✯ arena

@k shinwon irene bends forward with ease, smoothly evading the wrench that might have broken her face had it hit her. she clicks her tongue as she hears the wrench hit something behind her — the pole she vaguely remembers being there, in the back of her mind, and she straightens her posture once more, looking up at shinwon with a vaguely disappointed look. it's rather hilarious, she thinks, if she looks at the two of them from an outsider's perspective. compared to her petite, youthful looking self, shinwon is a gigantic angry man whose anger issues may never be resolved (mainly, because the man keeps trying to kill her, but has — so far — failed with it, and she doesn't see it changing anytime soon).

"my, aren't you rude!" she exclaims, raising a hand to her lips, eyebrows furrowed. "is that how you greet someone you haven't seen in a while? what if you had hit my face?" she exhales loudly through her lips, and her mocking frown turns into an even more mocking smile, guised with a honeyed tone to her voice when she continues speaking, "but i suppose that is what makes you... rather adorable." that word, for the lack of anything better — but that's perfectly fine, honestly, as anything humans do and whatever they will decide to do will always be oh so cute in her eyes. "time spent in prison hasn't changed you, i see. i don't know whether to be disappointed or impressed."

@b joohyun honestly, shinwon's starting to feel bad for the newbies that think they have a chance in the ring against him... not.

it's a rather easy win for him today — a few solid, resounding hits to the solar plexus, and his opponent is on the floor, shinwon being left only with a litter of bruises across his skin, and a split lip. the newbie, however, is left with a black eye, a broken nose, a body bruised black and blue, and (likely) a few cracked ribs. shinwon looks up to the crowd watching, his eyes wild with adrenaline, when he spots an irritatingly familiar face among the crowd. immediately, the adrenaline turns to anger, and shinwon's quick to act on his rage, pinning his opponent to the ground and landing heavy, solid punches to his face, getting increasingly more unrecognizable with every hit.

that ing woman again, he thinks, the roars of the crowd making his ears ring with anger. that /damn/ woman.

eventually, they announce him as the winner (obviously), and he's quickly pried away from his unconscious opponent. yet, his rage isn't quelled, and he knows that seeing that infuriating woman is only going to ignite the flames even more.

...no one will get mad at him for /trying/ to kill her, right? as long as he doesn't succeed, then it'll be okay (although he does want to succeed, deep down — actually, it's not that deep down).

just as she approaches, shinwon grabs a nearby wrench lying around, throwing it up with a spin and catching it with a resounding smack against his palm. he scowls at her then, his grip on the wrench tightening as he continues to throw and catch, throw and catch, throw and catch.

and then he throws it at her, aiming straight for that annoyingly pretty little face of hers.

@k shinwon the stench of violence hangs heavy in the air, accompanied by the loud, shameless chants and cheers of the audience surrounding the stage. in the center of it all, irene can clearly see two figures going at it — one is clearly staggering, while the other so confidently stands over the first lad's body on the floor. she watches the fight with clear amusement, and despite the fact that she may have put a bet against the obvious winner of this brawl, she doesn't seem to have much regrets, especially so when her eyes meet the winner's gaze. the emotion she sees is clear: anger.

oh, god bless the man's opponent, whose face is beginning to look more and more unrecognizable by the moment, though she isn't particularly one to believe in gods nor does she believe in playing one.

the fight is announced done a few more moments later, and the winner's name booms throughout the arena, almost drowning with the voices of the crowd. go shinwon, a name she hasn't expected to hear so soon, and it's one that should probably warrant fear (but why should she, when all she feels towards humans is a love that might even put gods into shame?), but she walks to where the lad now stands, hands connected behind her as she approaches him with a pleasant smile on her face. "what a magnificent fight that was," she says in lieu of a greeting. "i see those years spent in prison didn't lessen your skills — though your win did cost me a few dollars."