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Far, far from the streets of Spaghetti Town laid the quiet beachside hamlet of Fusilli Village. Tonight, like most every night, one Dahlia Sands, the former Queen of the Beach, was out on her nightly stroll through the town. There were few things the woman once known as 'The Sandstorm' enjoyed more than these nightly walks. They were relaxing, and they gave her time to think, and to contemplate things.
It had been several days since she had sent her idiot daughter Duna packing, beating her out of her depressive funk and sending her back to Spaghetti Town on the first bus she could. She loved her daughter dearly, but...Duna was an idiot, and Dahlia was getting tired of having to knock some sense into her (quite literally) every time her daughter lost a big one and got into a bad mood over it.
She paused for a moment in her walk, looking up to the stars with a sigh. Duna didn't realize how lucky she was. Her dumbass daughter was young, and powerful, and still had an entire career ahead of her. There was no reason for her to get so weepy every time misfortune and bad luck came her way. For a brief moment, Dahlia almost felt jealous of the reigning Queen. After all, Duna was still young and had every advantage in the world, while time and general wear-and-tear had caught up to Dahlia over the years. It had been a great, great many years since Dahlia had stepped into the ring, and sometimes, just sometimes, she wondered if she could handle one more match. Just one more, one last return to the ring.
She shook her head, laughing softly to herself as she returned to her walk. That was crazy talk. The business belonged to the younger generation now. Dahlia was past her prime, and the ring was no place for her anymore.
...but what if...
