by xingy
It would be an easy day. Yes, only one fight - and against Hwang of all people.
Simple as pie.
Smiling to herself, Ivy brushed a wisp of stray hair behind her ear.
Where was he? Late as usual.
Glancing around her dark mansion, Ivy sighed to herself. She was rich, and rich was, of course, good. Still, life had not always been so kind. Like now, for instance. Not a day went by without brutal fights and training - not that it mattered. Nope, everything paled in comparison to the one important item in her life.
Her black leather fighting costume.
Ah, yes. Hand stitched to fit, the brilliant skin-tight outfit adorned her muscled body this day, the leather creaking with each motion she made, the sound delighting her senses. In reality it showed more than it hid, but she didn't mind. The aura the suit held traveled throughout her veins, igniting a path of fire in her blood and burning intensely within her eyes. While wearing this costume, she was unbeatable.
Truly unbeatable.
A cruel smile curled the corners of her lips as she dug her sharply heeled boot into the granite tile.
Where was Hwang?
Probably off completing some goofball, idiotic scheme with Kilik or smooching with Mina, Ivy thought disgustedly to herself. Not that that mattered either - they'd all pay.
Eventually.
The echoing of footsteps throughout the vacant mansion pulled Ivy from her hideous thoughts. Hwang had arrived. About time.
Squinting her eyes, Ivy spotted his figure approaching in the distance, head held high and shoulders drawn back. One eyebrow rose slightly as she fixed him with a cold stare.
Arrogant moron.
As Hwang drew nearer, Ivy placed a hand on her hip and glanced briefly at her nails before returning her gaze to his - a small gesture to show her immense boredom.
"You're late," she commented dryly once he had stopped walking, never breaking eye contact.
"I know," he shot back, matching her gaze second for second and placing the tip of his sword on the floor.
A moment of tense silence passed, the powerful hatred between the two almost cackling in the stale mansion.
It was during this moment that Ivy noticed something - something she wished she hadn't noticed.
Hwang was smirking.
She hadn't perceived it at first, but he most certainly was smirking, the sides of his lips upturned in an almost condescending manner - as if he knew the secrets of the world itself. And as far as Ivy knew, he did.
"Well, let's get this stupid fight over with," she said, a nervous tension involuntarily threading her voice, "I've got other business to take care of."
"That's assuming you're still alive," Hwang remarked absently, the smirk growing even larger on his face.
Ivy blinked.
What was going on?
"I will be, so spare me your worry," she sneered in a not quite confident manner. Gods, how she wished that smirk would simply disappear. Something about it was just so incredibly.
.evil.
As they took their fighting stances, Ivy couldn't remove her gaze from his lips, which were parted just slightly and still upturned in the cruel, unnerving smirk. Panic began to swell within her, the bitter taste of fear heavy in her mouth. With trembling fingers, she tightened her grip on the hilt of her sword.
How could a smirk affect her so much? It was just a smirk.
.an incredibly hideous, conniving smirk.
In a flurry of thought, Ivy stepped back. She couldn't possibly fight him now, not with that wicked look playing upon his features. Cautiously sighing, she let her arms fall lifelessly to her sides, defenseless.
Clearly confused by her motives, Hwang paused a second and then visibly relaxed, placing the tip of Blue Thunder on the ground but never loosing the smirk.
Ivy got the distinct impression that the world could be collapsing around him, engulfing itself in liquid hot flames, and still he would be smirking.
Gods forgive him if he ever lost the smirk.
"What the heck are you smirking at?" she demanded, her voice harsh with what she hoped sounded like disgust, but she knew was truly fear.
"Nothing really," Hwang shrugged, clearly delighted at her obvious discomfort, "just curious as to how you plan on fighting while wearing that. that, outfit."
No, he didn't just.
Ivy blinked. And blinked again. When blinking apparently wasn't working, she let her jaw drop. But he had.
Hwang, while basking in his hypothetical glory, had just insulted her costume. Her BEAUTIFUL costume!!! The costume that meant everything to her; the costume that was her life, her spirit. She was speechless - a fact that Hwang took very much to his advantage.
"Not that I'm insulting you, don't think that," he began, raising a hand and making it very evident that he WAS indeed insulting her, "it's just that I'm incredibly curious as to how you planned to fight in that. outfit." The last word was sounded forced, as though he couldn't decide what word best described her choice of apparel.
An odd sensation overwhelmed Ivy, consuming her senses and making her ill. Hot tears swelled in her eyes and cascaded down her flushed cheeks, the large salty drops dripping onto the black leather of her outfit with soft 'plink plink' sounds.
It was over.
It was all over.
Her will to win - to survive - had been broken, torn violently from within her by one small comment.
Without uttering a word, Ivy turned and walked slowly down the darkened hallway of her immense mansion, stumbling occasionally and wiping tears from her eyes - tears she had never felt before today.
Anything else she could have handled, and handled with sufficient violence. But not this. Not this.
Her black leather costume, hand-stitched to fit, and the aura it cast around her had been shamed. Nothing would ever be the same.
As Ivy staggered along, her heels clicking irregularly on the granite tiles, a "WOOO-HOOO!" echoed throughout the mansion, reverberating off the vast empty walls and ceilings.
It had come from the direction of the fighting ring.
