Post by thewarchild on Jul 2, 2016 19:04:43 GMT -6
One breath at a time. Mustn't lose control, mustn't lose control. Just one breath at a time.
“Jo-Dear…”
That hauntingly beautiful voice. Oh, how I could listen to it forever. Sadly, though, she isn't looking at me with concern. She thinks I wasn't listening. She knows I don't do well in public, too many memories. One breath at a time.
“You’re holding your breath again, You steal glances as me as though you’re expecting judgment to rain down at any moment. That isn’t me, love. Never has been. You know better than to even think it. Now…”
She has to look at me like a cat playing with a mouse doesn't she? Oh, no the menu is more interesting or she's just being passive. But she's right I need to quit rushing to judgments, I'm War, not a Warchild, I need to act as such.
“Will it be business or pleasure this evening? Since you’re so ill-at-ease, it is best that you decide.”
Wait? Is she serious? Damn it, her cooling grip is making me blush. Quick! There, now my face is covered, hmm they have a t-bone for a nice price. Why does she have to rub her thumb over my knuckles like that? Does she just like feeling the ring? And now she flutters her eyes, not fair, just breath Joanna, breath. That thing your lungs are suppose to do.
“Business, so you'll stop making me act like a schoolgirl. Also, I'm gonna hurt Luca, Doll, and Katalina for stealing my clothes and leaving me with only this dress and corset. Just so you know.”
“You’ll have to catch them first,”
At least I'm not the only one that finds it funny. If she'd just let loose I could hear the music that is her laugh. Oh well I can still tell she's blushing and having fun behind that menu. Maybe being out isn't so bad, or maybe we had forgotten why we work so well together.
“So… business, then. It looks like you’ve another date with the spell-tosser with the poet you’ve been eyeing also dropped into the mix. No rest for the wicked, hm?”
There's her smile. Joanna one, Goldie's composure zero for tonight, lately she’s been more cold even to her… my followers. Am I really in charge of this whole movement? I just want to have fun and pull back the veil. I never intended… damn. The way the light hits the crimson dress of hers, I can’t take my eyes off her. Of course she had to look just as done up as the girls had forced me to... Wait, shit... I’m supposed to answer her.
“Is there ever? But I’m not worried. They can decide between the two of them who should win. I made it very clear that I have no intention of giving a shit unless you’re in the match with me.”
Seems she's made her meal choice, I really should pick something. Lobster, steak, pasta? Gah! Wait, she's still unhappy about my message. Clearly she's set to scold, oh well her point is always welcome, even when it's wrong.
“You’re dead set on this course of action, despite the damage it might do.”
Not what I was expecting. Hmmm... oh, the ring caught her eye. I knew she'd like its simple, dark elegance. My Goldie is mine alone and the world can see it, though I wish I could just sit here and gaze into her eyes all night.
“We have to be the thing that keeps this ride going. And I understand that we cannot let such a stain stand. I don’t care if I have a chance to kill the king and end this once and for all. We will be taken seriously and even if it takes years I shall not formally compete without you by my side. DQ, countout, forfeit, there are plenty of options and all have their place. This week I can play spoiler for Datura and Zahara as a reminder that the Horsewomen play their own game. Not VoW’s.”
Her pursed lips speak not to her doubt, but the idea of missing the opportunity we have been striving for. I wish my legs would stop bouncing, but I can feel her hunger. Not for the food we haven’t ordered, but the same hunger she has when her nose touches my shoulder and her hands hold my arms before she sinks her teeth into my skin. Goosebumps? Wonder if she’s thinking about this morning as well? Or were my words exactly what she wants to hear?
“And you think that handing this match over to one of them… furthers things. Because eliminating a dangerous adversary in Datura and one of their most staunch white hats in the form of one Zahara Matisse, that says nothing… right?”
That voice… the cold, calculating, piercing tone that bores through the skull, deep into the brain and right into a person’s soul. Goldie doesn't seem or sound angry. But that look, with her hands much like a villain turning to reveal themselves, says she wants an actual answer. Can't make it easy, she certainly hasn't made tonight so. But she knows my need, the carnage, the violence, I can just walk away. And I'll make sure all suffer for it.
“You do not crush a cherry blossom because it has no purpose. Datura can be brought into the fold in time, she just needs a few lessons in how Chaos actually works. Zahara? I’ve no reason to cause a rift between our sister by ripping apart her lover in front of the world. The only thing that would be furthered by my actual participation in this match would be the virulent stagnation of English and his ilk. And that my love, I shall not perpetuate. I’ve set my course, and now there is no other."
“There’s truly no middle ground with you, Joanna.”
My actual name, interesting. It truly only sounds right when she says it. But no there is no middle ground, I can’t afford such after the embarrassment that was Fate of the Gods. She knows that, and she trusts me, that spark she gets when we talk, the life I see and feel as she looks at me so stoically.
“Was there ever? Our first meeting I made a promise,”
She really did pick the perfect ring, I know I shouldn't glance at it, she’s waiting on my every word, but it truly is perfect.
“And only recently did we decide that enough time had passed to move forward with it. But there was never a doubt about if it would happen. It’s never a case of if with us Emma, only when. And when I say I do something, it gets done. I said I’d be free, I am. I said the riders would come, and we have. I said we will be tag champions, and we will. Datura and Zahara will battle for a penned in accomplishment that merely means fifteen minutes of entertainment. I’ve sent the message, and now all will see. The Horsewomen are not to be trifled with.”
“We never were, but it will be as you wish. After all, part of what makes our group work is that we’re not restrained in our actions. We’re four solitary, dangerous people working toward a common goal.”
Her smile, can I just get an honest smile? Not her teeth one or the one she flashes to feign amusement, the genuine one to match the sparkle in her eye. But she's thinking over something, maybe my words? Or the plans we've yet to set for the future? Regardless I mean everything and if this glass weren't in my hands, my knuckles would be white. But breaking the glass is more than just one mess and this place doesn't need that, it at least hasn't seemed to judge.
“Perhaps it is time I, too, spoke and acted for myself in the name of the Riders.”
What!? After I make a huge statement of being a team? Of chasing our titles? No, no, Joanna think. It's Goldie she wouldn't, would she. Where is that waitress I need a drink, and to say something so she doesn't notice my eyes.
“As long as you're at my side. Gods may not be enough to help the world if that fact ever changes.”
So much for not noticing my eyes, not fair that she can do that and steal my gaze. But I like the look, confused, flattered, human. Mine.
“May not be enough?”
Her raised eyebrow and glint of a smile make it impossible not to giggle. Oh Goldie, if you ever knew what I would do to keep you, you'd have me locked away. But I know that like everything in my life even this, Zahara, and Datura, all will turn to ash.
“In the end everything is reaped by death. Even War.”
I didn’t mean for that to sound so ominous. CRAP! She heard it to, maybe, she’ll ignore it. Wait, she’s smiling? Did I miss something? Is it funny? Here I am worried I’ve hurt you and...
“That is an entirely different kind of reaping.”
What a bitch! We’re in a restaurant of her choosing, I’m dolled up in clothes I had no choice in selecting and panicked that I made things too serious, and she makes a sex joke? If I could be any more red my face would match the dress she’s wearing. And yet I can’t stop smiling. Goldie, Goldie, Goldie, whatever am I to do about you and the way you know just what to say?
Oh for the love of the gods, the waitress is here. I have no clue what I want, but judging from her shaky hands she’s just as distraught as I am. Keep it together Joana, Goldie wanted to celebrate and apparently do her best to make as uncomfortable as possible.
“Oh… it seems the meal has arrived.”
Kill me now. She sits there with that hungry look and, oh, her legs against mine. This table feels good against my forehead, it’s cold and hides my face. The waitress is probably just as red as I am but at least she doesn’t have to see my face. I don’t know what’s worse, formal dining with Goldie, or having to set an example with two people I not only respect, but know could be of some use. Eh, C’est la Vie, at least in the ring I can beat out my frustrations, unlike here. Hey!
“Keep that foot down!”
“As my mighty leaderess wishes…”
That’s it! I’m beating the self doubt out of Datura, the overly nice out of Zahara, and if anyone asks why, its because management sealed their fates. Goldie may be trying to play nice, and keep my mind off of the fight I’m picking, but it’s because she knows what I’m capable of. Even now, as she sits there planning her next move, looking at me as only she can, I can feel the anticipation. She is a watcher on the wall, and I, her Bloody Queen, together nothing can stop us, and this week will be the opening volley. A message that I’m not the lady to mess with.
The sun shines brightly down along the Horsewomen Compound where Joanna has excused herself to one of the top patios for a little chance at reading one of her many books. She lounges down on one of the sun chairs and looks up making certain the umbrella is angled perfectly before relaxing back to pick up where she last left off. Her dress is tattered and her skin bruised from the night before, evidence of Emma’s unbridled lust and love of her partner, whom wears the aftermath unabashed.
Unfortunately, she can't seem to fully concentrate as not too far off kneeling down in the sun is Candi looking over one of Joanna's ring boots while wearing it over a hand, to keep it steady, so that she can polish it. The thought of those boots having, a year prior, been covered up in Candi's blood, brings a little smirk across War's face as she looks back into her book. A few lines in, however, she realizes that she still can't seem to concentrate. Forgoing her initial purpose, Joanna closes up the book and looks Candi's way for a moment.
Joanna: Is this all you wish to aspire to from now on?
Candi: Huh?
The blond glances up Joanna's way as War places her book aside actually finding talking with Candi perhaps a little more...wouldn't say relaxing, but something along those lines.
Joanna: To be nothing more than a slave, a boot polishing mascot.
Confused, Candi looks from Joanna, down to the boot, and back up at Joanna.
Candi: Kitty Mistress told me to come visit you and you told me to make your boots sparkly.
Joanna: But what about tomorrow? Or the next day?
The Horsewoman begins as she kicks her pale legs around so she can sit along the edge of the sun chair and properly face her fellow individual in conversation. Taking a moment to stare into the blissful ignorance and wonder of Candi's eyes, Joanna groans in frustration before continuing.
Joanna: Candi, firstly I said to make them shine. Second, that certain spark you used to have...you don't feel any sort of emotion? Anger? Humiliation? In doing this? If I were to say, grab that very boot and start beating you with it--
Candi: Nuh-uhn, Kitty Mistress says you can't. Kitty Mistress says I'm, um, I'm not for your...um...
Joanna: Growing feelings of frustration?
Candi: Yeah. Um...that.
Joanna huffs out a small laugh as she looks out over the horizon, or what she can see of it, then rests back in the chair adjusting her body positioning to maximum comfort levels.
Joanna: Don't worry, I'm not going to beat you with that boot. I'd only end up scuffing it up or breaking it and you'd have to start all over again.
Candi: That would suck.
Candi giggles out as she gives the toe a long breath and soon starts giving it a few small circles with the clothe. The two fall silent for a moment as Joanna passes the time looking at her engagement ring. Just in a state of wonder, like even she had a hard time seeing herself with one of these.
Candi: What about Magical Mistress?
Candi asks rather absent mindedly, but it draws Joanna's attention as she looks over, still in her own world to not know who Candi is referring to. Really, Candi and her nicknames... She could be referring to anyone, even Emma the way she dances and twists the words around. But Joanna has a small inkling on just who she means and decides to take a stab at it. What's the worse that could happen in being wrong with Candi?
Joanna: Strife's girlfriend?
Candi looks up from the boot and tilts her head along to the side, her fingers still rubbing along the toe.
Candi: Who's Strife?
Joanna doesn't bother explaining that, she knows Candi was referring to Zahara. It only makes sense that she would just blurt that out now, what with their limited meetings. Still, it's a subject worth considering. Perhaps with Kat would be a little better, although she might have her reasons for having dodged the subject herself. Or maybe this is why Kat dropped Candi on Joanna in the first place. If that's the case, Candi's certainly not a dancer when it comes to topic conversations.
Joanna: Kitty Mistress. But you meant her lover, Zahara. One of the two women that will be the first examples of my decree.
Candi: Yep-yep. Is Joey Jo-Jo Jo-Jo really wanting to do stuff to Magical Mistress? Or is it a grumpy pants talking?
Rolling her eyes Joanna puts the book on the ground before looking at Candi with eyes the lioness had never seen.
Joanna: The only people I want to hurt, are those responsible for the corruption and decay this company suffers. I'd rather Zahara and Datura would understand and give me a wide berth. But Candi, but I keep my promises, I did with you, with Constance, and now with VoW.
Candi: Oh.
Candi looks down and away for a moment from Joanna’s boots. After the moment is over, she gives a couple circles with the clothe and looks back.
Candi: Just by winning right?
Joanna: No. Winning, to these sheep, is nothing more than a inked mark on paper that serves only to build the ego of those that care. Or give reason from the weak-willed to self hate. No, I won’t do it by winning, but instead through non-performance and the blood of those that unfortunately get in my way.
Joanna reaches down and with one finger lifts Candi’s chin so she can look at the slave and see her soul. Candi was always kind, even when they had fought in the past, Candi had remained bubblegum pop cute the entire time. It was no wonder to Joanna why Strife had kept the girl around as a pet, a breath of fresh air in a world filled with toxic smog.
Joanna: And that includes Magical Mistress and Datura. I have no desire to hurt them Candi, but as you know first hand, when something is in my way...
The Horsewoman smiles as she pauses in her thought while moving her hand to one of Candi’s well hidden scares, one War had personally given the Lioness in a time almost forgotten. Musing to herself Joanna can feel Candi’s heart beating, and can see a twinge of fear dance inside the slave’s eyes.
Joanna: Bad things happen. Which gives me an idea. Candi, can you do me a small favor?
The fear escalates some as Candi’s body begins to shiver. Joanna could feel the vibrations beginning to pick up as the lioness swallows deeply, her eyes fixed on those of War reliving their constant clashes through her mind. Unfortunately, unable to act or perhaps just unwilling as she swallows a second, smaller time ending it with a quick moisten of her already gloss covered lips.
Candi: Wh-what’s...what’s dat?
Joanna smiles as she pets Candi gingerly on the head, not quite belittling the slave before she reaches into the top of her dress and pulls out a small, folded, piece of paper. Joanna hands it to Candi with a small nod as she leans back and retrieves her book.
Joanna: Deliver that to Magical Mistress, before the next Breakthrough. And, and, while you polish those boots tell me all that you know. Every minute, perfectly good, detail about Kitty Mistress’ lover. I don’t want any surprises, and I know you’re not as oblivious as most believe you to be Candicane.
Even with her face obstructed by the book, Candi could feel the cheshire grin of the Horsewoman. As Candi’s back shivered from the use of Joanna’s old name for her, War turns a page waiting expectantly for Candi to divulge what has been asked of her. Candi soon tries and distracts herself from it with the paper looking over her outfit for a pocket eventually just tucking it underneath her collar for now. She then sits there quietly looking down at the boots wondering whether to proceed or not knowing that on one hand Zahara was her trusted Magical Mistress, Katalina’s girlfriend, her mentor in all things magic...but on the other hand, Joanna is using her nickname again. After a moment, Candi takes a deep breath and smiles, ready to talk.
(Posted online 7/2/2016)
Datura you’ll understand my words perfectly. You will see between the lines and grasp the true nature of this week. I can’t wait to congratulate you on your victory over fury. The fury you hold deep inside, the fury you battle with daily, and the Fury you defeated at Fate of the Gods. What I see in you I can’t simply tell you, but I can drag it out, tooth and nail, kick and screaming, as you protest your worth. You don’t have to see it, to agree with it, for it to exist. So before the bell sounds meet me as we planned, center ring, and let me pull back the veil that blinds you to your beauty.
Zahara. this isn’t our first dance with an extra partner, and it won’t be our last. Strife may try and cut in, and while I’m all for sharing I don’t think I’m exactly the rabbit you want in your hat. We’ve both grown and changed since that meeting so long ago. I’ve conquered what you’ve failed to in Xcellent fashion, and you’ve bridged the gap between VoW ambassador and Chaos lover. Yet we’ve both hit walls we cannot overcome. My underestimation of opponents, your underestimation of yourself, and management. Look at the facts: Constance is booked against the plagued king as you play poster woman in the peasant pits, until it behooves them to pit you against her once again only to have you fail. Why? Because it lines their pockets, while giving you the false hope that somehow your heart and the energy of the crowd will overcome in the end. All the while making sure their Champion, that does nothing but read her books and belittle people, has the conditioning to stay champion. You’re being used Zahara, and it saddens me that someone as talented, as pure, as you is too blind to see how society makes you dance with a pull your strings.
Now Journal, I was wondering when you would speak up. Why no, I don’t think I’m being heartless. I’m just telling them the truth as I see it. Yes, I’m not going to give two shits about this contest. I may just walk up the ramp when I’ve finished with Datura and leave the two of them to sort this out. I said my piece to management and they ignored it in such an insulting fashion that the carnage and fallout of this week is on their heads, not mine. I don’t care who, why, how, or where, Journal, I’m sending my message to management in spades...with a spade? Nah, you’re right, Journal. Hephty is all about hammering out those imperfections that interpretation can lead to.
But you see, Journal, everyone else, this world has become obsessed with money. It's all anyone ever cares about. How much do you make, is it worth it, what’s the cost, get your money’s worth, money, money, money. Does anyone remember when loyalty, honor, and integrity were valued more than money? Anyone? Journal? Anyone? Bueller? I didn’t think so. Look at Datura, look and Zahara. LOOK AT ME! None of us are doing this for the money, yet look at English, look at Constance, the Neon Babes. Not a single one has an earnest bone in their body.
Don’t you start, Journal. Yes, Neon Babes love their fans, but look how they treat the belts. Fashion accessories, photo ops, media appearances, material things. Constance constantly spews drivel that makes everyone, EVERYONE, Journal, question why she bothers getting out of bed to even show up to an event, and yet, hidden away from the world, she collects her books, loathing society becoming a modern take on the lawyer from Anton Chekhov’s “The Bet.” All that wealth wasted in building up her escape from the filth the world has become. And then Journal, oh and then. There’s English, the King, the man that not only is aware of the issue, much like Constance, but perpetuates it with his cronies. English could change VoW, could elevate those that can make a difference, that have spines, that are Visionaries, and make this company The Company. Instead he surrounds himself with yes men and whores so that his reign is absolute. So that the sun of VoW raises and sets as he wishes, breeding stagnation, corruption, and putrid decay of the golden city that could be.
And what everyone, EVERYONE, forgets? It’s not about the money, it’s about sending a message. Everything burns, everything dies. All kingdoms must fall so that they can be rebuilt, better, stronger. All those that stand in the way of change, of the cycle. Those that spout that Chaos is just some hypocrisy that me and my sisters bellow out of jealousy or greed. They are blind leaders that are too consumed with their legacy to realize the error, and fault of their actions.
I know I sound like my old, crazed self, Journal. I understand that by posting this to the world, that there are wolves that will pick apart my every word. But this is the fate of anyone in the public eye. So let me express my stance openly for all to judge, mock, or understand. Journal, thank you, I know my quill has to hurt as I carve my words into you, and you’ve been more patient than usual so I’ll try to keep this as brief as possible.
I refuse to be a dancing monkey, a puppet, to the VoW management that has time and time again proven its concern lies with greed and profit. For a company most would consider this a good thing, and while I would love to see VoW prosper, I shall do so in a way that is not a mockery of the Visionaries, company, and overall heart of the locker room. Odd coming from me of all people, I know, but I’ve only ever advocated change for the betterment of VoW, its fans, and society. I’m not seeking to watch the world as we know it burn just for the fun in it, and yes there is a lot of fun to have in that. But I do it because the rate at which we are falling from grace due to stagnation only increases as the status quo is maintained.
Don’t believe me? A woman killed her kids this past week, not in defense, not as an accident, but as revenge on their father. And her actions are being defended on grounds supported by an archaic belief that it she was doing God’s will. How in the thousands of years of monotheistic brainwashing has society still not moved past believing that a deity they cannot fathom to understand gives a damn about what they do? How have we fallen so far that children are once again punished for their parents’ transgressions? How? Why? I cannot answer, but I can with absolute certainty predict that televised violence, games, and all manner of entertainment will be dragged through the mud in hopes of defending or prosecuting this ill woman.
This is what we’ve become my fellow Visionaries. Media scapegoats that jump, dance, and entertain as needed only to provide a brief escape from the sad reality. And when that reality calls for it, we’re lead to the slaughter, nothing more than meat for society to sink its teeth into and forget that we are all to blame. All of us, who allow progress to grind to a halt because change is scary, and unknown. And so I turn my focus to the two people the mindless, greedy, keepers of our keys that we call management, have set before me in hopes of drawing record numbers.
Don't take my message to management as a free pass. I may not care about the outcome but I will be there. Datura I'll hold up my end if the bargain, because you see, I'm a woman of my word. I promise Chaos and carnage until management learns. So while I cherish you both and would love to wrap you in the satin cloak of Chaos, if you see me? Run, for I don't care if I like you, or if my sisters love you. I don't care if it's the hospital or morgue that I send you. All of VoW will be taught a lesson this Breakthrough, I just hope you run fast enough.
You both have such promise, such passion. It’s sad that you cannot remove your blinders and see the world as I do. Zahara, sweet, innocent, Magical Mistress. Oh how I weep for you. Not because of what I’ll do to you, no I’ve come to terms with that should our meeting be unavoidable. I’m filled with sadness because you mean well, you made a boy’s dreams come true for no other motive than kindness. You’ve inspired masses, wowed audiences, given hope to those that have little, and yet you’re a slave as much as any of Strife’s pets. You dance, speak, and perform in such away that all anyone has to do is give you a platform and you’ll draw a storm of money. They’ll push you, market you, open doors and pull out chairs, to keep you from noticing the sleight of hand they are pulling. You think you’re name is your own, you think your brother will be proud? Not of what you’ve done so far, but what you’ll become. Someone so wrapped up in doing the right thing, the pure thing, that she’s sold her soul without realizing she even offered it.
How much has VoW helped with your magic? With your travel? Two jobs, a winning smile, and a work horse. You are hope and perseverance personified. Yet still you’ve achieved nothing of consequence. Ah ah, before you say I’ve done the same, let me ask you this, when have either of us been treated the same as those we’ve been put against. Constance was given a match with English for her warm up, and who did you face? Oh that’s right a sick E, so lucky you didn’t catch her disease and be bed ridden for your big fight. Neon Babes don’t defend the titles for months, but are given tag match after tag match as Goldie and I are booked repeatedly in singles, unable to practice the style we were thrown into. Both better than how we’re treated, yet I speak out, and you just go on staying positive. I defy those setting us up for failure, you just pad their pockets and hope for better.
Now for Datura. You, well I see the long road a head. Partly because management will continue to seesaw your career. One week some lower card nobody that has a spark of talent but no drive, and the next two power houses that you’re merely there to take the fall so neither look week. Two of your previous opponents weren’t worth even your time to give a damn about and yet this week you face two contenders for championships. You see the game they are playing don’t you?
But of course, that’s why you struggle to understand what is asked of you. Oh yes, I know, I’ve been in therapy longer than you have my child, and while you show promise, if you never take my hand, I can never show you the power you hold within. I know when you focus you can see what must be done, yet you question, you doubt, you fear what will become of you if you do. Don’t. Your therapist does and says what he has to in order to give you enough to move, but not enough to function on your own. You are better than a sheep, but as long as you doubt that, you are beyond help.
Datura, I won’t sell you on yourself, you need only look at the mirror and choose. Would you like to be the dancing puppet that will be loved and cheered as long as you do as you’re told, or would you like to be the loathed monster that does as she sees fit and has control over her life? Seems like a no brainer, after all you know what it’s like to been in the padded cell, the hugging jacket as much as I do. So after I say my peace, raise your hand high, and declare your victory over Fury, what are you gonna do? Put on a good show and be the good girl that wants to be accepted? Or unleash your power and show the world that Datura is a serious player that isn’t a puppet for management to toy? That you’re done playing the part of bridesmaid and deserve to be the bride instead of yoyoed at the whim of those that only concern themselves with how much money you make them? Think about it Datura. Don’t let the illusion of freedom keep you from true freedom.
To the rest of you, Journal included. I’ve made it clear before but I’ll reiterate it so that no one is confused. Due to the embarrassment that was Fate of the Gods, I shall make a mockery of any match I’m placed in that does not include Emma Carlisle as my partner, against some other team. A mockery can be a simple walk out, or it can be a bloody display of violence, and anything in between. What happens depends on my mood, and how much management’s ignorance pisses me off. Any pain, blood, bone breakage, and brutality you witness is on the hands of management for they have been publicly warned. If you have issues, call VoW’s corporate office at the number listed on the website. Unsure of what I mean? Tune into VoW’s broadcast of Breakthrough on July Seventh, after you’ve gorged yourself on barbecued meat from the celebration of revolution and change this country over indulges in every year. And witness the spectacle that is Visionaries of Wrestling. I’ll be the one with the blue hair, sending two messages. One about the conquest of Datura, and one about the disdain of sinful, corrupted managers that seek merely to steal your hard earned dollars with fantasy and slight of hand. For you see madness is like gravity, all it takes is a little push.
“Jo-Dear…”
That hauntingly beautiful voice. Oh, how I could listen to it forever. Sadly, though, she isn't looking at me with concern. She thinks I wasn't listening. She knows I don't do well in public, too many memories. One breath at a time.
“You’re holding your breath again, You steal glances as me as though you’re expecting judgment to rain down at any moment. That isn’t me, love. Never has been. You know better than to even think it. Now…”
She has to look at me like a cat playing with a mouse doesn't she? Oh, no the menu is more interesting or she's just being passive. But she's right I need to quit rushing to judgments, I'm War, not a Warchild, I need to act as such.
“Will it be business or pleasure this evening? Since you’re so ill-at-ease, it is best that you decide.”
Wait? Is she serious? Damn it, her cooling grip is making me blush. Quick! There, now my face is covered, hmm they have a t-bone for a nice price. Why does she have to rub her thumb over my knuckles like that? Does she just like feeling the ring? And now she flutters her eyes, not fair, just breath Joanna, breath. That thing your lungs are suppose to do.
“Business, so you'll stop making me act like a schoolgirl. Also, I'm gonna hurt Luca, Doll, and Katalina for stealing my clothes and leaving me with only this dress and corset. Just so you know.”
“You’ll have to catch them first,”
At least I'm not the only one that finds it funny. If she'd just let loose I could hear the music that is her laugh. Oh well I can still tell she's blushing and having fun behind that menu. Maybe being out isn't so bad, or maybe we had forgotten why we work so well together.
“So… business, then. It looks like you’ve another date with the spell-tosser with the poet you’ve been eyeing also dropped into the mix. No rest for the wicked, hm?”
There's her smile. Joanna one, Goldie's composure zero for tonight, lately she’s been more cold even to her… my followers. Am I really in charge of this whole movement? I just want to have fun and pull back the veil. I never intended… damn. The way the light hits the crimson dress of hers, I can’t take my eyes off her. Of course she had to look just as done up as the girls had forced me to... Wait, shit... I’m supposed to answer her.
“Is there ever? But I’m not worried. They can decide between the two of them who should win. I made it very clear that I have no intention of giving a shit unless you’re in the match with me.”
Seems she's made her meal choice, I really should pick something. Lobster, steak, pasta? Gah! Wait, she's still unhappy about my message. Clearly she's set to scold, oh well her point is always welcome, even when it's wrong.
“You’re dead set on this course of action, despite the damage it might do.”
Not what I was expecting. Hmmm... oh, the ring caught her eye. I knew she'd like its simple, dark elegance. My Goldie is mine alone and the world can see it, though I wish I could just sit here and gaze into her eyes all night.
“We have to be the thing that keeps this ride going. And I understand that we cannot let such a stain stand. I don’t care if I have a chance to kill the king and end this once and for all. We will be taken seriously and even if it takes years I shall not formally compete without you by my side. DQ, countout, forfeit, there are plenty of options and all have their place. This week I can play spoiler for Datura and Zahara as a reminder that the Horsewomen play their own game. Not VoW’s.”
Her pursed lips speak not to her doubt, but the idea of missing the opportunity we have been striving for. I wish my legs would stop bouncing, but I can feel her hunger. Not for the food we haven’t ordered, but the same hunger she has when her nose touches my shoulder and her hands hold my arms before she sinks her teeth into my skin. Goosebumps? Wonder if she’s thinking about this morning as well? Or were my words exactly what she wants to hear?
“And you think that handing this match over to one of them… furthers things. Because eliminating a dangerous adversary in Datura and one of their most staunch white hats in the form of one Zahara Matisse, that says nothing… right?”
That voice… the cold, calculating, piercing tone that bores through the skull, deep into the brain and right into a person’s soul. Goldie doesn't seem or sound angry. But that look, with her hands much like a villain turning to reveal themselves, says she wants an actual answer. Can't make it easy, she certainly hasn't made tonight so. But she knows my need, the carnage, the violence, I can just walk away. And I'll make sure all suffer for it.
“You do not crush a cherry blossom because it has no purpose. Datura can be brought into the fold in time, she just needs a few lessons in how Chaos actually works. Zahara? I’ve no reason to cause a rift between our sister by ripping apart her lover in front of the world. The only thing that would be furthered by my actual participation in this match would be the virulent stagnation of English and his ilk. And that my love, I shall not perpetuate. I’ve set my course, and now there is no other."
“There’s truly no middle ground with you, Joanna.”
My actual name, interesting. It truly only sounds right when she says it. But no there is no middle ground, I can’t afford such after the embarrassment that was Fate of the Gods. She knows that, and she trusts me, that spark she gets when we talk, the life I see and feel as she looks at me so stoically.
“Was there ever? Our first meeting I made a promise,”
She really did pick the perfect ring, I know I shouldn't glance at it, she’s waiting on my every word, but it truly is perfect.
“And only recently did we decide that enough time had passed to move forward with it. But there was never a doubt about if it would happen. It’s never a case of if with us Emma, only when. And when I say I do something, it gets done. I said I’d be free, I am. I said the riders would come, and we have. I said we will be tag champions, and we will. Datura and Zahara will battle for a penned in accomplishment that merely means fifteen minutes of entertainment. I’ve sent the message, and now all will see. The Horsewomen are not to be trifled with.”
“We never were, but it will be as you wish. After all, part of what makes our group work is that we’re not restrained in our actions. We’re four solitary, dangerous people working toward a common goal.”
Her smile, can I just get an honest smile? Not her teeth one or the one she flashes to feign amusement, the genuine one to match the sparkle in her eye. But she's thinking over something, maybe my words? Or the plans we've yet to set for the future? Regardless I mean everything and if this glass weren't in my hands, my knuckles would be white. But breaking the glass is more than just one mess and this place doesn't need that, it at least hasn't seemed to judge.
“Perhaps it is time I, too, spoke and acted for myself in the name of the Riders.”
What!? After I make a huge statement of being a team? Of chasing our titles? No, no, Joanna think. It's Goldie she wouldn't, would she. Where is that waitress I need a drink, and to say something so she doesn't notice my eyes.
“As long as you're at my side. Gods may not be enough to help the world if that fact ever changes.”
So much for not noticing my eyes, not fair that she can do that and steal my gaze. But I like the look, confused, flattered, human. Mine.
“May not be enough?”
Her raised eyebrow and glint of a smile make it impossible not to giggle. Oh Goldie, if you ever knew what I would do to keep you, you'd have me locked away. But I know that like everything in my life even this, Zahara, and Datura, all will turn to ash.
“In the end everything is reaped by death. Even War.”
I didn’t mean for that to sound so ominous. CRAP! She heard it to, maybe, she’ll ignore it. Wait, she’s smiling? Did I miss something? Is it funny? Here I am worried I’ve hurt you and...
“That is an entirely different kind of reaping.”
What a bitch! We’re in a restaurant of her choosing, I’m dolled up in clothes I had no choice in selecting and panicked that I made things too serious, and she makes a sex joke? If I could be any more red my face would match the dress she’s wearing. And yet I can’t stop smiling. Goldie, Goldie, Goldie, whatever am I to do about you and the way you know just what to say?
Oh for the love of the gods, the waitress is here. I have no clue what I want, but judging from her shaky hands she’s just as distraught as I am. Keep it together Joana, Goldie wanted to celebrate and apparently do her best to make as uncomfortable as possible.
“Oh… it seems the meal has arrived.”
Kill me now. She sits there with that hungry look and, oh, her legs against mine. This table feels good against my forehead, it’s cold and hides my face. The waitress is probably just as red as I am but at least she doesn’t have to see my face. I don’t know what’s worse, formal dining with Goldie, or having to set an example with two people I not only respect, but know could be of some use. Eh, C’est la Vie, at least in the ring I can beat out my frustrations, unlike here. Hey!
“Keep that foot down!”
“As my mighty leaderess wishes…”
That’s it! I’m beating the self doubt out of Datura, the overly nice out of Zahara, and if anyone asks why, its because management sealed their fates. Goldie may be trying to play nice, and keep my mind off of the fight I’m picking, but it’s because she knows what I’m capable of. Even now, as she sits there planning her next move, looking at me as only she can, I can feel the anticipation. She is a watcher on the wall, and I, her Bloody Queen, together nothing can stop us, and this week will be the opening volley. A message that I’m not the lady to mess with.
The sun shines brightly down along the Horsewomen Compound where Joanna has excused herself to one of the top patios for a little chance at reading one of her many books. She lounges down on one of the sun chairs and looks up making certain the umbrella is angled perfectly before relaxing back to pick up where she last left off. Her dress is tattered and her skin bruised from the night before, evidence of Emma’s unbridled lust and love of her partner, whom wears the aftermath unabashed.
Unfortunately, she can't seem to fully concentrate as not too far off kneeling down in the sun is Candi looking over one of Joanna's ring boots while wearing it over a hand, to keep it steady, so that she can polish it. The thought of those boots having, a year prior, been covered up in Candi's blood, brings a little smirk across War's face as she looks back into her book. A few lines in, however, she realizes that she still can't seem to concentrate. Forgoing her initial purpose, Joanna closes up the book and looks Candi's way for a moment.
Joanna: Is this all you wish to aspire to from now on?
Candi: Huh?
The blond glances up Joanna's way as War places her book aside actually finding talking with Candi perhaps a little more...wouldn't say relaxing, but something along those lines.
Joanna: To be nothing more than a slave, a boot polishing mascot.
Confused, Candi looks from Joanna, down to the boot, and back up at Joanna.
Candi: Kitty Mistress told me to come visit you and you told me to make your boots sparkly.
Joanna: But what about tomorrow? Or the next day?
The Horsewoman begins as she kicks her pale legs around so she can sit along the edge of the sun chair and properly face her fellow individual in conversation. Taking a moment to stare into the blissful ignorance and wonder of Candi's eyes, Joanna groans in frustration before continuing.
Joanna: Candi, firstly I said to make them shine. Second, that certain spark you used to have...you don't feel any sort of emotion? Anger? Humiliation? In doing this? If I were to say, grab that very boot and start beating you with it--
Candi: Nuh-uhn, Kitty Mistress says you can't. Kitty Mistress says I'm, um, I'm not for your...um...
Joanna: Growing feelings of frustration?
Candi: Yeah. Um...that.
Joanna huffs out a small laugh as she looks out over the horizon, or what she can see of it, then rests back in the chair adjusting her body positioning to maximum comfort levels.
Joanna: Don't worry, I'm not going to beat you with that boot. I'd only end up scuffing it up or breaking it and you'd have to start all over again.
Candi: That would suck.
Candi giggles out as she gives the toe a long breath and soon starts giving it a few small circles with the clothe. The two fall silent for a moment as Joanna passes the time looking at her engagement ring. Just in a state of wonder, like even she had a hard time seeing herself with one of these.
Candi: What about Magical Mistress?
Candi asks rather absent mindedly, but it draws Joanna's attention as she looks over, still in her own world to not know who Candi is referring to. Really, Candi and her nicknames... She could be referring to anyone, even Emma the way she dances and twists the words around. But Joanna has a small inkling on just who she means and decides to take a stab at it. What's the worse that could happen in being wrong with Candi?
Joanna: Strife's girlfriend?
Candi looks up from the boot and tilts her head along to the side, her fingers still rubbing along the toe.
Candi: Who's Strife?
Joanna doesn't bother explaining that, she knows Candi was referring to Zahara. It only makes sense that she would just blurt that out now, what with their limited meetings. Still, it's a subject worth considering. Perhaps with Kat would be a little better, although she might have her reasons for having dodged the subject herself. Or maybe this is why Kat dropped Candi on Joanna in the first place. If that's the case, Candi's certainly not a dancer when it comes to topic conversations.
Joanna: Kitty Mistress. But you meant her lover, Zahara. One of the two women that will be the first examples of my decree.
Candi: Yep-yep. Is Joey Jo-Jo Jo-Jo really wanting to do stuff to Magical Mistress? Or is it a grumpy pants talking?
Rolling her eyes Joanna puts the book on the ground before looking at Candi with eyes the lioness had never seen.
Joanna: The only people I want to hurt, are those responsible for the corruption and decay this company suffers. I'd rather Zahara and Datura would understand and give me a wide berth. But Candi, but I keep my promises, I did with you, with Constance, and now with VoW.
Candi: Oh.
Candi looks down and away for a moment from Joanna’s boots. After the moment is over, she gives a couple circles with the clothe and looks back.
Candi: Just by winning right?
Joanna: No. Winning, to these sheep, is nothing more than a inked mark on paper that serves only to build the ego of those that care. Or give reason from the weak-willed to self hate. No, I won’t do it by winning, but instead through non-performance and the blood of those that unfortunately get in my way.
Joanna reaches down and with one finger lifts Candi’s chin so she can look at the slave and see her soul. Candi was always kind, even when they had fought in the past, Candi had remained bubblegum pop cute the entire time. It was no wonder to Joanna why Strife had kept the girl around as a pet, a breath of fresh air in a world filled with toxic smog.
Joanna: And that includes Magical Mistress and Datura. I have no desire to hurt them Candi, but as you know first hand, when something is in my way...
The Horsewoman smiles as she pauses in her thought while moving her hand to one of Candi’s well hidden scares, one War had personally given the Lioness in a time almost forgotten. Musing to herself Joanna can feel Candi’s heart beating, and can see a twinge of fear dance inside the slave’s eyes.
Joanna: Bad things happen. Which gives me an idea. Candi, can you do me a small favor?
The fear escalates some as Candi’s body begins to shiver. Joanna could feel the vibrations beginning to pick up as the lioness swallows deeply, her eyes fixed on those of War reliving their constant clashes through her mind. Unfortunately, unable to act or perhaps just unwilling as she swallows a second, smaller time ending it with a quick moisten of her already gloss covered lips.
Candi: Wh-what’s...what’s dat?
Joanna smiles as she pets Candi gingerly on the head, not quite belittling the slave before she reaches into the top of her dress and pulls out a small, folded, piece of paper. Joanna hands it to Candi with a small nod as she leans back and retrieves her book.
Joanna: Deliver that to Magical Mistress, before the next Breakthrough. And, and, while you polish those boots tell me all that you know. Every minute, perfectly good, detail about Kitty Mistress’ lover. I don’t want any surprises, and I know you’re not as oblivious as most believe you to be Candicane.
Even with her face obstructed by the book, Candi could feel the cheshire grin of the Horsewoman. As Candi’s back shivered from the use of Joanna’s old name for her, War turns a page waiting expectantly for Candi to divulge what has been asked of her. Candi soon tries and distracts herself from it with the paper looking over her outfit for a pocket eventually just tucking it underneath her collar for now. She then sits there quietly looking down at the boots wondering whether to proceed or not knowing that on one hand Zahara was her trusted Magical Mistress, Katalina’s girlfriend, her mentor in all things magic...but on the other hand, Joanna is using her nickname again. After a moment, Candi takes a deep breath and smiles, ready to talk.
(Posted online 7/2/2016)
Dear Datura, Zahara, the Chaossworn, and as always Journal,
This week things shall be different,
This week things will change,
This week I write to you openly,
So I can enjoy all of the pain.
It’s not what I wanted,
It’s not the reaction I sought,
But I can’t help what’s in front of me.
I didn’t set the trap, you just got caught.
Don’t cry about what’s fair,
Don’t list off how diluted I seem,
Underestimate my conviction,
And you won’t wake from the PsyKick Dream.
The Door is open for you to choose,
Who will win, and who will lose.
But for me you know my thoughts, my desire.
I’ve made my declaration, time to set the VoW world on fire.
This week things shall be different,
This week things will change,
This week I write to you openly,
So I can enjoy all of the pain.
It’s not what I wanted,
It’s not the reaction I sought,
But I can’t help what’s in front of me.
I didn’t set the trap, you just got caught.
Don’t cry about what’s fair,
Don’t list off how diluted I seem,
Underestimate my conviction,
And you won’t wake from the PsyKick Dream.
The Door is open for you to choose,
Who will win, and who will lose.
But for me you know my thoughts, my desire.
I’ve made my declaration, time to set the VoW world on fire.
Datura you’ll understand my words perfectly. You will see between the lines and grasp the true nature of this week. I can’t wait to congratulate you on your victory over fury. The fury you hold deep inside, the fury you battle with daily, and the Fury you defeated at Fate of the Gods. What I see in you I can’t simply tell you, but I can drag it out, tooth and nail, kick and screaming, as you protest your worth. You don’t have to see it, to agree with it, for it to exist. So before the bell sounds meet me as we planned, center ring, and let me pull back the veil that blinds you to your beauty.
Zahara. this isn’t our first dance with an extra partner, and it won’t be our last. Strife may try and cut in, and while I’m all for sharing I don’t think I’m exactly the rabbit you want in your hat. We’ve both grown and changed since that meeting so long ago. I’ve conquered what you’ve failed to in Xcellent fashion, and you’ve bridged the gap between VoW ambassador and Chaos lover. Yet we’ve both hit walls we cannot overcome. My underestimation of opponents, your underestimation of yourself, and management. Look at the facts: Constance is booked against the plagued king as you play poster woman in the peasant pits, until it behooves them to pit you against her once again only to have you fail. Why? Because it lines their pockets, while giving you the false hope that somehow your heart and the energy of the crowd will overcome in the end. All the while making sure their Champion, that does nothing but read her books and belittle people, has the conditioning to stay champion. You’re being used Zahara, and it saddens me that someone as talented, as pure, as you is too blind to see how society makes you dance with a pull your strings.
Now Journal, I was wondering when you would speak up. Why no, I don’t think I’m being heartless. I’m just telling them the truth as I see it. Yes, I’m not going to give two shits about this contest. I may just walk up the ramp when I’ve finished with Datura and leave the two of them to sort this out. I said my piece to management and they ignored it in such an insulting fashion that the carnage and fallout of this week is on their heads, not mine. I don’t care who, why, how, or where, Journal, I’m sending my message to management in spades...with a spade? Nah, you’re right, Journal. Hephty is all about hammering out those imperfections that interpretation can lead to.
But you see, Journal, everyone else, this world has become obsessed with money. It's all anyone ever cares about. How much do you make, is it worth it, what’s the cost, get your money’s worth, money, money, money. Does anyone remember when loyalty, honor, and integrity were valued more than money? Anyone? Journal? Anyone? Bueller? I didn’t think so. Look at Datura, look and Zahara. LOOK AT ME! None of us are doing this for the money, yet look at English, look at Constance, the Neon Babes. Not a single one has an earnest bone in their body.
Don’t you start, Journal. Yes, Neon Babes love their fans, but look how they treat the belts. Fashion accessories, photo ops, media appearances, material things. Constance constantly spews drivel that makes everyone, EVERYONE, Journal, question why she bothers getting out of bed to even show up to an event, and yet, hidden away from the world, she collects her books, loathing society becoming a modern take on the lawyer from Anton Chekhov’s “The Bet.” All that wealth wasted in building up her escape from the filth the world has become. And then Journal, oh and then. There’s English, the King, the man that not only is aware of the issue, much like Constance, but perpetuates it with his cronies. English could change VoW, could elevate those that can make a difference, that have spines, that are Visionaries, and make this company The Company. Instead he surrounds himself with yes men and whores so that his reign is absolute. So that the sun of VoW raises and sets as he wishes, breeding stagnation, corruption, and putrid decay of the golden city that could be.
And what everyone, EVERYONE, forgets? It’s not about the money, it’s about sending a message. Everything burns, everything dies. All kingdoms must fall so that they can be rebuilt, better, stronger. All those that stand in the way of change, of the cycle. Those that spout that Chaos is just some hypocrisy that me and my sisters bellow out of jealousy or greed. They are blind leaders that are too consumed with their legacy to realize the error, and fault of their actions.
I know I sound like my old, crazed self, Journal. I understand that by posting this to the world, that there are wolves that will pick apart my every word. But this is the fate of anyone in the public eye. So let me express my stance openly for all to judge, mock, or understand. Journal, thank you, I know my quill has to hurt as I carve my words into you, and you’ve been more patient than usual so I’ll try to keep this as brief as possible.
I refuse to be a dancing monkey, a puppet, to the VoW management that has time and time again proven its concern lies with greed and profit. For a company most would consider this a good thing, and while I would love to see VoW prosper, I shall do so in a way that is not a mockery of the Visionaries, company, and overall heart of the locker room. Odd coming from me of all people, I know, but I’ve only ever advocated change for the betterment of VoW, its fans, and society. I’m not seeking to watch the world as we know it burn just for the fun in it, and yes there is a lot of fun to have in that. But I do it because the rate at which we are falling from grace due to stagnation only increases as the status quo is maintained.
Don’t believe me? A woman killed her kids this past week, not in defense, not as an accident, but as revenge on their father. And her actions are being defended on grounds supported by an archaic belief that it she was doing God’s will. How in the thousands of years of monotheistic brainwashing has society still not moved past believing that a deity they cannot fathom to understand gives a damn about what they do? How have we fallen so far that children are once again punished for their parents’ transgressions? How? Why? I cannot answer, but I can with absolute certainty predict that televised violence, games, and all manner of entertainment will be dragged through the mud in hopes of defending or prosecuting this ill woman.
This is what we’ve become my fellow Visionaries. Media scapegoats that jump, dance, and entertain as needed only to provide a brief escape from the sad reality. And when that reality calls for it, we’re lead to the slaughter, nothing more than meat for society to sink its teeth into and forget that we are all to blame. All of us, who allow progress to grind to a halt because change is scary, and unknown. And so I turn my focus to the two people the mindless, greedy, keepers of our keys that we call management, have set before me in hopes of drawing record numbers.
Don't take my message to management as a free pass. I may not care about the outcome but I will be there. Datura I'll hold up my end if the bargain, because you see, I'm a woman of my word. I promise Chaos and carnage until management learns. So while I cherish you both and would love to wrap you in the satin cloak of Chaos, if you see me? Run, for I don't care if I like you, or if my sisters love you. I don't care if it's the hospital or morgue that I send you. All of VoW will be taught a lesson this Breakthrough, I just hope you run fast enough.
You both have such promise, such passion. It’s sad that you cannot remove your blinders and see the world as I do. Zahara, sweet, innocent, Magical Mistress. Oh how I weep for you. Not because of what I’ll do to you, no I’ve come to terms with that should our meeting be unavoidable. I’m filled with sadness because you mean well, you made a boy’s dreams come true for no other motive than kindness. You’ve inspired masses, wowed audiences, given hope to those that have little, and yet you’re a slave as much as any of Strife’s pets. You dance, speak, and perform in such away that all anyone has to do is give you a platform and you’ll draw a storm of money. They’ll push you, market you, open doors and pull out chairs, to keep you from noticing the sleight of hand they are pulling. You think you’re name is your own, you think your brother will be proud? Not of what you’ve done so far, but what you’ll become. Someone so wrapped up in doing the right thing, the pure thing, that she’s sold her soul without realizing she even offered it.
How much has VoW helped with your magic? With your travel? Two jobs, a winning smile, and a work horse. You are hope and perseverance personified. Yet still you’ve achieved nothing of consequence. Ah ah, before you say I’ve done the same, let me ask you this, when have either of us been treated the same as those we’ve been put against. Constance was given a match with English for her warm up, and who did you face? Oh that’s right a sick E, so lucky you didn’t catch her disease and be bed ridden for your big fight. Neon Babes don’t defend the titles for months, but are given tag match after tag match as Goldie and I are booked repeatedly in singles, unable to practice the style we were thrown into. Both better than how we’re treated, yet I speak out, and you just go on staying positive. I defy those setting us up for failure, you just pad their pockets and hope for better.
Now for Datura. You, well I see the long road a head. Partly because management will continue to seesaw your career. One week some lower card nobody that has a spark of talent but no drive, and the next two power houses that you’re merely there to take the fall so neither look week. Two of your previous opponents weren’t worth even your time to give a damn about and yet this week you face two contenders for championships. You see the game they are playing don’t you?
But of course, that’s why you struggle to understand what is asked of you. Oh yes, I know, I’ve been in therapy longer than you have my child, and while you show promise, if you never take my hand, I can never show you the power you hold within. I know when you focus you can see what must be done, yet you question, you doubt, you fear what will become of you if you do. Don’t. Your therapist does and says what he has to in order to give you enough to move, but not enough to function on your own. You are better than a sheep, but as long as you doubt that, you are beyond help.
Datura, I won’t sell you on yourself, you need only look at the mirror and choose. Would you like to be the dancing puppet that will be loved and cheered as long as you do as you’re told, or would you like to be the loathed monster that does as she sees fit and has control over her life? Seems like a no brainer, after all you know what it’s like to been in the padded cell, the hugging jacket as much as I do. So after I say my peace, raise your hand high, and declare your victory over Fury, what are you gonna do? Put on a good show and be the good girl that wants to be accepted? Or unleash your power and show the world that Datura is a serious player that isn’t a puppet for management to toy? That you’re done playing the part of bridesmaid and deserve to be the bride instead of yoyoed at the whim of those that only concern themselves with how much money you make them? Think about it Datura. Don’t let the illusion of freedom keep you from true freedom.
To the rest of you, Journal included. I’ve made it clear before but I’ll reiterate it so that no one is confused. Due to the embarrassment that was Fate of the Gods, I shall make a mockery of any match I’m placed in that does not include Emma Carlisle as my partner, against some other team. A mockery can be a simple walk out, or it can be a bloody display of violence, and anything in between. What happens depends on my mood, and how much management’s ignorance pisses me off. Any pain, blood, bone breakage, and brutality you witness is on the hands of management for they have been publicly warned. If you have issues, call VoW’s corporate office at the number listed on the website. Unsure of what I mean? Tune into VoW’s broadcast of Breakthrough on July Seventh, after you’ve gorged yourself on barbecued meat from the celebration of revolution and change this country over indulges in every year. And witness the spectacle that is Visionaries of Wrestling. I’ll be the one with the blue hair, sending two messages. One about the conquest of Datura, and one about the disdain of sinful, corrupted managers that seek merely to steal your hard earned dollars with fantasy and slight of hand. For you see madness is like gravity, all it takes is a little push.
