Post by Deleted on Oct 21, 2017 10:56:08 GMT -5
Angry breath.
Hot.
So hot.
Why is it so hot?
He is so strong.
I can’t fight.
I can’t flee.
I’m strong.
Why am I not strong enough?
Help me, Beloved.
Help me, Father.
Please, Mother.
I don’t want this.
I hate this.
I want this.
I love this.
Red eyes open with a start, twin holes into a furnace from thickly painted black eyeliner wings filled with panic. No scream erupts from the albino, but makeup is smudged and running from a face coated in a worried sweat. She sits up in her seat, eyes turning wild and looking around. She sees her wife, Kenzi Grey, asleep next to her, the ebony beauty’s eyes covered with a face mask and a pillow behind her head, a blue blanket pulled up to her chin. Eyes search the other way and find a window, a sea of blue down far below.
A plane. She was aboard a plane. They were on their way to Honolulu for Kenzi’s Lingerie Football League game. A sigh of relief as Sarah lays back against the seat. She closes her eyes.
GIVE ME MORE
Eyes flash open again and this time a small scream does erupt from her. Kenzi shuffles in her sleep, but stays in her slumber. Sarah wipes her eyes with the palms of her hand in frustration.
“Need to stay awake. No sleeping. No dreams. No Jacob.”
She shudders at the sound of the name of the dear childhood friend who nearly raped her. She reaches down under her seat and pulls out her bag, a black Chanel with a red trim she purchased just for this trip. Reaching in, her slender hand pulls out a few items, each going into her lap. A small, and therefore quite thick, Bible, her phone, a charm bracelet, and the Court mask bearing her likeness. Sitting back against the airplane seat, she clips the bracelet onto her right wrist, unconsciously caressing the tiny legs and head of the octopus dangling from the ring, a gift from her dear friend Milisandre, and places the Bible and mask on her lap.
Sarah lifts her head and looks around at the other occupants of the charter flight. Members of the Cincinnati Hitgirls, the Lingerie Football League team Sarah had purchased for Kenzi’s enjoyment, were in varying states of rest. Most of the team were on the flight, including all of the cheer squad of which she was captain, most having been able to come to Los Angeles to make the flight together. Only Milisandre and Angelica Vaughn were missing, with Milisandre taking a different flight because of visiting the manor in Maine and then her parents, and Angie having to sit out the game due to an injury from a wrestling event in Mexico. The plane was organized so that people could have at least some sort of privacy in their groupings of two, and she knew she could take advantage of that. If she had been in a better humor, she would have smiled about how she and Kenzi had already taken great advantage of the privacy with a game of “deep sea Maine lobster tail fishing,” but her mind was on dark things.
She looks back down at her lap and the items resting there, the fingers of one hand still unconsciously caressing the little charms on her bracelet. Her Bible was well worn, the travel edition she took with her on the road, with a small army of multicolored tabs sticking out for easy access to various verses. She could always find solace in the inspired word of God, even if she did not always agree with certain interpretations or translations, particularly in regards to sexual identification or preference. But it, like His ear whenever she needed to talk to Him, was always there for her. But the other item on her lap, the white owl mask with the red eyes and black wings…
A message, certainly. But what kind? Recruitment? Or perhaps just a wink and a nudge that THEY were in charge, even with some of their membership being outed, and THEY could have anyone they wanted. Including the rich girl.
Sarah stares at the mask for a long moment before picking up her phone, pressing a few buttons, and begins to record.
Hello Lucy
I have been pondering something lately and wish to speak of it, if you do not mind. I have been dwelling on thoughts of self. Like, who am I? I mean, besides an overwhelming attractive, affluent, intelligent, worldly, wise, and compassionate soul who sings and dances better than the next three sopranos at the Met combined. Obvs. Like, what am I doing? Why am I here? What is my purpose within the Coalition?
Truth be told, I WISH I could say it was kicking your ass. Or perhaps Magdalena’s. Like, that would be coolio. But we both know that is not the case. In general, there is neither advantage nor disadvantage between us. You hold the important win, of course, my failed endeavor to take what is yours, but it is fraudulent to say that either one spends their time kicking the other’s ass, regardless of bravado. Same with myself and Magdalena; while I hold the important win, we are even in the grand scheme. Thus, my purpose in the Coalition is not that, though it is certainly fun to kick either one of you in the face as hard as I can whenever I can.
My purpose in the Coalition isn’t to just pad my win/loss record, though that would be an accurate statement. Jet has made some comments about picking up a couple of wins but losing the big ones, but both you and I know how false that statement is. The reality of the situation is that I dominate every room I walk into by sheer force of personality and that translates well to my chosen profession. I am very difficult to defeat but I take no joy in that. Pride, certainly, but no joy. Picking up wins over the likes of Liv doesn’t make my heart bloom, though I DID have fun defeating Deimos again. I like that guy. And even though I cheekily talk about choking you out, that has little lasting joy for me. That was ages ago, ya know? So no, picking up wins on Synergy, like I am going to do again this Monday, while good for the bank account I certainly do not need, is not enough for the “Why?” question.
Perhaps I could do a poll of the company and see what everyone thinks? That would actually seem like a good idea, ya know? The diversity of the Coalition, in flavor as much as skill and experience, would offer a well-rounded vision, right? I could see it now:
Baal: “I am going to dismiss you and make it seem like you are beneath me...yet still expose myself as for knowing a whole lot about you and who you are, because this whole ‘deep, brooding serpent’ bit is exactly that: A bit.”
Ugh. Talk about overrated.
DonoZane: “SAVE ME FROM THE CREEPY VAMPIRE AND THANK YOU FOR GETTING ME THAT WIN OVER BAAL AND LUCY TWO MONTHS AGO”
Don’t ask me why Donovan screams in my head. Oh...and OMG I SHIP THEM SO HARD THAT MY LADY PARTS TINGLE AND THROB.
Er...anyway…
Magdalena: “Gutter slut bitch.”
Jeez...love you too, Mags…
Eden: 😉
Huh. Wonder what that means?
Rydell: “Who?”
Yes yes, we all get your schtick, Rydell. Too important to bother knowing who the freakin’ WrestleStock Cup winner is yet too unimportant to not get blasted by everyone for recording the same bullshit promo every week. Somehow, I don’t think his opinion of me matters very much.
Liv: “Well'allo, there! Struth! I sure do fink that that red-eyed vampire chick is a right terrible co’! And I right 'ate 'ow she 'as a win over me just like she ‘aid she were gonna! TEA KETTLE!”
Ugh...where do we FIND these people? She makes me so glad that I only have the Londoner accent and not the culture, ya know? And has anyone figured out what her agenda is in the Coalition? I mean, besides losing matches. I mean, shit Lucy! She’s been looking for that second win of her career for WEEKS. Know when I was looking for my second win? My second match. Know when I was looking for my third win? My THIRD MATCH. I almost feel sorry for you that you are saddled with her in this match. I mean, we have discussed (at length...since I am a touch gabby…) how difficult it is to beat me in a tag team match, how freakin’ DOMINANT I am in tag team wrestling, and you couldn’t beat me with freakin’ BAAL by your side. The fuck is THIS chick going to do for you?! LAME!
Killian: “Generic Blonde #5”
FUCK this steams me. And I know it steams you, too. Yeah yeah, he compared us to one another (does that make you #4?) and that got sand in your honeypot, but lets not be too dumb about it. This steams me because either A). He’s playing me in order to offer a Good Cop/Bad Cop with Eden or B). This fucker legit doesn’t have a clue who I am. And it sucks knowing that, even WITH the two of us having a tag match together, it is very well likely that the answer is the latter, and that he and Rydell went to the same school to learn how to NOT do this sport correctly. Like...dude...1). I’m not blonde (how many times do I have to be on camera for my condition to be general knowledge?) and 2). Generic is the single dumbest thing someone could say about the this ball of hawtness. Good Lord, what loser. Or a tosser, if you were Liv. What is a tosser, anyway? We talkin’ salad tosser? Like, is she hoping I’ll get all Kamijo on her and offer up the buttstuff? Please inform your partner that I am a happily married woman!
You: “We could have been friends.”
Allow me to pause for a moment while I think about this.
………………………
………………………
You are correct.
We are much alike, Lucy. It’s why I chose you. I could have gone after Baal. I could have gone after Zane. I could have dragged my Beloved here and been Co-Op champions. But I did not. I chose you. And I believe, even with the pain of that loss at In Your Hands, that I chose correctly. And I continue to do so by cashing in every penny of my Coalition earnings and buying the opportunity to fight you for that championship one more time. But more on that next week…
This week you engage me with Mathis by my side. I didn’t bother including what she thinks of me in my little game up above because...well...pretty sure she doesn’t even know who I am. And much like Killian and Rydell, that is through no fault of mine. We both know who and how I am, and how it is THEIR loss that they do not see what WE see. And Mathis will be another partner that I am successful with, another big W to go with my tag team dominance. I am not sorry that this will be another tag victory over you, just as I am not sorry that I will get my first singles title victory over you next week. Instead, I am pleased by it. I find pleasure in it.
You are truly worthy, Lucy, and an example of the type of person my father coached me on finding in this business.
I look forward to kicking you in your teeth again.
Hot.
So hot.
Why is it so hot?
He is so strong.
I can’t fight.
I can’t flee.
I’m strong.
Why am I not strong enough?
Help me, Beloved.
Help me, Father.
Please, Mother.
I don’t want this.
I hate this.
I want this.
I love this.
Red eyes open with a start, twin holes into a furnace from thickly painted black eyeliner wings filled with panic. No scream erupts from the albino, but makeup is smudged and running from a face coated in a worried sweat. She sits up in her seat, eyes turning wild and looking around. She sees her wife, Kenzi Grey, asleep next to her, the ebony beauty’s eyes covered with a face mask and a pillow behind her head, a blue blanket pulled up to her chin. Eyes search the other way and find a window, a sea of blue down far below.
A plane. She was aboard a plane. They were on their way to Honolulu for Kenzi’s Lingerie Football League game. A sigh of relief as Sarah lays back against the seat. She closes her eyes.
GIVE ME MORE
Eyes flash open again and this time a small scream does erupt from her. Kenzi shuffles in her sleep, but stays in her slumber. Sarah wipes her eyes with the palms of her hand in frustration.
“Need to stay awake. No sleeping. No dreams. No Jacob.”
She shudders at the sound of the name of the dear childhood friend who nearly raped her. She reaches down under her seat and pulls out her bag, a black Chanel with a red trim she purchased just for this trip. Reaching in, her slender hand pulls out a few items, each going into her lap. A small, and therefore quite thick, Bible, her phone, a charm bracelet, and the Court mask bearing her likeness. Sitting back against the airplane seat, she clips the bracelet onto her right wrist, unconsciously caressing the tiny legs and head of the octopus dangling from the ring, a gift from her dear friend Milisandre, and places the Bible and mask on her lap.
Sarah lifts her head and looks around at the other occupants of the charter flight. Members of the Cincinnati Hitgirls, the Lingerie Football League team Sarah had purchased for Kenzi’s enjoyment, were in varying states of rest. Most of the team were on the flight, including all of the cheer squad of which she was captain, most having been able to come to Los Angeles to make the flight together. Only Milisandre and Angelica Vaughn were missing, with Milisandre taking a different flight because of visiting the manor in Maine and then her parents, and Angie having to sit out the game due to an injury from a wrestling event in Mexico. The plane was organized so that people could have at least some sort of privacy in their groupings of two, and she knew she could take advantage of that. If she had been in a better humor, she would have smiled about how she and Kenzi had already taken great advantage of the privacy with a game of “deep sea Maine lobster tail fishing,” but her mind was on dark things.
She looks back down at her lap and the items resting there, the fingers of one hand still unconsciously caressing the little charms on her bracelet. Her Bible was well worn, the travel edition she took with her on the road, with a small army of multicolored tabs sticking out for easy access to various verses. She could always find solace in the inspired word of God, even if she did not always agree with certain interpretations or translations, particularly in regards to sexual identification or preference. But it, like His ear whenever she needed to talk to Him, was always there for her. But the other item on her lap, the white owl mask with the red eyes and black wings…
A message, certainly. But what kind? Recruitment? Or perhaps just a wink and a nudge that THEY were in charge, even with some of their membership being outed, and THEY could have anyone they wanted. Including the rich girl.
Sarah stares at the mask for a long moment before picking up her phone, pressing a few buttons, and begins to record.
Hello Lucy
I have been pondering something lately and wish to speak of it, if you do not mind. I have been dwelling on thoughts of self. Like, who am I? I mean, besides an overwhelming attractive, affluent, intelligent, worldly, wise, and compassionate soul who sings and dances better than the next three sopranos at the Met combined. Obvs. Like, what am I doing? Why am I here? What is my purpose within the Coalition?
Truth be told, I WISH I could say it was kicking your ass. Or perhaps Magdalena’s. Like, that would be coolio. But we both know that is not the case. In general, there is neither advantage nor disadvantage between us. You hold the important win, of course, my failed endeavor to take what is yours, but it is fraudulent to say that either one spends their time kicking the other’s ass, regardless of bravado. Same with myself and Magdalena; while I hold the important win, we are even in the grand scheme. Thus, my purpose in the Coalition is not that, though it is certainly fun to kick either one of you in the face as hard as I can whenever I can.
My purpose in the Coalition isn’t to just pad my win/loss record, though that would be an accurate statement. Jet has made some comments about picking up a couple of wins but losing the big ones, but both you and I know how false that statement is. The reality of the situation is that I dominate every room I walk into by sheer force of personality and that translates well to my chosen profession. I am very difficult to defeat but I take no joy in that. Pride, certainly, but no joy. Picking up wins over the likes of Liv doesn’t make my heart bloom, though I DID have fun defeating Deimos again. I like that guy. And even though I cheekily talk about choking you out, that has little lasting joy for me. That was ages ago, ya know? So no, picking up wins on Synergy, like I am going to do again this Monday, while good for the bank account I certainly do not need, is not enough for the “Why?” question.
Perhaps I could do a poll of the company and see what everyone thinks? That would actually seem like a good idea, ya know? The diversity of the Coalition, in flavor as much as skill and experience, would offer a well-rounded vision, right? I could see it now:
Baal: “I am going to dismiss you and make it seem like you are beneath me...yet still expose myself as for knowing a whole lot about you and who you are, because this whole ‘deep, brooding serpent’ bit is exactly that: A bit.”
Ugh. Talk about overrated.
DonoZane: “SAVE ME FROM THE CREEPY VAMPIRE AND THANK YOU FOR GETTING ME THAT WIN OVER BAAL AND LUCY TWO MONTHS AGO”
Don’t ask me why Donovan screams in my head. Oh...and OMG I SHIP THEM SO HARD THAT MY LADY PARTS TINGLE AND THROB.
Er...anyway…
Magdalena: “Gutter slut bitch.”
Jeez...love you too, Mags…
Eden: 😉
Huh. Wonder what that means?
Rydell: “Who?”
Yes yes, we all get your schtick, Rydell. Too important to bother knowing who the freakin’ WrestleStock Cup winner is yet too unimportant to not get blasted by everyone for recording the same bullshit promo every week. Somehow, I don’t think his opinion of me matters very much.
Liv: “Well'allo, there! Struth! I sure do fink that that red-eyed vampire chick is a right terrible co’! And I right 'ate 'ow she 'as a win over me just like she ‘aid she were gonna! TEA KETTLE!”
Ugh...where do we FIND these people? She makes me so glad that I only have the Londoner accent and not the culture, ya know? And has anyone figured out what her agenda is in the Coalition? I mean, besides losing matches. I mean, shit Lucy! She’s been looking for that second win of her career for WEEKS. Know when I was looking for my second win? My second match. Know when I was looking for my third win? My THIRD MATCH. I almost feel sorry for you that you are saddled with her in this match. I mean, we have discussed (at length...since I am a touch gabby…) how difficult it is to beat me in a tag team match, how freakin’ DOMINANT I am in tag team wrestling, and you couldn’t beat me with freakin’ BAAL by your side. The fuck is THIS chick going to do for you?! LAME!
Killian: “Generic Blonde #5”
FUCK this steams me. And I know it steams you, too. Yeah yeah, he compared us to one another (does that make you #4?) and that got sand in your honeypot, but lets not be too dumb about it. This steams me because either A). He’s playing me in order to offer a Good Cop/Bad Cop with Eden or B). This fucker legit doesn’t have a clue who I am. And it sucks knowing that, even WITH the two of us having a tag match together, it is very well likely that the answer is the latter, and that he and Rydell went to the same school to learn how to NOT do this sport correctly. Like...dude...1). I’m not blonde (how many times do I have to be on camera for my condition to be general knowledge?) and 2). Generic is the single dumbest thing someone could say about the this ball of hawtness. Good Lord, what loser. Or a tosser, if you were Liv. What is a tosser, anyway? We talkin’ salad tosser? Like, is she hoping I’ll get all Kamijo on her and offer up the buttstuff? Please inform your partner that I am a happily married woman!
You: “We could have been friends.”
Allow me to pause for a moment while I think about this.
………………………
………………………
You are correct.
We are much alike, Lucy. It’s why I chose you. I could have gone after Baal. I could have gone after Zane. I could have dragged my Beloved here and been Co-Op champions. But I did not. I chose you. And I believe, even with the pain of that loss at In Your Hands, that I chose correctly. And I continue to do so by cashing in every penny of my Coalition earnings and buying the opportunity to fight you for that championship one more time. But more on that next week…
This week you engage me with Mathis by my side. I didn’t bother including what she thinks of me in my little game up above because...well...pretty sure she doesn’t even know who I am. And much like Killian and Rydell, that is through no fault of mine. We both know who and how I am, and how it is THEIR loss that they do not see what WE see. And Mathis will be another partner that I am successful with, another big W to go with my tag team dominance. I am not sorry that this will be another tag victory over you, just as I am not sorry that I will get my first singles title victory over you next week. Instead, I am pleased by it. I find pleasure in it.
You are truly worthy, Lucy, and an example of the type of person my father coached me on finding in this business.
I look forward to kicking you in your teeth again.