A Family Matter, Don’t Interfere...Please?

Success! She landed her first two blows but..why wasn’t Cicilia staggering or hunched over or apperaring to be in any sort of pain? Maybe the next volley would do it! Thys gotta be it! With her next two shots she could see them flinch though still they didn’t react like she expected. No, no, NO! This isn’t right, she isn’t weak, she trained so hard but this was it? The German juggernaut looked more annoyed than anything else, the blonde stepped back, realizing that she overly miscalculated her sister, a true blood with more experience than she did. How could she compete with that, her dream, her wish, seemed to slip further and further away as that evident gap slapped her in the face. Amalia wasn’t sure what she could possibly do, nothing she threw seemed to phase her big sister but she wouldn’t be given the luxury of thinking. She felt them clutch her throat, her eyes widen with surprise with the force, the half-blood can only begin to imagine what came next and of course, Cicilia delievered. Wrapping her leg around her calf, Amalia had no way to prepare herself or get away from this monster. The floor suddenly came closer and closer before her skull exploded with pain. She yelps, a harsh cry of defeat rang out as she laid their, bruises slowly popping out like wide blotches on her skin from the impact of the first two hits. She laid on the cold cement floor, gasping..croaking, softly weeping.

The harsh and poisonous words began to fill her ears, she felt the weight of a mountain on her as Cicilia forced her against the floor. She said she hated them, that they tried to tear her apart and make her anew, that they tried to kill her. That couldn’t be true, her mother was never like that, she was kind and caring..nothing at all what she was saying. The half-blood grits her teeth”You’re lying..she wouldn’t ever do anything like that. I-I don’t care about you De’Reighnhardt’s, your family isn’t what I want. You can hate your own family but don’t ever say anything bad about her..ever!” Amalia wouldn’t stand for it, Cicilia couldn’t be telling the truth about that, her mother wasn’t, no couldn’t be that cold, not that she remembers. The long sunsets that used to sit and watch together. The family outings to the park, all the times she saw her mother smiling, happy to see them...

With a slow growl building in her throat, she’d slip her boot against their shoulder. Of course, they had to be lying, there was no way! “You’re the fool, you don’t know anything about her! You have to be wrong, she’d never do what you said she did! How could you ever say that about mom?” The blonde wouldnt wait for an answer, in that instant she’d throw her weight into her boot, attempting to force Cicilia away and give her some distance to breath.

"Have you LIVED with them!?" Cicilia hissed! "Have you even MET them!?" Anger was present, yes, overwhelmingly so... but also a distinct hint of utter jealousy! Jealous of her loyalty, her complete devotion to the monsters that had tormented the Juggernaut for the entirety of her early life. This woman, even in the face of the truth being spoken so honestly would forgo it all purely off of what she believed were her blood parents! Oh, the images, the possibilities that flashed across the boxer's mind, that her mother had actually DONE something to earn the devotion of this woman! Although she SEVERELY doubted she would EVER mate with someone outside of the De'Reignhardt family... let alone cheat on her husband to do so. Despite all the negative, venomous, hostile things the German could associate with her mother, disloyalty to the family wouldn't be one of them. She always sided with her husband, always being the puppet that danced on his stage. All it took was a look, a gesture, even a tone of voice and she would know exactly how to complement him. The very idea... that she would forfeit the very allegiance she had sacrificed Cicilia for... in order to bring THIS woman into the world...

...There was end in site for the cavernous HELL boiling the German's blood.  

Amalia's boot would SHOOT out, catching Cicilia under the jaw and forcing her to stumble back, the woman's remarkable flexibility and semi-respectable strength forcing the juggernaut to recoil a few steps and give the fake De'Reignhardt some breathing room.

Some.

"What the hell would you know?" Cicilia growled, rubbing her jaw softly, attempting to sooth her wound. "Who could you have possibly met that would describe MY MOTHER more accurately than I? What could you know about her, when you haven't lived in her house? When you haven't sat at a table with her? When you haven't SEEN what I have?" The German pounded her fist into her palm, cracking her knuckles lightly as she awaited the blonde to struggle to her feet.

"...And you know what? I don't even know why I care. You don't share my blood OR my name. You're an imposter... and that's all you'll ever be."

Cicilia wasn’t making sense to her. Of course she lived with her mom, when she occasionally came to visit that is. The second question confused her. Was she talking about her own family or someone else, the blonde couldnt exactly make heads or tails of it but she didn’t feel the need to answer her questions, she had a date with freedom. As her boot shot upwards to fend off the angered juggernaut, her boot managed to snag their bottom jaw, sending her stumbling back a couple paces but giving Amalia enough room to breathe. With the choke hold released, she’d cough harshly again, blood and spit mixed together as she sat up, spitting out the mixture onto the floor. She rubs her mouth of the residue, a pained groan escapes her as she attempts to get up on her shakey feet. Damn, girl hit like a truck: if a truck had arms, holding a knife...with a jetpack. Jesus was she hallucinating now? She hoped for her sake her brain wasn’t damaged by this one sided brawl. With Cicilia rubbing her jaw seemingly unfazed still, Amalia would put up her dukes, even if she was going down, she would do it without putting up a fight first.

”That’s such a stupid question. Who else would have told me but my dad? Are you even listening to yourself?” she asks,her legs quaking under the pressure of her own weight. Stop shaking, stand up straight, don’t back down she tells herself attempting to pull herself together. ”I have sat at a table with her, I’ve seen the person she is. I don’t know what happened to you to make up these lies but you’re wrong! Wrong! Wrong! Wrong! My mother loved me and she loved my dad too. You’re so blinded but whatever it is that you obviously can’t see that. You took her away from us. She stopped coming because of you, because of your family that tore mine apart.” The half-blood could feel herself breaking down, recounting her fathers sorrow as he went weeks, months, years with no light in his eyes. Beaten and surrendering himself to the world, she wanted that happy life again, she wanted her family back.

The pop of her knuckles into her palm spelled Amalia’s doom. How long could she hold out before her body gave in? She couldn’t answer that but knew for a fact that Cicilia wouldn’t leave without a couple bruises of her own. “If I’m an imposter than you’re all washed up. I don’t care how long it takes me to beat the facts into you Big sister but I’ll keep coming back, no matter how many times you knock me down!” she declares, pride in her voice as she stood up against the monster brute of a German.

"...I'm tired of people like you." Cicilia hissed, her voice like a blast of steam through a metal slit, sharp a burning, hotter than boiling water. She loomed over the wounded blonde like the shadow of death itself, her pale white skin and sinister glowing gaze giving the illusion of the titular manifestation of death to an already intimidating woman! Echos of Cicilia's own will seemed to radiate from the blonde faker, screaming up at inevitability in defiance, climbing up to her feet as if it mattered what position she was in when she would fall. Even in moments of complete, uncontested crushing, Amalia, as she called herself, stood in defiance of the Juggernaut, a familiar, wrathful stubbornness making itself known. For a moment, a mere fraction of conceivable time... The German tank stalled her advance... seeing aspects of herself in this girl... What willpower to stick to her lies, to cling with such conviction to an obvious fabrication in order to... what? Make a point, SCARE Cicilia, genuinely TRY to worm her fingers into the De'Reignhardt family through the most DIFFICULT backdoor possible!? Cicilia refused to believe that this woman was anything more than a foolish girl, manipulated either by someone else or her own demented self-created view of reality. What a sad, pathetic creature this being was, desiring so much to have a piece of royalty that she would try to brutishly force her way in. She even spoke like a hammer, her voice harsh at the end of each point like the end of a slamming stroke of the tool, aiming to CRASH down upon the nails that she hoped would stick in place the outcome she desired.

...There was enough similarities, at least in personality, for a cold wave to ARCH up the boxer's nerves, a flash of discomfort that was suppressed just as fast as it arrived, a cavalry charge instantly absorbed by the raging flames of the German's self-righteous anger! "All washed up..." What a fucking joke. Who was standing over who, here? Who's anger brought them farther? Who had truly deserved to win?

...The invader on Cicilia's life..? The faker who wanted IN on it!?

"...I am tired of you people barging into MY LIFE and thinking you deserve a fucking piece. I'd ask 'what gives you the right' but you'd only spout more lies! You want to see mom? Go fucking try. I goddamn dare you. Go and leave me the hell ALONE! Maybe if she takes you in, assuming she could EVER love you, I'd never have to see you again!"

...instantly, images flashed back to Cicilia's maltreatment, her younger, childish, innocent state clawing for her mother's embrace as she was beaten to less than nothing by her older sister, her mother watching on with an expressionless gaze. Images of the German crying for mercy, begging for intervention... falling on the deaf ears of the one who could have stopped her suffering. Cicilia now stared down at this woman, defiant of her ideals being dismantled by reality, hopefully clinging to a lie, a desire for a family that would love her...

...DAMN her... DAMN Amalia! DAMN HER for making Cicilia remember that they share such a want.

"What do you think would even happen if you had won?" She asked genuinely, her arms shifting from fist-in-palm to arms-crossed-across-chest. "Do you think I'd just... say something different? That you would be able to beat a reward out of me like it was a video game? Do you even know who I am?" An arrogant question... a REAL question. Did Amalia even know who Cicilia De'Reignhardt was? Did she care? She seemed to care enough to track her down, to try and tackle a behemoth several billion leagues above her weight class, to whine and bitch like she had the moral high-ground, a hero seemingly calling to the gods for their aid in return for her devotion to them in this time of struggle. Did crying, whining, bleeding in front of Cicilia make Amalia believe that the truth would change to mold around hers? She had to know her reality was a fishbowl in an ocean, a fake biome within an infinitely larger biome. She COULDN'T really think... that she belonged with creatures like THEM...

...Right... Cicilia...?

Amalia winced, the pain that had once settled rose again like a monster clawing it’s way at her flesh, slowly but making it way to tear and devour her like a lamb. Her world was swaying to much to focus, her reality was distorted as Cicilia towered over her, death personified into the juggernauts overwhelming aura as she approached. The half-blood was more than willing to face all of that just to even see her mother, looking down at the weak mess she was. Even if that was all she could get, she’d take it. She’d take that small piece of her mother with her for the rest of her miserable life if she could have just one second. Cicilia was definitely angry with her, perhaps even ready to kill her, she threw everything she had at Amalia and truth be told if it were anyone else, she’d have stayed down but no, not this one, not this time. That steaming heated words that left her lips made the blonde take a step back, why was she afraid? Why did she just do that? She could never think of an answer, even if she had the power to stop time to think or even find a way out. Leagues out of her reach was the dream she held close, leagues out of her reach to even thinking that Cicilia could be beaten, but why? Wasn’t she strong? Didn’t she have what it took to do this? Amalia couldn’t ask any other question but why..

She’d grit her teeth, how could Cicilia keep saying that, like her mother didnt love her too or wanted them like she felt she wanted her. It made her own blood boil to hear anyone say that about the woman who helped raised her. The step she took back, came back forward and then some as she gritted her bloodied teeth. “How can you say that? If she loved me, loved me enough to give birth to me and smile at me...why do you keep saying that?! I don’t understand! She loved you enough to leave me behind. Don’t you get that?” Her stance was shaking, it felt harder and harder not to flip and pass out under so much pressure but she had to endure, to withstand.

Then, she was surprised. A question she hadn’t even really considered, a future she didn’t even think to conjure. What would she do, if her plan had worked. Amalia took a second to ponder on her wobbly stance. “I-I thought...that maybe Elfrida would come to your rescue. I thought, if I could just beat my big sisters, she’d come out and see me. She’d finally come back to me..I only ever...I just wanted to be happy again.” God, why was she doing this? Why was Cicilia asking her this? Could she tell that her emotions were hanging by a thread? Hot streams ran down her cheeks as her own memories of a loving mother came back to her. A picture of their first time in the park together; hung up on the fire place. Her third birthday when she got the rabbit she practically begged for, her mother and father hugging and smiling at her beaming face. It wasn’t fake, it was real! It was REAL! She didn’t dream any of it, why couldn’t the Juggernaut see that?

She’d sniffle softly and wipe the streams away before hardeneding. “I don’t know what will happen now, wether you believe me or not, I’m a De'Reighnhardt in blood only.” She states, her fists held close as she attempts to sneak forward.

"SHUT UP!" Cicilia roared as Amalia turned her remark RIGHT back on her, commenting how he loved German enough to "keep her." God, she kept flipping ALL the wrong switches, wasn't she? Just a fucking chimp with a nametag batting her neanderthal-fists across a keyboard in an attempt to convey something meaningful! Amalia, the mindless idiot fighting with even less direction than the Bull-headed juggernaut herself, would attempt to claim that the OUTCAST had a higher standing in society than Amalia, someone who had neither family of blood or friend would stand above her, she who apparently had a father and mother (both seemingly brainwashing her into believing she was a De'Reighnhardt, granted). Amalia, so HIGH on her pedestal of morality, would attempt to claim that SHE was left behind, that SHE was the one who truly lost the most!

...What teeth-grinding STUPIDITY! This BITCH... This utter FOOL... HAD SHE BEEN ASLEEP THE WHOLE DAMN TIME!? So fucking locked inside her own empty fucking void of a blonde-ass head that Amalia didn't hear what Cicilia had been saying!? She STILL believed she had some kind of fucking leg-up on Cicilia by claiming she'd been ABANDONED by a family she claimed she barely even KNEW!? She would claim she lost more when Cicilia grew up under the regime of her bloodline, who was beaten bloody on a regular basis in some vein attempt to make her stronger!? Amalia would claim she knew Cicilia's mother better through a surrogate, her father, than Cicilia would sharing a house with her for more than 18 YEARS!? Flames SURGED inside her veins in replacement of her blood, VOLTAGE jumped from neuron to neuron instead of mere sparks! The German TREMBLED with utter OUTRAGE as this foolish BITCH would DARE claim she had the moral high-ground here, that her deluded fantasy even compared to the reality that was Cicilia's life!

"Elfrida would sooner help you beat me to DEATH than help me, you idiot." The Boxer responded FLATLY, as if SMASHING Amalia's skull with the truth! "You don't know anything about us, about me. You're just stupidly running at something you don't understand, expecting it to give way. The hell do you think you are..." Cicilia would ask again, narrowing her eyes. "...To hit me like you did, to DEMAND things of me like you did, to stand there and claim you share my blood!? What makes you think I'd believe ANY of what you said!?"

All these questions Cicilia had asked and once again they would go unanswered. Amalia simply ASSERTED her status again, inching closer as if to pick another fight! Cicilia only stared at her, unsure how to even REACT between boiling, mind-melting rage... to complete and utter bewilderment over this woman's blind idiocy.

"Go away." Cicilia ultimately stated, narrowing her eyes. "Leave me alone and never talk to me again." Once more, Cicilia would attempt shove past her and take her leave... more than ready to disappear into her bed for the next year... and bypass reality entirely.

The sudden roar startled the half-blood, Cicilia seemed to be on the breaking point, but why? Amalia couldn’t understand the rage behind their words, the sheer magnitude of he hatred for her mom, but not just them but her family as well. There was more going on beyond the guise she saw her mother in, the blonde couldn’t accept that fact about her mother. The woman she practically worshipped, if she hated her own daughter then why didn’t she come back to her? The more she began to think the less these claims seemed to make sense. This wasn’t a game where everyone got to be a winner.

She’d hunch and bring her guard in closer, her sister was going red and it was only a matter of time before she sent those death-bringing fists her way again. Her step-mother told her that they get stronger with anger but if that were true, why didn’t she feel that? She was just as angry still her attacks did nothing to the wall named Cicilia. Her fury slolwy began to boil, her big sis was starting to lose it, she knew very little about her but she couldn’t hating every word she was spouting, to believe her and see her mother in a new light, or take them as lies and get beaten to a pulp. Amalia wasn’t sure which to choose, though Cicilia might not give her much of a choice.

For a moment, a split moment, the blonde hesitated, the severity of those accusations were mind boggling. “Sh-she wouldn’t do that to you, you’re her sister.”[/color]Was it really though? Wasn’t she doing the same thing in a way? That thought caught Amalia off guard, she was doing the same thing, Elfrida was being accused of. It made her look down at her fists and back to the German, questionly before she continued. “I don’t care if I’m running blindly at anything. I know what my heart wants and never expected it to be easy. And come off it, you came back twice as hard. Du dumme schlampe.”

The shive made her stumble back and in the he of the moment she shoved back. Her legs were ready to give out, her body in immense pain from the blows of the juggernaut. For how long she could keep this up she had no earthly idea. Still she had a lot to think about. The woman she loved and the reality behind her, Cicilia’s reality. Who could she trust anymore, that was a question for later. Setting up her guard she’d press her sister for the attack, truth be told she was scared, scared of being knocked out cold but this was too far gone, there wasn’t any turning back.

Ignorance.

Just ignorance.

Cicilia didn't even know why she allowed herself to get rilled up by someone such as Amalia, a child in everything but age and looks, a woman with only enough will to act on impulse and with barely enough intelligence to wield the minute levels of knowledge she commanded. For all Cicilia knew, this woman could have been one of those crazy-fan types, those that would do virtually anything to get closer to their idol. Rob them of their security, wave what little they could scrounge up in the face of the person they admire in some manic effort to gain some level of mutual admiration. Somehow, this possibility sickened the Juggernaut more than the possibility that this woman might actually be telling the truth, beyond the potential that even what Cicilia knew of her own family might've been upheaved before her! The last thing, in all of her fighting career that Cicilia cared about, was the fans. Considering what they watch other women do to each other for entertainment, considering the utter savagery they throw their hard-earned money to watch...

...Ugh.

From having girls draw blood with weapons and brawn, from fighting with underhanded, sexual tactics just to get an upperhand, to just seeing two girls screw in a ring... Now that Cicilia looked back on it, she regretted EVER having taken part. The humiliation... of a thousand eyes staring into you, watching as your clothes were torn from you, as your opponent, as compelled by either contract or impulses, forced you to take part in some... unholy act... It was very possible that this "Amalia" creature had one of those pairs of eyes. It would explain her patchwork, sketchy amalgamation of a story she attempted to choke down Cicilia's throat, how she had simply taken Cicilia's life and repurposed it for herself. She doubted that it would take little more than greased palms, a pretty face or resourcefulness to learn everything she already had... all for some vein effort to get closer to the German boxer. ANGER wasn't even a factor much anymore! She simply stared at Amalia, as if she were something too hideous to break eye-contact with... Amalia's little fantasy was crashing down around her ears, the woman confused... and growing steadily angry beneath the burning pressure of the TRUTH!

As the boxer attempted to shove past the blonde, she would freeze in surprise as the woman cursed her out in her own language, something much harder to replicate than merely obtaining information! She said it without hesitation, perfect pronunciation, Cicilia locking eyes with her intensely... but only for a moment. So she could speak two words. Whatever. Nothing a few days of practice in front of a mirror couldn't accomplish.

What a joke this woman was.

"Goodbye." The German growled flatly, raising an arm quickly to SHOVE Amalia to the GROUND once more as she attempted to start another fight, the Juggernaut quickly making a move for the exit soon after... unwilling to become the villain.

Amalia’s defenses dropped one after another, Cicilia wasn’t letting up but then again neither was she, well, not completely. The half-blood was confused, her mind so unsure of itself now that she got a taste of the other side, a piece of what her sisters life was like instead of the warm home she knew and loved. What was she supposed to do with this? There was so much she wanted: Her old life, her mom, even deep down, she wanted her sisters. She wanted them to want her too but for now that was a childish dream crushed by reality.

The juggernaut was too on guard, even if Amalia didn’t start this, convincing her otherwise without a fight seemed impossible. This was the only way she knew how, the strong’s words were final but today, the outcast had her beat. Her body was throbbing in pain, too sore to even think about punching her let alone moving. If this was how it was for her and Elfrida then she could definitely understand her resntement.

Still, her mind wandered back to her mother. How much did she really, truly know about her? Was it all a lie? Would it be a lie if she ever met her again? Amalia was unsure, the walls she set up around herself crumbled as she was shoved away, falling backwards toward the shelves of dumbbells. She grimaced as the dreadful mistress of misery grasped her body and soul. She could only stare angrily and watch as her sister told her goodbye and left.

The blonde German would settle along the floor, she wanted to cry, to scream out to the world that she’d grab her fate by the throat and make her dream a reality. Patience, patience would be her test, and the truth would be her reward. With a clutched fists she softly breathes in, then out. A smile of malice creeping in her face, she wanted retribution, to make Cicilia feel this overwhelming pain. In her mind, her sister left her here, almost as if she wasn’t even worth the effort, an insult that amali wouldn’t take. Now it was just a matter of when and where. The half-blood made a vow to herself: no matter how long it took, no matter what she had to do, she’d take it back, everything! “This isn’t the end, Big Sister. We’re just getting started, it won’t be long, this is far from over.” For now, she’d lay there and recover, taking her time to at least make herself well enough to crawl home.