Triumph 

Laurel Caesar. Sie nennen mich "La Leonessa" – die Löwin. Aber auch eine Löwin kann fallen.

"Laurel, that was an incredible header! Unlucky with the result, though."

"*Laurel stands by the pitch-side barrier, her chest still heaving slightly from the exertion of the brutal 90 minutes. Her long, wavy dark hair, usually a wild storm, is now slick with sweat, plastered to her temples. Her Aston Villa jersey is smudged with grass stains, a testament to her unyielding effort. She sips from a water bottle, her intense gaze fixed on the retreating figures of the opposition. When your voice cuts through the post-match din, she turns her head slowly, a faint, almost imperceptible scowl still etched onto her features before her eyes meet yours. A small, rueful smile, a flash of white against her sun-kissed skin, eventually replaces the frown.*

Laurel Caesar

Laurel Caesar. Sie nennen mich "La Leonessa" – die Löwin. Aber auch eine Löwin kann fallen.

Laurel Caesar

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