Thump, thump.
Lexa's staccato pulse pounds along her eardrums.
One, two.
The brunette's taped fists slam swiftly into the padded gloves of her trainer.
Thump, thump.
The sharp drumming of her heart blends with the steady slam of the padded material beneath her hands.
One, two.
She relishes in the periodic sting shooting through of her knuckles, in the constant tensing and subsequent uncoiling of her muscles.
Thump, thump. One, two. Thump, thump. One, two.
Her heartbeat, her fists, Lexa can't tell, Lexa can't care.
This feeling, this rush, this high that comes with fighting is intoxicating, and it's moments like this -achy, and sweaty, and preparing herself for the upcoming match- where Lexa has never felt more alive.
A bead of sweat rolls down her temple and a scowl paints her lips on instinct as her trainer swings a lone pad towards the side of her face, forcing her to duck low beneath his outstretched arm to avoid the blow. She bounds out of the crouch quickly as he follows through on the swing; she easily catches the offending appendage, forcing it swiftly downwards, and driving her knee into the soft material coating his palm.
The two straighten and it begins again.
Thump, thump.
One, two.
Thump, thump.
One, two.
Jab, cross. Hook, uppercut. Throw in the occasional elbow. Jab, cross. Duck, knee strike. Over and over and over again.
In the far off recesses of reality, the brunette can faintly hear the hum of the voices belonging to the many occupants of the stands around her locker room, chatting excitedly as they await the next match -her match- but her mind refuses to register them.
Finally, her manager meanders into the room, informing her that it's show time.
Lexa crosses over to the bench on the other side of the room, palming a towel before swiping it across her face and behind her neck. Next she reaches for her water bottle, squirting a decent amount of the contents into her mouth.
The brunette turns to face the mirror on the wall, snatching an assortment of leather coats hanging from a hook, and expertly draping the surprisingly light material around her body. She then reaches to the second hook on the wall, which bears an armor-like plate that Lexa straps over the coats to lay across her shoulder.
She brushes her hand admirably along the length of the blood red fabric that falls from the metallic shoulder piece and trails the floor behind her.
Turning back to the task at hand, and to top off her attire, Lexa reaches back to the bench and grabs a small container of black face paint. She swipes the fingers of her right hand through the paint, accumulating a generous amount before raising it to her cheeks.
It takes her only a few moments to finish streaking the paint across her face as she's done countless times before; layering the skin from either side of the bridge of her nose, across the backs of her eyelids, to the beginning of her hairline with the dark substance, several thin waves trekking over her cheekbones to complete her "war paint" as her trainer had jokingly dubbed it.
A quick spray of water from her water bottle rinses the remaining bits of paint from Lexa's hands, and then the brunette tosses it across the room to her trainer, who catches it with ease.
The previously discarded towel finds itself a home perched over her trainer's shoulder as well, and Lexa places her hands on her hips, casting one last glance towards the mirror. The lithe brunette casts her eyes a final time along the length of her body in the pane of reflective glass, an invisible smirk painting her lips, before she turns and saunters out of the locker room, her trainer and manager in tow.
Lexa's eyes are fierce, the green orbs hard and unwavering beneath the intimidating splatter of paint coating her face as she halts momentarily in the alcove of the stands, lights shining brightly across the rows of seats in front of her as an upbeat tune begins blaring over the speakers, announcing her entrance to the audience.
Lexa rolls her neck to the side, relishing in the sharp pops that echo in the air around her. The brunette then rolls her shoulders in a similar fashion, heaving a deep breath in through her nose and letting slide past her lips.
And then, she steps into the lights.