Post by Zahara Matisse on Apr 5, 2016 8:42:45 GMT -6
The view is locked on to the other side of Gorilla, focused on the black curtain which is all that stands between the controlled madness that is always present behind the scenes of a wrestling show and an ocean of raucous humanity. The area is particularly busy at this moment, with the main event about to take place in mere minutes. Sky Sangue, VoW's owner, is going over last-minute details with one of her producers while some technicians are checking the lights and pyro for the final contest of the evening. A couple wrestlers are loitering about as well, most having had matches on the pre-show or earlier in the evening, sticking around to get a look at the action from one of the best locations in the house. The energy and emotion are thicker than ever at this moment, and beyond that heavy black drape the crowd is on absolute fire.
Half the reason why comes walking through a moment later, though not without some difficulty despite her best efforts to mask it. Zahara Matisse enters the backstage area, soaked in sweat and looking as though she'd been through a war...which she most definitely had. Out in the arena proper, for the past forty minutes give or take a few to walk from the ring to backstage, the Magical Maiden went toe-to-toe with the VoW Xcel Champion, Constance Chapin, in a war that catered to fans of brawling, high-flying and technical masterpieces alike. The thunderous chants, applause and ovations from the faithful Visionary fans could be heard even in the furthest corners of the backstage area, and the space between Zahara opening and closing the curtain long enough to walk in showed that they were still rabid even now.
The woman herself...it's hard to tell exactly what she's thinking. What she's feeling physically isn't hard to discern, though: she's moving gingerly, though she keeps her head up high. Unfortunately, that gives away some lingering redness around the eyes, though she pays such no mind. Instead, she wears her trademark smile, even if it IS a bit weary. Having just suffered her first defeat in her professional career, it would make sense for Zahara to be upset. None would fault her for that. She gets a few steps forward before Sky Sangue turns from her conversation and spots Zahara. She smiles kindly to the young rookie.
"One of the best matches I've ever seen from two of the best that VoW has to offer. The two of you did this company proud and left Winter and Stacy a tough act to follow."
The praise caught her off-guard in truth, and a flush rose to Zahara's cheeks that had little to do with the exertions of minutes ago.
"Thank you, Miss Sangue..."
It was all she could think of to say. Sangue turned to the curtain and smiled again, gesturing toward it.
"Just listen to that. Constance got her fair share of that love, as well she should have. But I heard those voices, Zahara. Yours was the name most spoken. Keep up the good work."
"I will...thanks."
The Enchanting One responds with a smile before moving on down the hallway. She reaches into one of the ice chests en route, putting the bottle of red Gatorade not to her lips but to her forehead, using the cold bottle to ease some of the ache. The crowd thins out a bit as she continues down the hall, though there are those who stop and offer their congratulations on the match despite the defeat, which she accepts gracefully though the praise, even that which came from Miss Sangue, seems to bother her a bit. One gets the distinct impression that she doesn't think she deserves it.
Over the sight of her continuing down the hall, finally nursing the bottle a bit to get some fluid back in her system, Katie Moicelle, the Zero Gravity Champion, speaks via voice-over on the outcome of the match.
“Oh, that match? I think it was a really fantastic and great match, even if it was a bit long for my tastes. On a scale of 1 to 10, I’d have given it a 12. But, from this loss, I think Zahara can bounce back stronger than anyone else on the roster, myself included, and this’ll be the match to do it with. She doesn’t need my help to do that, but I’ll be here to back her up nonetheless.”
Katie's comments finish, and a moment later the tones of one-half of the Twin City Champions, Gina Neon, though it sounds more as if she's talking to the Enchanting One directly as opposed to answering a question.
"Lemme tell you somethin', baby! I know losin' can stink, but what you gotta remember is that winnin' an' losin' don't define you. Just 'cause you lose one time, doesn't mean you ain't rad. An' believe me – you're rad, baby! One defeat ain't gonna change that. An' I don't wanna hear nothin' about you changin' who you are, neither, capisce? Ain't nobody else but you that can be Zahara. An' you can't be nobody else but Zahara, neither. So what you gotta do is be the best Zahara you can be. You do that, an' you're gonna be fine, baby!"
She doesn't make it much closer to the locker rooms before a familiar face steps into the hall: her trainer, Vincezno Ragetti. He doesn't offer a greeting so much as a gruff question.
"Rule nineteen, Zoey."
Pausing, Zahara blinks, then responds with a calmer, quieter smile.
"There's no such thing as defeat when you learn a lesson from it."
"And number six?"
"Win with heart, lose with class."
Vincenzo lets out a rare smile and approaches his student, pulling her into a hug. The man's massive but his touch is gentle right now, knowing the kind of war Zahara's been in. She gratefully returns the gesture, clinging to the beast of an Italian without whom she wouldn't be here right now.
"Y'know, you're the only one what learned all those rules by heart."
Her response is laughter, soft and rather emotional, muffled a bit by the embrace. Vincenzo steps back, hands on her shoulders, looking upon her at arm's length.
"Brought everyone here to watch live, Zoey. I ain't exaggeratin' when I say all of 'em were on their feet for ya for most of the match, screamin' their fool heads off. You did them, the school...me...did us all proud."
It's a minor miracle that she doesn't start crying again right there, but it would seem that she gave up most of her tears in the ring after Constance retained her title.
"I did my best, boss. Constance's best was better, but I kept my word. I did."
"Damn right you did. She's gonna feel it in the mornin'."
"So am I!"
Vincenzo barks out a laugh, lowering his hands and shaking his head in mirth.
"That's the price we pay, Zoey. I'd better get back to them kids before they get some kinda crazy wanderlust or somethin'. Don't you be a stranger now, hear?"
"You got it, boss."
Giving her shoulder another gentle squeeze, Vincenzo walks off as Zahara watches him go. Both hands come up and she rubs at her eyes a bit before continuing down the hall. Another voice cuts in, this time the voice of VoW veteran Seth Iser, offering his thoughts on the match when queried.
"I can't hate the business entirely after a match like that now can I? Fact is, though...gold corrupts. Pursuit of gold corrupts further. And this industry...it corrupts after a match like that. Either Zahara proves the saying true or she's the one in a million. Allison'll be disappointed though. Her girl lost."
Before she gets more than a couple steps further, though, she's downed that Gatorade in one long gulp. Tossing the empty bottle in a nearby trash can, Zahara finally comes to the locker room which, surprisingly, is empty. To Zahara, this is most welcome as she wanders over to a bench and takes a seat, bent over with her elbows resting on her knees. After a few deep, silent breaths, her shoulders start to shake. At first it looks as though the Magical Maiden has been overtaken by tears again, but soon we hear soft, near-silent laughter coming from her. It's shaky, breathy...but genuine all the same.
Without lifting her head, she lowers her arms and starts unbuckling and unlacing her boots, finding herself in dire need of a very hot shower. The scene fades on this and resumes with a shot of her standing beneath the silver head, steaming water spraying down on her. Before anyone gets any lecherous ideas or starts reaching for the lotion, nothing on her is showing that shouldn't be. She has a hand resting on the tile, the water drenching her until her dark hair hangs loose and heavy about her head. Flipping it back over her shoulder, Zahara lifts her head so that the water pours into her face, the heat soothing for obvious reasons. The moment of silent peace, as well, is no doubt a welcome one.
And of all the people who might offer their thoughts now, in this most private and vulnerable moment, it's the former Xcel Champion himself, Ryder Blade.
"The Blade's peeps know The Blade always shoots straight. And The Blade's gotta admit: that was one heck of a match. If The Blade hadn't wrestled at Nothing Else Matters, it would'a probably been match of the night. And The Blade's happy that he didn't drop his belt to no fluke champion, either. Those two babes made that hish still mean something, yo! And about Harry Potter Girl, The Blade totally gets where she's at right now. The Blade was in a major funk after he lost his title, too. But what she needs to see, what The Blade needed to see back then too, is that just 'cause she failed this one time, doesn't mean she's done. What she's gotta try to do is turn this failure into an opportunity. You ain't got the Xcel belt right now? Well, guess what, babe? That means you can aim higher. Like The Blade did. You do that, and you're still gonna be somebody. Just don't crowd The Blade's plate, yo – otherwise, we're gonna have a problem!"
The scene cuts to black after his comments end, the sound of a squeaky knob being turned heard briefly. When we see Zahara next, she's back on the bench. A grayish-blue turtleneck clings well to her torso, showing her curves without costing her modesty. A deeper blue scarf is wrapped loosely around her neck, reaching near to her waist. She looks poured into the black denim hugging her hips and legs. Bent over at the waist, she's pulling a thick, gray sock up her leg before pushing that foot into a calf-high leather boot which she zips up the side. Rising with some small amount of effort, she pulls on a suede jacket to match the boots, turning to look at herself in the mirror across the way. She stares at the woman within, who stares back at her, and for a moment looks as if she doesn't recognize the reflection. Next to her on the bench, near her bag, is the package left in front of the locker room door before she left for her match, unopened. This, too, gets her attention but she decides to tuck it into her bag and open it later. For a moment, we can see the rose in there, wrapped carefully in paper. The sight of it makes Zahara smile a little. Her phone cuts into the silence, though, ringing to a vaguely-familiar punk rock tune, though it's only on a few moments before the Enchanting one digs the phone out of her pocket and answers.
"Hey, this is a pleasant surprise...hm? Oh, about to head out to a little after-party with Stacy and the others. You? Yeah, I don't blame you there. I don't know that I'll stick around long, feeling like I do...what? No, don't worry about that. Are you sure? Well, I can't see any reason why not. All right. Sure. I'll text you when I leave."
Putting the phone away, Zahara sighs to herself.
"Let's try this again. With feeling."
Sliding the strap of the duffel bag over her shoulder, she turns and leaves the locker room as the scene fades to black.
Half the reason why comes walking through a moment later, though not without some difficulty despite her best efforts to mask it. Zahara Matisse enters the backstage area, soaked in sweat and looking as though she'd been through a war...which she most definitely had. Out in the arena proper, for the past forty minutes give or take a few to walk from the ring to backstage, the Magical Maiden went toe-to-toe with the VoW Xcel Champion, Constance Chapin, in a war that catered to fans of brawling, high-flying and technical masterpieces alike. The thunderous chants, applause and ovations from the faithful Visionary fans could be heard even in the furthest corners of the backstage area, and the space between Zahara opening and closing the curtain long enough to walk in showed that they were still rabid even now.
The woman herself...it's hard to tell exactly what she's thinking. What she's feeling physically isn't hard to discern, though: she's moving gingerly, though she keeps her head up high. Unfortunately, that gives away some lingering redness around the eyes, though she pays such no mind. Instead, she wears her trademark smile, even if it IS a bit weary. Having just suffered her first defeat in her professional career, it would make sense for Zahara to be upset. None would fault her for that. She gets a few steps forward before Sky Sangue turns from her conversation and spots Zahara. She smiles kindly to the young rookie.
"One of the best matches I've ever seen from two of the best that VoW has to offer. The two of you did this company proud and left Winter and Stacy a tough act to follow."
The praise caught her off-guard in truth, and a flush rose to Zahara's cheeks that had little to do with the exertions of minutes ago.
"Thank you, Miss Sangue..."
It was all she could think of to say. Sangue turned to the curtain and smiled again, gesturing toward it.
"Just listen to that. Constance got her fair share of that love, as well she should have. But I heard those voices, Zahara. Yours was the name most spoken. Keep up the good work."
"I will...thanks."
The Enchanting One responds with a smile before moving on down the hallway. She reaches into one of the ice chests en route, putting the bottle of red Gatorade not to her lips but to her forehead, using the cold bottle to ease some of the ache. The crowd thins out a bit as she continues down the hall, though there are those who stop and offer their congratulations on the match despite the defeat, which she accepts gracefully though the praise, even that which came from Miss Sangue, seems to bother her a bit. One gets the distinct impression that she doesn't think she deserves it.
Over the sight of her continuing down the hall, finally nursing the bottle a bit to get some fluid back in her system, Katie Moicelle, the Zero Gravity Champion, speaks via voice-over on the outcome of the match.
“Oh, that match? I think it was a really fantastic and great match, even if it was a bit long for my tastes. On a scale of 1 to 10, I’d have given it a 12. But, from this loss, I think Zahara can bounce back stronger than anyone else on the roster, myself included, and this’ll be the match to do it with. She doesn’t need my help to do that, but I’ll be here to back her up nonetheless.”
Katie's comments finish, and a moment later the tones of one-half of the Twin City Champions, Gina Neon, though it sounds more as if she's talking to the Enchanting One directly as opposed to answering a question.
"Lemme tell you somethin', baby! I know losin' can stink, but what you gotta remember is that winnin' an' losin' don't define you. Just 'cause you lose one time, doesn't mean you ain't rad. An' believe me – you're rad, baby! One defeat ain't gonna change that. An' I don't wanna hear nothin' about you changin' who you are, neither, capisce? Ain't nobody else but you that can be Zahara. An' you can't be nobody else but Zahara, neither. So what you gotta do is be the best Zahara you can be. You do that, an' you're gonna be fine, baby!"
She doesn't make it much closer to the locker rooms before a familiar face steps into the hall: her trainer, Vincezno Ragetti. He doesn't offer a greeting so much as a gruff question.
"Rule nineteen, Zoey."
Pausing, Zahara blinks, then responds with a calmer, quieter smile.
"There's no such thing as defeat when you learn a lesson from it."
"And number six?"
"Win with heart, lose with class."
Vincenzo lets out a rare smile and approaches his student, pulling her into a hug. The man's massive but his touch is gentle right now, knowing the kind of war Zahara's been in. She gratefully returns the gesture, clinging to the beast of an Italian without whom she wouldn't be here right now.
"Y'know, you're the only one what learned all those rules by heart."
Her response is laughter, soft and rather emotional, muffled a bit by the embrace. Vincenzo steps back, hands on her shoulders, looking upon her at arm's length.
"Brought everyone here to watch live, Zoey. I ain't exaggeratin' when I say all of 'em were on their feet for ya for most of the match, screamin' their fool heads off. You did them, the school...me...did us all proud."
It's a minor miracle that she doesn't start crying again right there, but it would seem that she gave up most of her tears in the ring after Constance retained her title.
"I did my best, boss. Constance's best was better, but I kept my word. I did."
"Damn right you did. She's gonna feel it in the mornin'."
"So am I!"
Vincenzo barks out a laugh, lowering his hands and shaking his head in mirth.
"That's the price we pay, Zoey. I'd better get back to them kids before they get some kinda crazy wanderlust or somethin'. Don't you be a stranger now, hear?"
"You got it, boss."
Giving her shoulder another gentle squeeze, Vincenzo walks off as Zahara watches him go. Both hands come up and she rubs at her eyes a bit before continuing down the hall. Another voice cuts in, this time the voice of VoW veteran Seth Iser, offering his thoughts on the match when queried.
"I can't hate the business entirely after a match like that now can I? Fact is, though...gold corrupts. Pursuit of gold corrupts further. And this industry...it corrupts after a match like that. Either Zahara proves the saying true or she's the one in a million. Allison'll be disappointed though. Her girl lost."
Before she gets more than a couple steps further, though, she's downed that Gatorade in one long gulp. Tossing the empty bottle in a nearby trash can, Zahara finally comes to the locker room which, surprisingly, is empty. To Zahara, this is most welcome as she wanders over to a bench and takes a seat, bent over with her elbows resting on her knees. After a few deep, silent breaths, her shoulders start to shake. At first it looks as though the Magical Maiden has been overtaken by tears again, but soon we hear soft, near-silent laughter coming from her. It's shaky, breathy...but genuine all the same.
Without lifting her head, she lowers her arms and starts unbuckling and unlacing her boots, finding herself in dire need of a very hot shower. The scene fades on this and resumes with a shot of her standing beneath the silver head, steaming water spraying down on her. Before anyone gets any lecherous ideas or starts reaching for the lotion, nothing on her is showing that shouldn't be. She has a hand resting on the tile, the water drenching her until her dark hair hangs loose and heavy about her head. Flipping it back over her shoulder, Zahara lifts her head so that the water pours into her face, the heat soothing for obvious reasons. The moment of silent peace, as well, is no doubt a welcome one.
And of all the people who might offer their thoughts now, in this most private and vulnerable moment, it's the former Xcel Champion himself, Ryder Blade.
"The Blade's peeps know The Blade always shoots straight. And The Blade's gotta admit: that was one heck of a match. If The Blade hadn't wrestled at Nothing Else Matters, it would'a probably been match of the night. And The Blade's happy that he didn't drop his belt to no fluke champion, either. Those two babes made that hish still mean something, yo! And about Harry Potter Girl, The Blade totally gets where she's at right now. The Blade was in a major funk after he lost his title, too. But what she needs to see, what The Blade needed to see back then too, is that just 'cause she failed this one time, doesn't mean she's done. What she's gotta try to do is turn this failure into an opportunity. You ain't got the Xcel belt right now? Well, guess what, babe? That means you can aim higher. Like The Blade did. You do that, and you're still gonna be somebody. Just don't crowd The Blade's plate, yo – otherwise, we're gonna have a problem!"
The scene cuts to black after his comments end, the sound of a squeaky knob being turned heard briefly. When we see Zahara next, she's back on the bench. A grayish-blue turtleneck clings well to her torso, showing her curves without costing her modesty. A deeper blue scarf is wrapped loosely around her neck, reaching near to her waist. She looks poured into the black denim hugging her hips and legs. Bent over at the waist, she's pulling a thick, gray sock up her leg before pushing that foot into a calf-high leather boot which she zips up the side. Rising with some small amount of effort, she pulls on a suede jacket to match the boots, turning to look at herself in the mirror across the way. She stares at the woman within, who stares back at her, and for a moment looks as if she doesn't recognize the reflection. Next to her on the bench, near her bag, is the package left in front of the locker room door before she left for her match, unopened. This, too, gets her attention but she decides to tuck it into her bag and open it later. For a moment, we can see the rose in there, wrapped carefully in paper. The sight of it makes Zahara smile a little. Her phone cuts into the silence, though, ringing to a vaguely-familiar punk rock tune, though it's only on a few moments before the Enchanting one digs the phone out of her pocket and answers.
"Hey, this is a pleasant surprise...hm? Oh, about to head out to a little after-party with Stacy and the others. You? Yeah, I don't blame you there. I don't know that I'll stick around long, feeling like I do...what? No, don't worry about that. Are you sure? Well, I can't see any reason why not. All right. Sure. I'll text you when I leave."
Putting the phone away, Zahara sighs to herself.
"Let's try this again. With feeling."
Sliding the strap of the duffel bag over her shoulder, she turns and leaves the locker room as the scene fades to black.
