Description: Sound Beach becomes a makeshift arena for yet another League Fight. Much to Marisol's dismay, her opponent happens to be a wrestler...and she's wearing a skirt. Suffice to say, the fight results in plenty of frustration for the hot-headed redhead.
Ah. Beautiful scenic beach nights. Big, fluffy gray clouds drift aimlessly through the midnight blue night sky, casting sporadic moonbeams here and there. The temperature is quite warm, as the weather has been transitioning, but the sea brings with it a cool breeze and relaxing sounds.
But something is a bit different. Covering a fairly wide space of sand are tiki torches, lit to provide adequate illumination. A few late-night beachgoers are keeping to the far perimeter around the arranged tiki torches, some wearing straw hats, some in Hawaiian t-shirts, some just in swimclothes. There's a Neo League match to be held here tonight!
Where the cameras are hidden, no one knows.
Drake - or Domino, rather - is currently making his way through the few spactators present, slapping a few hands on his way to the center of what will hereafter be known as the 'tiki field'. He steps up beside one of the torches and turns to face the spectators, and he thrusts his right fist into the air with a smile. This gets a few cheers for the dark-haired model. He turns slowly in a half circle to display himself to everyone present, then relaxes his arm and just waits for his challenger.
A sight to behold, the stretch of sand embraced in darkness. It's picturesque, the silvery moonlight bathing the inky black seas, a crisp sea breeze enough to nip and tease the senses. Here, Sound Beach sets the stage for one of many League Fights, the "arena" set merely ringed and sectioned off by tiki torches. Already spectators have begun to converge, waiting patiently for the first arrival. And he comes, to their delight.
But where is his opponent?
From the opposite end of the beach a distant figure moves. A young woman - younger than Domino, at least - moves without any real care, long arms folded up and behind her head. Clad in casual wear, a cargo skirt and fitted light pink top, as opposed to her school uniform (it IS a weekend, after all), Marisol O'Connell seems particularly calm and casual about the entire thing. As she nears, a good number of people turn to look at her, but none recognize her.
She IS a newcomer of sorts, after all.
In any case, the young redhead slips past the outer ring of tiki torches, easing her way into the ring's center. At first there is little to no real emotion on her face. Instead, the girl eyes Domino a bit, likely sizing the guy up a bit before her arms drop, taped up hands resting akimbo on her curvy hips.
"You're that Drake guy, right?" she asks, tilting her head before she lets her full lips pull into a broad smirk. "If so, you're my opponent in this League-whatever, yeah?" Lifting her hands up, she enters into a tight boxer-like stance.
"Show me what you've got, alright?"
COMBATSYS: Marisol has started a fight here.
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Marisol 0/-------/-------|
COMBATSYS: Drake has joined the fight here.
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Drake 0/-------/-------|-------\-------\0 Marisol
Drake waits patiently for his opponent, exchanging a few looks with the spectators. Some cheers and whistles are responded to with friendly, amiable waves. Mmn. The beach. -His- beach. What a perfect place to have a match. Shame he knows absolutely nothing about the girl that's challenged him.
And now she makes her appearance. Gives first impressions.
And for a while? The wrestler model looks a bit silent, possibly even stunned upon first impressions. Isn't she a classy-looking sort? Though her question pulls him from his distraction. "Domino, actually," he corrects mildly. "Marisol, I take it? I'll make your acquaintance more appropriately afterwards." A light, friendly smile touches to his lips. He then slides his left foot forward into a shallow front stance. His hands remain open, right hand setting about chest level, and left hand before his body at a downwards angle.
And the announcer steps up, a man in a wooden, elongated tiki mask and straw hat. Go figure. "Ladies aaaand gentlemen! Tonight's Neo League match features Domino! And his challenger.. Maaarisoool!" Beat. "FIGHT!" And he scurries back out into the crowd.
And when the call to fight is made, Domino begins just that. He slips in towards his opponent with swift, smooth movements of his legs, starting low and ending the movement at his full height. Along with the end of that movement, his left hand flashes from its deceptively relaxed position to deliver a reverse knifehand strike to her collar area.
COMBATSYS: Drake successfully hits Marisol with Quick Punch.
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Drake 0/-------/-------|=------\-------\0 Marisol
As much as anyone is aware, Marisol seems entirely and utterly oblivious to the waves, cheers and whistles. Instead, smoky gray eyes are focused ahead, half-lidded as she sets her sights on the young man at the tiki "arena" center: Drake. Or, as he is likely better known: "Domino."
Her footfalls cease, the sand around her white sandals parting as she settles her weight, getting quite comfortable in simply standing there. Sizing him up, she offers a light smirk, eyes still hooded as she's corrected. "Yeah, Domino," she replies, her words almost flat. First impressions are equally made. He's kind of pretty for a wrestler, that's for certain. And polite, too.
Pink lips part, a breath sliding past her lips. She's going to say something.
But she's cut short by the oddly-dressed announcer. Blinking slowly, she gazes at the man with the vaguest expression of bemusement, not used to this sort of thing. It passes quickly, however. He says the magic word, and clearly Domino seeks to capitalize on it, by putting a knifehand into her collar. She holds her ground, but likely underestimates him; thus she staggers slightly, a taped hand idly rubbing her collar.
"Huh," she states, for no real, obvious reason...before she lifts a leg up from her side and snaps it out toward his stomach, a checking kick aimed for his gut, to send him stumbling back and give her some distance. The tiniest of smirks lingers on her lips. Bad start maybe, but this could be fun...
COMBATSYS: Drake dodges Marisol's Light Kick.
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Drake 0/-------/-------|=------\-------\0 Marisol
Domino's eyes narrow on the girl's, his amethysts focusing on her grays. Once the strike is delivered, he prepares for her obvious retaliation. When it comes, he slips aside from it. This fluidic movement is continued right up until he attempts to get in behind her back. His arms attempt to hook underneath her arms and join his hands together behind her neck. If successful, he begins to apply pressure to her neck while his arms pull her shoulders back to begin restricting airflow. A sleeper hold, for the wrestling savvy.
COMBATSYS: Marisol fails to interrupt Quick Throw from Drake with Rolling Star.
- Power fail! -
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Drake 0/-------/-------|====---\-------\0 Marisol
Moving into action, Marisol seems ready to start things off on her end. Lashing her leg out, the young woman seeks to snap her foot straight into his gut, but meets only empty air as he just moves aside. Blinking slowly, her head tilts absently to one side, gray depths thoughtful before she simply sets her leg back down and eases into a stance once more. Huh.
Then he comes again! Furrowing red brows, the young woman squares her shoulders, jaw tight as he maneuvers behind. In that moment she tries to about-face to actually face him, her palm aglow with an odd, yellow energy. He proves the faster - as result, he weaves her into an odd hold, the young woman's airflow cut. Perhaps a bit more than necessary. It doesn't take long for her to stop squirming against his grasp, causing a few bystanders to wonder if...maybe he might have overdone it. Is the fight already over?
Domino expects struggling. He doesn't even put it past her to wriggle free. She seems like the limber, slippery sort. So when she goes a bit lax, the amethyst eyes widen some. He had no intentions of actually -hurting- her! Good lord, that would be a shame. First -pretty- girl to challenge him, and he injures her?
The hold is released, and Domino backs up quickly from her to let her regain her airflow or to have the official check her vitals. Surely she's not out, though, right? Surely. She looks so much tougher than that!
So while he waits, Domino does what he -meant- to before the call for the fight was made. While watching her, he shrugs off his overshirt and tosses it back towards the sparse audience. His sandals are then kicked off, leaving his feet bare.
COMBATSYS: Drake focuses on his next action.
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Drake 0/-------/-------|====---\-------\0 Marisol
When released, Marisol seems to fall into the cool sand, looking all sorts of serene in her violence-endued slumber. For a moment, people seriously begin to wonder if, maybe, there is need for alarm and concern as to her well-being. Medics on the sidelines look between one another before they nod once and move toward the ring.
"I'm f-fine!" the redhead barks rather unexpectedly, a hand lifting from the sand and idly waving about in a dismissive fashion. Slowly but surely she peels herself off the shore, giving her head a shake and swatting her garments free of sand. Once she is content with her appearance, gray eyes snap up, peering at the wrestler.
"You're pretty sneaky," she observes, sizing him up once again. She's probably been a bit too confident in herself, and she secretly decides now is time to get a bit serious and actually put a bit more effort into this match. "But I'm not going to let you slip past me like that again." Eyes hood with dangerous intent, her enthusiasm restored. If he won't let her out of his sights, neither will she. The smirk on her lips is a bit wider now.
COMBATSYS: Marisol focuses on her next action.
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Drake 0/-------/-------|====---\-------\0 Marisol
Domino inclines his head. "Hey, take it easy. You had me a little worried there," he notes to her. Good to know that she's okay, though. And with that revelation, he sets himself back into his 'here to win' mentality. The same mentality he presents every other opponent who officially takes him on.
He moves in quickly, closing the distance to her. Domino makes a grab for her head to tuck it under his left arm in a forward headlock. His right hand attempts to drape her left arm behind his neck, only then to grab ahold of the left hip of her skirt. He pulls back to hoist the redhead into the air upside-down, suspending her there for a few seconds to let the blood begin to drain. But after those few seconds, he drops back to suplex her into the sand on her back.
COMBATSYS: Marisol interrupts Strong Throw from Drake with Iron Butterfly.
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Drake 0/-------/---====|=====--\-------\0 Marisol
For a moment, the young woman seems mildly perplexed by the words that leave the wrestler's mouth. He was worried? Knitting her brows lightly, the redhead puzzles over this before she simply laughs, letting her feet shift beneath her, long arms curling up. Comfortable now, she eases again into her stance. Clearly she's good to go.
"Don't worry about me," she states, "I'm fine. Just needed a bit of a warm up." And a wake-up call, apparently. Grinning wide, her expression is wolfish as smoky eyes narrow. If there's a crowd around the fighters, they're forgotten now. All she focuses on is the fight.
Then he's off again. Lashing out, he snares the young woman, but she is swift to retaliate in kind. Fingers aglow, she whips a hand up and at him. Energies spring to life, rapidly increasing in size, forming a veritable cocoon of yellow chi around the young wrestler. Snared, the young woman hops back, giving herself some distance as that energy cocoon suddenly spikes from within, piercing him with said energy from every angle before it simply explodes, forming an odd pair of wings as it rises into the ether before it simply vanishes from sight.
Domino lets out a surprised cry from the energy cacoon. The next cry he makes is more pained than surprised. When it explodes, he has nowhere to go but to a knee, eyes fairly widened. With one arm resting over his upturned knee, he eyes the girl intently.
"You weren't jokin'," Domino notes. Instead of looking angry or terribly pained though, he looks.. fairly amused. A faint grin touching to his lips, even. He raises back to his full height and brushes his right hand against his cheek, as if to brush off the pain. He's simply forcing it out of his mind right now. Taking a moment to recollect himself and consider a new approach. His right hand extends out to her, beckoning for her.
COMBATSYS: Drake gains composure.
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Drake 0/-------/-----==|=====--\-------\0 Marisol
Amused? The look on Marisol's face is a confusing one; for the most part, she seems family amused herself. On the other hand, the way her smile lingers is almost unnerving, as if she were actually enjoying the exchange of blows, especially considering the first few exchanges and how poorly they ended for her. Tilting her head up and angled slightly, eyes seem thoroughly amused. "Perhaps," she almost coos.
But, what's this? He's beckoning her to make her move? Furrowing her brows ever so slightly, the half-Spaniard seems to all but beam at the young man before her. "Aww," she offers, sporting a teasing frown. "You're not tiring out on me already, are you?" Not about to let him ease himself into comfort, Marisol bursts forward, to deliver a one-two combo straight to his face. Clearly the spirited redhead holds no punches.
COMBATSYS: Drake dodges Marisol's Medium Punch.
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Drake 0/-------/-----==|=====--\-------\0 Marisol
The dark-haired wrestler can't help but grin a little more at her. She's an amusing one, she is. Sure, he's focused on the match.. but some things he can't help but notice. His stance alternates quickly between the leading foot, waiting for her to make her move.
When it comes, Domino weaves low and turns a quick spin to clear the punches. Though the moment he gets the opportunity, he suddenly weaves back in front of her and reaches out to attempt hooking his arms around her waist. Without further warning, he attempts to yank her in towards him for a tight bearhug, crushing her body against his.
COMBATSYS: Marisol dodges Drake's Blackout.
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Drake 0/-------/-----==|=====--\-------\0 Marisol
Again, a miss. For the briefest of moments, Marisol's tanned features are wracked with disbelief. It's fleeting at best; a split-second later she lets her teeth clench lightly, to stave off any unwanted negativity. She's got to keep a clear mind and remain focused, after all. Recovering from that failed attempt, the young woman backpedals a few steps, and such was good tactics on her part.
The moment he's out of dodge he comes at her with arms open, attempting to snare the young woman. Grinning broadly, she simply pushes off and widens the gap, allowing his embrace to hug empty air. But her steps don't stop. In fact, she gives considerable distance before she pauses, squaring her jaw and letting those smoky grays fix on the wrestler. Notable is her breathing; she's a little winded, likely from over-exerted herself a bit TOO much. She spares herself a moment to remedy that. Still, however, she grins. "You sure you're a wrestler?" she asks, "Because with all this dodging and weaving I'd almost assume you were a damn boxer or ninja or something."
COMBATSYS: Marisol gains composure.
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Drake 0/-------/-----==|====---\-------\0 Marisol
The girl's question gets a soft laugh from Domino. The spectators exchange odd looks.. then resume cheering. "I assure you, I'm a wrestler." Pause. "And this has been pretty fun so far." Even though they've just begun, it's been one of the most fun matches he's had. Neither seems to be out to mortally wound the other - they're both pretty quick and nimble. It's interesting! Good training, dare he think such.
Domino inclines his head momentarily, bangs drifting out from his face. He then rushes towards her, attempting to not full-on assault her, but to manuever swiftly around to her back. His arms reach out to wrap around her stomach, and if successful, he bridges back to slam her head and shoulders back against the sand in a German suplex.
COMBATSYS: Drake successfully hits Marisol with Quick Throw.
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Drake 0/-------/----===|======-\-------\0 Marisol
"Mm, okay," she replies, simply accepting his explanation with little argument and an easy roll of her shoulders. A moment is spared to sport a broad grin before she focuses her eyes, narrowing them again with the same intensity before. She's gotta get herself in the game, here. No time for letting those thoughts go astray!
Squaring her shoulders again, the redhead seems ready to take whatever he has coming. And despite her best efforts he strikes true - snared, she's hefted up before she's thusly slammed into the sand with a muted thud and a puff of sand. Briefly dazed, the young woman stares at the evening sky.
"...huh."
Rolling aside, Marisol seems intent to spring back into action. Dashing forward, she delivers a one-two combo, fists swinging before they suddenly catch afire with yellow chi. Angling herself, she thrusts both fists at his gut, attempting to blow him back a few feet with the resulting impact - and chi explosion!
COMBATSYS: Drake counters El Matador from Marisol with Solar Eclipse.
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Drake 0/-------/---====|=======\-------\1 Marisol
Domino bridges to keep the hold of the suplex while she's dazed. He's not called for a pin-count, though. Instead, her 'huh' gets a, "Convinced I'm a wrestler yet?," response. When she tries to break away, he readily allows it. The dark-haired model curls back onto his shoulders and kips up to his feet cleanly.
Domino turns to face the girl, and when she makes her move, his stance slides. He places himself just outside her fists, bending over them to hook his right arm between her legs and his left arm around her neck. Utilizing what momentum she had backing her attack, he pulls her up off her feet to swing her in an arch first over his head. The motion then brings her - and him - to the side. Finally, the motion sees her back slammed squarely upon the sand, with his sleek abdominals landing squarely overtop and across hers for a powerslam.
Convinced? Grinning a touch, her reply comes as little more than a wry expression. She doesn't say a word; instead she just looks at him. A silence falls between them, almost awkward before she juts a hip to one side, hands resting on either as she lifts her head almost arrogantly and draws her eyes shut. "I dunno. You seem too pretty for a wrestler." Her grin widens further.
Grounded again in a blur of movement, and with a bare chest, no less! By now, the smirk on Marisol's face is a touch more vicious than amicable, her eyes going a bit wider with an obvious look of frustration. Fiery and spirited, the girl doesn't particularly like the fact this fight has been going pretty steadily south for her. It's embarrassing. She's better than this. Much better - she knows it.
Rolling to the side again once he's gotten off of her, both taped fists plant firmly into the sand and, with one motion, push her off the ground and up. Turning around to face the wrestler, she narrows her eyes. This alone seems to herald an odd breeze, soft motes of yellow energy rising like fireflies as she holds her ground, red tresses whipping about.
She looks pretty serious now.
COMBATSYS: Marisol gathers her will.
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Drake 0/-------/---====|=======\====---\1 Marisol
Domino decides, again, not to go for a pin on the girl. Besides, not all League fights permit pinning. All too much in favor of knockouts. Nevertheless, he raises up off of her and backs a few steps.
An obsidian eyebrow is quirked at her. Not out of malice, disdain, or mockery - but of amusement. "Too -pretty-? C'mon. I'm rakish. Roguish. Devilishly handsome." Pause. "Only clean-cut." He winks an amethyst eye at her playfully. He's.. apparently not taking the fight fully seriously. Again, he's focused, but he's not acting in his typical cold fashion for this match.
The wrestler surveys her mannerisms intently, taking her preparations into account. She's preparing herself for something. Oh, how he dislikes that. He rushes her then, leaping off the sand and turning his body to the side. His elbow juts out, aiming to collide with her torso.
COMBATSYS: Marisol blocks Drake's Strong Punch.
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Drake 0/-------/---====|=======\=====--\1 Marisol
Fortunately for Domino, there's no real grudge held there. It's not the first time the poor redhead has been pinned, and likely won't be the last time if she stick in town. Regardless, the offered raise is begrudgingly accepted before she steps back, squaring her shoulders before she idly rolls her head on her neck. Still, however, she's looking pretty irritable and fired up. The odd energy around her should be an indication. Yes, Marisol seems to be setting herself up for something particularly nasty.
His words earn him another wolfish grin from the half-Spaniard, red locks flittering about her shoulders. "Careful," she warns. "One bad match can take it all away." There are some pretty mean fighters out there, after all. Unfair, even. Clearly, however, he doesn't wish to converse; instead, he acts, aiming an elbow for her torso. Swiftly, a hand descends, to catch it in her palm.
That's when SHE moves. Turning on her heels, she attempts to deliver a sharp, downward blow at his face, her fists enveloped in chi...
COMBATSYS: Drake dodges Marisol's Cloud Nine.
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Drake 0/-------/---====|==-----\-------\0 Marisol
Domino's flying elbow drop is.. caught? Well, that certainly says something about her strength and capabilities. Though her follow-up attack barely misses connecting with unmarred flesh, the acrobatic wrestler turning a quick sideways spin to evade the strike.
The spin is twofold, bringing Domino to circle around from her front to her back. Once stationed there, he simply thrusts a knee-strike up towards her spine. The strike is crisp, sharp, and practiced, but clearly not as powerful a strike as his legs -could- deliver, judging from his toning.
COMBATSYS: Marisol interrupts Light Kick from Drake with Iron Butterfly.
-* CRITICAL HIT! *-
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Drake 0/-------/=======|==-----\-------\0 Marisol
Woosh. Fists tear through empty air, taped digits feeling not the delightful crack of skin and bone on skin and bone, but instead the disappointing breezy sensation of the wind across her flesh. Furrowing her brows, her expression seems...mildly surprised. If she's sincerely crestfallen or disgruntled, she really doesn't show it. Instead, her eyes widen a bit, a swift smirk chiseling its way rather sharply across her face. Oh, this is...interesting.
She laughs as he deftly avoids the attack, maneuvering to her side. The moment his knee snaps OUT, however, the girl doesn't seem the least bit phased by it - in fact, his knee seems to roll off her completley as she snaps her hand out. Again, a cocoon of chi erupts around him before it pierces him every which way, ultimately releasing him as it explodes in another glorious display of yellow flames and energy.
This triggers yet another cry of pain from the wrestler when he's cacooned and pierced. When it explodes, it drops the model to his rear, then flat onto his back. He lays there a couple seconds before shaking his head and scooting back from Marisol. He looks a bit more pained now, to her credit, one eye narrowed a little more than the other.
When Domino pulls himself back to his feet, he retakes his stance and inclines his head towards her. His left hand lifts to brush over his lips, subconsciously checking for any bleeding. He doesn't cheek his hand afterwards, however. He simply narrows his eyes on the female before him, inspecting her for any gaps in her defenses.
COMBATSYS: Drake focuses on his next action.
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Drake 0/-------/=======|==-----\-------\0 Marisol
Easing herself back and away as the cocoon explodes, Marisol seems to offer a broad smirk as he falls to the ground. Perhaps she overdid that a bit TOO much - she doesn't seem any less forgiving about likely hurting the poor guy to such a degree. In fact, she almost seems to delight in the oomph it packed. Pushed to her limits? Perhaps.
But that seems to be where she's best off at.
Feet slide beneath her again, white sandals shifting in the sands as hands lift up from her sides. Another tight stance, the girl seems unwilling to provide any holes in her defense; instead, she holds her ground firmly, lips parted as she all but gasps for breath in an attempt to CATCH it.
COMBATSYS: Marisol gains composure.
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Drake 0/-------/=======|-------\-------\0 Marisol
Domino narrows his eyes on the girl. Hrm. Her stance is fairly blocky. A direct assault isn't too likely to succeed. Instead, he decides to go with a different approach. He slips in towards her again, attempting to feint before her, then slip to her left side.
Hoping for success, Domino reaches down to her legs with his right arm and leans over. His left hand attempts to hook over her neck, and he tries to hoist her up over his shoulders. If caught, his left hand pulls down on her neck, and his right hand pulls down on one of her inner thighs, wracking her back across his shoulders in a torture rack hold.
COMBATSYS: Marisol blocks Drake's Strong Throw.
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Drake 1/-------/=======|==-----\-------\0 Marisol
Eyes narrow visibly as he jerks to life again, smoky gray depths keeping a close watch on his movements. Though his body seeks to throw her off with an obvious feint, Marisol doesn't seem fooled. Instead, her weight shifts as she braces herself, arms dropping from before her as he reaches for her legs. There's an obvious look of mild embarrassment, considering the poor girl is currently wearing a skirt. Clearly intent on preventing him from getting any farther, Marisol's hand snatches him by the wrist before she redirects it, throwing off his aim, so to speak.
That over and done, the girl hops back, giving herself more breathing room again - and looking incredibly flustered, atop of being a bit tired. "F-fresh!" she cries, her hand suddenly springing to life with energy. Energy which brightens as she reels a hand back before tossing it toward him, the sphere arcing up before it descends, right for him, where it seeks to explode in another glorious display.
COMBATSYS: Marisol successfully hits Drake with Rolling Star.
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Drake 1/-----==/=======|===----\-------\0 Marisol
Domino gives her a skeptical look after she makes her accusation, and he sets a hand to his chest. "Wrestler," he reminds. "It's what we do."
Her projectile is noticed, easily enough. He's.. just very much unused to them raining down in such a way. That's rather unique. He attempts to dive out of the way, but he fails. The attack strikes him squarely, forcing a yelp out of him. It brings him to a knee, and he shoots the girl a more serious look. Almost a glare. Almost.
Domino pushes himself back up to his feet and readies himself, feet digging into the sands. He then launches himself towards her, right arm extending to clothesline her across the neck and collar area.
COMBATSYS: Drake successfully hits Marisol with Quick Punch.
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Drake 1/-----==/=======|====---\-------\0 Marisol
Wrestler, he tells her. It's what they do.
Furrowing her brows in an obvious fashion, the redhead still seems a touch embarrassed and likely miffed at his attempts to attack her in such a seemingly forward fashion. Shifting her weight from one hip to the other, she turns her head to one side, slender hands resting on her hips in a nigh-arrogant fashion. "Maybe it's okay between men, but it's a bit unwelcome toward girls. Especially wearing skirts." What if he'd gotten a hold of her? Then what? Embarrassment, that's what!
He recovers quickly enough, and his movements are noted. Though he comes at her, she makes no outward motions to avoid it; instead, Marisol is struck, clothelined, which causes her to stumble back a few steps. It doesn't seem to disorient her too terribly - in fact, she lashes out quickly in retaliation, throwing a swift hook toward his jaw as she grits her teeth. Were she more boisterious, she'd likely yell.
COMBATSYS: Drake counters Medium Punch from Marisol with Solar Eclipse.
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Drake 1/----===/=======|======-\-------\0 Marisol
Domino skids a foot past the point of impact on his arm, then whirls around to face the girl. It didn't floor her? It was supposed to! He's pleased to find that the girl is every bit as tough as she seems.
The hook is noted, and in an instant, Jujitsu training comes into play. His left arm lashes out, cleanly snatching and halting her oncoming attack at the wrist between his thumb and middle finger. The wrist is twisted and brought behind her head, thus likewise hooking his left arm around her neck. His right arm hooks between her legs... and he offers her a brief wry, if not even slightly flirty smile.
In an instant, the redhead is brought off her feet and arched over his head. Her body is brought along with his to the side, and he drops with her to crash her back against the sand and land his abdominals across hers in another powerslam.
Though this time, Domino keeps ahold of her trapped wrist, chest half-pressed to hers to both cradle her head and bear her shoulders against the sand. His abdomen remains set overtop hers to add more weight to the pin, and his right arm settles along her side to hopefully keep her from squirming too much. His head lifts, and he calls for the announcer to count the pin.
Another hook, and another counterattack which leaves her likely frustrated. Her fist snared out of midair, the redhead looks vaguely surprised before she grits her teeth, readying herself for...well, whatever comes next at this point.
Part of her doesn't really like it, though, because he's again making inappropriate maneuvers by hooking around her legs and picking her up off the ground. Somewhere in the midst of it all she has the decency to pin her skirt in place before the ultimate fall, her back crashing down and her form yet again pinned in place. This is...utterly embarrassing.
Utterly.
Is he holding her down? Slowly but surely her face turns red. It's a mix of embarrassment and frustration, eyes going wide before she just reels a hand forward. In a spat of improvisation, she thrusts it toward his face, a burst of chi to erupt between them, a last ditch, adrenaline-fueled effort. It's a bit underhanded, but then again, her pride is at stake here!
"H-hey!! G-get off!" she stammers. "You win, g-god!"
COMBATSYS: Marisol can no longer fight.
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Drake 1/----===/=======|
COMBATSYS: Drake dodges Marisol's Rolling Star.
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Drake 1/----===/=======|
Domino's eyes widen when he sees the hand point at him. Ohsnap. He's been targetted like this -plenty- to know what's coming. He ducks his head quickly out of the way, thus releasing the pin. But he quickly sets his hands to her shoulders. "C'mon, don't take it so hard," he offers cheerfully. She submitted. No need for a pin.
And apparently, the announcer has caught this as well. "Winner by submission! DOMINOOO~!" The spectators begin cheering, whistling, and clapping enthusiastically. And here the tiki-masked announcer was ready to give the dramatic three-count.
Domino eases back from her to sit on his knees. "You fight pretty hard. I like that," he compliments. He then raises to his feet and faces the audience, right fist thrusting into the air in victory. He then takes on a more casual posture with a sly smile, left hand setting to his hip and right hand whisking through his bangs - which simply fall right back into place about his eye.
The preening is necessary, after all.
COMBATSYS: Drake has ended the fight here.
Her plan works as anticipated: he sees it coming and, knowing well it might sting a little, rolls off the girl and allows her the freedom she's obviously aiming for. No pun intended. Regardless of his dodge the blast rockets up into the air and explodes, all while Marisol rolls slightly to her right, gradually going about peeling herself off the sand. "Gross," she mumbles to herself. "This will take hours to get out of my hair." Lifting a hand as she sits upright, she seems to struggle to smooth it all back into place, looking mildly annoyed with said struggle.
At the announcer's yell her gray eyes look up and toward him, offering a glare of sorts before she just draws her eyes shut and grunts. Though he offers a bit of good sportsmanship, she doesn't seem willing to accept it. Not completely, anyway. Instead she exhales a breath and rises to her feet, patting her skirt off.
Only do her eyes open when he acknowledges her again, her brows knit before she smirks. "Oh? Well, I'm glad you weren't disappointed." She sure is, on multiple levels - and her tone makes that much obvious. Still, she goes back shrugging her shoulders, turning her back to him with an arrogant smirk. "Ah well, I blame the location. It's impossible for me to fight out here with all this sand and...darkness. And fire."
With that announcement made, the spectators start to clear, and the League officials begin to deconstruct the tiki field. Drake, however, turns around to face Marisol again. "Well, lemme have a look at you." He strolls around the girl to stand before her, and his head tilts slightly. "Are you hurt? You're okay, right? When you went a little limp, I was afraid I might've cut off too much air..." His left hand lifts to brush over the back of his neck, making him look almost sheepish with his admittance.
Though after this, he extends his right hand to her. This obviously is not intended to be shaken, as the palm is turned to the dark sky. "As you knew, the name's Drake. Drake Vyril."
The sound of footfalls behind her - however muted by the sand they may be - cause her eyes to open, a mildly perplexed look on her face. When they open they're greeted first by a chest before she lifts them, peering up at the slightly-taller American with that same, bemused expression. "Wait. ..what? Huh?" Have a look at her? Her features shift rather sharply, a hard, confident expression flooding her tanned face. "I-I'm fine, seriously. A few punches and throws aren't going to kill me, and neither's a headlock." She shifts her weight again, hands resting on her hips as she adds, "‘sides, I've endured a lot more of a beating than that." She won't talk about the time she ate a grenade.
Lifting a hand, she first offers a palm, to emphasize that, yes. She's perfectly a-ok. But when he obviously cuts to, well...the obvious formal greeting, she lets her eyes shift to the proffered hand between them. "Huh. You have a full name? Honestly," Her hand moves, accepting his with a firm grasp and shake. It's the sort of shake businessmen would envy.
"I think I prefer that over some wrestling moniker. Then again," Looking away, her eyes draw shut as she wryly grins. "It's not the worst I've heard." I mean, come on. Big Bear!?
Exhaling, the girl releases his hand, letting her thumbs loop idly through the small belt loops at her hips. "In any case, you did good." She ALMOST sounds reluctant to admit as much, going so far as to shoot her glance elsewhere before she rolls her shoulders. Looking back, she offers that same, wolfish smirk before she saunters past him. Only when her back is to him she lifts a hand up, in parting. If she'd lost her confidence before, she's seemed to find it again - in abundance.
"I'll be seeing you around again, I'm sure. Next time you can bet I'll win. Ciao, Drake."
Well, so much for the refined lady treatment he was -going- to give her. Drake just gives his firmly grasped and shaken hand an odd, somewhat defeated look, then looks back to her and exhales a soft sigh. "Yeah-huh," he replies half-heartedly. Disappointed? Clearly.
Drake's hands set casually to his hips, and he turns to watch her as she takes her leave. "Look forward to it, then," he calls after her, tone a mite bit on the flat side.
Log created by Marisol, and last modified on 08:30:18 04/28/2007.