@turtle-tyrant
“Oh, no,” she murmured, her voice dropping to a mere whisper. She could feel a chilling shiver strike down her spike the moment the ball bounce right underneath her tennis racket. She didn’t even need to avert her gaze to know that Bowser was looking her way. She could feel his eyes peering at her, glaring almost, and the heat behind that stare was something she just could not tolerate. This was perhaps the fourth time it happened and each time was such a crucial moment for the match. At this rate, there was no way they were going to make it to the finals, or the semi. Stars, they’d be lucky to make it to the quarterfinals.
Peach didn't bother to look at him. She knew his rage had no bounds and it was entirely her fault for not paying close attention to the match. The racket was always swung too soon or too late. Why she had even trick-shotted to the opposing side of the court for crying out loud! It was bad, with a capital B-A-D. There were no words that could convey how apologetic she was, not that it would help the situations anyways. She needed practice, heavy, dedicated practice at that—that much was certain.
“Sorry,” she offered anyways, holding the arm carrying her racket by her side. What she had done was nothing less than opening the floodgates which would no doubt haul her away in the currents.













