Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhh. Dry at last. You can’t get her now, stupid rain! Han wins!!! She’s got a big old umbrella and, and, a thick, heavy blanket to snuggle up under. She’s wrapped up cozy and tight, s’real soft ‘n maybe she’ll just lie here forever and you’ll never ever get to rain on her again. Ha! Just you try to find a gap in her perfect, snuggly, heavy, gosh, really really heavy, enveloping, purring, arm...twisting...blanket?

Bwuh?

Ow ow ow ow ow ow owwwwww okay she’s awake! Always been awake! She didn’t tap out, pass out, or anything, she’s here and she’s fighting and King’s Crown Machi did you fill your pockets with boulders to keep from getting homesick you big ox?! Because despite her best wriggles, the most she accomplishes is eliciting pain from her shoulder and delight from her wrestling [s]partner[/s] foe. 

All the world is purring. Machi pushes her arm back inch by agonizing inch. She clamps her mouth shut and screws her eyes tight. She won’t give her the satisfaction. This doesn’t hurt. She can take your worst, mangetail. So go ahead. Tear her arm clean off. Play with her hair. Tell her whatever nonsense you want because it won’t make a lick of difference (augh no wait bad words). Machi doesn’t mean any of it anyway. It’s all a trick. A big joke on her favorite target. How many other girls has she put in a headlock and whispered sweet nothings to? Answer: So many.

But endurance alone doesn’t win wrestling matches. Not from this, uh, position. Nor can she tap out either. N’yari wrestling doesn’t work like that. The round continues not until one party surrenders, but until one party endures a [i]penalty[/i] for surrendering. And the only way Machi will let up is, is...

A shadow of fear passed over her face.

The Sorrowful Kitten Prostration. The only technique that’s ever satisfied Machi. The only way she’ll accept her victory. 

(A glimpse of the priestess, through the mountains of fur and muscle, through the hot breath and honeyed words. She’s all but leaping from her captor’s lap, straining uselessly against arms as big as her. Her eyes are wide. And they can’t stop looking back at her.)

“You i-idiot.” From beneath the [s]warm[/s] cold dead dumb mountain, a spark of fire. “Who’d want to be a [i]rock?[/i] Who’d [i]want[/i] a rock?!”

Machi’s grip tightens. A starburst of pain. She grits her teeth, but she can’t do it. She won’t do it, do you hear her?! (Not in front of all these people. Don’t give them a reason.) If that’s what you’re into, fine! No kittens here! Nothing but dumb, jagged, ugly [i]rock[/i] as far as the eye can see!

An arm bursts free of its prison. She punches the deck so hard it splinters and [i]yields[/i] her some leverage. And still she pushes, and presses, her muscles bulging, straining.

And Machi, impossibly, rises an inch off the deck.

[Rolling to Figure Out a Person: 5 + 1 + 0 = an absolute [b]6[/b]. My XP is limitless. Asking bonus question for physical conflict: What awakens the beast inside of you?]