Post by Gia Van Zant on May 3, 2019 7:48:25 GMT -5
Tunisia. Not a place many would immediately think of on great history, but man. Queen Dido buying an amount of land that could be covered by a single oxskin from the indigenous people, cutting the oxskin into strips and founding Carthage there. One of the shining gems of the ancient world, wondrous port city from all accounts, don't you wish you could've seen it befiore it was sacked and destroyed twiceover? Hannibal, one of the greatest strategic minds ever to live, leading his army over the Alps-- elephants and all-- to take the war to the Romans in their own home turf for a change, what a yarn. And that spirit lives on here. The Tunisians rising up in protest inspired the whole Arab Spring, which I was watching closely at the time, and some of those movements continue still. But Tunisia's the only place that's managed to use its revolution to successfully transition to a constitutional democracy.
As a wanderer, I love the places Valor's taken me, far out of my usual range. I can't wait to see where it takes me next, both geotraphically and successwise. But you didn't come here for a history lesson, did you.
To be overly honest? I'm nervous. I've built up a bit of a winning streak, and a streak of ending careers here. Hog Wilder didn't even get off the starting block thanks to me. I upset Zack Fantana, and he went and threw himself on the sword for Brad Stokes, taking an indefinite suspension. Fallon Lockhart left on the heels of me beating her. Zack is the only one that I felt like I'd truly had my mettle tested. With Fallon, I only felt half myself, stretched myself in a strange direction, though I had my reasons. And here I am, shifted back to my usual sort of way, wondering how far the fall might end up being when I finally do lose. Whether it's this show or not for months, everyone does eventually. A streak can be a huge boon to a career, but it can also be a curse. In retrospect plenty of fans will remember the streak itself rather than how it ended, but too many competitors fade into the background afterward, never reaching that peak again. I'm not one to plan that short-term. I prefer the slow burn of longevity when I can bargain with the universe for it.
And the truth is, Valor, I'm tired. And it's that bonedeep, souldeep tired, not just sleepiness. It happens to us all some time or another, even those without sleep disorders. It seldom cares about having good timing. Two weeks off to do what I please, but of course it's right now that things wear thin of their own accord, outside of any control.
I still have time yet to rest. And when I wake up, maybe it'll have passed. And if it isn't, it won't be the first time nor the twentieth I fight in that state. If one wants longevity, one has to adapt for those moments. It's easy to imagine how tired Hannibal must've been, traversing mountains he'd never seen before in his life, could've only imagined in some wild dream. He strategized for it, still went on to do great things.
Roxi Johnson has done great things herself. I don't think she knows that much of me yet, I can't imagine she would, but I've seen her around for years. I can't say a single bad thing about her. Even tired I'd never pass up the chance to face the Superhero, even if she's determined to drum a rhythm out on my hide to march herself towards championship glory. And if I can hurdle her in my own ascent, I'll know I deserve this spot on the main show. No matter the outcome, I can only hope it won't be the only round we go.
Julie Miri? All I have for Julie is... turn back, there be monsters here. Valor is no place for the society influence of The Conglomerate. You may have beat Caroline the woman that tripped up our other opponent last show... but you couldn't handle the onslaught of the Zombie Clan, and underneath it all I'm just as strange as that lot. As much as I think it mars my outward declaration that Valor is my priority careerwise if I'm yet another wrestler's last match here-- unlike Roxi, I don't see the good of dwindling this roster, a title reign's only really worthwhile if you have competition left to defend it against-- if I need to make a demonstration for Julie that her fate lies elsewhere, I will.
Good night, Valor. Good night.
He didn't know how he'd gotten here, separated from the warmth of Africa by more than miles. Here, it was frigid. When the wind gusted, it picked up particles of snow, too light and tiny to comprehend. When it hit you, it fluttered away in a dry powder, too cold to melt on impact. Not that it was wise to have unprotected skin for any amount of time here. It was nighttime, wasn't it? Wasn't the far north supposed to be shorter on night in this season? Was it the season he reckoned anyway? He couldn't remember being here, not ever, not how he'd be in this void of life, so silent of a whisper of humanity that he had to wonder if it even existed anywhere.
But no, not a void of all life. He needed no fire to see the other with the moonlight reflecting off the snow so brightly. The fox was a vibrant red, standing out from the snow in a way that seemed questionable for survival, and yet it seemed completely unafraid of him. It had wandered close from mutual curiosity, though not close enough to touch. After noting this larger animal surveying it with patient friendliness, it had turned and trotted a short distance, looking over its shoulder. The nomad wondered if he was anthropomorphizing it too much to take it as an invitation, but followed nonetheless.
The aurora borealis flickered overheead and Berlin amended his thoughts. Not barren. Peaceful. Here there was rest.
"For me the world is weird because it is stupendous, awesome, mysterious, unfathomable; my interest has been to convince you that you must assume responsibility for being here, in this marvelous world, in this marvelous desert, in this marvelous time. I want to convince you that you must learn to make every act count, since you are going to be here for only a short while, in fact, too short for witnessing all the marvels of it."
Carlos Castaneda