starter for @afteriimage
She hadn't been called Hellfire for nothing. Five years after Kite Kennaway disappeared from the world of professional fighting and she is still a storm in the ring, vicious and bloody and victorious. More so, if anything. Some months after recruiting her into the underground Ames had slowly begun pitting her against men here and there, plausibly for lack of women in the circuits, but now they are the only fights she takes and he's gotten bolder, setting her up for bigger odds. This has been the biggest fight yet, and the first one she'd flown for since being a public champion.
It always itches, being so far away from her sister, but at least they're on the same continent and having a fight takes the edge off, as much as she knows Dove would hate it if she knew. The truth is Kite likes her new career; really likes it. There's a freedom that wasn't there before in the professional limelight, both in the fights and outside. Namely no god damn paparazzi to deal with. No autographs, no fan photos, no entourage needed. Ames takes care of the technical business and Kite does what she does best.
She's climbed out of the ring and is pushing through the crowd when someone is jostled into her by the excited throng already cheering for the next fight.
"Whoa—easy there." Kite steadies the girl with strong hands still in their wrappings, bloody from the fight. Ready to push on, she pauses, studies her. Petite and far too lovely to be part of this sweating, blood-hungry horde. "You okay? Seems like maybe you took a wrong turn somewhere."
Assessing the people immediately around them, she's now on guard and ready to push aside anyone else who might bump into the delicate woman before her. Kite's skin shines faintly with sweat and a once-white towel is draped around her neck, traces of wiped blood across her brow, from her nose to her chin and more on her shoulders, clavicles, dark stains soaked into her tank top. Split skin on her lower lip, cheek, eyebrow, but at least the active bleeding has stopped. The left side of her face from hairline to jaw is a flushed crescent showing where the bruises will form, eye swollen but not shut. Despite being a mess of violence—or perhaps because of it—she looks right at home.
