Determination.
If anything could be said about her, that was it — complete determination to get where she wanted, to be a part of what she loved.
Ever since she was a kit, she was fascinated by it all: the power struggle, the glory, the adrenaline when blood went flying. She was never really a fighter herself, but she adored the scent of battle, the way lives clashed, the permanent effect they had on all who had the chance to observe or take part; the smell of smoke and blood, the sound of clashing metal — it was a show, but far more real.
She hadn't the talent for it, but she had the same spirit, and she would do anything to be part of it.
She had her own struggle: scathing personalities, perverts, the blatant lack of respect for a female and especially a female in this business.
Demons and humans were both terrible at heart. She knew it firsthand.
But that was the beauty of fights — it didn't matter what you thought, everything was physical. It could make the sick feeling in her throat after the next harassment disappear in an instant — just that blood and sweat and raw power, exploding like beautiful fireworks.
If she kept her eyes focused on it, it would leave everything else shrinking away in the dark.