theatriclizard (theatriclizard) wrote in athinblackline, @ 2009-04-29 21:09:00 |
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Entry tags: | !tournament, anole |
Who: Anole and Psylence
When: Saturday, May 2nd [forward dated] TOURNAMENT
Where: Dirt Arena
What: Round 2 of the Tournament
Anole slowly stepped out onto the packed floor of the dirt arena, green eyes sweeping the stadium. His arms and legs were wrapped and bandaged here and there, his last fight had left small shards of ice poking painfully out from between his soft scales. The bleeding had at least stopped, and they did not seem to be tearing open again. He smiled at the feel of solid dirt beneath his feet, he was not a fan of the sand arena, not at all.
He squinted into the early afternoon sun and pulled a pair of mirrored green glasses over his eyes to cut down on the glare, then let his vision sweep over the crowd. Decent turn out, seemed his owner had been trying to improve his reputation recently. He supposed he did not mind it, though he still hated tournaments. So much pressure, so much aggression, so much... trouble, just waiting to happen. He attempted to shake the thought from his head, moving toward the center of the arena, wondering who his next opponent would be. No one he knew, he hoped. The last tournament had left him as emotionally bruised as he had been physically. It was one part of life on Revolve he never had gotten used to.
He absently flicked his tongue out as he waited, letting it stretch about eight feet before he pulled it back in, entertaining the crowd during the lull. He always had been considered an entertaining fighter, better to keep that up now. He would never be the best fighter, may as well attempt to be one of the more entertaining ones. Why he was being forced into fighting two tournaments in a row he would never know, at least he felt less rusty this time, the week of lock down had forced him to attend his training sessions, leaving him feeling semi-competent, he supposed today would show just how correct or incorrect that feeling was.