‘ you’ve got a lot of nerve. ’ repeated like a curse or the worst mantra on planet earth. clenched fists, seeing red, grinding teeth and thirsting for blood. victoria isn’t a brute. victoria isn’t imposing. victoria may be one vengeful, vindictive bitch, but she’s never been one to be the shark sniffing for blood in the water. but this time ? she wants to even the playing field. regardless of the giants that’ll be out on the ice tonight, she knows she’ll be pulling teeth and leaving shiners. ‘ stay outta the crease, motherfucker. i will saw your right hand off with my fucking skate so you can never jerk off to your reflection ever again. ’ there’s always a left hand, victoria … but she understands how annoying it is to properly jerk off with a non-dominant hand. a grin. holding a grudge closer than she’s ever held anyone fuck you, dallas. fuck you for what you did. the sound of a cracking stick is still fresh in her mind. she can see elliot crumbling onto the ice, writhing around, and coming back up with a split face. the poor pretty boy had his goods damage, and for once, he almost didn’t get hit on at the pub afterparty. almost. the cool chill of a fresh sheet of ice, shocking her out of the sickening warm sweat she’s breaking her pregame ritual is running on the treadmill at an incline and making sure she’s hot and ready. and she sure is. hair in two long braids, draping over her shoulders, lips puckered with a strawberry chapstick. eyebrows press together, sneer prods at her lip, and she’s got her signature gameface on a stone cold glare with barely bared fangs. cold glare never leaves, even as she reaches the ice. straight to the rink, searching for the blood in the water. she gets her usual shoulder pats and kind hello’s, but she keeps walking. she doesn’t even harass hector. skate blade hits the ice, and she’s flying off, making her usual rounds. calm, easy, keeping her eyes peeled for the fucking brick wall. ah. hard to miss. stick in hands, eyes scanning as the rest of the brumbies congregate for a pregame skate. “ hey, dallas, you nervous for your first brumbies game, eh ? ” a voice rising above the sounds of skates and pucks hitting plexiglass. victoria almost cracks a smile. striding up to him, stick in both hands, daggers fixed right on him. if looks could kill … tough, poised, ready to strike. what an asshole. exuding testosterone, looking like a GI Joe from this view. stick taps lightly against his leg as she adds : “ i know you juice, bud i can smell it off you. try to control your ‘roid rage … maybe you’ll get some actual ice time. ” / @fuckedprophet
