Quoted By:
>*hic*
The rather tipsy Holly steps out of the bathroom, ignoring the snoring form of Sheila Foster. She stumbles slightly as steps into her post-match civilian gear.
No doubt many of the other wrestlers will be going to celebrate another successful paperview event. The words of the results trickle through the back, but Holly pays them no mind, putting away her strapping tape and ring gear into her locker.
She sniffs, forcing down another hiccup.
The end of the last two matches...
>*hic*
The rookie grimaces, resting her swirling head against the locker door.
She had no intention of joining in any celebrations anyway. She'd won, yes, but she had little care for the rest of the roster. Little care for the gaggle of giggling girls who seemed to radiate in and around the back, like a tide of sugar and shit.
Holly slams the locker door shut, pausing for a moment before she makes plans to depart into the night.
Farmer Girl
She'd never met the other wrestler. But dammit if she didn't respect the shit out of her. It had been her first night in the company when she saw the Spaniard compete. Holly had been enamoured with her strong-style strikes. She'd even adapted her own moveset slightly to play off of the fists that she'd used to dispatch the Queen.
The girl had spoken the right language, fought the right way, and had seen her career ended.
Kelly Omega
Holly was hardly a fan of the upper-carders, and less-so of the rookies who glued themselves to them.
But Kelly had actually called her out as a positive example of the development of the Dojo. Had referenced her in promos. In spite of herself, the hotheaded thug had gotten giddy as a schoolgirl
It didn't matter thought. Both had lost.
The two main-eventers who she had looked to as examples, quietly taking inspiration from had been done away in the same PPV she'd won at.
A drunken smile forms on Holly's bruised lips.
Maybe she was all that.
She giggles, a joyous little laugh, filled with mirth and bloodlust.
