Post by Zahara Matisse on Jan 29, 2016 11:57:57 GMT -6
"Sometimes it's good to let someone or something else take the lead for a while. The path you're taken on might bring you to amazing new discoveries."
I suppose it was bound to happen sooner or later. Eventually, the good fans of VoW were gonna see their Magical Maiden doing what she loves almost as much as she loves being in the squared circle. That, of course, would be taking to the stage and putting on a show of illusions and more. Two days removed from our flight down to Puerto Rico (another first for me!), I got word from Jimmy that he was able to set up a one-night show in Orlando and that he wanted me to headline. Putting aside that it had been several weeks since my last performance, I found myself quite eager to accept. As I hung up the phone that evening, I immediately started to wonder what had made me pounce on the offer.
The rumination didn't last long. After missing the match with Owen Gonsalves and the brief yet troubling questions about whether I'd accrued and injury or not, I just...needed the boost. Of course, it didn't help that there was a lot of back and forth over social media with my Double Jeopardy opponent, but more on that later. Fact was, I needed to doll myself up, give my wand a twirl and step out from behind the curtains for a while. It would be, as they say, good for the soul. And, of course, that meant that Farrah would be in the crowd taking in the performance. So, fellow Visionaries and fans, you're getting yourselves a little taste of what the Enchanting One does beyond the ring!
Or at least some of it. After all, I've got a match to prepare for and an opponent that needs to be put to rights. So we'll take it from the prelude to the show's finale. Jimmy had been kind enough to fly in one of my favorite stage assistants, Tigre, to join me for this show. Out of all the people I'd worked with in my solo performances, he was my favorite. Always classy, always eager to please...just as I myself try to be. He could be a fair performer on his own, and I've told him so, but he always brushes it off with a laugh, saying he'd rather be just beyond the spotlight because from there he has the best view in the house. First time he said that I thought he was just flirting (still pretty sure he was a little bit) but I've come to realize that he truly meant that sentiment.
Stepping through a curtain of falling rose petals, Tigre and I take a bow before the cheering crowd, taking that moment in which our voices would be drowned by the cheers for a brief conversation.
"I think it's time..."
"Time? For?"
"The new trick I've been wanting to debut. I'm just...I'm feeling it tonight, Tigre. These people deserve a big send-off."
Like me, Tigre is not the sort to sugarcoat things. He's honest to a fault, though he seems to mitigate that a bit with me at times, not liking to curb my enthusiasm. Tonight was no such time.
"Zahara, dear..."
Concern lit in his eyes despite his expression being one of satisfaction for the adulation.
"...I'm certain you're speaking of the Maiden's Flytrap and I have to ask: have you even rehearsed for that yet?"
"Mentally, yes."
"That isn't good enough. It is a very dangerous routine. It would not do for you to get hurt, especially with your wrestling match coming up soon. You know that I will do my part and be ready just in case...yet I'm asking that you reconsider."
And for a split second? I almost did. I mean, Tigre was usually dead on with his gut feelings. But ten seconds past the end of the last routine and the crowd's roaring had only died down a little. The sense of confidence recently gained being diluted already due to a simple miscue that ended up being nothing was still fresh in my mind, as were the nettling barbs flung by certain people via Twitter and elsewhere.
Maybe, juuuuuust maybe, I was feelin' froggy. Maybe it wasn't for these people so much as it was for myself. Not that I didn't want to give them an amazing finish, mind you, but my Dance of Many illusion always got a standing ovation. It would have been just fine for these folks. But it wouldn't have been good enough to satisfy me. My feelings on the stage were quickly becoming my feelings toward the ring: go big and give it your all, every time. Tigre, to his credit, could read me too well and turned his face forward.
"You're already set on it. I'm assuming, then, that it's all ready to go?"
He was dead on yet again. I gave him a slight, sheepish nod along with my sweetest and most confident smile.
"And don't even think of going easy on me for this, Tigre. I mean it."
"...as you wish."
Rising from the bow, I stepped forward and took the microphone from the stand, gesturing grandly to the crowd.
"You folks have been simply wonderful tonight! All those cheers and good vibes...they mean so much to Tigre and I! And maybe it's how loud you've gotten so far or how welcome you've made us feel...but I'm feeling just a little dangerous right now. See, I've been working on something special for just the right occasion. A new trick that I've never attempted before, partially because I've wondered if I could even pull it off. But for you good people, I'm gonna try it right here, right now!"
Every once in a while, you know you have the crowd right in the palm of your hand, that they're hanging on your every word and action. Some of the best in the wrestling business have pulled that off in the ring and it's something I hope to accomplish in my career, too. The energy is no different when it comes to the stage, though, and right now it was soaking into every pore.
It was intoxicating!
"So, ladies and gentlemen, allow me to introduce you to what I've dubbed...the Maiden's Flytrap!"
Lowered from the rafters on four high-strength cables came the egg-shaped chamber that would serve as the centerpiece for this trick of mine. There were murmurs of wonder and curiosity as it was slowly placed in the center of the stage, whereupon a few of the stagehands disengaged the wires while Tigre lowered a heavy chain bearing a large steel ring at the end. Unlocking the latches at four points on the chamber, I walked back toward it and felt my stomach lurch at the sight of it. Yes, a little tension from your Magical Maiden. Tigre was right when he said that I should have tried this out in the flesh first.
But no backing out now, nor would I. With the latches undone, I turned to gaze over my shoulder at the crowd, my hand upon the handle to open the chamber.
"Looks simple, doesn't it? From the outside it most certainly is, but let's have a look inside..."
Turning the latch, I open the container to show that the entire interior of it was laden with sharp spikes. The revelation got tons of 'ooooh' sounds from the crowd...as well as making me shiver internally like a Jell-O mold in an earthquake.
"Yes, she's a dangerous one, this girl. And those spikes? Tigre, show them just how sharp they are!"
Taking an orange, drawn from nowhere no less, Tigre showed the crowd that it was whole and pure. He then swiped the fruit against one of the spikes and turned it to the crowd, showing them that it had been laid open and was dripping juice into his palm. More eager murmurings and concern from the packed house which, truly, made me feel a bit better.
"Now, what will I be doing with this torture device, you might be asking? Well, it's quite the voracious eater, you see. Once it has something inside of it, it's only a matter of time before..."
A loud, metallic scraping sound emits and all of the spikes jut forward. I almost jump myself but stymie the urge. It's very different up close.
"...it takes a bite out of you! I'm going to test my luck by being hung up inside this wicked lady and attempting to escape before she makes a skewer out of me. And thanks to all of you, I believe I can outwit her! The question is...do YOU all think I can?"
If the cheers were any indication, the crowd had my back! A nice thought to be sure, but they weren't getting stuck inside this monster! Tigre leaned in during the roaring, whispering again.
"As worried as I am right now, Zahara, I still admire you for going through with this. Please don't prove me wrong."
"Not on your life."
And now came the rough part of it all. With the fans looking on, Tigre produced the harness-type device that would be holding me captive within the Flytrap. I'd used it a few times in the past and while being very effective in its intended use, I'd never attempted to writhe out of it while being barely an inch away from razor-sharp spikes. With every strap and buckle that went into place, with the click of every locking hasp, my insides felt a little more empty. But you'd never know it to see my face, so I was told. Once the sleeves were in place and locked down, I found myself very stuck though oddly that didn't bother me. It never had. Some people think that's strange, not liking their freedom removed in any way, shape or form. But it was just another day at the office as far as I was concerned.
Though tonight it was a very dangerous, possibly bloodletting, angry and hungry office. With a deep breath, I nodded to Tigre to signal that the last piece could be put in place. And that last piece was a hood that did an excellent job of blocking my sight and some of my hearing. This was done more for style than anything else, since whether I could see or not wasn't an issue when it came to escape artistry. My method required me to feel and nothing else. The crowd, shown the security of these pieces of equipment, showed more than a little concern. With my restrained body connected to the aforementioned large steel ring, I was lifted high and positioned over the Flytrap, the opening in the top of it possessing just enough space to lower me down. Tigre, meanwhile, took up the microphone.
"As you can see, friends, our dear Zahara is quite secure. Lowered into this hungry creature's maw..."
Sometimes I envied his flair for the dramatic!
"...she will then have 90 seconds to free herself and escape before..."
With another flip of the automatic switch, the spikes jutted out to an appreciative gasp from the crowd.
"...this Flytrap feeds! Now, then: lower her in!"
Moment of truth. I tensed my muscles, first in my arms, then my torso and legs. Tigre had done a bang-up job as usual; I was quite restricted. Inwardly, howwever, I smiled and began the process of relaxing myself as I felt and heard the chain's clicking as I was dipped into the now-closed device.
"Ninety seconds on the clock and...GO!"
And thus it began. I learned quickly that too much squirming would take me right into those spikes and it was a sting I didn't want repeated. Now, I could describe exactly what happened in there, but a good magician never reveals her secrets! Outside of the chamber the music pulsed and the crowd hung on every second, every beat. As the clock wound down, so did the circle of light illuminating the room until there was but a small ring about the Flytrap and then...
CLICK! SHINK!
The stage is dark and they just heard the spikes extrude. Gasps of wonder, concern, fear...and then the lights come up. Tigre, looking quite concerned, motions for the chain to be lifted...and those noises quickly become cheers once again as I was drawn up, free and clear, with my foot slid into the ring as I grasped the chain proper. The people couldn't see it, but slipping out of that device gave me a couple good cuts on the arms. Thankfully my jacket covered that up. Tigre's look of relief, I knew as I looked down at him, wasn't for show.
The chain is shifted and lowered so that I'm coming down in front of the Flytrap with Tigre helping me down in a most gentlemanly way. Fanning myself with a look of utter relief (also not for show!) I take up the microphone again and bow to the crowd once again.
"That, friends, was a close one! I couldn't have done it without you!"
When the crowd had another amazing outburst, Tigre leaned in.
"How many places?"
"Four, I think. Should be fine if they're cleaned and bandaged."
"You've probably ruined that coat."
"Small price to pay."
We took our bows, then, and left the stage to a standing ovation...after which I very nearly spewed due to rampant nerves the moment I got past the curtain.
Show business, folks!
"Take motivation in whatever form it is given to you as. We may not understand the particulars at first but in the end we may yet find ourselves glad for it."
When he was sure, and no sooner than that, that I would be all right, Tigre left me to my post-show routine. He gave a little nod to Farrah as he left while she kept up her camerawork as I sat before the make-up mirror backstage. Slipping out of my jacket and draping it over the back of my chair, I could only just now see the thin tears in it. With my back to the mirror and another in hand, I could see the cuts themselves. They weren't as bad as they looked, really...just stung a bit. That didn't stop Farrah from wincing though, earning a bit of a smile from me. Two cuts on my left arm, one on my right and another between my shoulders.
It could have been much worse.
Sitting back down, I stretched my arms up and over my head with a purr of satisfaction. Being in that harness always made me feel knotted up, though I guess that was the point. Leaning over, I unzipped my left boot and pulled it off, soon placing the right one next to it. Farrah was getting around to letting me have it and I wasn't about to give her an easy opening. I just sat forward a little more and rubbed at my legs a bit before, right on cue, she exhaled and shook her head at me.
"All I wanna know is why."
"Because."
"Not an answer."
Rubbing my way up my legs, finding with distaste that these particular stockings now had a run in them, I made a look of irritation that was probably took as a poke at Farrah due to her continuation.
"Did you forget that you have a big match coming up in less than a week or something, Zoey?! I'm not gonna sit back and say that Stacy Jones and Matt Slater weren't big deals, cause they are, but after all the snap-licking..."
Her and her weird names for basic things! I was lucky I managed to hold back the giggle that tried to well up!
"...that that little witch has been doing I'd figure you'd want to be pristine for when you take her on! And here you are, locking yourself up in a cheese grater with a bondage uniform on! Sometimes I just don't get you!"
Looking at her seriously for a moment, I kept my voice down as I responded. She...really looked mad this time.
"You don't think I'm taking Kelsey seriously?"
"Considering what you just pulled out there?! No! What would've happened if you'd flubbed that trick?!"
"She's the reason I did it."
Guess she wasn't expecting that answer, 'cause she sat there with her mouth hanging open for a moment or two.
"Believe you me, Farrah, I've been paying attention to everything Kelsey's been saying. All the little jabs and insults, all her talk about still being undefeated, how unimpressed she is with me and how she's looking forward to making me tap out. All of it. I haven't missed a word."
"How does that factor in to you doing the Maiden's Flytrap because of her?"
"Because the more someone tries to tell me that I'm in for it, that I'm gonna get beat or I'm gonna mess up big time when it counts, that just motivates me more. I'll never make a big deal about my undefeated streak because I know that one day it's gonna end, probably sooner rather than later. I'm no Ryder Blade, after all..."
Can't help the smirk that comes up as I remember making him look like a goof once upon a time.
"...but when someone like her, who clearly has a loss on her record, gets all bouncy about still being 'undefeated'? And does it in front of someone who's earned the right, even if they don't exercise it, to say the same with complete honesty? That gets under my skin, hon."
"Okay, that's a decent point, I suppose. But it still doesn't tie everything together."
Making a thoughtful expression, I turned back to the mirror, staring into my own eyes. I barely recognized my own voice when next I spoke.
"Why?"
I said softly, feeling a smile tug at my lips.
"Because I've never wanted to win a match this much since I came to VoW."
"Could've fooled everyone else with how hard you wrestled everyone before now."
"This is more a mental thing. That woman needs to learn some humility and be shaken back to reality. And I'm the young lady to do that, Farrah. At Double Jeopardy in Puerto Rico in a few days the world, and especially Kelsey Spencer, are gonna find out what happens when little ol' Zahara Matisse turns the volume up to twelve."
Finally she seemes to relax. She even smiles, not that folks can see that since she's behind the camera and all.
"Okay, fine. But if you ever scare me like that again..."
"...then you'll get over it. I'm dangerous, sugar. Or didn't you know?"
Both of us bust out laughing at that and I'm glad that Farrah understands. It means a lot to me that she was afraid for me but right now? I feel like I can take on the world. It's a great feeling that I refuse to waste.
"Being pushed to one's limits is the only way some of us ever tap into the truest depths of our potential. But waiting is often a waste. When the moment comes, throw yourself into danger and see what you're really made of."
We've obviously been conditioned to have a certain expectation from our resident magician when it comes time to deliver a message to her opponent. Zahara maintains a certain flair and is always a joy to watch, more so when she dips into her mystical bag of tricks for a little extra shine. This time around it appears as though she's taking on a more serious air. There's still that aura of magic about her, certainly, but it is tempered by a fiery competitive spirit that has previously only been seen in the confines of the ring. She tends to keep it there, since there's no sense getting rough with one's words in her mind...at least not if you don't have to.
Standing before the sliding glass balcony door looking out over the city of Caguas, the sunlight peeking through the clouds shining in her direction, Zahara looks at the very least peaceful. A purple peasant blouse is snug in just the right places, delicately loose in others, worn well with a flowing black gypsy skirt that stops just a bit above her ankles. Beneath are legs sheathed in slinky purple and black heeled sandals. She looks more ready for an evening out than a battle between the ropes, gold gleaming in the form of studs, one in each ear, as she turns to the camera. Silver and gold bangles jingle and dance about her wrists as she lowers her arms, bowing to the recorder and rising with a soft smile.
"It is finally that time. I had originally intended to speak on our upcoming match earlier, Kelsey, but after your constant badgering and nattering on Twitter and elsewhere, I figured..."
A hint of snarkiness enters her tone and her expression, stopping short of being edgy and instead mingling with her rampant cuteness.
"...why not let you do half the job for me? And you've performed admirably, giving me all kinds of motivation to beat you. Also, I think some congratulations are in order, seeing as how you're the first opponent I've had here that actually got me to show a little snap in my delivery. I try, oh, how I try, to be kind. Even knowing my opponents would lay me out at the first sign of weakness, I still do my best to show them the proper respect and consideration knowing that, to them, that IS weakness. And I'd do that no matter who was across from me, whether it was another go at Stacy Jones or a brawl with Matthew Robinson. Heck, the World Visionary Champion himself, Casanova English, would get the same. Guy would probably eat me alive if I dared speak to him at all, though, but that's hardly the point. The point, which I'm sure you're itching to be let in on..."
Taking in a measured breath, Zahara turns to gazing straight ahead instead of at the camera. It is, perhaps, because her expression had become dangerously close to a frown.
"...is that you're not getting that consideration."
It is as if it pains her to even say it, but Zahara is resigned to doing what needs to be done, whether it spares feelings or not. She walks the few steps to the door and turns the lock out of place, slowly sliding the door open. She steps out into the heat of the Caguas afternoon, placing her hands upon the railing and just...staring. To be fair, this was her first time in Puerto Rico, but that wasn't the source of her wonderment. Maybe...it was because this was new ground for her in terms of speaking to her opponents.
"I can't go so far as to say that you've made this personal, Kelsey, but you have lit a fire inside me that not even the Maiden's Flytrap could quench."
Now a smile sneaks out again, a slight one as she recalls her first time trying that particular trick and the reaction it got.
"But lets get to the meat and potatoes, since I've already warned you that the truth was coming."
The smile gives way to a calm expression, thankfully not including another frown.
"You, Kelsey Spencer, sold your soul and your morals while sweeping more animosity than could possibly fit under the rug in the name of pride and greed the moment you shacked up with Rebecca Saint. The reasons for that are still unfathomable to me. Why did you do such a thing, I have to ask? Don't you see what you're doing to yourself? No matter how many times you go off about it, nothing will take that loss to the Chaossworn off your record. The old you, the woman we saw before they got hold of you, would have owned up to that defeat and let it motivate her. But that isn't what has happened, which is kinda sad.
And as long as you're carrying Saint's bags and tying her boots, you'll never reach your potential here, which is just how she wants it. Considering Saint's aforementioned level includes her running away from matches and acting like an entitled rich girl all the time? That's mighty sad, the thought that you can't move past her. You'll spend the rest of your career in VoW and anywhere else you might go on a level just below her, never being allowed to go any higher. Why? Because she's afraid of you, Kelsey. She knows you could outshine her in a heartbeat. Why else would she suddenly turn around and get all buddy-buddy with you the moment someone comes along and starts handing out that kind of truth? The timing is pretty suspect, wouldn't you say?
But who am I to try and tell you your business, right? Obviously you're better off listening to a woman who's using you as a footstool to try and reach heights that she, according to her trash-talk that is, should be able to reach on her own. I'm just the new girl. My record and my words mean nothing to you. I wouldn't even feel the need to bring up my record at all if you weren't going on and on about yours. I guess there's just something about falsehood which ignites my pride, whether I like it or not. Funny how those things work out."
She smiles sweetly, but it's obvious that Kelsey rubs Zahara the wrong way with all her bragging to any who will read or listen. Still, the Enchanting One manages to keep her smile sweet and genuine, even if her words are a bit stiffer than we're used to.
"You're a former champion, someone who's done time in this business in places other than here. You should take some pride in your successes as well as ownership for your shortcomings. Everyone's gotta lose at some point, and your moment came early on. Based on your opponents and factoring in the cowardice of your partner...
...or is she your keeper?"
It's hard to tell if she's genuinely confused at how to refer to Rebecca or just feigning it for giggles. Considering her stage acumen, we might never know! Then again, we can tell that Zahara is on the more serious side of the spectrum right now, so perhaps the effort of putting on a smile is just a defense mechanism to keep her from going too close to the edge. Again...hard to tell.
"Meh, either way. You should feel no shame in losing, especially via countout, since that was an obvious jab on their part. But you should accept it. I speak from experience when I say that Emma Carlisle and Joanna Thade are incredibly unpredictable and dangerous, not to mention highly talented. Honestly? I think those two knocked something loose in your noggin when they put you through that table, puddin' cup. At least that's when I noticed the change in you. You ain't the same Kelsey who rolled in here with all that promise draped over her shoulders, still having the fight within her to resist being turned into something she knows she's not. In fact, this ain't Kelsey Spencer at all. This is Rebecca Saint Jr., which in no world that exists is a compliment."
Shaking her head with a bit of polite-yet-guarded laughter, Zahara lets it die down before he expression goes another rare shade of serious. Turned to face the camera again, she leans against the balcony railing with her hands resting upon the edge. Zahara looks to be having a moment of needing to consider her words carefully.
"Before I go on, I assure you all that I get how folks aren't used to hearing this kind of talk from me. It's something my detractors are gonna no doubt make note of as ammo against me for the future. 'This isn't the always-smiling, super-positive Zahara that we're used to seeing,' they'll say, and sadly? They're right. I do apologize for that, more to them than to you, obviously, but especially to those that might be saddened or disappointed by me. Letting down the folks who have supported me is a weight I'm gonna have to bear, however."
Resigned is the best way to describe the looks of her in that moment...yet with a little dash of hope.
"Before people get too antsy though, recall that I did tell everyone from the beginning that I was honest to a fault, sometimes brutally so. What I'm telling people, and especially what I'm telling Kelsey, isn't anything that they can't already see for themselves if they choose to. That's Miss Spencer's problem, though: she refuses to see the truth, something I don't entirely blame her for. Some small part of me is hoping that finally taking what, in her mind anyway, will be a straight-up loss will shake whatever is loose back into place. Because, really, I think she was better off how she was before she got trapped in Saint's web of lies and deceit.
I'd like to be able to think well of you again, Kelsey. With Saint in your head, though, that isn't possible. Her way ain't right and you know that. Your feud with one another should've shown you unquestionably but you let her blow sunshine in your ear and now you're her mini-me. Hope isn't lost, though. You can shake her yoke if you try...but you have to want to. And that's the stalling point cause I don't think you do. It's hard to fall back into the trenches, hurting and bleeding for every drop of success you can squeeze out of life through actual effort after you've had a taste of the easy way. That isn't something I can relate to. With me, it's the hard way or nothing, because the hard way is where true satisfaction is earned, something I won't compromise for something fleeting like glory."
Stroking her chin thoughtfully now, her elbow resting in her opppsite palm, Zahara taps her lips lightly...then seems to give up on whatever idea she had before turning her gaze back to the camera.
"Bottom lining it, this is probably the first match in VoW that I won't tolerate losing. Against Stacy it would have still been a good experience because I was facing a former champion and a woman who made history here. Against Matt Slater I would have fallen to a man who's beaten our reigning World Heavyweight Champion, which there would be no shame in. In both senses, I would have learned a lot and been better for just taking them on. But that isn't what happened, is it?"
Ooooh, and the smile takes a turn toward the devious! She oughta be ashamed if it weren't so cute!
"Guess that explains my confidence pretty well, doesn't it? Maybe why none of your Twitter ranting has rattled me, perhaps, other than to make me even more focused?"
She downplays it just a little, getting slowly back to serious mode.
"I want you to tell me one time with conviction, Kelsey, exactly why I should be worried about you. Because according to your tweets, I darn well should be, but based on the way you ran from Valerie Beasley after your match at Breakthrough 39, I can't find any reason to be. Outside of your grade-school-level insults and threats about making me tap out, you've done nothing to inspire belief in a victory over me at Double Jeopardy. However, my confidence hasn't turned into arrogance. As much as I hate admitting it, I know that you might just sneak out a win over me like you did over Valerie. I'm not unbeatable and neither are you. The difference between us is that with you it's been proven.
Before you get your hopes up having heard that, though, make sure you hear this loud and clear: no matter my opinion of you or my humble-yet-appreciated accomplishments so far in Visionares of Wrestling, I'm taking you mighty serious, as if that weren't obvious already. 'Prepare for the show of a lifetime' isn't just a catchphrase or a cool thinger to put on a shirt for me. It's an attitude, a way of thinking and acting, that I rev up every time the lights come up and the music hits. It doesn't matter if I'm walking onto a stage or into a wrestling ring; when Zoey Anne Madigan becomes Zahara Matisse, that's when the magic gets very, VERY real."
Pushing off fully from the balcony, Zahara comes forward, eyes locked on the camera as she does so. Just past the threshold she stops, a halo of sunlight behind her giving her a bright aura that, while obvious in source, still gives off a sort of power all its own.
"You're the medium, Kelsey Spencer, through which the rest of the Visionaries are going to see what little ol' Zahara is truly made of. You've awoken the sorcerous warrior within me and when that bell tolls I'm going to unleash a LOT more than smiles and flowers from the tip of my wand. That's right..."
She makes a stylish twirl, not unlike Wonder Woman herself, spinning into her purple-and-black ring gear, hat and all. The wand, of course, gets pointed right at the camera.
"...I'm gonna put a hex on you, wrap you in my Spellbound and make YOU tap..."
Twirling the black medium seems to extend it somehow, turning it into a cane which she strikes the bottom of flat against the floor. Smoke billows upward, more shadowing than obscuring the Enchanting One...leading to the peculiar-yet-entracing effect of making her eyes glow whilst her body is little more than a dark profile in the mist.
"...and that will be the show of your lifetime!"
More smoke rises, then dissipates from a breeze flowing through the still open door. We watch, though we already know as the fog fades, as Zahara takes her leave from us once again, not to be seen again until Double Jeopardy.
"I'm make my dream, and his, come true."