Kill the World With Whatever it Takes

Her opponent seemed a good sportswoman, despite March's bitterness. Unfortunately, it wouldn't help her much, the brown girl's glare steady. She was a lot of things, and petty was definitely one of them. Her praise fell silently, met with nothing but a twitch as March rose to her full height again. It was interpreted as more of an insult, the smaller girl left feeling like an object of pity rather than a capable opponent. Some part of her brain knew she was making assumptions. A larger part of her brain simply didn't care.

Brida. That was her name. She tucked it away in the folds of her brain, certain she'd need it for later use. She planned to come back for a rematch after all. "March." She returned. She would need her name too, after all. Her tone made it clear this was nothing but customary. She wasn't here to make friends.