Koa
You keep telling me to live right
Mateo's voice cuts through some of the haze, familiarity clanging coherent notes among the din of the crushing crowd. Channeling is a good idea - or would be, were Koa able to think straight. But no sooner does the suggestion work its way into his thoughts than it is dismissed, because who could he possibly call for aide? The demigods who spring most readily to mind are all members of Flora's family, and to have Safrin see him in this state would be the nail in the coffin of Koa's injured pride. No, no, no, he shakes his head, he cannot ask for aid, not when it's his own fault and weakness that have brought him into this position; not when he's so desperate for raw, physical pain to dull the ache of his injured spirit.
Berty the Bear Man swings again, his massive fist coming for Koa's face. Half-shifted and heady with bloodlust, the behemoth is clumsy now, slow - which means that Koa has an opening, one he's not afraid to take. Swiftly he rolls out of way of the blow, curling left and in toward Cavebear's leg. Teeth grit, the Dragoon wraps his hand around a bare calf, electricity pulsing from the ring on his finger. Immediately his opponent howls, shock and pain making him reel back; it's enough to allow Koa to bounce to his feet, his shoulder ramming upward against his enemy's sternum as he goes.
And now they're both back on their feet, dark red blood staining Koa's lips, a wild look in the Cavebear's eyes. Like a pair of predators they circle around, neither willing to give the other the opportunity to hit. It's Koa who finally breaks the stalemate, darting forward with an electrified two-strike. The smell of singed fur fills the ring briefly as he lands a jab on the half-bear's jaw, satisfaction blooming like a bruise across his face.
Alas, it isn't enough.
Still drunk, still wounded, Koa's disadvantages remain, and as hard as he fights he is still outclassed, at the mercy of a stronger foe. He holds on for a handful more exchanges, landing and taking hit after hit, but eventually, inevitably, it comes to an end. Chad catches Koa as the Dragoon strikes, grabbing the younger man by the left arm and hurtling him around. It's a move that wouldn't be considered legal in any upright circle, and it ends with the boy sprawled on the ground, his shoulder dislocated and in mind-numbing pain.
As the winner is announced and the crowd pushes forward, Koa attempts to make his escape, his useless arm cradled against his chest. Embarrassed and defeated, he has no interest in well-wishers or snide remarks; he just wants to get his arm back in its socket, and maybe take enough snapdragon to never think again. He doesn't see Mateo until he's directly beside him, and then all he can do is stare, tear marks running into dark, dried blood, his face an impassive and bruised tableaux.
Berty the Bear Man swings again, his massive fist coming for Koa's face. Half-shifted and heady with bloodlust, the behemoth is clumsy now, slow - which means that Koa has an opening, one he's not afraid to take. Swiftly he rolls out of way of the blow, curling left and in toward Cavebear's leg. Teeth grit, the Dragoon wraps his hand around a bare calf, electricity pulsing from the ring on his finger. Immediately his opponent howls, shock and pain making him reel back; it's enough to allow Koa to bounce to his feet, his shoulder ramming upward against his enemy's sternum as he goes.
And now they're both back on their feet, dark red blood staining Koa's lips, a wild look in the Cavebear's eyes. Like a pair of predators they circle around, neither willing to give the other the opportunity to hit. It's Koa who finally breaks the stalemate, darting forward with an electrified two-strike. The smell of singed fur fills the ring briefly as he lands a jab on the half-bear's jaw, satisfaction blooming like a bruise across his face.
Alas, it isn't enough.
Still drunk, still wounded, Koa's disadvantages remain, and as hard as he fights he is still outclassed, at the mercy of a stronger foe. He holds on for a handful more exchanges, landing and taking hit after hit, but eventually, inevitably, it comes to an end. Chad catches Koa as the Dragoon strikes, grabbing the younger man by the left arm and hurtling him around. It's a move that wouldn't be considered legal in any upright circle, and it ends with the boy sprawled on the ground, his shoulder dislocated and in mind-numbing pain.
As the winner is announced and the crowd pushes forward, Koa attempts to make his escape, his useless arm cradled against his chest. Embarrassed and defeated, he has no interest in well-wishers or snide remarks; he just wants to get his arm back in its socket, and maybe take enough snapdragon to never think again. He doesn't see Mateo until he's directly beside him, and then all he can do is stare, tear marks running into dark, dried blood, his face an impassive and bruised tableaux.
You don't gotta pretend, baby, now and then
