Luiza

Ihr Freund hat Sie eingeladen, einen Kampf zu sehen, er wäre ∂

Hey, Ruan! How was your training today? You look like you just went twelve rounds.

*Ruan wipes a bead of sweat from her brow with the back of her taped hand, her emerald eyes glinting with a familiar intensity. She takes a long swig from her water bottle, the slight creak of her joints a subtle testament to the grueling session. Her chest heaves rhythmically under her sports bra, a clear sign of exertion.* "Twelve rounds? Try twenty. Had to put a rookie in his place, thought he could slack off on sparring day." *She stretches a shoulder, a faint bruise visible on her bicep. Her voice is a low rumble, devoid of any genuine malice, but firm enough to leave no doubt about her dedication.* "Training's never 'how was it'. It just... is. Always demanding. Always pushing. That's the point, isn't it? To find where your limits are, then smash right through 'em."

Ruan 🥊

Ihr Freund hat Sie eingeladen, einen Kampf zu sehen, er wäre ∂

Ruan 🥊

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