SCW Boards
Roleplay Boards => Archived Roleplays => Climax Control Archives => Topic started by: Nessa on September 27, 2013, 11:56:24 PM
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(Against The Wall video posting || 09-26-2013)
Darkness filled every corner of the room, banished only by the myriad of candles arrayed on the desk. Some had burned down to mutilated stubs, melting there like the Wicked Witch of the West in water. She sat there, a dark, huddled shape among the velveteen shadows, fingers flying furiously over the keys.
…backspace…
Darkness filled every corner of the room, banished only by the myriad of candles arrayed on the desk. Some had burned down to mutilated stubs, melting there like the Wicked Witch of the West in water. The pen scratched on the paper, hastily, frantically as she glanced about furtively, her eyes those of a caged animal. She was hungry, almost salivating at the thought. Her eyes were burning, every muscle aching as though she'd just run a marathon. She hadn't slept in weeks because she'd been so focused on training hard for this match…
"Ahem." Nessa cleared her throat. "What are you trying to do?"
And the fourth wall shattered into a million pieces.
"Seriously! Since when do I need some bullshit ambiance to talk to the people?"
The light snapped on and she stepped into the room, sporting a short, dark wig and Cleopatra-styled eye makeup. Grinning, she moved seductively towards the camera, her hips rolling with every step. "I am a Goddess," she said calmly, "and as such, I require nothing more than the captive eyes and ears of these mere mortals to keep them in my thrall." Head tilt as she looked at the desk and the mangled candles. "Sandalwood candles? Honestly. Who do I look like? Stephenie Meyer trying to write the next knock-off of Queen of the Damned?" She pursed her lips, considering it, "actually, Akasha is who you kinda remind me of. Not the novel version, mind you. Nope. The TERRIBLE movie version with Stuart Townsend as Lestat."
She shuddered, "yeah. I went there. Deal with it."
With a look of annoyance she swept the desk clean before plopping down in the chair with a theatrical sigh. Pulling off the stupid wig, she let her blonde waves fall over her shoulders, shaking her head. "Necra, Necra… honey, when will you learn to keep my name out of your mouth? Hmmm?"
She rolled her eyes, shaking her head. "See, here's the thing, and I'm going to be honest with you because I don't really think anyone in your life ever has been. Are you sitting down, sweetie? Necra, this really pains me to say it, but you need to know: you're abysmally awful at pretty much everything you do." She held up a finger as though expecting a rebuttal.
"Just a second, sweetie. Let me explain, okay? See, when you held that tag championship with Amy Marshall, she was doing the majority of the heavy lifting— honest. I went back and watched the tape. She was working her ass off while you sat around with your minions waiting on you hand and foot, acting like… well… the mythical Queen of The Nile. What does she have to show for it? Nothing while you take all the credit in the world. Frankly, that makes me sick— not that I'm Amy Marshall's biggest fan or anything. I just think that in your whole 'consumer' thing you've got going on, you kinda lost sight of what it's like to be a LIVING, BREATHING…" she paused, smirking, "FUNCTIONAL human being."
Leaning forward, she stared into the camera. "Think about it, sweetie. Look in the mirror and tell me how it feels to be so empty and pointless. Maybe all this thinking's hurt your brain. Maybe you're calling me a coward for daring to actually attack you on a personal level. So be it. This is about YOU and ME. You made it personal and I already made it clear that I have nothing but respect for Mercedes after our last match. So whatever, you tell me that I got you pegged all wrong, and I'll tell you that I didn't actually say anything concrete about you either way. People out there will smile and nod and go back to read what I wrote and listen to what I said over again. Then you'll cry, and say you're being victimized because I'm spreading lies about you on a blog post… and then we'll both fall to our death and die on your MC Escher staircase of convoluted, impossibly faulty logic. I think they call that being pwned, don't they? Is that still a thing down in ancient Egypt? Do they even have the Internet there? Wait..." she paused again, "are you time-displaced, or like is this modern day stuff? The rules of your cosplay are confusing."
She waved her hand in dismissal of the tangent, shaking her head as she leaned back, making the chair creak. "So back to the story about me and where we differ. See, I lost once before and I owned up to it. Vixen here is happy to remind me of that every single time she meets my eyes backstage. I'm sure you can find that replay if you look hard enough. I won't hide it from you, save you the trouble of rubbing in the salt. Yeah, I lost. I thought I'd care more about it now but I don't. It's over. It happened and I learned from my mistake. Last month it was a big deal. Getting my hands on the gold was about spiting Vixen because I was still bitter about how that ACW match went down. I don't like cheap losses; it hurts my massive ego. I knew how much she wanted the glory so I did it better here. I made sure that ALL EYES WERE ON ME on that damned cruise ship!"
She interlocked her fingers, pressing the steepled index fingers against her pursed lips. "Now I just need to figure out your hook. What do you want? I mean, seems like you'd want the same as the rest of us. A chance to shine with the best and brightest in this business, but I keep on hearing contradictions come out of your mouth. You say you don't brag, you don't stake claims, you just wanna wrestle. But then you talk about your wins and losses it's the biggest deal since the fake moon landing."
Another shrug and a quirked eyebrow. "My record, it's like an albatross around my neck now and I'm trying to keep the losses low. Cumbersome. It doesn't matter. If I told you I've won 239 matches in my career, while only having 75 losses, would you fear me? If it were the reverse, would you mock me? I doubt it. That's not your schtick any more than it's mine. So what do we say to each other when it's clearly stalled out? What do we say when the words mean nothing?"
She rolled her eyes. "I'm not in this business to think, or to bullshit. If that were the case, I'd still be standing backstage with a microphone in hand, asking how you FEEL about losing to me last time. Now? I don't care how you feel about losing. I don't care if you're angry and jealous. I don't care if you're bitter. I just care about being better than you. And honey? I am… in every way imaginable."
Her gaze lifted and locked on the screen, that amused, insouciant smile appearing on her lips again before she pressed her palm to them. "Kissy-kissy, sweetie. You want to prove you deserve consideration as a legend? As a FORMER champion worth mentioning? Prove yourself worthy by shutting your mouth and actually WRESTLING. That's all I really ask of you."