Board Thread:What Would You Do?/@comment-35836714-20190513190252/@comment-36855838-20190530142707

As the countdown begins, I kneel before my opponent.

My hands clasped, as if in prayer, the Lamia looks at me with more bewilderment than I had ever seen.

I mutter quietly as the countdown concludes, and just as I'd hoped, she waits to pounce.

"You're praying, but it won't do you any good, you're still going to be mine!"

She charges head-on, and I swiftly spring from my kneel and swing onto her back.

I tighten my legs around her waist and franticaply stap her neck with my silver knitting needles.

A black substance leaks from the thirty or so "wounds," and she collapses to the ground, wiggling weakly.

"I thought you. . .would be mine, but instead, I am now yours."

With the thunk of her head on the mat, I was declared the winner!

I stood, dissatisfied with my work, but excited at the prospect of romance.

"Hector's next match is in twenty four hours! Be sure to be there!

As I started to leave the arena, a pair of Lamia showed up, holding a stretcher.

---

A quick bout of sibling assistance later, and I had returned my bride to be to my tent.

I quickly scarfed down my tournament provided rations, and used a hairbrush to straighten her hair, the absentminded motion elliciting gentle cooing and sighs.

As she rested, her head in my lap, I allowed my mind to wander, and my mast-

No, I am your unstructor!

-and my instructor's words echoed through my head.

"With the love this tournament will bring you, your soul may just be enlightened."

I felt a strong urge to both punch and hug my instructor.

The sound of frantic combat irritared me, so many hotshots, all with terrible form and gross overconfidence.

Then, I heard it, a haunting melody which spoke of hope, and other intangible positive things, some still around, many long lost.

[]

It was this haunting lullaby which lulled me to sleep in her arms, and I was all the happier for it.