Distorted Mirror (any and all)

[Ceridell]

(My first time playing her, so it will be short. I'd rather it be short than thesauras humping...)

Dammit...

*Limping slightly, a stocky fluff marched down the alleyway. Though she was young, the mutt had lost one to many fights, and she knew it. The dark souled scrapper longed for the days of her head turning beauty, for her sway over any male she chose. But that was gone now. Now, especialy now, fresh out of the ring and stained with blood, she was nothing more than a washed up, washed out, scared up loose female.*

*And most likely, that would be as good as Jezabelle would ever be again*

*The spots on her muzzle were now a distorted mess as she snarled at nothing in particular and glared down at the pavement at her feet. Desperation now swept her mind. If this kept up at this rate, she'd be a punching bag for sure. Jez would do anything...ANYTHING to keep that from happening. It was much more fun to pick on Finnigan than to be with him. She splahsed her paw in a puddle as she went. The ripples caught the attention of the two toned eyes of the female. Through the undulating waves of water, Jezabelle looked at her reflection. Distorted. That's the only way she could ever look at herself. A arrogent and seductive smirk made its way to her face. In this way, she could imagine her face, still beautiful, and in one piece. With a laugh, the fighter walked away before the water could still and show her what she really looked like*

*It was easier to trick yourself this way.*

*Jez now made her way towards the kennels. She had made it a point to lick off the blood, and try to hide her limp. Hopefully, there would be food, or males, here...*

[Finnigan]

Throwin' Finn in with ya'.

There was a male sitting by the kennels, and he did have food. Unfortunately, he was probably not the person that Jezzabelle would really want to be seen with. Finnigan sat alone, trying to find some cover behind the kennels. After all, food was hard to come by in the Old Market. Even harder if you were someone of his own rank. So, he sat there silently with his food, some kind of meat (or so he guessed) that a human had thrown to one of the fighters. It was probably laced in steroids or something of the like.

Finnigan’s charcoal ears flickered. His eyes flashed upwards to see Jezzabelle coming towards the kennels. Trying to be inconspicuous, the mix used a paw to pull the food closer to him, until it was practically underneath him. The disdain in those emerald eyes of his was undeniable as he gazed towards the struggling fighter. There was some satisfaction in seeing that he was limping, but not much.

The gazed that he held had warped into an icy glare. Finn was angry, and he probably had every right to be. She was one of them that constantly mocked him. She harassed him for being the Punching Bag, despite the fact that she was little better at fighting than he was now. They were one of the reasons that Junior had crushed his spirit so easily. If you lose a fight, you were usually beat and ridiculed. And if you keep losing fights, you were shoved down with the used-up, washed-out, good-for-nothing fighters.

Like he was now.

Casually, he slid the food out from under him. There was a cold, hard look in his eyes as he tried to look high and mighty, which would probably get him torn to pieces if the wrong person saw him. He wanted her to come and bother him like they all did.

Today was a good day for revenge… but then again, isn’t every day? Besides, she was an easy target. Maybe not a long time ago, but she was now.

[Ceridell]

*Black nose flared. Male. Food. What? At the same time? Ahha! Perhaps her luck had changed. But upon further inspection...no...not by any means. It was Fin.Ironicly, the dog she had just been thinking of...wait...Fin had food... There were two differnt aproaches she could go about this. Jezebelle could live up to her namesake, and try to sweet talk it out of him. Or she could intimitate him out of it. Both had thier advantages. By sweet talking, she could continue to fool herself into thinking that she wasn't gorgon, but the beauty she once was. By bullying, if anyone was watching, it would give her brownie points. And both, thier disadvantages. Sweet talking could be seen up unsespected onlookers as pity on the punching bag, and pity was a weakness here. And if she bullied, and he chalanged...she wasn't one hundred percent sure she could win right now...*

*But that was a chance she had to take.*

*waling now with chocolate paws high, and tattered ears forward, she sashayed over towards the kennels. Jez's two toned eyes were inviting, but only to the food. Something in the back of her head told her to smell a rat. it wasn't like any dog, let alone a punching bag to have it out in the open like that. But her hunger of food, and of what little joy she could take out of this situation drove her on.*

*The look on his face, it sickened her...but more powerfully, it terrified her. The fact that the lowest of the low looked on her like that. As though he knew, as though he predicted. It cut her deep, she felt a chill in her bones. Finnigan, the most imfamous of Punching Bags, predicting her demise. The way he looked at her, it told her..one day, you'll be here, and you'll fall beneath me. Now, that made her angry...Jezebelle snarled slightly. She could not let him see that. Instead, she morphed her tiny snarl into a cocky little smile. Scarred tail raised as high it could go, eyes filled with false joy as she walked by, her body now parrelled with his*

What? For me? Finny, you sholdn't have, you know...

*The Wasp attempted to live up to her ring name. With the snap and leave move she was famed for, she attempted to snap down on her meal provider's ear.*

[Finnigan]

Finn watched as Jez’s hungry, mismatched eyes ran over the bait that he had placed in front of him. It usually angered him how she, a fighter so close to being a Punching Bag, could simply spot something of his and decided to have it for her own. Today, though, it pleased him. She might have suspicions, but the fact that she had spotted him and his food was plain. And the intense hunger in her eyes almost made him smirk.

He knew that feeling, after a fight, when all you can do is gorge yourself on anything to get the vile taste of your opponents flesh out of your mouth. Finnigan, who had once been a great fighter, remembered it. The coppery taste of blood as it slid throat, and you felt that cold satisfaction knowing that he had torn apart another creature. When you first started, the bloodlust was great. But now, that taste was sickening to Finn. Or maybe it was the taste of his own failure that was sickening.

Finnigan’s satisfaction grew when he heard a light snarl from the she-dog before him. All of his satisfaction brought a smirk to his face. A small one, mind you, for the shepherd could already tell that he was giving much away by his stunt before when he had left the scrap of meat out in the open. Emerald eyes watched the mutt carefully. He didn’t like the way she was smirking, even if he had seen a thousand times over. “What? For me? Finny, you shouldn’t have, you know...” The voice, with its fake enthusiasm, echoed cruelly in his mind.

Then she snapped at his ears (which were surprisingly undamaged by his time in the ring). Instinctively, he jerked his head back and not a moment to soon. He heard the jaws viciously snap shut and could feel her hot breathe on his face and ears. This was way waaaay too close for comfort.

“I didn’t,” he hissed in reply. He made a grab for his food. After nearly tearing his still-intact-ears off his skull, there was no way in hell she was getting his snack.

[Ceridell]

*Jezabelle's jaws snapped sickening at the air. In a break neck manner, she pulled her head back to normal, trying to hide her frustration at the miss. The little comment the punching bag gave as he grabbed his meat made her even more angry..but right now, she had a game to play. She was in a bad mood from the lost fight, and an even worse mood from Finagin's reaction to her. she realized now she had full right to pummel him for his attitude. It wasn't offical yet that she was going to be demoted, so he had no right to talk to her like that. But it was far to late for that. So why not revert to old tricks...after all, the poor dear thought she was still stuningly beautiful.*

I'm sorry, Finny...

*The has been took a few steps back and gave him a bit of a sultry look, flicking her once proud ears suggestively*

I just thought a gentleman like you would like to share a dinner with a lady that's all...

((Short, but sweet))

[Finnigan]

Sorry it took so long. Didn’t see that you replied.

Finn was a bit annoyed that what he had done had no effect on the other dog. But this only made him more determined to upset her or show here up in front of anyone who was watching. Despite his annoyance and determination he was also rather confused. Any other fighter would have beaten him black and blue and then snatch up the meat.

By right, the meat belonged to any one who was strong enough to take it. Jezabelle may not have been the best fighter, but Punchingbags where free game. Since they weren’t supposed to fight back in the ring, most refused to fight back at all. But not Finn. Not today, when this megalomaniac had approached him. Maybe he was just sick of being pushed around… or maybe he wanted to win just one more fight.

The confusion continued its rampage on the old fighter when she said, “I’m sorry.” Finn just stared stupidly at her, his bewilderment clear on his scarred face. It wasn’t until he noticed the way she was looking at him that he understood. When he did realize what she was planning, he was rather taken aback. With a cough that displayed how uncomfortable she had made him, he sat stupidly for a second or two before replying to her.

“I ain’t a gentleman, and you ain’t a lady,” came the grumbled retort. It was rather clear despite his full mouth.

[Ceridell]

*Woofle of confusion, harsh words, uncomfortable situation...perfect! Jezabelle was not the master of this game...she invented it. As quickly as her paws could take her the red mutt launched herself at the slightly bamboosaled punching bag. If her attack was sucsessful, she would have the shepard pinned. If this worked, she knew it wouldn't last long, he outwieghed her...but it was a principle of the matter*

*Mix matched eyes looked down on him, a little smile on her face*

Now, Finnigan, that was very rude of you...

*Scraggly tail raised high and cocky smile on her face, Jezabelle lowered her head, jaws open, to take her prize. The first good sized meal she had had in a while...*

[Tyrant]

( -runz in circlez-)

Yellow orbs were watching. It seemed they could cut through flesh and fur if they wanted to with deadly surgical precision, as cold-heartedly as any killer. Every moment or so they’d shift to eye the little wretch Fin, and his latest opponent. Opponent. One could laugh at the word when it was applied to the punching bag.

But Tyrant never did.

Weakness had eaten away a good fighter. And that was no laughing matter. It was infuriating. Yet his lips stayed drooped over his fangs, body poised for nothing more then to lay on the kennels above them. His tolerance for such a thing only extended to the scarred dog for training purposes and just good ole bullying. It raised morale to those whom got their kicks from tearing into a subordinate. A good pump-start to any upcoming brawl.

Fin’s resistance brought a tongue over Tyrant’s snout. It was his only reaction, and his only movement whilst the fray started to grow between the punching bag and the strange-eyed female. The Pit Bull eyed her more closely every second till Fin dissipated completely from his mind’s eye.

The Wasp.

He recalled her title, having seen it on the losing end many a time now. Too many off-days for his liking, but she wasn’t dead yet, or crippled enough to dispose of. Or that’s how he reasoned with himself. Like Fin, she could still have some use and again his tolerance reached it’s numbing point. She would eventually die with her losses, either in the ring or from wounds outside of it. He could even be the one to end her career if she became a burden.

Her little display with Fin showed some blind searching for a bit of redemption. This he observed sharply, scrutinizing her every move. She wouldn’t go down to Fin’s level without a fight.

Another lick over his nose, yellowed orbs fixated, focus greatly piqued with the two. He was not about to interfere and ruin the encounter completely. No, he’d stay in his spot, stretched out with his hide wrinkling around the base of his throat. Comfortable.

[Finnigan]

Hurray for Tyrant!

Not expecting the other dog to launch herself at him, he found himself unable to do dodge the attack. He’d let his idiotic confusion take the best of him and was at risk of losing his ‘hard-earned’ meal. Spiteful green orbs, glared up at the she-dog’s own scarred and mismatched eyes, while his mind quickly calculated his next move. He had several options. He could drop the meat and attack her, but then he’d run the risk of losing his trophy. Simply pushing her off was another option, which left him open for attack. Another choice was to-

“Now, Finnigan, that was very rude of you...”

"It’s the goddamned truth. You weren’t ever a lady, never will be either."

The mix’s attention was pulled away from the creature planted on him. He felt eyes upon him. His eyes did a quick sweep of the area. He became aware that Jezzabelle was leaning downwards. On the kennels above the fighting pair, he saw another fighter, whose ugly mug could only belong to one scarred, evil bastard. His eyes locked with those of the old fighter whose attention was set on the other dog. Hateful, spiteful, malicious eyes were fixed on that nasty, old, fat and wrinkling pig’s hideous face and deadly eyes.

Finn felt his meal being pulled from his grip. He growled, whether at Jezz or Tyrant, he didn’t know. Nor did he care. Either way he was angry, and determined to prove himself. In one quick motion, he locked his charcoal and attempted to rolled onto his stomach, trying to get the sixty-five pound mutt off of him. His eyes were no longer fixed on those of the Boss's, knowing that it might be the end of him.

[Ceridell]

*Her day was getting considerably better. While it started with a rough patch in the ring, she now succesfully pinned a worthless punching bag who had a bad case of big mouth today. The smells intoxicated her. The smell of Fin's dirty body heat as it rose to her lips, almost to taste, and that meat...most likely not fit for human consumption, but a delicacy to Jezabelle...or any other of the Market Street Dogs, come to think of it. The gorgon smiled, and let out a little laugh dispite herself. She was having a good time. The little snippet the bold punching bag threw stung only a little. Jez was ONCE a lady...wasn't she? Well, in her mind, she was. And that's all Jez needed.*

*But Finnagin's next move threw her for a loop. The punching bag began looking around. What? What could possibly be more important than her at this moment? Only a little bit of that thought was arrogence, the rest was common sense. Who takes thier eyes off thier oppenent durring battle...especialy a loosing battle? Confused, yet still holding meat in mouth, Jez herself swung her eyes around. A growl told her early that was a bad move...damn! She had fallen for the same trick she had just lured her oppenant into!*

*While not in the fighting shape she was in, Fin was bigger. While this move would usualy just MOVE the dog on top, Jezabelle was caught off gaurd, and so rolled with him. The fact she was being watched was unknown to her, if so, she wouldn't have fought any harder than she did right now. Bristling head to toe, and spotted nose now grossly distorted, Jez sped to her feet. Now usualy, her looks would drive strange glances. But if anyone came by now, she truly looked like a monster. Pure hatred filled the fighting mutt as her bristled tail rose higher and higher over her body*

YOu have a lot of balls to fight back like that, you bastard!

*This was no longer about meat. This was no longer about fun. This was now bussiness, and her teeth showed it as she launched herself once again at this head*

[Tyrant]

(Rar, short, very short. Please forgive.)

What dog here could ever when a beauty contest? Jez was haggard, and Fin, well Fin needed to be shaved, then maybe with that nasty pelt gone, he could pass off as a handsome large rat. And of course, the fat wrinkly pig set on-high with observing eyes was not one to ever look pretty. In truth if you did you were most likely new meat that would shortly be chewed on till your looks matched your life. Though this look that implied his ugliness was given, he did not receive it. His focus was on the wasp.

Fin’s little move had won him a bit of a point against the oddly eyed bitch. If Tyrant felt anything for the punching bag, it was nil to his features. He expected the ratty dog to lose whilst Jez got a bit practice out of it. Maybe she’d find her fire again to perhaps actually WIN a match. It was truly up to chance, something the old Pit-dog knew all too well.

Not uttering a sound or a word, the Boss kept his wicked gaze upon the duo. That meat was starting to look tasty....

[Finnigan]

Finn hadn’t been expecting Jez to take her eyes off the prize when he was looked around. Nor did he expect to pull her with him when he attempted to roll away from the conceited she-dog. It was only to be expected though, since she did have a tight grip on the meat and she was lighter than he opponent. If he had been paying full attention, he might have been able to land a blow or two. But his mind was still on the fat creature observing the fight.

Sure, at one point they might have all passed as okay looking dogs, but not now. Jezz looked like she had gone up against a paper shredder. He looked as if he had rolled around had been rolling around in a sewer for quite a while. Tyrant looked like a wrinkly old boar. Still, there were others who had it worse than them, even if it seemed impossible.

“You have a lot of balls to fight back like that, you bastard!”

He had done it again. He wasn’t paying complete attention to the fight, which could cost him his life. Not that it was worth much here in the ring or in this gang. That was why he had been sneaking off every once in a while to see Sita. It gave him a reason to continue, even if it wasn’t that good of one. The shepherd was brought back to reality again by the sound of Jezzabelle. He had just enough time to drop his head to prevent her from removing his throat. There was little else he could do with such little time. Backing up would do much and attacking now could result in severe injury. He was gonna get his ass kicked, which probably could have been prevented earlier if he had just given up the meat.

[Ceridell]

*Panting heavily and snorting foam from her nose, the ripped up soul roared as she clamped down her Fin's head, her front paws on the scruff bag's shoulders. Feeling bone in her mouth, she clamped down.Jez was strong, but no one she had ever fought was strong enough to puncture the skull. THe lack of her power infuriated her more. This fact, along with her tactic of never staying on one place to long, moved her to release the grip she had on the skin under his nowhawk, jump of his shoulders, and clamp back down on his ear. The shredded monster would now attempt to pull him down to the ground with it. Something about having a fully in tact ear in her mouth drove her bitterness.*

*Jez's soul was now filled with unbridled hate. HEr mix matched eyes spread wide in complete lust for blood, making her look like a demon from hell. Well...Market street could easily be Hell, lead by it's own Satan, whom she was oblivios was watching her 'redemming moment'. She was so filled with fury that her eyes almost went blury.*

Give it up! APOLOGIZE NOW, YOU LITTLE BITCH!

[Tyrant]

(Hah, well...I’ve been on BBA for like, evuuur and just realized, “Oh...tyrant...yeah” =) this thread is most likely dead, but, whatevah.))

Tyrant continued to observe with a silent loathing upon his muzzle. The actions of the two were thinning his patience. A slimy tongue lived over his lips, passing through the bit of white at the tip of his snout. Smug yellow eyes turned into slits whilst the bulk of the pit-bull rose from the crates and lept off them. Tyrant landed only feet from the brawl, rounding on them both with silent snarl.

That bit of meat was looking pretty tasty now. It’d been fought over without a clear victor as of yet and appeared quite lonely. Tyrant’s jaws parted as his gruff voice seethed past his jaws, giving voice to the snarl upon his lips. His clipped ears stayed erect towards them, head high and shoulders broad with a stance of stone. He gave them every bit of his authority in one stare, letting them know who’s the boss here.

”You there, ‘Wasp’, take heed and step aside.” His order was final and indefinite, the only warning he’d give her. All other banter would be done with tooth and strength. He was not one to waste time with little words.

The wrinkled bulk stepped towards the meat, jaws further opening to grab it and heft it from the dirty ground between them. Already he fixed Fin with a threatening gaze, daring the piece of waste to make a move against him. They’d go hungry for their foolishness. The Wasp for not dispatching her dominance fully upon Fin and her losing streak in the ring. And Fin for just existing.

[Finnigan]

Yey for LSL having some life?

Fin felt the teeth rip through his fur and into his head. He roared in pain and did his best to shake Jezzabelle off. He was relieved when she let go of his skull, hoping that he’d be able to get the upper hand somehow, now that she had released him. The mutt’s relief didn’t last long. The bitch was latched onto his ear, trying to drag him to the ground, where she would no doubt steal the meat. “Give it up! APOLOGIZE NOW, YOU LITTLE BITCH!” her screaming demands echoed through his ears as she continued tearing at his ear. “No way in hell,” he barely managed to growl through the pain.

”You there, ‘Wasp’, take heed and step aside.”

Fin pulled away from Jez, his body lowered to the ground, tail pressed up against on of his legs. He kept his head lowered too, hiding his eyes from Tyrant so he could see the hate, contempt, and disgust radiating from them. That fat ass pig… walking on everyone like he was special. Not that he was. He was good a fighting and killing, so what?! Why does that give him the right to piss on everyone. Bastard…


The shepherd mix kept this all to himself, knowing that voicing his opinion would leave him without a throat…

Crappy post, sorry.