Post by Jessica E. Mathis on Jul 22, 2016 20:02:46 GMT -6
Walking to the back was not going to be an issue. Or so that had been her understanding. Freshly out of a grueling fatal fourway match, Jessica Mathis walks with a slight stiffness, end result of missing the Synergy leg drop. Her mind played through the sequence of events. The amount of action. She had not won the match, nor had she lost it. She had simply been a distraction. Or perhaps a participant. As she rounded the corner, headed to the hallway where the talent from the arena returned to the back, she took a pair of steps to the side and did herself a favor, she thought. She lowered herself to one knee and placed her hand in the small of her back and winced at the tenderness.
Jessica Mathis: "Dear, Heaven, Rob. You were not kidding."
She mumbles softly, under her breath as far as she knew. The pain in her rump and lower back were going to be worse before they got better, she had been told. She remembered taking an atomic drop from her trainer, who at almost seven feet tall dwarfed her. It had been two days before she could straighten up completely after. It reminded her of the dedication and shape of those who had come so far before her. And at that moment, she understood why pain killers had, for so many, become an issue. A deep breath and she got back to her feet again, biting back a slight groan of pain as she straightened her back. She stood there, eyes clinched tight, waiting for some well meaning staffer to come by and smack her on the back, proclaiming 'Good job, kid' or something. To her relief, and slight disappointment, this did not come. Forcing her shoulders to relax, she started toward the dressing area....
===A few minutes later===
The shower had helped. From what she could tell, the only thing bruised was her pride. Something she had fully expected was going to happen. Now, as she stood before her locker, the rest of the seats currently empty, as others were watching the show yet to unfold, she shrugged into her thankfully loose silver and pink t-shirt, which she tucked haphazzardly into her jeans. Gingerly she settled on the chair, blowing up at her wet hair as it dangled down over her eyes. She pulled on one white ankle sock and one Under Armour shoe. She uncrossed her legs and tried to reverse the position so she could put on the other sock and shoe when her Mother's ringtone issued from her phone. With a sigh she reached into her locker, removed the phone and answered.
Jessica Mathis: "Hi, Mom! Enjoying the show?"
The voice that came back was a level baritone. Lightly pitched, carefully measured and, much to her annoyance, decidedly not her Mother. She snorted.
Jessica Mathis: "Look, Father. Put Mother on or I am going to hang up."
The baritone voice is heard again, a more reasoning tone. Silenced by the disconnect of the connection. It was barely five seconds before the phone rang again. She tossed it back into her locker after silencing it.
Jessica Mathis: "Great. Just great. I can't keep away from him."
She sighs, grumbling beneath her breath just as a female locker attendant passes through. The young woman gives Jessica a wide birth, rubbing her shoulder against the wall as she walked past, as if Jessica were an angry cat, looking for a scratching post. Jessica doesn't notice this as she pulls her left leg up and yanks on the sock and shoe, mumbling. She stands up and pulls a hairbrush from the locker, brushing her hair in a small mirror, pocket size, leaning inside. Still grumbling. She doesn't realize it, but the stance she has, nice and tall, denies the tender motions of just a moment before....
Jessica Mathis: "Dear, Heaven, Rob. You were not kidding."
She mumbles softly, under her breath as far as she knew. The pain in her rump and lower back were going to be worse before they got better, she had been told. She remembered taking an atomic drop from her trainer, who at almost seven feet tall dwarfed her. It had been two days before she could straighten up completely after. It reminded her of the dedication and shape of those who had come so far before her. And at that moment, she understood why pain killers had, for so many, become an issue. A deep breath and she got back to her feet again, biting back a slight groan of pain as she straightened her back. She stood there, eyes clinched tight, waiting for some well meaning staffer to come by and smack her on the back, proclaiming 'Good job, kid' or something. To her relief, and slight disappointment, this did not come. Forcing her shoulders to relax, she started toward the dressing area....
===A few minutes later===
The shower had helped. From what she could tell, the only thing bruised was her pride. Something she had fully expected was going to happen. Now, as she stood before her locker, the rest of the seats currently empty, as others were watching the show yet to unfold, she shrugged into her thankfully loose silver and pink t-shirt, which she tucked haphazzardly into her jeans. Gingerly she settled on the chair, blowing up at her wet hair as it dangled down over her eyes. She pulled on one white ankle sock and one Under Armour shoe. She uncrossed her legs and tried to reverse the position so she could put on the other sock and shoe when her Mother's ringtone issued from her phone. With a sigh she reached into her locker, removed the phone and answered.
Jessica Mathis: "Hi, Mom! Enjoying the show?"
The voice that came back was a level baritone. Lightly pitched, carefully measured and, much to her annoyance, decidedly not her Mother. She snorted.
Jessica Mathis: "Look, Father. Put Mother on or I am going to hang up."
The baritone voice is heard again, a more reasoning tone. Silenced by the disconnect of the connection. It was barely five seconds before the phone rang again. She tossed it back into her locker after silencing it.
Jessica Mathis: "Great. Just great. I can't keep away from him."
She sighs, grumbling beneath her breath just as a female locker attendant passes through. The young woman gives Jessica a wide birth, rubbing her shoulder against the wall as she walked past, as if Jessica were an angry cat, looking for a scratching post. Jessica doesn't notice this as she pulls her left leg up and yanks on the sock and shoe, mumbling. She stands up and pulls a hairbrush from the locker, brushing her hair in a small mirror, pocket size, leaning inside. Still grumbling. She doesn't realize it, but the stance she has, nice and tall, denies the tender motions of just a moment before....