Author Topic: ...Language.  (Read 304 times)

Offline Matthew Knox

  • Newbie
  • *
  • Posts: 19
    • View Profile
...Language.
« on: December 28, 2021, 01:05:02 PM »
There was only one way this was going to end.

Violently.

But, he had to drive home that he wasn’t going anywhere. He needed to know, really know. Not the fake sort of ‘know’ the camera could pick up. He needed it to be told to him in the way only she could. She. Her. Amber Ryan. Not the Hurricane, not the Lie she put up to keep any and everyone at bay. The walls so few dared to even face let alone scale.

She had once whispered to him a plea. One that resonated with him, one that he’d never forget or fail.

“Please don’t let me hurt anyone else.”

He didn’t plan to…

….If he could evade it, that was another question.

One that would soon be answered as one hand reached out, deftly flicking his cracked door open and the other found purchase upon a toned arm he swore was full of piano wire. A quick tug, a firm grasp and a pivot of the hips to drag them both beyond the threshold. The ‘click’ of a door shut as if he had just walked in from the continental breakfast. He raised his hands up above his head, leaving a lot unguarded as he spoke.

“It’s only like this because yo–”

Her state gave him pause, glasz eyes narrowing. A gleam of protective nature he didn’t have right to glazing them over.

“Jesus fuck, what happened?”

If looks could kill, Matt Knox would have been dead years ago. Now would simply be another in a long line of misfortunate deaths to be tallied as Amber Ryan stared an unimpressed hole through the base of his skull.

"Are you fucking serious Matt…" stepping back, she wouldn't make for the door right away. That was a telegraphed move he expected, best keep things off guard and out of step. Of course she knew what he was referring to, she hadn't exactly had alot of time to cover the cut above her left eye, the new bruises around her throat, face and wrist that bloomed in black and purple- mostly importantly though, she hadn't been able to cover the cut that traced her throat, peeking from just beneath her chin as she lowered her head to deflect.

"Like are you out of your mind? Are you so intent on getting murdered in the ring that you're actively seeking it out now?
Whatever it is you want, I'm not interested. I'm not playing. It's been a long night and I've got shit I really need to do…"

An annoyed side step didn't leave nearly as much space between them as she's have liked. It was so little, he simply leaned over to close it, shoulder finding a roost against the wallpaper as a brazen hand came up to tilt her chin upward, if only to be swatted away with the same warning a wounded animal would give in it’s only effort to evade a fight to the death.

“We’re not here to talk about me, not until you tell me what the fuck all this is.” a long, pale finger raised to draw a circle around her face and neck, hovering far enough away to snatch it should she choose to break it to try and get past him. He let out a small sigh, eyes drifting from her and staring holes into the wall. He let out another breath, trying to find firmer ground to stand on. Quell his temper.

Investigate, don’t accuse.

“Amber, i’m asking you for honesty here. Just as much as I’m begging you to quit acting like I don’t know you.”

A wry smile crossed her features, the remnants of a chuckle crossing her lips while the rest seemed to dissipate before ever hitting the air.

"Not sure if you remember this darling, but we're professional wrestlers… this?" Gesturing vaguely, she quirked an eyebrow curiously. "Is par for the course…"

Clearing her throat, Amber straightened up whilst maintaining the smile as it tried to flicker outwards. "I had a world title defense… this is the cost of being champion, you know, in case you forgot what that was like…" A verbal barb never went far astray between the pair as Amber attempted to slip past Matt's physical guard.A bump of the shoulder, enough to buy him a step which he matched in kind in the opposite direction, placing himself closer to the door and a little more space between them.

“Funny…never had anyone try to slit my throat over a title…” he mused pointedly, bringing a hand up to scratch at his goatee thoughtfully, or irritatedly.

"Probably didn't want it badly enough then." Sarcasm and derision, a language they both spoke far too fluently to be fair on anyone else.

“No doubt.” he bit back, hand dropping once more “But….going against every conversation we’ve ever had, stopping the music before this…fucking dance gets any more intricate, i’m going to be blunt. Knock it off, and quit bullshitting me. I’m not the fans, i’m not a Bombshell - shut up - and i’m not anyone in Mac’s happy glove club.” he pushed off the wall, freeing up the space a bit.

“You haven’t been acting right since Denzel started barking about physical altercations in Atlantic City involving you and a mystery woman. This whole ‘everything is fine’....this ‘Queenpin’ bullshit…” he tsked “The masks we wear to hide ourselves always look like our face, Red…

A step forward, brazen for a man with such a long neck to snap.

“You don’t look a thing like you anymore.”

Matching the intensity in his eyes with her own, the smile never wavers from distant and airy. Amber cocks her head slightly, almost as though examining him from the inside out- or imagining what the inside would look like splattered across the floor.

"Ask yourself a question Matt… why the fuck do you care so much? Why does it matter so badly to you how I'm willing to go and ruin my life…" A small chuckle, dredged from somewhere that only seemed to bubble up on her worst days echoed in the space between them.
"Yeah… you just think about it."

A heavy pause followed that neither were willing to acknowledge.

"Perspective is a funny thing, you should really consider getting yourself a new one… I find it's quite… enrapturing." Deliberately soft, the words fell like whispers dropped from a cliff as she slipped on by with an unavoidable air of 'no fucks given', before Amber paused by the door.

"You're not a bad person Knox- so stop trying to get involved in the business of those who really are."

It wasn’t so much a knife being driven through him, as it was that the question brought pause. Pause like when you find a line, that once crossed could never be uncrossed. The stain it would leave would be eternal, far reaching. Lives would be altered…

The truth was powerful, in that way.

“I’m not.” his own voice smaller, brows drawn together as he stood still as stone, his back to her. He let it hand for a moment, begging to be shot down by another venomous stab that wasn’t meant to kill, but to cripple. To dissuade from a path he’d already set upon.

Their talks were always the same like that….

“And neither are you.”

Lighter than the air between them, there was that shred of laughter dancing between them again, as though it didn't really exist.

"Oh, honey… you really haven't a clue."

His own laughter crept out then, head craning back to face the heavens, asking his creator what he was thinking with this one for a moment before he turns to her, letting her keep the distance however little. However much a part of him wanted to reach out and shake her until something clicked. Until the right gears turned to pull her out of whatever this was. To draw her in and..

“There’s only one way I go away, and you already know it…like I know you’re not going to do it.” a pause “Not, right now anyway. You’re far too cagey and…cat like for all that…or at least, you were.” he we this lips, nodding once with a smaller, dryer chuckle.

“I’m not going anywhere Amber, and whatever you’re trying to drown yourself in is going to need to drown me too. Because i’m not letting you have this.”
“I don’t have that in me.”

"Well…" That smile finally showing signs of evolving into something else, although what was uncertain, curled with spite. "I suppose I'll see you at the bottom then...