember how the fuck to fight. At least the imminent threat of being beaten to a pulp has forced Flora out of his mind.
Except for right now. And ten minutes earlier. And probably again, three minutes hence.
You don't gotta pretend, baby, now and then
