Post by mandi on Apr 2, 2017 21:21:51 GMT
“It is...easy isn’t it? To lose oneself. To become so lost in the chaos that we forget who we are, what we are, and who it is, what it is, we strive to be. We wander, the trees dark and crowding the path, and sometimes...sometimes we stray. We lose the way and before we know it, we’ve become so turned around we’re completely lost. The sun goes down and it’s dark. And the night, well it’s full of terrors isn’t it? Stuffed to the brim with all the things we fear, all our doubts, our fears, our flaws laid bare for the world to see. So, we cling to the light, hover around it like moths drawn to flame, never realizing that light is a weakness of its own. It makes us blind. It makes us foolish.”
The room itself is dark, the voice soft, but determined, drifting from the shadows until a match strikes. The flame flickers, dancing, throwing shadows on the diminutive blonde’s face for a moment before it touches to the wick of a series of candles arranged on the floor before her. From what little can be seen of the room, this is what she refers to as her ‘armory’, her refuge and safe haven. The place that houses her collection of weapons, the shrine to her god. It’s a rare, rare thing that she allows the cameras to invade this sacred place, but perhaps, in this instance, she finds it a necessary evil.
“I am no less guilty of this sin than anyone else. You want a thing so badly, you become desperate to grasp it. You become consumed by the need, the want, more than the passion, or the dedication. And in time, you become a stranger even to yourself until you find yourself looking in the mirror, disgusted by what you see...I’ve been there. Fuck, I lived there. In that ugly place. See, the industry, it’s a bit of a catch-22, no matter you do, someone will always find fault. Be humble, they tell you that you should be more confident. Be confident, and they accuse you of being arrogant. There is no middle ground, no in between. It’s one, or the other. So for the young, the impressionable, the starry eyed dreamers blinded by the bright lights above them, and deafened by the roar of the crowd it’s easy. To lose yourself. To forget who you are. To become everything you despised and hated. So easy, in fact, that you don’t even realize it’s happening until it’s too late. And then you’re spiraling, spinning out of control faster and faster, the ground crumbling away beneath your fingers when you reach out to catch yourself.
I’ve fallen. I’ve spiraled. I’ve hit rock bottom. I’ve become the desperate, broken thing I always swore I would never be. I have doubted. I have questioned. And every time I’ve reached for something, and fallen short, I have felt a despair so sharp, so consuming that there doesn’t seem to be anything beyond it. Because that, is what this is to me. Not a job. Not a paycheck. Not a hobby or a way to pass the time. Not a mere passion. But life itself. I have shaped everything that I am around this. To fail, is to fail at the only thing that means anything. So perhaps that is where the anger comes from, when the well meaning offer their empty platitudes and reassurances.”
As she speaks, there’s no direct focus on the camera itself, rather an easy flow, conversation among friends perhaps. She pauses, only long enough to lift a nearby glass of water to her lips.
“I have been consumed. And in that, I have been blinded, and foolish, and desperate. This is a craft, an artform, a thing of beauty that when forced becomes twisted and tainted, stunted. We are artists, one and all, dancers and sculptors. I lost sight of that, became so obsessed with touching the sun, I stopped putting the emphasis on the crafting of the wings to get me there. But no more. No more.
All things end. The highest mountain will, with time, eventually crumble, worn away by the elements and shifting earth. The deepest ocean, turned to a dry, cracked crater. The great monuments worn away to nothing. Nothing lasts forever. No championship reign, no legacy. Everything that we are, everything that we were is impermanent, subject to the shifting sands of time. I thought that what I needed was to build this great, grand legacy. And in that I put so much pressure on myself that I lost what truly mattered. When my time is over, it will not be that I won, or lost the battles I waged, but that I fought. That in the face of all the odds I stood. That no matter the battle, the wars fought, I stood, where weaker warriors would have fallen, surrendered, turned their backs and walked away. And that. That is my legacy. That is who I am. Who I have always been. And who I will always be. I lost sight of that. I lost sight of the warrior who was, the one who endured the flames, who went to war.”
Another pause, but this time she rises, smoothly, stepping carefully over the line of candles before stooping to pick one up. Despite the fact that the majority of the room is in darkness she moves with a confidence born of familiarity, touching the flame to the wicks of additional candles scattered across the surface of what must be the altar at which she offers prayers to the old Greek god of war.
“Hell is Waiting, and I run to it with open arms, because it is a better thing to dare greatly, and fail, than to live in the gray twilight of never daring at all. A better thing to have your waxwork wings melt and fall while reaching for the sun, than to never fly. I think that people often forget that about me. That I have ever been one to dare greatly, ignoring the consequences. And so, Aurora, Masaru, bring your best...and your worst. We stand ready.”
Candles lit, she turns to put her back against the edge of the stone table, arms folding across her stomach. In the growing light, it becomes obvious that she’s dressed simply, as she often is, a black tank top and slacks, barefoot, blonde hair left loose and free to frame her face.
“Masaru…”
The name comes out softly, her tone tinged with a hint of regret. Things that were, that might have been, bridges crossed and burned. Her gaze drops, her eyes closing briefly as she takes a moment to collect her thoughts properly. When her chin lifts, eyes opening once more it is to fix an intent, unwavering gaze on the camera, youthful face setting in hard, unforgiving lines.
“People change. This is an inescapable fact. We are shaped by our experiences and encounters. You knew me as I was. You knew the starry eyed dreamer. The girl who tried, who so desperately craved the approval of her peers and the crowd that she would have sacrificed everything she was for a kind word, for a nod of respect. Before I burned. Before I ended up spending six months of the shelf where in all of the people who claimed to be my friends promptly forgot that I existed. If we were friends, Masaru, then why did you never inquire after my well being? No texts, no phone calls, not even a card. Can you imagine, what it’s like? To see the only thing that meant anything to you, ripped from your fingers, torn from you, and to realize, that all of these people who professed to be there for you in fact, could not be bothered to even see if you were still breathing. Oh I assume with no actual announcement, it was just assumed, but it would have been nice if someone had bothered. So please, spare me the simpering victimizations about how we were friends, but I changed, and how I damaged your trust...since you were one of the people who showed me that the world wasn’t to be trusted in the first place. I got hurt and you, my supposed friend, like everyone else, abandoned me.
And so now, you go on about me putting you in a foul mood, while at the same time committing the same sin that everyone else commits. You doubt me. You question me. You underestimate me. Do you remember? You bring up Twitter and my comments about not inviting you to my wedding, like it’s some kind of stick to shake. But I remember. I remember how you laughed when I told you that if you tried biting me I was kicking your teeth in. I remember how you said I couldn’t. And I remember your partner saying that she believed that I could. Truth be told Masaru, you are part of the reason I fought so hard to win, to get here, to stand across the ring from you again. Because it isn’t just about the Duos Championships. No, this is about making a point.
It isn’t about how far we’ve come. It’s not about how hard we’ve worked. It’s about no longer being taken lightly. It’s about no longer having our dedication, our work questioned and doubted at every turn. So, Masaru, old friend, let me make this one thing very, very clear to you. We may not leave with the Duos Championships. We may not stand at the end with our hands raised in victory. But come hell or high water, I am leaving that arena with at least one of your pearly whites. Personal goals and all. I mean two would be the most ideal. I could use a set of earrings to match the necklace for the wedding.”
Her lips quirk in a tiny smile that borders on the edge of being a smirk, just a brief flash of humor before it fades. Because now she’s come to the hard part hasn’t she? Now she’s come to the ‘white whale’ so to speak.
“Aurora…”
Another brief pause, followed by a dry little chuckle.
“Where do I even begin? There’s so much history, so many connections. You know of course, that I have nothing but the deepest respect and admiration for all that you’ve all, all that you will continue to do. You know that I would never doubt your capabilities, and certainly never question them. You have always been one of the few people in my life that I’ve been able to turn to, even from the beginning, for honesty and guidance. I’ve never made any attempt to hide that. I think it was Finn who called you my ‘white whale’, and he wasn’t wrong. Since that first match, when I fell short, everything that I’ve done, every step I’ve made has been with the intention to put me right here. Across from you again. Because I need this. It’s not about proving anything to you, or to anyone else, but about needing to prove to myself that I can do this. That we can do this.
You aren’t wrong, you didn’t lose the championships, you shouldn’t have to fight to get them back. But we don’t always get the things we want in life. You talk about being hungry, like we don’t know what it’s like. You’ll forgive me I hope, if I call bullshit on that. I came into this company for the second time on fire. I survived the Boats N’ Throws match and thought that it was the beginning of a new era for me. Instead, I’ve stumbled, again, and again and again. And I am through being questioned and doubted and pushed and prodded. It isn’t just a hunger or a thirst for me Aurora, it’s a need deep rooted and all consuming.
I made this mistake of putting you up on a pedestal. Of setting you above me, and while it could be argued that this is perhaps not an invalid thought, for a competitor, it’s crippling. And I think you know that. Setting you on that pedestal made me question my own capabilities, and that is a mistake I will not be making this time around. I respect you. I admire you. And for those reasons, I will bring nothing less than everything I am. I walk into the match with renewed focus and the confidence that we can and we will walk out Redemption the Duos Champions.
Because all things end Aurora. No matter how long lasting and immortal they seem. All things end. And your stranglehold on this company is ending. It began with Cassius Reed, and it ends here, at Redemption. You were queen. Now you’re a legend. The monster in the dark that people speak in hushed whispers. But you had your light. You had your moments. But now...now is our time. Now is the time for us to rise. Hell waits, but some of us have already walked through the fires, and the idea of burning holds no fear for us.”
Hands lift, to push her hair back from her face, her expression softening. For a moment, candlelight catches on the scars that mark her arms, testament of the battles waged. They used to bother her, though she wouldn’t make that known. There was a time, when it was difficult for her to look at them. When she saw them as reminders of failures, rather than badges of survival. But...with time, people change.
“Chris...it goes without saying, but it isn’t easy for me to trust people It’s not easy for me to put my faith in others. To trust them. Don’t make me regret it.”
The room itself is dark, the voice soft, but determined, drifting from the shadows until a match strikes. The flame flickers, dancing, throwing shadows on the diminutive blonde’s face for a moment before it touches to the wick of a series of candles arranged on the floor before her. From what little can be seen of the room, this is what she refers to as her ‘armory’, her refuge and safe haven. The place that houses her collection of weapons, the shrine to her god. It’s a rare, rare thing that she allows the cameras to invade this sacred place, but perhaps, in this instance, she finds it a necessary evil.
“I am no less guilty of this sin than anyone else. You want a thing so badly, you become desperate to grasp it. You become consumed by the need, the want, more than the passion, or the dedication. And in time, you become a stranger even to yourself until you find yourself looking in the mirror, disgusted by what you see...I’ve been there. Fuck, I lived there. In that ugly place. See, the industry, it’s a bit of a catch-22, no matter you do, someone will always find fault. Be humble, they tell you that you should be more confident. Be confident, and they accuse you of being arrogant. There is no middle ground, no in between. It’s one, or the other. So for the young, the impressionable, the starry eyed dreamers blinded by the bright lights above them, and deafened by the roar of the crowd it’s easy. To lose yourself. To forget who you are. To become everything you despised and hated. So easy, in fact, that you don’t even realize it’s happening until it’s too late. And then you’re spiraling, spinning out of control faster and faster, the ground crumbling away beneath your fingers when you reach out to catch yourself.
I’ve fallen. I’ve spiraled. I’ve hit rock bottom. I’ve become the desperate, broken thing I always swore I would never be. I have doubted. I have questioned. And every time I’ve reached for something, and fallen short, I have felt a despair so sharp, so consuming that there doesn’t seem to be anything beyond it. Because that, is what this is to me. Not a job. Not a paycheck. Not a hobby or a way to pass the time. Not a mere passion. But life itself. I have shaped everything that I am around this. To fail, is to fail at the only thing that means anything. So perhaps that is where the anger comes from, when the well meaning offer their empty platitudes and reassurances.”
As she speaks, there’s no direct focus on the camera itself, rather an easy flow, conversation among friends perhaps. She pauses, only long enough to lift a nearby glass of water to her lips.
“I have been consumed. And in that, I have been blinded, and foolish, and desperate. This is a craft, an artform, a thing of beauty that when forced becomes twisted and tainted, stunted. We are artists, one and all, dancers and sculptors. I lost sight of that, became so obsessed with touching the sun, I stopped putting the emphasis on the crafting of the wings to get me there. But no more. No more.
All things end. The highest mountain will, with time, eventually crumble, worn away by the elements and shifting earth. The deepest ocean, turned to a dry, cracked crater. The great monuments worn away to nothing. Nothing lasts forever. No championship reign, no legacy. Everything that we are, everything that we were is impermanent, subject to the shifting sands of time. I thought that what I needed was to build this great, grand legacy. And in that I put so much pressure on myself that I lost what truly mattered. When my time is over, it will not be that I won, or lost the battles I waged, but that I fought. That in the face of all the odds I stood. That no matter the battle, the wars fought, I stood, where weaker warriors would have fallen, surrendered, turned their backs and walked away. And that. That is my legacy. That is who I am. Who I have always been. And who I will always be. I lost sight of that. I lost sight of the warrior who was, the one who endured the flames, who went to war.”
Another pause, but this time she rises, smoothly, stepping carefully over the line of candles before stooping to pick one up. Despite the fact that the majority of the room is in darkness she moves with a confidence born of familiarity, touching the flame to the wicks of additional candles scattered across the surface of what must be the altar at which she offers prayers to the old Greek god of war.
“Hell is Waiting, and I run to it with open arms, because it is a better thing to dare greatly, and fail, than to live in the gray twilight of never daring at all. A better thing to have your waxwork wings melt and fall while reaching for the sun, than to never fly. I think that people often forget that about me. That I have ever been one to dare greatly, ignoring the consequences. And so, Aurora, Masaru, bring your best...and your worst. We stand ready.”
Candles lit, she turns to put her back against the edge of the stone table, arms folding across her stomach. In the growing light, it becomes obvious that she’s dressed simply, as she often is, a black tank top and slacks, barefoot, blonde hair left loose and free to frame her face.
“Masaru…”
The name comes out softly, her tone tinged with a hint of regret. Things that were, that might have been, bridges crossed and burned. Her gaze drops, her eyes closing briefly as she takes a moment to collect her thoughts properly. When her chin lifts, eyes opening once more it is to fix an intent, unwavering gaze on the camera, youthful face setting in hard, unforgiving lines.
“People change. This is an inescapable fact. We are shaped by our experiences and encounters. You knew me as I was. You knew the starry eyed dreamer. The girl who tried, who so desperately craved the approval of her peers and the crowd that she would have sacrificed everything she was for a kind word, for a nod of respect. Before I burned. Before I ended up spending six months of the shelf where in all of the people who claimed to be my friends promptly forgot that I existed. If we were friends, Masaru, then why did you never inquire after my well being? No texts, no phone calls, not even a card. Can you imagine, what it’s like? To see the only thing that meant anything to you, ripped from your fingers, torn from you, and to realize, that all of these people who professed to be there for you in fact, could not be bothered to even see if you were still breathing. Oh I assume with no actual announcement, it was just assumed, but it would have been nice if someone had bothered. So please, spare me the simpering victimizations about how we were friends, but I changed, and how I damaged your trust...since you were one of the people who showed me that the world wasn’t to be trusted in the first place. I got hurt and you, my supposed friend, like everyone else, abandoned me.
And so now, you go on about me putting you in a foul mood, while at the same time committing the same sin that everyone else commits. You doubt me. You question me. You underestimate me. Do you remember? You bring up Twitter and my comments about not inviting you to my wedding, like it’s some kind of stick to shake. But I remember. I remember how you laughed when I told you that if you tried biting me I was kicking your teeth in. I remember how you said I couldn’t. And I remember your partner saying that she believed that I could. Truth be told Masaru, you are part of the reason I fought so hard to win, to get here, to stand across the ring from you again. Because it isn’t just about the Duos Championships. No, this is about making a point.
It isn’t about how far we’ve come. It’s not about how hard we’ve worked. It’s about no longer being taken lightly. It’s about no longer having our dedication, our work questioned and doubted at every turn. So, Masaru, old friend, let me make this one thing very, very clear to you. We may not leave with the Duos Championships. We may not stand at the end with our hands raised in victory. But come hell or high water, I am leaving that arena with at least one of your pearly whites. Personal goals and all. I mean two would be the most ideal. I could use a set of earrings to match the necklace for the wedding.”
Her lips quirk in a tiny smile that borders on the edge of being a smirk, just a brief flash of humor before it fades. Because now she’s come to the hard part hasn’t she? Now she’s come to the ‘white whale’ so to speak.
“Aurora…”
Another brief pause, followed by a dry little chuckle.
“Where do I even begin? There’s so much history, so many connections. You know of course, that I have nothing but the deepest respect and admiration for all that you’ve all, all that you will continue to do. You know that I would never doubt your capabilities, and certainly never question them. You have always been one of the few people in my life that I’ve been able to turn to, even from the beginning, for honesty and guidance. I’ve never made any attempt to hide that. I think it was Finn who called you my ‘white whale’, and he wasn’t wrong. Since that first match, when I fell short, everything that I’ve done, every step I’ve made has been with the intention to put me right here. Across from you again. Because I need this. It’s not about proving anything to you, or to anyone else, but about needing to prove to myself that I can do this. That we can do this.
You aren’t wrong, you didn’t lose the championships, you shouldn’t have to fight to get them back. But we don’t always get the things we want in life. You talk about being hungry, like we don’t know what it’s like. You’ll forgive me I hope, if I call bullshit on that. I came into this company for the second time on fire. I survived the Boats N’ Throws match and thought that it was the beginning of a new era for me. Instead, I’ve stumbled, again, and again and again. And I am through being questioned and doubted and pushed and prodded. It isn’t just a hunger or a thirst for me Aurora, it’s a need deep rooted and all consuming.
I made this mistake of putting you up on a pedestal. Of setting you above me, and while it could be argued that this is perhaps not an invalid thought, for a competitor, it’s crippling. And I think you know that. Setting you on that pedestal made me question my own capabilities, and that is a mistake I will not be making this time around. I respect you. I admire you. And for those reasons, I will bring nothing less than everything I am. I walk into the match with renewed focus and the confidence that we can and we will walk out Redemption the Duos Champions.
Because all things end Aurora. No matter how long lasting and immortal they seem. All things end. And your stranglehold on this company is ending. It began with Cassius Reed, and it ends here, at Redemption. You were queen. Now you’re a legend. The monster in the dark that people speak in hushed whispers. But you had your light. You had your moments. But now...now is our time. Now is the time for us to rise. Hell waits, but some of us have already walked through the fires, and the idea of burning holds no fear for us.”
Hands lift, to push her hair back from her face, her expression softening. For a moment, candlelight catches on the scars that mark her arms, testament of the battles waged. They used to bother her, though she wouldn’t make that known. There was a time, when it was difficult for her to look at them. When she saw them as reminders of failures, rather than badges of survival. But...with time, people change.
“Chris...it goes without saying, but it isn’t easy for me to trust people It’s not easy for me to put my faith in others. To trust them. Don’t make me regret it.”
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