blood-for-sport

[blood-for-sport]

Wildfires

The light from the street lamps cascaded through the haze copulated with the fall of rain. The droplets tapped to the stone, wetting them down from the dust of a dry day. Nayleen's hand pressed to the wooden door before her, swinging it inward and granting her respite from the waters to come.

Within the interior, free from the world outside, Nayleen allowed equal freedom to her body. Shed of the armors that covered her frame, left only in the cotton cloth that constituted her comforts in her gear. Comfortable it was not, given the sweat that now cooled inside the threads of the fabric lending to a displeasing sensation.

A sigh. Low and steady departed her lips as she settled to the couch before the fireplace crackling with a fresh log. Connor had indeed been here, the homestead now silent. Until a figure shaped in the doorway to her left.

The young woman stepped inward, a face once possessed of stark childhood youth now marked with the rapid approach of teenage years. Harper settled beside Nayleen, scooting a bit to settle in the crease between the cushions which provided a sort of cradle. She looked over to her mother, the woman's haggard appearances a commonplace recently.

Recently? Always.

Harper looked toward the kitchen, then back to Nayleen.

"Want some pudding? Some left over. Chilling in the icebox." She stated with an effort to brighten Nay's mood. It was met with a shrug from the woman and something muttered, inaudible.

"Come on. Open up. Talk." Harper was a little more stern with her words now. "I'm going to start asking for money, you know. With how often I need to pick you up." More efforts at humor. This managed a smile from the woman to her side, Nayleen's eyes lifting to look over at Harper.

"Mmh.. don't think I earned pudding tonight. That's usually reserved for good people. I've been bad." Nayleen returned with an attempt at humor but her tone was exhausted. Harper picked up on the nature and responded with a shake of her head.

"This is medical pudding. Meant to cure broken hearts and heal dropped spirits."

Nayleen closed her eyes, lifting a hand out to rest to Harper's head at the side. The ebon-haired youth scooted in, letting herself rest against Nayleen and receive a gentle kiss atop her head.

"You smell like sweat and metal." She mused.

"Thanks." Nayleen responded.

"Are you going to shower before bed?"

"Maybe."

"You should. And the hot water might help."

Nayleen smirked to herself, letting a hand draw up and comb through Harper's hair. She didn't wish to sour a peaceful moment with turbulent thought, and yet the nature of those very thoughts forbade peace in its entirety.

"Pissed off some people, today. Let myself go off. Just.. snapped. I was seeing red."

"Did you hurt someone?" Harper inquired, concern in her tone.

"Nah. Nothing like.. just got into a fight with some friends. Verbal. Came off looking like the cun-..n-.. uh.. crap.. person."

Harper seemed to miss the bad deflection off the curse word, more intent on her focus of Nayleen.

"You always told me to stand my ground and speak my mind."

"Different.." Nay countered.

"How?"

"Because I'm no use to this group if they are more afraid of me than they are confident in me." She copied some words spoken by another that evening. "I can't bludgeon respect.."

"Bludgeon.." Harper milled over the word.

"Means to hit or beat. Basically I can't beat my way into people's good graces. I wanna keep em safe but.. if I push em all away, I won't be there when they need me."

Harper remained silent, backchanneling small hums to know Nayleen she was still listening but had nothing to add at the moment. Nay took the cue to continue, though there was not much left to say.

"Think I can maybe have some of that pudding?" She muttered, and Harper sat up to stand.

"Bet." She noted, moving toward the fridge. Nayleen stood, turning and walking toward Harper. She lowered to her knee, drawing the attention of the young thing. Harper didn't need any more. She stepped in, wrapping her arms around Nayleen's neck and letting her be swept into a tight embrace.

"I love you.." Nayleen muttered. "More than I love anything. More than the Collective, even. I'll keep you safe.."

Harper closed her eyes, resting her head to Nayleen's shoulder.

"I'm going to keep you safe." Nayleen repeated.

"I know."

"I promise."

"I know."

"You can count on that."

"I know, mom."

Nayleen finally released Harper, holding hands to the girl's shoulders and holding them at a width apart. She looked over Harper's face, dusting a few loose strands of black hair from her features.

Have to die next.

"So you want that pudding?"

Have to be next.

"Sure, Harper."

Can't be next.

"Sweet, it's chocolate. But like, the good chocolate."

They need you.

"Excellent. I can't wait to be in a sugar coma."

She needs you.

"Don't worry mom. I'll make sure you don't overdo it."

I need you.

"Good. I need you."

#stories

[blood-for-sport]

In my humble opinion one of the most badass things is how male and female gladiators would often forgo torso coverings with the notion of "Think you can hit me? Come try." That is hardcore.

#aesthetic

[blood-for-sport]

some sort of love poem

#Aesthetic

[blood-for-sport]

Falling Sky [Part One]

[[ Mentions: @summer-embers​ ]]

Nayleen’s hands traced to the edge of the paper. Though it was thin enough to bite into the flesh of her fingertip, she could not feel the sting. Her eyes were as arrested as her senses, unbroken from the names that lined the top of the letter. She had been tracing those stylized calligraphy characters for at least a minute’s time, unable to force herself to carry onward down the page. The letter she had been fearing, as if ‘fear’ could properly summarize and encapsulate the terror that now swam in her bloodstream like ice water.

From the desk of, Remgard E. Kereni Emmy S. Kereni

Nayleen’s nature told her to set the letter down. Pretend it never arrived. Play dumb to the whole bitter reality that now settled in printed word before her. But it was a reality she could no more ignore than her own heart’s beat casting itself to the walls of her chest. Her eyes lowered without her desire, taking a mind of their own to torture her.

Ms. Nayleen Cooper,

We apologize for the lack of correspondence over the past few months. We trust our monetary stipend has gone to the benefits of our daughter.

Her expression pulled back, letting teeth show past darkened lips. The snarl directed in aggression toward what she knew; what she could not deny.

Your efforts as her caretaker have been exemplary. It seems our daughter is progressing well in her recently evolved arcane talents per our correspondence with the Academy. However..

Nayleen froze. She hated that word. Hated the implications that she knew were to follow. Her muscles ached in reminder of how much she had tensed plucking through this letter, pulling the meaning into her mind in such a way that would truly register.

..with recent evolution in her talents we have determined it most beneficial for Harper to return to her home for private tutoring. We have already secured an tutor who will benefit her immensely with one on one instruction. While we appreciate your more rustic lifestyle as it suits your preferences, we feel Harper would also most benefit from proper instruction on aspects perhaps lacking in your care.

We hope you..

Nayleen stopped. She wanted to thrust her fist through the paper. Rip it. Tear it. Shred it. Demolish it to the most base form of pulp she could. She wanted to toss it to the fire and watch it burn. She wanted to saturate it in water and watch it melt to nothingness. She wanted to erase all traces.

Yet all she did was read. Read more. Read across the lines that each were as a sliver of glass sliding into her heart and aching with every beat.

We hope you understand our decision and respect it. Please know that you will be compensated immensely with a flat fee for your efforts with our daughter. Also note that we shall direct a glowing recommendation of service to any organization or persons you desire. It is the very least we can do for your assistance these past years.

Nayleen let her eyes drop to the final paragraph. There was nothing left inside but the waking ripples of storm. The passage of a great vessel come to ferry her life away and leave her alone, drowning, in a black sea.

We shall be collecting Harper in two weeks time. Please have her belongings prepared for porting. We shall cover the expenses of moving and hands. You need not concern with those matters.

Thank you, Ms. Cooper, and we look forward to working with you in future.

Regards,

Remgard E. Kereni Emmy S. Kereni

Nayleen’s eyes now settled on the hand-signed names penned to the bottom of the paper. The same names it had started with. The same names she was too terrified to read beyond, and now she wished she had not. She wished she had given in to terror and allowed the letter to forever sit undiscovered in her desk.

Yet the truth was inescapable. Like tar it clung to her skin and burned with every moment she sat staring at those bitter-tasting names.

Her ear caught the sound of a bed creaking.

Footsteps down a hallway.

The door to her room opening.

A small figure stood in the doorway, peeking in. Nayleen’s instinct was to hide all of this. Harper was young, too young to deal with matters as turbulent as this. Matters of twisting families and shattering homesteads. She wanted to protect her. Yet this was a foe that could not be engaged with blade or fist. She could no more defend Harper from this reality than herself.

Her eyes traced the pale face as she moved closer, and her eyes told the full story. Nayleen wore the pain on her own features, and Harper was tracing every emotion that crawled under the skin.

“Mom?” Harper whispered, moving closer. And that broke her. Shattered her. The thin sheet of cracked glass that supported Nayleen’s mind gave way and sent her entire being raining down into her gut with the shards of remaining composure.

Nayleen wrapped her arms around Harper, pulling her daughter close.

Not your daughter. Their daughter.

Nayleen tightened her eyes as tears began to freely plot their path down her cheeks. Harper knew little of what caused the pain, but responded with a tight grip of her own. She rubbed her hands to Nayleen’s back, scratching her nails to the cloth in an act that Nayleen had used often when calming her.

“Whatever is wrong.. we’ll take it on together.” Harper noted with a certainty in her tone.

Nayleen pulled her head back, sliding so her forehead pressed to Harper’s own. That young child; her world. Her reason for being alive. The only thing she had ever done in this world that was beautiful.

Not your daughter. Their daughter.

“We’re a team.” Harper added with a smile. Nayleen stared at Harper with nothing but doubt and fear in her heart. Her world was sand slipping through her fingers. Yet she nodded.

“Yeah..” She croaked with broken voice.

“We’re a team, Harper.”

#stories

[blood-for-sport]

#aesthetic

[blood-for-sport]

#aesthetic

[blood-for-sport]

[[The following is an except from a brief RP between Nayleen, Odessa, and Decrend post-event. Small edits made to assist with flow.]]

Nayleen had been busy.. in the worst kind of way. Several corpses littered the area, potentially in the count of eight or nine though some were in pieces and a few loose limbs were tossed asunder. They seemed to be service staff, perhaps unaffiliated with the crusade though wrong place, wrong time. Nayleen stood over a form that was in death rattles, the man's lips sputtering blood as most of his abdominal cavity was laying beside him in a pile. Nayleen was completely gone, staring blankly at his perishing form.

Odyssina walked in, looking around. "Well... They work here, so they accept the ideals of the fuckface, right?"

"Nayleen," Decrend states in his best commanding tone.

The Worgen turned toward Decrend, and though she saw him.. she seemed more to look through him.

“I will help you finish up here. I would take you back, after.” He stated. “Our attacks here only serve to endanger Zena.”

Odessa just watched, listening to Decrend. He was making sense; he was correct. But, she was having trouble swallowing her emotions.

Nayleen turned her eyes aside, one of the guards present in the building that had not put up a fight in the slightest. Nayleen turned to lower, plucking up something from his stiffening grip and moving toward Decrend. "I failed. This Collective. This group. Zena. I failed."

Odessa shook her head, "No, no one failed. Zena succeeded. She made a call and, unfortunately, it didn't work for her. But, she got us all out alive. No one failed, we just.. Need to get her back. Safely... Decrend is right."

Decrend didn’t move in the slightest. He waited for Odessa to finish, huffing. "We did fail," Decrend says to Nayleen. He looks to Odessa after a short pause. "We did." He turned back to Nayleen. "We cannot scare Gaius too much. He will move her. He can't expect that we will crash the hanging."

Nayleen extended her hand, seeking to take Decrend by his own hand and turn his palm up.

“Okay, we failed the mission, but we didn't fail Zena.” Odessa stated as she put her swords on her back.

Decrend nodded, his hand taken up by Nayleen. "And we will not fail Zena, as long as we get her back."

Nayleen pressed a pistol to his palm, loaded with the hammer cocked. She closed his fingers around the grip. "I failed you all. And I'm going to keep going. I should be the one in their grasp right now, not Zena. I should be the one facing death, no one else. I failed. So if you want to stop me.." She released the gun to his hand. "You either finish the job.. or get out of my way.." She turned back to the still dying figure on the floor.

Odessa looked to Decrend, tapping her fist, with a nod to Nayleen as Decrend passed the pistol to Odessa.

"Your disappointment and grief is to be expected. I would never think you would show weakness, Nayleen." He pauses for a good moment. "I care for you as much as I care for Zena - and I'm not going to let either of you die. If I have to stop you myself, I will."

Odessa took the pistol, carefully resetting the hammer. She'd tuck the firearm into her own waistband, keeping a close eye on both  of them.

Nayleen lifted her foot, dropping it onto the man's head with a crunch as his facial and neck bones severed and shattered. "..I don't see weakness, do you?" She muttered as if discussing weather, stepping over the man's face and sniffing the air. A few still hiding, maybe. Maybe she was just taking in the setting. Maybe she was losing her mind. Who knows.

Decrend followed Nayleen with his eyes as she passed. "I do - weakness, rage, sadness, selfishness, and helplessness. Come with us, Nayleen. We'll be right as rain come Sunday."

Nayleen glanced over her shoulder, peering at Decrend overlong before turning her head back forward once more. "Get out of here." She muttered. "I don't need your coddling."

“I want to rip this city apart just as badly as ya do, Nayleen. But, Decred is right. We're being selfish.” Odessa pleaded as she tried to clump herself with Nayleen as to not make her feel like she was under attack.

Nayleen ignored her words, stepping outside into the cold rain that pattered from above. She paused, staring ahead. Then..with absolute abandon she began to wail on the railing. The first blow definitely broke her hand yet she just..kept going. Again.. again.. her fist slammed into the railing splintering it eventually to crack. She finally stopped and fell to her knee, gripping the railing with her other claw as her eyes began to very openly flow tears. She pressed her forehead down into the shattered wood, fresh red blood dripping from her limp hand as her body shuddered with the sobs.

“Nayleen...” Odessa muttered. “Please try to listen to me.. Ya aren't alone in this. I feel what ya feeling. One soldier to another.. Decrend is right. The more we slaughter now, as good as it feels, it's only going to tip off this fuckhead that we weren't beaten down. We should go home and make a plan. One that -can't- fail. Won't fail..." She'd keep stepping closer, slowly.

Nayleen didn't feel good. She felt nothing. Numb. Hollow. Her vision gained height as her body stood, twisting to face Odessa though.. the typical cocky Nayleen was completely gone at this moment. "Fine.." Was all she stated. "Let's go back."

Odessa put her faith in Nayleen, moving forward to put an arm around Nay. Numb or not, Odi was worried and wanted to try and console her.

Nayleen turned her eyes to Decrend. She stepped off from Odi, moving toward the man and locking eyes on him. "Tell me.." She muttered, her voice a low rumble as if distant thunder. "..you see weakness?"

Decrend took a few moments to respond. After moments of consideration, he spoke. "Those in the Illidari that let themselves be consumed by the fires within them became dangers to themselves and others - those who they once called friends." He pauses again. "I see a friend in need," he concludes.

Nayleen drew her lip up. At first, looked to be a snarl. But after a moment it turned out to be a smirk. "In the pits, those who are consumed by rage are just called 'headliners'." She glanced aside to Odessa, then back to Decrend. "When we find this man, I don't care if he brings down the sky on us. We kill him. Understood?"

“I went in to tonight ready to die if it meant killing him.” Odessa declared. “You have my blades and my life, Nay.”

Decrend extended his arm before him, offering an anime-style wrist bump thing to Nayleen. "What she said," he says humorously.

Nayleen tapped her fist aside to his own. "Come on.. let's get the fuck out of this place. It's filled with dead people and the catering sucks.."

#Stories

[blood-for-sport]

#Aesthetic

[blood-for-sport]

Perfect. Though Nayleen would never kick below the belt. It's face or bust. ;)

@blood-for-sport Nayleen and Taria, tho.

#ooc #aesthetic

[blood-for-sport]

This was so unexpected but so amazing. It’s awesome to see these two battle moms in a sort of before and after show of beating the ever-loving heck out of each other. Which just so happens to be how they show affection as well so it works. Thank you so much for this! I adore these two.

Quick piece of Taria and @blood-for-sport 's Nayleen. Love these beefy babes.

#ooc #not my art #good art

[blood-for-sport]

#Aesthetic

[blood-for-sport]

#aesthetic

[blood-for-sport]

#Aesthetic

[blood-for-sport]

Sundown

The door closed shut in her wake, latch secured with a pass of her hand to lock away the hall beyond. Nayleen looked down to her chest as the fastens and belts released, each one allowing another piece of her armor to fall with heavy thud to the floor. She looked like a sweaty mess beneath the shell of metal, and smelled just about as pleasant. Such was the life of a fighter, the thought ran past her mind.

She had only just removed her shoes by the door when the sound of feet against the wood floor of the apartment carried to her ear. Nayleen smiled, lowering to a knee as the young girl darted into her arms. She wrapped the child in an embrace tight yet cautious, assuring she didn’t squeeze the poor thing of her senses.

Releasing, Nay held Harper to arms length and gave her a look over.

“You are all clean, and you just hugged me. Bad idea. Now you likely smell like a gym sock.”

Harper shrugged, spinning off to walk into the living area of the apartment.

“So what? I don’t mind. How are you?” The child asked, Nayleen walking after her to sit on her couch next to her daughter.

“Tired. Just came back from work.”

“The fights, you mean?” Harper inquired, much to Nayleen’s dismay.

“Who told you about those?”

Harper scoffed, shaking her head.

“I’m not dumb, mom. I followed-”

Nayleen pinched her brow, sighing deeply and drawing Harper to cease talking.

“I told you not to follow me when I go working. Some of that work is really dangerous, Harp. You could get hurt. Or worse. You even promised.”

Harper scooted to lean against Nayleen, not seeming to mind the woman’s less than stellar state.

“I know, mom, but I’m allowed to worry about you, too.”

Nayleen stopped her argument. She knew there was no point right now in combating the issue, and in truth she was too tired to try. Her hand lifted, combing through Harper’s hair with her fingers before pressing a kiss against the top of her head.

“Go wash up, okay? I’ll come sing you a song, scratch your back.”

Harper smiled, scooting to stand and moving toward the bathroom. Nayleen closed her eyes, leaning her head back against the couch and passing a steady sigh.

Often, the world after sundown seemed like an entirely different life.

#stories

[blood-for-sport]

I sometimes encounter scenarios where an individual will disapprovingly unveil information about me, or suggest a negative reputation, with the intention of embarrassing or shaming me, but because I’m so casually honest about myself, and unfazed by the idea that people might not approve of me, the accusation ironically often ends up provoking respect and admiration from onlookers.

#Aesthetic

[blood-for-sport]

New outfit who dis?

Beauregard from Critical Role 

#Aesthetic

[blood-for-sport]

Lay your hands on them again.

Push them around one more fucking time.

Just know that the second you hurt my loved ones, that there won’t be anything left of your pathetic, disgusting form when I’m finished with you.

#Aesthetic