"I'm waking up, I feel it in my bones
Enough to make my systems blow
Welcome to the new age, to the new age."
"Oooh, baby, baby. Baby, baby. Push it good, push it real good. Hey! Ow! Push it good!"
"Oh shit. 15 minutes. We should go."
Serafina was jarred rudely awake from her perfectly good, if not inappropriate dream with Salt n' Peppa playing in the background. She groaned, rolling not quite so elegantly out of bed as her head was assaulted by multiple walls. She might or might not have snuck out for a drink and she might or might not be half dead from the worst hangover she'd had in her entire, short mortal life. And that was saying something because Serafina could drink.
She dragged herself across to her scatter of weapons, her head throbbing viciously and her vision threatening to turn non-existent.
When Serafina de Valeio walked into a room - any room - people reacted.
She'd had her butt grabbed, daggers thrown at her head, prostitutes hanging themselves from her curvaceous body and flowers thrown at her face - and a chicken, once. Sometimes people trembled in fear, sometimes they tried to kill her or convince her to join the bright side with virgin nuns and all that. She'd been applauded, worshipped, attacked, hit on, but never in her life had Serafina been booed.
She narrowed her eyes at the blurry audience - her vision was not at its best - trying her best not to sway too much. Somehow, despite her massive hangover, she seemed quite... Serafina. Charming, invasive, big chested and big egoed. That might've had something to do with the bottle of snake wine in her left hand.
"Silly fox lady, Shojo's been in the ring since we started! We're just waiting on the other team to offer up a playmate for him!"
Her head tilted back as she drowned the rest of the bottle, reaching for another she'd brought along in a massive bag she was dragging behind her.
"Shojo says he wants the fire girl!"
Serafina rubbed her forehead, closing her eyes and sighing with exasperation. Ah well, she thought as she chucked the empty bottle of wine over her shoulder. Nothing beat a hangover like getting drunk.
She sashayed her way over to the ring, her hips swaying from side to side and her belly button ring glinting in the sunlight. Viridi and Ignis shone ruby and emerald as her hair fluttered like flames in the wind. She narrowed her eyes at her opponent but all she could think of was his name.
Shojo.
Shojo.
Shojo manga.
She saw the figure before her as a big anime eyed blonde bimbo with a big head and a tiny body.
"Fuck," she cursed under her breath. Then she took a breath and stepped into the ring.
Suddenly, the drunk, hungover and possibly stoned girl transformed into something else. Her emerald eyes were bright, assessing her opponent and anticipating every move. She reached behind her back to draw out her twin swords. As usual, Serafina did not use her fire magic. No one had ever seen her use it in battle, other than to burst into flames as one might light fireworks. Many wondered if she had any control over her gift at all, or if she was merely holding back - saving the best for times of dire need? - but that was something only the Psychic would know.
Serafina feinted left and lunged right and suddenly she was behind Shojo, her swords raised before she brought them down in swift movements to slice his throat and to pierce him through his heart.