Post by kris on Jul 12, 2011 0:48:32 GMT -5
By now, the nervousness of entering a new company has long since lost its punch.
The very first time I walked through the doors of an arena for an honest-to-goodness wrestling show, I was as jittery as a cat in a roomful of rocking chairs. I didn't know where to go, who to talk to-- Heck, I didn't even know when my match was supposed to start. Thankfully, I was able to rely upon the manager that took me under his wing to help me through those first few difficult nights… and I thank God each and every time that I walk into an arena's backstage for the first time that he did. If he hadn't, after all, then I would have taken the, ah… questionable word of Mister White as legitimate and headed right to their locker room where I'm certain I would not have been comfortable taking off my shoes, much less anything else! Instead, I gave him the glare he well and truly deserved before moving on, finding my own locker room with a bit more searching. Without Carlos's help, or the help of all of the wonderful, hard-working people I've known throughout my lifetime there's not a doubt in my mind that I wouldn't have come half as far as I have-- and I can't forget the fans, the people that make it possible for me to go out there each and every show to live my dreams. When things were bleak last year, they were the ones there to help me. Thousands and thousands of hands helping me back to my feet, patting my back and shoulders to tell me that it's going to be okay… is it any wonder that I leave it all out there for them no matter what? I guess the better question is how anyone could ever dream of doing otherwise.
As for the part that I've contributed to my success? I've worked mighty darn hard for. I've bled, I've sweat, I've cried for this business as I worked my fingers to the bone, honing my craft and educating my feet, as Mister Morgan would say, to do as I need them to do. The first to arrive and the last to leave? That's me… and that's how I've earned each and every blessed thing I have accomplished. The route I've taken to reach EUW has been a long and winding one since I've refused to so much as even consider taking a shortcut, but I'd like to think that taking the road less traveled has made me stronger than the people that didn't work half as hard for what they have. In my time in this business, I've gone from living in a house that was quite literally falling apart around me to calling a veritable mansion home-- and each and every last penny that it took to get there? I earned, fair and square. Such is how I've lived my life ever since I was a child, pulling my weight and doing my share of the work without complaint. Let me tell you, folks-- the old adage about keeping your hands dirty to keep your mind clean is as true as it gets. There's no need to feel guilty about anything, after all, if you've done nothing dishonest to get it.
Fear, on the other hand… well, that's a whole other kettle of fish.
Saturday, December 10, 2010
12:37 P.M. E.S.T.
Y-You can't be serious….
Except for how I am, Nat. Now c'mon... it's not going to bite you.
As the scene fades in properly, the source of the Southern Belle's nervousness comes into view from a vantage point behind the shoulders of Christian Matthews and Natalie Burrows. It is an object that is innocuous to most, as well it should be... especially on American soil, where there are as many of them as there are people - if not more, in certain places. However, to the Southern Belle, the white 1999 Ford Focus that sat in front of her had just made the transition from benign to malignant with a single suggestion, an idea that her close friend had offered up in the casual tone he usually reserved for things like ordering pizza, or maybe meeting up somewhere to do some Christmas shopping. He wanted her… to get behind the wheel. Not only that, but to turn the key and… and…
The Southern Belle shakes her head, her tone a bit on the snippy side of things… and who could blame her? Even if his intentions were good, she was staring her biggest fear right in the face. That was enough to make anyone antsy.
I'm not worried about being bitten by it, Christian.
Then what are you worried about? It's noon, there isn't a cloud in the sky, and the roads are dry. Trust me, I checked. Twice. Now come on-- take'em.
The Second Coming's tone is gentle, reassuring as he holds up a small key ring holding a solitary key. The sight of it is more than cause enough for Natalie's palms to become slick with sweat, her hands trembling as they hang loosely at her sides. She shakes her head, her voice shaking as she takes a side-step away from the offered key ring.
N-No, really Christian, it's okay… y-you can drive. It's just a mile up the road--
Which is why it's perfect for you to work some of that rust off. It's a straight shot to Big Mama's - you told me that yourself. All the more you'll need to do is make two right turns -and besides, you're not gonna be going it alone. I'll be right there with you. And if you need me to take over, then I will... but not before you give it an honest try, okay?
Reaching over with his free hand, he takes hers by the back before turning it palm-up and gently depositing the keys into her possession. The Southern Belle actually recoils a little at first, her hand wanting to jerk away… but then she steels her resolve and closes her hand around them, the small pieces of metal surprising her with how cool they were to the touch. She had half-expected them to burn her, to sear her flesh like some sort of unholy brand - a ridiculous notion to be sure, but that hadn't stopped her from thinking it.
…okay.
Atta'girl. You ready to go?
Natalie nods a little after a moment's hesitation, her tone unsure.
As ready as I'll ever be...
Alright. Lead the way..?
Natalie sighs as she descends the stairs leading to her front yard and the driveway to her left, the Southern Belle's attire coming into view in the form of a pair of boot-cut jeans and a khaki-colored jacket, her hair pulled up into a ponytail and simple white ballet flats on her feet. She looks over her shoulder at the approaching Second Coming and, for the first time, the nervousness in her smile is clearly visible - and if that wasn't a telling sign of how she was feeling, then all one would need to do is look into her fear-clouded eyes to figure out that she was about one step away from giving in to her impulse to flee. The panic that clings to her like a cloud of noxious smoke dissipates a little when Christian walks out beside her, his own attire a simple gray hooded sweatshirt and a pair of jeans that have seen better days. Coming around in front of her, he opens the driver's side door for her like a proper gentleman complete with a little flourish and a reassuring smile. Despite her nerves, she chuckles weakly.
Thank you, fine sir.
Don't mention it.
The Southern Belle pauses for a moment before she slides her right leg beneath the steering wheel and eases herself, almost painfully slowly, into the driver's seat. As soon as her rear end touched the seat, her unease grows… and it only gets worse as she climbs into the seat the rest of the way. A giant hand seemingly clenches around her chest, making it hard to breathe as her vision grew blurry around the edges--
--and the fist of her panic squeezed tighter, a weak whimper escaping her lips.
Nat? Nat, are you alright?!
Dimly, she can hear his concern. It is the sound of his voice that she forces her mind to follow, her left hand shooting out to take hold of the seatbelt… and the grip releases a little, the feeling of air flooding her lungs a welcome one. Natalie continues to fight through her fear as she tugs the buckle down across her chest, a bit of fumbling causing her breath to hitch before the tab slipped home, clicking into place. The feeling of being secure, even if it only by a woven band of fabric, is enough for her to regain enough of her self-awareness to be able to function, the panic forced back… but not out of her mind entirely. Managing a weak smile, she looks up at Christian who hasn't moved from his spot by the open driver's side door.
Yeah… I just needed a moment to, ahm… get my thoughts together.
Alright. Just remember what I told you, okay? If it gets to be too much, let me know and I'll take over…okay?
At her nod, Christian closed the door before heading around to the other side of the car. Waiting until the Second Coming had settled into the passenger seat and properly buckled up, Natalie opens her right hand and looks down at the key that she holds. After she slides it into the ignition, the blond takes a deep breath and closes her eyes before she turns the key, bracing herself for a Hellish roar… and getting a quiet rumble instead, the engine starting right up and idling quietly. Relaxing a little, she manages a sheepish smile as she looks over the layout of the controls…murmuring to herself as she does.
The gear shift is to my right, and the turn signals are…
Behind the wheel. Up turns on the right signal, down turns on the left.
The Southern Belle nods as she tests it out for herself - not that she doesn't believe her friend, but something about going through the motions without the pressure of motion is calming her troubled mind further. Looking left, then right, then left again, she nudged the small metal shaft down to turn on her right turn signal before putting her foot on the brake pedal and pressing down. Reaching down to shift into drive, the subtle change in engine rhythm is one that she finds herself all too keenly aware of. For all she could cope with it when she was a passenger, there was just no way she could convince herself that there wasn't a wheel in front of her... that she wasn't in control of a machine that could easily wipe the last surviving Burrows off the face of the Earth. Panic creeps its way forward once again--
Hey, Nat?
Only to be stopped in its tracks by Christian reminding her of his presence. Not daring to take her eyes off the road despite having her foot firmly on the brake, Natalie glances toward him out of the corner of her eye.
Yeah..?
You can do it.
He nods to affirm that point, that reassuring smile still just as present as ever on his lips. She can’t help but smile back, nodding in response before she turned her attention back to the road. Taking a few deep, measured breaths, Natalie moves her foot from the brake to the gas pedal, gingerly applying pressure as if the entire car would explode if one too many drops of gasoline made their way into the engine. Instead, she finds herself moving forward with a slow, almost lethargic speed that inches her forward at about the same pace as a full-blown run. Turning the wheel, she ventures out onto the road after checking both ways for a second time… the speedometer's needle climbing to 10 miles an hour. After a few seconds of tense silence, Christian speaks up, his tone encouraging.
The speed limit's 35, just so you know. I don't think there's any signs for that along the way.
Nodding her thanks, Natalie puts a bit more pressure on the gas, the needle creeping past the 20 to hover between there and the 30. Her initial panic was slowly fading away further and further as she progressed down the dirt road, keeping a good position in her half of the road thanks to instincts that her subconscious had never quite forgotten. Noticing how the tension is easing up in how tightly she's gripping the wheel, Christian's smile widens.
See? I told you that it'd be just fine. We're already halfway there--
The Second Coming's voice is cut off as a small brown, furry shape darts into the road in front of the car. While most wouldn't pay it any mind beyond perhaps braking to let it pass, Natalie's eyes go wide as her fear and panic both return with a vengeance, digging their claws into her mind with enough force that it threatens to tear her mind to shreds. Everything seems to move in slow motion as--
--only to be jerked forward into reality on the dry road when the car stopped on the proverbial dime, the woodland creature (a rabbit, it turns out) making its way into the brush on the other side of the road safely. Her sides heaving, Natalie collapsed over the wheel for a moment as she struggled to reign in her racing heart lest the adrenaline that was coursing through her veins cause it to pound its way right out of her chest. Dimly, she feels Christian's hand on her back as he tried to reassure her.
It's alright, Nat… the little guy made it across.
A weak laugh (or was it a sob?) escapes the Southern Belle as she forces herself to sit back upright, checking her rear view mirror to make sure that no one was in danger of rear-ending her. Not seeing a solitary soul, she takes a deep breath before moving her foot back over to the gas, once again slowly pressing down until she was going at the same speed as before. The Second Coming keeps his hand between her shoulders, knowing from past experience that Natalie could draw some amount of comfort from the contact… and that's exactly what she does as the duo finish their drive in silence. Making the right into the parking lot, Natalie pulled into one of the parking spots before she shifted into park and killed the engine with a turn of the key much as she had done time and time again when she was younger. It isn't until the vehicle is entirely at rest that what she has just accomplished starts to sink in, disbelief washing over her as she looked down at the wheel in shock; when she speaks, it is in an awed murmur.
…I did it.
Yep, you did. See? I told you it'd be a piece of cake.
As the realization of what she has just accomplished finally sinks in, the Southern Belle finds herself smiling so wide that one'd swear that her face is about to split in half. Hopping up and down a little in her seat, Natalie lets loose with a joyous laugh as the sense of accomplishment overwhelmed her senses,
I did it! I did it! Bless my soul, I did it!
Unable to contain her delight, the Southern Belle latches onto the Second Coming with a tight hug. How couldn't she? If it wasn't for him, then she would never have gotten behind the wheel and taken the first step toward overcoming the last inner demon that had haunted her since her father's death. Heck, without Christian? She may not have pulled out of the downward spiral of grief that had threatened to consume her when her mother passed away all too soon. There's so much to give him credit for, so much gratitude to feel that she just couldn't contain it. Before she could stop herself, Natalie leaned forward and pressed her lips to his in a soft, chaste kiss. Christian's eyes go as wide as saucers as he just stares at her in shock, something she doesn't notice at first… but once she pulls away, she notices his expression and turns a brilliant shade of red, realizing just what exactly she has done. It takes her a couple of tries, but she manages to speak.
…C-Christian, I...
An uncomfortable silence of an entirely different sort lingers between them as the Second Coming does his best to recover from the unexpected peck. It's pretty obvious that neither Natalie or Christian expected this particular turn of events… although now that it's happened, there's no taking it back. Ultimately, the blond sighs, looking away from his gaze before she half-mumbles.
…I… think we should head inside.
Yeah… let's go.
As the scene fades to black, Natalie and Christian climb out of the car, not a word spoken between them as they head into the temporary safety of good ol' fashioned Southern soul food… but there is only so long that the proverbial elephant would allow itself to be ignored. No, this afternoon's events need to be talked about, a final solution found before it tears one of the nearest and dearest friendships of Natalie's apart.
Is it funny that when people ask me about my fears, they are surprised when I tell them that getting injured out in the ring isn't even on the list? People automatically assume that I am somehow unaware of the risks that have been drilled into my head since I was a little girl, sitting ringside at the independent shows my daddy would take me to. This business isn't for the weak of heart, that much I can tell you-- and considering how many people have tried to tell me that I'm too nice and polite to be more than a warm body for the meaner sorts to take advantage of, the fact that I am still standing here today is all the more proof that you could ever ask for about how strong mine is. My career here in EUW is where I am going to well and truly make my mark by breaking free of the divisions that I've been confined to, in the past. Others that have come before me have proven, concretely, that one does not need to have their, ah, equipment on the outside in order to stand at the top of the mountain… and it is my hope, my fervent dream to build upon that path, pave the way for the next girl that tugs on her daddy's arm and tells him that she wants to be beneath those lights. I want to be one of the women that proves that it can be done, that you can reach that brass ring if you work hard enough for it.
But yes, I know that my next match could be my final match, same as anyone else that's in this business whom isn't blinded by ego… and I would be greatly saddened if I were no longer able to compete. It would rip the heart, the spark right out of my chest at first… but after awhile, I would find myself moving on, picking up the pieces and rebuilding my life much as I have twice over. No... what I still fear, despite that afternoon last winter, is being behind the wheel, in control of tons of steel hurtling down the road. I'm even more of a nervous wreck being in a vehicle period when it's raining or snowing, if you can believe it. It's been that way for me since… well, since Daddy died. So why am I bringing all of this up, you ask? Two reasons. One, I'm nipping the euphemism of me being unable to control my fate simply because I cannot comfortably control a vehicle right in the bud since honestly? One has nothing to do with the other, especially in the middle of that squared circle. You can doubt me on that one if you wish, but I will be more than happy to make that abundantly clear. And for the other? Even if I am terrified by the idea of doing something, if it is necessary for me to get done what needs done...
I do it.
Sunday, December 19, 2010
10:15 P.M. E.S.T.
…hello, Christian.
The Southern Belle's tone is cautious, optimistically hopeful as she looks out the window of the taxi that she rides in. The hum of the engine has all but faded from her awareness as she rides through the streets of Tacoma, fresh off her flight from Durham - and she's dressed as such, in a pair of comfortable jeans and her usual Duke hooded sweatshirt, the neckline of a white thermal top peeking out from beneath the collar of her hoodie. Even though she is mere hours out from one of the biggest matches of her young career, all of the trappings of the business are fading from her mind, the nervous pounding of her heart drowning it out until it is all she can hear… well, and the voice of the young man that she cares for, cares more for than she should. Fidgeting a bit with the frayed sleeve of hoodie, she adjusts her grip slightly on the iPhone she holds to her ear as she nods, the weariness in her eyes making its way into her voice.
Yeah, just got out of the airport about ten, fifteen minutes ago. The traffic's actually not that bad, for a Sunday afternoon. The game must be away this week, if I had to guess… assuming there even is one. You know how much I know about most professional sports, eheh.
After a slight chuckle, the line falls silent… something that only cranks up the frantic, almost panicked beating of her heart. The feeling of standing at a great precipice without a clear view of what she would land upon seeps its way into her awareness, forcing her hand toward making a move. Taking a deep breath, Natalie decides that it is better to take that risk… before she leaps, sending herself into emotional freefall.
L-Look, Christian, I… about the other day, I'm… I'm sorry that I let my emotions get the better of me. But as I was thinking about it… I don't really want to be just friends with you, sugah. You and I, we've become so close, and… and I want to take things to that next level. So I guess what I'm saying is that I'm fa--
This time, one can almost hear Natalie's heart break as she slams into the harsh reality of her feelings not being returned in the silence that follows. Tears prick at the corners of her eyes as she forces herself to take a deep breath, shoving all of the petty rage and… and hurt down with an ease born of practice. Forcing a smile onto her face--someone can hear it if she's smiling while she's talking to them on the phone-- she nods weakly, reaching up with her free hand to wipe at her eyes.
N-No, it's okay, sugah. I… you know I'll still be your friend. Don't worry yourself about it. I'll be okay.
And even through her pain… she knows she will be. The sun will rise, the winds will blow, and time will march on, carrying her past the sting of rejection. Besides, what's a little discomfort between friends? As the scene fades, she leans against the glass beside her, her eyes closing as she silently let out her heartbreak lest she make her friend feel any worse.
That's the mark of true bravery; not the absence of fear, but the full acknowledgement of it before you dig deep and push your way through to the other side. It doesn't always end well… and honestly? It doesn't have to. So many people are afraid of losing, of failure. They treat it like it kills on impact, the teensiest error sometimes causing them to go into a panic as they desperately pick apart every aspect of their lives. Now me, I've learned a lot from all the times life's knocked me down... but I keep getting right back up because I know that my chances of surviving the next blow that comes my way gets higher each and every time. Heck, I've even come out the winner some of the time-- and I know I'm fortunate, on that front. That doesn't mean that I'm going to rest on my laurels, though… not by a long shot.
I'm just getting started.
Now, I've got a Heck of a climb in front of me, after all, and I'm going to need each and every ounce of strength I've got to get to where I want to go. And the way journey here begins in a manner which I… well, I honestly did not expect. At least I have the good fortune of being partnered with someone that I have encountered in the past, although I am not horribly fond of Mister Young on a personal level. Considering how he saw fit to find an excuse to douse me with water while I was wearing a white shirt, only to follow that up with a comment about my bust? Mm, it is no small wonder that I find his presence odious. I will be professional, though, and overlook that in the name of doing my part in being his partner. Besides, it's been awhile since I've seen him last. Perhaps he has matured? I can only hope.
But enough about my partner; the bulk of my attention this week needs to be upon my opponents, a duo that call themselves Body and Soul. Misters Gunner and TJ, I am not afraid to admit that you are easily the largest opponents that I have ever faced… and that your size also intimidates the ever-loving Heck out of me, something that should come as a shock to precisely neither of you. However, do not think for a moment that I am going to back down from the challenge you both are going to be providing me. There will be no hiding behind Mister Young; instead, I will go to the middle of that ring and look up at you before using every last trick I have to put you down onto that canvas for the three-count. No matter the size difference, after all, you both are nothing more than flesh and bone… things that I have spent a long, long time learning how to dismantle in the name of victory. While some… modification may be necessary, I am a firm believer in the adage of there being a way wherever there is a will. You both had best believe that my will is just as mighty as my heart, if not moreso. When--not if, since I know that the chances of me not being even grazed by one of you is nonexistent -- you knock me down is when you will truly witness that firsthand… because I will not stay down. It doesn't matter if I've only got shreds of strength left… I will use them to throw that shoulder up, to force myself to my feet. Remember what I said about learning how to recover from what life throws my way?
That includes the both of you.
As for the offensive side of things, well… believe it or not, but I pack far more of a wallop than most would give me credit for when it comes to these educated feet of mine-- so please, gentlemen, don't take my kind words and politeness for weakness. My manners may extend far and wide, but they do not quite reach the level of lessening the force of my kicks. And while some of my arsenal may not be of much use, I am sure that between Mister Young and I… we can give you a run for your money in a way that steals the show. Whoever comes out the victor in our match, Misters Gunner and TJ, will have needed to dig deep to have overcome the other-- of that, there is no doubt in my mind. I wish you gentlemen luck… because who knows?
You just might be surprised to find that you'll need it.
The very first time I walked through the doors of an arena for an honest-to-goodness wrestling show, I was as jittery as a cat in a roomful of rocking chairs. I didn't know where to go, who to talk to-- Heck, I didn't even know when my match was supposed to start. Thankfully, I was able to rely upon the manager that took me under his wing to help me through those first few difficult nights… and I thank God each and every time that I walk into an arena's backstage for the first time that he did. If he hadn't, after all, then I would have taken the, ah… questionable word of Mister White as legitimate and headed right to their locker room where I'm certain I would not have been comfortable taking off my shoes, much less anything else! Instead, I gave him the glare he well and truly deserved before moving on, finding my own locker room with a bit more searching. Without Carlos's help, or the help of all of the wonderful, hard-working people I've known throughout my lifetime there's not a doubt in my mind that I wouldn't have come half as far as I have-- and I can't forget the fans, the people that make it possible for me to go out there each and every show to live my dreams. When things were bleak last year, they were the ones there to help me. Thousands and thousands of hands helping me back to my feet, patting my back and shoulders to tell me that it's going to be okay… is it any wonder that I leave it all out there for them no matter what? I guess the better question is how anyone could ever dream of doing otherwise.
As for the part that I've contributed to my success? I've worked mighty darn hard for. I've bled, I've sweat, I've cried for this business as I worked my fingers to the bone, honing my craft and educating my feet, as Mister Morgan would say, to do as I need them to do. The first to arrive and the last to leave? That's me… and that's how I've earned each and every blessed thing I have accomplished. The route I've taken to reach EUW has been a long and winding one since I've refused to so much as even consider taking a shortcut, but I'd like to think that taking the road less traveled has made me stronger than the people that didn't work half as hard for what they have. In my time in this business, I've gone from living in a house that was quite literally falling apart around me to calling a veritable mansion home-- and each and every last penny that it took to get there? I earned, fair and square. Such is how I've lived my life ever since I was a child, pulling my weight and doing my share of the work without complaint. Let me tell you, folks-- the old adage about keeping your hands dirty to keep your mind clean is as true as it gets. There's no need to feel guilty about anything, after all, if you've done nothing dishonest to get it.
Fear, on the other hand… well, that's a whole other kettle of fish.
-------------------------♥-------------------------
Saturday, December 10, 2010
12:37 P.M. E.S.T.
Y-You can't be serious….
Except for how I am, Nat. Now c'mon... it's not going to bite you.
As the scene fades in properly, the source of the Southern Belle's nervousness comes into view from a vantage point behind the shoulders of Christian Matthews and Natalie Burrows. It is an object that is innocuous to most, as well it should be... especially on American soil, where there are as many of them as there are people - if not more, in certain places. However, to the Southern Belle, the white 1999 Ford Focus that sat in front of her had just made the transition from benign to malignant with a single suggestion, an idea that her close friend had offered up in the casual tone he usually reserved for things like ordering pizza, or maybe meeting up somewhere to do some Christmas shopping. He wanted her… to get behind the wheel. Not only that, but to turn the key and… and…
The screech of tires on wet asphalt cuts through her alcohol-induced haze enough for her to know that something bad was about to happen, the slick surface combining with a lack of coordination to lose traction - and with it? All control over where Angela was heading as roughly a ton of metal careened out of control, smashing through the wood of the old-fashioned bridge to plummet into the unforgiving waves below...
The Southern Belle shakes her head, her tone a bit on the snippy side of things… and who could blame her? Even if his intentions were good, she was staring her biggest fear right in the face. That was enough to make anyone antsy.
I'm not worried about being bitten by it, Christian.
Then what are you worried about? It's noon, there isn't a cloud in the sky, and the roads are dry. Trust me, I checked. Twice. Now come on-- take'em.
The Second Coming's tone is gentle, reassuring as he holds up a small key ring holding a solitary key. The sight of it is more than cause enough for Natalie's palms to become slick with sweat, her hands trembling as they hang loosely at her sides. She shakes her head, her voice shaking as she takes a side-step away from the offered key ring.
N-No, really Christian, it's okay… y-you can drive. It's just a mile up the road--
Which is why it's perfect for you to work some of that rust off. It's a straight shot to Big Mama's - you told me that yourself. All the more you'll need to do is make two right turns -and besides, you're not gonna be going it alone. I'll be right there with you. And if you need me to take over, then I will... but not before you give it an honest try, okay?
Reaching over with his free hand, he takes hers by the back before turning it palm-up and gently depositing the keys into her possession. The Southern Belle actually recoils a little at first, her hand wanting to jerk away… but then she steels her resolve and closes her hand around them, the small pieces of metal surprising her with how cool they were to the touch. She had half-expected them to burn her, to sear her flesh like some sort of unholy brand - a ridiculous notion to be sure, but that hadn't stopped her from thinking it.
…okay.
Atta'girl. You ready to go?
Natalie nods a little after a moment's hesitation, her tone unsure.
As ready as I'll ever be...
Alright. Lead the way..?
Natalie sighs as she descends the stairs leading to her front yard and the driveway to her left, the Southern Belle's attire coming into view in the form of a pair of boot-cut jeans and a khaki-colored jacket, her hair pulled up into a ponytail and simple white ballet flats on her feet. She looks over her shoulder at the approaching Second Coming and, for the first time, the nervousness in her smile is clearly visible - and if that wasn't a telling sign of how she was feeling, then all one would need to do is look into her fear-clouded eyes to figure out that she was about one step away from giving in to her impulse to flee. The panic that clings to her like a cloud of noxious smoke dissipates a little when Christian walks out beside her, his own attire a simple gray hooded sweatshirt and a pair of jeans that have seen better days. Coming around in front of her, he opens the driver's side door for her like a proper gentleman complete with a little flourish and a reassuring smile. Despite her nerves, she chuckles weakly.
Thank you, fine sir.
Don't mention it.
The Southern Belle pauses for a moment before she slides her right leg beneath the steering wheel and eases herself, almost painfully slowly, into the driver's seat. As soon as her rear end touched the seat, her unease grows… and it only gets worse as she climbs into the seat the rest of the way. A giant hand seemingly clenches around her chest, making it hard to breathe as her vision grew blurry around the edges--
He'd been in a hurry to get home to his wife and daughter, a hard day's work leaving him wanting nothing more than to be in the presence of family. Robbie had been in such a rush after leaving the Maziarzes that he hadn't buckled his seat belt, something that he didn't even think about until he saw the erratically-moving headlights through the heavy downpour that had been steadily falling all afternoon. Taking one hand off the wheel, the father and husband tried to pull the belt down and fasten it without taking his eyes off of the full-sized truck that was bearing down on his tiny little compact… but it was too late.
--and the fist of her panic squeezed tighter, a weak whimper escaping her lips.
Nat? Nat, are you alright?!
Dimly, she can hear his concern. It is the sound of his voice that she forces her mind to follow, her left hand shooting out to take hold of the seatbelt… and the grip releases a little, the feeling of air flooding her lungs a welcome one. Natalie continues to fight through her fear as she tugs the buckle down across her chest, a bit of fumbling causing her breath to hitch before the tab slipped home, clicking into place. The feeling of being secure, even if it only by a woven band of fabric, is enough for her to regain enough of her self-awareness to be able to function, the panic forced back… but not out of her mind entirely. Managing a weak smile, she looks up at Christian who hasn't moved from his spot by the open driver's side door.
Yeah… I just needed a moment to, ahm… get my thoughts together.
Alright. Just remember what I told you, okay? If it gets to be too much, let me know and I'll take over…okay?
At her nod, Christian closed the door before heading around to the other side of the car. Waiting until the Second Coming had settled into the passenger seat and properly buckled up, Natalie opens her right hand and looks down at the key that she holds. After she slides it into the ignition, the blond takes a deep breath and closes her eyes before she turns the key, bracing herself for a Hellish roar… and getting a quiet rumble instead, the engine starting right up and idling quietly. Relaxing a little, she manages a sheepish smile as she looks over the layout of the controls…murmuring to herself as she does.
The gear shift is to my right, and the turn signals are…
Behind the wheel. Up turns on the right signal, down turns on the left.
The Southern Belle nods as she tests it out for herself - not that she doesn't believe her friend, but something about going through the motions without the pressure of motion is calming her troubled mind further. Looking left, then right, then left again, she nudged the small metal shaft down to turn on her right turn signal before putting her foot on the brake pedal and pressing down. Reaching down to shift into drive, the subtle change in engine rhythm is one that she finds herself all too keenly aware of. For all she could cope with it when she was a passenger, there was just no way she could convince herself that there wasn't a wheel in front of her... that she wasn't in control of a machine that could easily wipe the last surviving Burrows off the face of the Earth. Panic creeps its way forward once again--
Hey, Nat?
Only to be stopped in its tracks by Christian reminding her of his presence. Not daring to take her eyes off the road despite having her foot firmly on the brake, Natalie glances toward him out of the corner of her eye.
Yeah..?
You can do it.
He nods to affirm that point, that reassuring smile still just as present as ever on his lips. She can’t help but smile back, nodding in response before she turned her attention back to the road. Taking a few deep, measured breaths, Natalie moves her foot from the brake to the gas pedal, gingerly applying pressure as if the entire car would explode if one too many drops of gasoline made their way into the engine. Instead, she finds herself moving forward with a slow, almost lethargic speed that inches her forward at about the same pace as a full-blown run. Turning the wheel, she ventures out onto the road after checking both ways for a second time… the speedometer's needle climbing to 10 miles an hour. After a few seconds of tense silence, Christian speaks up, his tone encouraging.
The speed limit's 35, just so you know. I don't think there's any signs for that along the way.
Nodding her thanks, Natalie puts a bit more pressure on the gas, the needle creeping past the 20 to hover between there and the 30. Her initial panic was slowly fading away further and further as she progressed down the dirt road, keeping a good position in her half of the road thanks to instincts that her subconscious had never quite forgotten. Noticing how the tension is easing up in how tightly she's gripping the wheel, Christian's smile widens.
See? I told you that it'd be just fine. We're already halfway there--
The Second Coming's voice is cut off as a small brown, furry shape darts into the road in front of the car. While most wouldn't pay it any mind beyond perhaps braking to let it pass, Natalie's eyes go wide as her fear and panic both return with a vengeance, digging their claws into her mind with enough force that it threatens to tear her mind to shreds. Everything seems to move in slow motion as--
The sunny day that surrounded her and Christian transformed to a stormy night with a single crack of lighting, the rough gravel and dirt beneath the wheels of the Focus transforming into pavement that had long since reached the point of saturation needed to cause hydroplaning. Ahead of her, the narrow one-lane bridge out on Cheek Road has appeared over the raging waters of a rain-swollen river… and through the falling rain, a pair of headlights gleamed that were too high up and too bright to belong to another typical car appear that paralyzed her like a deer in headlights. As the approaching truck weaved and swerved, Natalie whimpered, her worst fears made manifest threatening to tear her apart--
Lil' gal, you've got to hit those brakes!
The Southern Belle jumped a little as the familiar and welcome sound of a voice that she never thought she'd hear again echoed in her mind.
Dad..?!
I know you're scared, Natalie, but you've gotta face down those fears of yours before they get you and Christian hurt. He trusts you, lil' gal - you can't let him down! Now hit those brakes!
The words of her father penetrated her panic, forcing it and her fears both back and away of her enough for her to slam her foot down on the brake--
Lil' gal, you've got to hit those brakes!
The Southern Belle jumped a little as the familiar and welcome sound of a voice that she never thought she'd hear again echoed in her mind.
Dad..?!
I know you're scared, Natalie, but you've gotta face down those fears of yours before they get you and Christian hurt. He trusts you, lil' gal - you can't let him down! Now hit those brakes!
The words of her father penetrated her panic, forcing it and her fears both back and away of her enough for her to slam her foot down on the brake--
--only to be jerked forward into reality on the dry road when the car stopped on the proverbial dime, the woodland creature (a rabbit, it turns out) making its way into the brush on the other side of the road safely. Her sides heaving, Natalie collapsed over the wheel for a moment as she struggled to reign in her racing heart lest the adrenaline that was coursing through her veins cause it to pound its way right out of her chest. Dimly, she feels Christian's hand on her back as he tried to reassure her.
It's alright, Nat… the little guy made it across.
A weak laugh (or was it a sob?) escapes the Southern Belle as she forces herself to sit back upright, checking her rear view mirror to make sure that no one was in danger of rear-ending her. Not seeing a solitary soul, she takes a deep breath before moving her foot back over to the gas, once again slowly pressing down until she was going at the same speed as before. The Second Coming keeps his hand between her shoulders, knowing from past experience that Natalie could draw some amount of comfort from the contact… and that's exactly what she does as the duo finish their drive in silence. Making the right into the parking lot, Natalie pulled into one of the parking spots before she shifted into park and killed the engine with a turn of the key much as she had done time and time again when she was younger. It isn't until the vehicle is entirely at rest that what she has just accomplished starts to sink in, disbelief washing over her as she looked down at the wheel in shock; when she speaks, it is in an awed murmur.
…I did it.
Yep, you did. See? I told you it'd be a piece of cake.
As the realization of what she has just accomplished finally sinks in, the Southern Belle finds herself smiling so wide that one'd swear that her face is about to split in half. Hopping up and down a little in her seat, Natalie lets loose with a joyous laugh as the sense of accomplishment overwhelmed her senses,
I did it! I did it! Bless my soul, I did it!
Unable to contain her delight, the Southern Belle latches onto the Second Coming with a tight hug. How couldn't she? If it wasn't for him, then she would never have gotten behind the wheel and taken the first step toward overcoming the last inner demon that had haunted her since her father's death. Heck, without Christian? She may not have pulled out of the downward spiral of grief that had threatened to consume her when her mother passed away all too soon. There's so much to give him credit for, so much gratitude to feel that she just couldn't contain it. Before she could stop herself, Natalie leaned forward and pressed her lips to his in a soft, chaste kiss. Christian's eyes go as wide as saucers as he just stares at her in shock, something she doesn't notice at first… but once she pulls away, she notices his expression and turns a brilliant shade of red, realizing just what exactly she has done. It takes her a couple of tries, but she manages to speak.
…C-Christian, I...
An uncomfortable silence of an entirely different sort lingers between them as the Second Coming does his best to recover from the unexpected peck. It's pretty obvious that neither Natalie or Christian expected this particular turn of events… although now that it's happened, there's no taking it back. Ultimately, the blond sighs, looking away from his gaze before she half-mumbles.
…I… think we should head inside.
Yeah… let's go.
As the scene fades to black, Natalie and Christian climb out of the car, not a word spoken between them as they head into the temporary safety of good ol' fashioned Southern soul food… but there is only so long that the proverbial elephant would allow itself to be ignored. No, this afternoon's events need to be talked about, a final solution found before it tears one of the nearest and dearest friendships of Natalie's apart.
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Is it funny that when people ask me about my fears, they are surprised when I tell them that getting injured out in the ring isn't even on the list? People automatically assume that I am somehow unaware of the risks that have been drilled into my head since I was a little girl, sitting ringside at the independent shows my daddy would take me to. This business isn't for the weak of heart, that much I can tell you-- and considering how many people have tried to tell me that I'm too nice and polite to be more than a warm body for the meaner sorts to take advantage of, the fact that I am still standing here today is all the more proof that you could ever ask for about how strong mine is. My career here in EUW is where I am going to well and truly make my mark by breaking free of the divisions that I've been confined to, in the past. Others that have come before me have proven, concretely, that one does not need to have their, ah, equipment on the outside in order to stand at the top of the mountain… and it is my hope, my fervent dream to build upon that path, pave the way for the next girl that tugs on her daddy's arm and tells him that she wants to be beneath those lights. I want to be one of the women that proves that it can be done, that you can reach that brass ring if you work hard enough for it.
But yes, I know that my next match could be my final match, same as anyone else that's in this business whom isn't blinded by ego… and I would be greatly saddened if I were no longer able to compete. It would rip the heart, the spark right out of my chest at first… but after awhile, I would find myself moving on, picking up the pieces and rebuilding my life much as I have twice over. No... what I still fear, despite that afternoon last winter, is being behind the wheel, in control of tons of steel hurtling down the road. I'm even more of a nervous wreck being in a vehicle period when it's raining or snowing, if you can believe it. It's been that way for me since… well, since Daddy died. So why am I bringing all of this up, you ask? Two reasons. One, I'm nipping the euphemism of me being unable to control my fate simply because I cannot comfortably control a vehicle right in the bud since honestly? One has nothing to do with the other, especially in the middle of that squared circle. You can doubt me on that one if you wish, but I will be more than happy to make that abundantly clear. And for the other? Even if I am terrified by the idea of doing something, if it is necessary for me to get done what needs done...
I do it.
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Sunday, December 19, 2010
10:15 P.M. E.S.T.
…hello, Christian.
The Southern Belle's tone is cautious, optimistically hopeful as she looks out the window of the taxi that she rides in. The hum of the engine has all but faded from her awareness as she rides through the streets of Tacoma, fresh off her flight from Durham - and she's dressed as such, in a pair of comfortable jeans and her usual Duke hooded sweatshirt, the neckline of a white thermal top peeking out from beneath the collar of her hoodie. Even though she is mere hours out from one of the biggest matches of her young career, all of the trappings of the business are fading from her mind, the nervous pounding of her heart drowning it out until it is all she can hear… well, and the voice of the young man that she cares for, cares more for than she should. Fidgeting a bit with the frayed sleeve of hoodie, she adjusts her grip slightly on the iPhone she holds to her ear as she nods, the weariness in her eyes making its way into her voice.
Yeah, just got out of the airport about ten, fifteen minutes ago. The traffic's actually not that bad, for a Sunday afternoon. The game must be away this week, if I had to guess… assuming there even is one. You know how much I know about most professional sports, eheh.
After a slight chuckle, the line falls silent… something that only cranks up the frantic, almost panicked beating of her heart. The feeling of standing at a great precipice without a clear view of what she would land upon seeps its way into her awareness, forcing her hand toward making a move. Taking a deep breath, Natalie decides that it is better to take that risk… before she leaps, sending herself into emotional freefall.
L-Look, Christian, I… about the other day, I'm… I'm sorry that I let my emotions get the better of me. But as I was thinking about it… I don't really want to be just friends with you, sugah. You and I, we've become so close, and… and I want to take things to that next level. So I guess what I'm saying is that I'm fa--
This time, one can almost hear Natalie's heart break as she slams into the harsh reality of her feelings not being returned in the silence that follows. Tears prick at the corners of her eyes as she forces herself to take a deep breath, shoving all of the petty rage and… and hurt down with an ease born of practice. Forcing a smile onto her face--someone can hear it if she's smiling while she's talking to them on the phone-- she nods weakly, reaching up with her free hand to wipe at her eyes.
N-No, it's okay, sugah. I… you know I'll still be your friend. Don't worry yourself about it. I'll be okay.
And even through her pain… she knows she will be. The sun will rise, the winds will blow, and time will march on, carrying her past the sting of rejection. Besides, what's a little discomfort between friends? As the scene fades, she leans against the glass beside her, her eyes closing as she silently let out her heartbreak lest she make her friend feel any worse.
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That's the mark of true bravery; not the absence of fear, but the full acknowledgement of it before you dig deep and push your way through to the other side. It doesn't always end well… and honestly? It doesn't have to. So many people are afraid of losing, of failure. They treat it like it kills on impact, the teensiest error sometimes causing them to go into a panic as they desperately pick apart every aspect of their lives. Now me, I've learned a lot from all the times life's knocked me down... but I keep getting right back up because I know that my chances of surviving the next blow that comes my way gets higher each and every time. Heck, I've even come out the winner some of the time-- and I know I'm fortunate, on that front. That doesn't mean that I'm going to rest on my laurels, though… not by a long shot.
I'm just getting started.
Now, I've got a Heck of a climb in front of me, after all, and I'm going to need each and every ounce of strength I've got to get to where I want to go. And the way journey here begins in a manner which I… well, I honestly did not expect. At least I have the good fortune of being partnered with someone that I have encountered in the past, although I am not horribly fond of Mister Young on a personal level. Considering how he saw fit to find an excuse to douse me with water while I was wearing a white shirt, only to follow that up with a comment about my bust? Mm, it is no small wonder that I find his presence odious. I will be professional, though, and overlook that in the name of doing my part in being his partner. Besides, it's been awhile since I've seen him last. Perhaps he has matured? I can only hope.
But enough about my partner; the bulk of my attention this week needs to be upon my opponents, a duo that call themselves Body and Soul. Misters Gunner and TJ, I am not afraid to admit that you are easily the largest opponents that I have ever faced… and that your size also intimidates the ever-loving Heck out of me, something that should come as a shock to precisely neither of you. However, do not think for a moment that I am going to back down from the challenge you both are going to be providing me. There will be no hiding behind Mister Young; instead, I will go to the middle of that ring and look up at you before using every last trick I have to put you down onto that canvas for the three-count. No matter the size difference, after all, you both are nothing more than flesh and bone… things that I have spent a long, long time learning how to dismantle in the name of victory. While some… modification may be necessary, I am a firm believer in the adage of there being a way wherever there is a will. You both had best believe that my will is just as mighty as my heart, if not moreso. When--not if, since I know that the chances of me not being even grazed by one of you is nonexistent -- you knock me down is when you will truly witness that firsthand… because I will not stay down. It doesn't matter if I've only got shreds of strength left… I will use them to throw that shoulder up, to force myself to my feet. Remember what I said about learning how to recover from what life throws my way?
That includes the both of you.
As for the offensive side of things, well… believe it or not, but I pack far more of a wallop than most would give me credit for when it comes to these educated feet of mine-- so please, gentlemen, don't take my kind words and politeness for weakness. My manners may extend far and wide, but they do not quite reach the level of lessening the force of my kicks. And while some of my arsenal may not be of much use, I am sure that between Mister Young and I… we can give you a run for your money in a way that steals the show. Whoever comes out the victor in our match, Misters Gunner and TJ, will have needed to dig deep to have overcome the other-- of that, there is no doubt in my mind. I wish you gentlemen luck… because who knows?
You just might be surprised to find that you'll need it.