Post by indi on Nov 1, 2019 6:30:29 GMT -5
There once was a man who made beautiful dolls of all shapes and sizes. He even made life sized dolls. Many requested these expensive and exquisite dolls and though these dolls brought the humble man a lot of money he lived modestly with his young son Vine.
The young boy was fascinated by his father’s work. The doll parts and finished dolls filled the home. Each was unique and had their own beautiful personality. Vine would watch in fascination as his father would paint the delicate lips upon their pale faces. He wanted to be just like his father someday and create gorgeous works of art.
Soot and ash and the lingering stench of smoke; the kind of stench that clings to the back of your throat and coats it, the type that makes you feel as though you might just choke on the memory of the fire that was here before. Instead of air, you can breathe in only the thick UnYielding smog of the atmosphere laden thick with fear as the walls themselves - if they were still standing - would hold the screams of those that perished in these flames.
The remnants of what was once a building stands like toothpicks and skeletons atop the perfectly rounded hill. Wisps of what perhaps once was, flutter in the breeze like broken butterfly wings, barely enough left to so much as make shapes. Just the once was, hesitating here in the now is and if you listen close enough… The secrets of time crossing over.
"That’s kinda how it works, ya know?” Indi Rhyder dressed in what can only be described as a somber-for-her attire of all black with a shock of red hair through her blonde braids. Stands in the middle of the forgotten building, ash and soot clinging to the edges of her black platform boots. "Sometimes, the only way to move forward is to lean into the past, to open up our ears and our eyes to the secrets that the world holds… We have to listen to the Universe when she speaks, because she recalls in only truths. Where we as people are pressed to recall only the events that shape us in our light; in ways that defend and explain what we become… She recalls as exactly as it was. Without fault or bias."
Picking her way across the wreck and the ruins, Indi stops when she reaches what we can only figure is the front of the building; a pulpit style stage, burned to cinders and left to rot, barely stands. Looking out across the remains and far beyond into the fields below… A few items, singed but not ruined, remain atop the falling pulpit. A stone bath; ornate and hand carved you could probably see it in someone's garden for birds to sip and bathe. Only the inner recesses of this stone bath are stained red and brown, thick with muck - almost sticky just to look at and if you were here with us, you would note an odor more foul even than the smog that clogged up our lungs before.
"Worship." Indi peers into the small bath and crumples her nose at the smell, turning her head back to the camera she lets out a long, UnYielding sigh. "Gods and goddesses aren’t the only worship - as cool as the whole dark mass spooky halloween thing is… It is mostly a fickle and harmless sport that allows those who are lost to feel better about themselves. Anything that screams from the top of its lungs that it's evil…" she lifts her right hand and shakes it in the air with a smile. "Not so much."
Okay so right about now you’re thinking how off gimmick this is… But we SWEAR this isn’t some weird spoopy Halloween gag okay? Just stay with us a few more minutes…
"And, that's kinda how wrestling works too."
SEE
"We have the people like Katya who; god love her - are so busy trying to convince everyone that THIS time is gonna be her time, that she conveniently forgets all the other times that were going to be her time too… I really hate to say it but if I were being honest? I’d have to say that it seems as though she is focusing all her attention on convincing people she’s half as good as she was hoping to be; so we will all forget the fact that she’s been a big. Fat. Failure."
Turning her thumb down, Indi blows a raspberry loudly and then throws her hand over her face.
"Oops, that was mean! Speaking of mean though; let's talk about the big bad wrestle boi and his fire kink. Drell is the guy who everyone bet on cause he looks like he could run through the arena wall without breaking a damn sweat - only to become a googly eyed puppy dog for a less talented wrestler and her boyfriend… Honestly? Can’t relate.
Drell and Cross have a lot in common though, they both make excuses for being subpar cheats. They both hide behind women who have failed more times than our Russian beauty AND they both have about as much chance winning this thing as Moxie has at maintaining her standing in a company for more than three weeks.
I guess what I'm trying not to say here, because i’m so nice is this;
Not a single one of these people really want this; be it for stature or standing or heck, just chaos… You don’t WANT this, you aren’t going out there because that Championship means something to you… ME? This is what I have been working for, this is my freaking DESTINY! Moxie, you might have talked so big like you wanted this and girl. I love you. Really. But we both know your mind hasn;t been her and you all but lost focus as soon as Danny tossed that belt at your feet and deemed you not worthy. You were supposed to be my biggest competition and instead, you’ve turned into a warning tale for the kids… I wanted more for you.
You should want more for you."
Looking down into the ash and dirt at her feet, Indi bends; running her fingers through the soot she reveals a small silver crucifix; the edges are a little tinged with black from the hot flames. As she places it on her palm, it seems to fit perfectly within the small lines of a scar that already rests there.
"Sometimes, it’s about feeling as though you belong… Sometimes worship is about thinking there is something bigger than you. That there is a purpose to everything and that eventually - it will all become clear. Thats a nice thought, isn’t it Fuku? See, pretty girl, you and Krahe aren’t that different - reasons and whys may not be the same, but what you want. A chance, a repentance, the acceptance - all the same, so much so the same, that he didn’t even notice you hot on his heels when he wd chasing your…sister?"
honestly, still not sure how that works.
"Family is a world a whole lot of leaders use, heck Manson himself called them sisters, the MAnson family, yada yada yada; hey, if it makes you feel better to pretend that ain’t all some great cult of worship to the dudes who keep you locked up like a secret then oooookay. But so long as you keep doing for everyone else? You can’t do for you.
That’s why you don’t want this enough; not selfish enough but too blind to see what selflessness is too - you could be great.
You should want to be great."
Indi cocks her hand and lets the crucifix fall to the floor, as it clunks into the ash and a fresh poof of ashy air hits her face, Indi finally smiles. Dotted between the particles of ash and soot are tiny, teeny, fluttering, little butterflies emerging from the soot.
"For others, finding religion is a second chance. You can be born again and wash away the sins of the man you were before. If only you can accept him, or her, into your heart. That is where you live isn’t it Krahe?"
As she speaks, Indi lifts her right hand once again; extending her index finger that same smile tugs at her lips as one of the ash colored butterflies take up residence on the curve of her finger. Going silent she simply watches it for a few minutes, letting the quiet tick over as she studies the butterfly.
"A man born of chaos and need, there was once a time when you lacked direction. You, my sweet, sweet bud; had nothing. A hand for hire that nearly left the only thing you have in this world… Dead. You failed her, not cause you weren't good enough… not cause you didn’t care for her. But cause you were so busy running around lining your pockets and filling a book, that you didn’t see the danger; so now here you are with a fresh cut and a new attitude that underneath it all is really the same… Do you want this Zack? Or do you just want to show her that you can do more than win it when the bottom line lies beyond the ring?
I don’t know… but the universe does."
Slowly the butterfly begins to dissipate, becoming nothing more than particles of ash in the air. Stepping through the remains and down the space that would once have been the aisle, she approaches the altar just off to the left and takes a seat on a charred stump that was likely once a bench or pew. Adjusting the skirts of her black dress she looks down at her soot stained fingers and closes her eyes.
"Worship comes in many forms guys, when I was a kid. I hero worshipped my father; my dad was small time at best and even though he never broke into the big leagues? He was the best wrestler in the whole world… to me. My daddy had a following, a fan base who would scream his name with every move and gasp and clap their hands every time he took flight. Those people, they came just to see him soar - just to see him do what he did best and they did it with the devotion and adoration of a good Christian woman in her Sunday best.
But nobody worshipped him like I did; when I first got into this, it was because of him. A legacy wrestling was our religion and going to shows was our church. Every week was somewhere new and I wanted this because he wanted this… The universe guided me into this and like a moth to a flame I was drawn in; but as time ticked by and things got hard, when he went away just like my mama, I had to wonder if this was my place. If I belonged here…
And then it happened, they remembered my name, they clapped for each dive and they screamed for me, the winds shifted and I stopped being a follower. I became a Deacon; sermons held inside that ring drew people to me and I woke up, I saw what the universe had been telling me all along… It isn’t for them, it isn’t for him.
I am no longer the lady in her Sunday best, I am the preacher and the guidance, I am what they need. I am what Valor pro need and in my failures, in my struggles.. I have become what I was always supposed to be.
I AM UnYielding."
He knows he is damaged goods...he knows he is worthless...all he can do is make people happy by making his beautiful dolls...
His work became quite popular in the news papers and television broadcasts for displaying his art in public places. And he loved his given name by the public too...
The Doll maker...
"Just like daddy right?"
“Let me make you beautiful.”
The young boy was fascinated by his father’s work. The doll parts and finished dolls filled the home. Each was unique and had their own beautiful personality. Vine would watch in fascination as his father would paint the delicate lips upon their pale faces. He wanted to be just like his father someday and create gorgeous works of art.
Soot and ash and the lingering stench of smoke; the kind of stench that clings to the back of your throat and coats it, the type that makes you feel as though you might just choke on the memory of the fire that was here before. Instead of air, you can breathe in only the thick UnYielding smog of the atmosphere laden thick with fear as the walls themselves - if they were still standing - would hold the screams of those that perished in these flames.
The remnants of what was once a building stands like toothpicks and skeletons atop the perfectly rounded hill. Wisps of what perhaps once was, flutter in the breeze like broken butterfly wings, barely enough left to so much as make shapes. Just the once was, hesitating here in the now is and if you listen close enough… The secrets of time crossing over.
"That’s kinda how it works, ya know?” Indi Rhyder dressed in what can only be described as a somber-for-her attire of all black with a shock of red hair through her blonde braids. Stands in the middle of the forgotten building, ash and soot clinging to the edges of her black platform boots. "Sometimes, the only way to move forward is to lean into the past, to open up our ears and our eyes to the secrets that the world holds… We have to listen to the Universe when she speaks, because she recalls in only truths. Where we as people are pressed to recall only the events that shape us in our light; in ways that defend and explain what we become… She recalls as exactly as it was. Without fault or bias."
Picking her way across the wreck and the ruins, Indi stops when she reaches what we can only figure is the front of the building; a pulpit style stage, burned to cinders and left to rot, barely stands. Looking out across the remains and far beyond into the fields below… A few items, singed but not ruined, remain atop the falling pulpit. A stone bath; ornate and hand carved you could probably see it in someone's garden for birds to sip and bathe. Only the inner recesses of this stone bath are stained red and brown, thick with muck - almost sticky just to look at and if you were here with us, you would note an odor more foul even than the smog that clogged up our lungs before.
"Worship." Indi peers into the small bath and crumples her nose at the smell, turning her head back to the camera she lets out a long, UnYielding sigh. "Gods and goddesses aren’t the only worship - as cool as the whole dark mass spooky halloween thing is… It is mostly a fickle and harmless sport that allows those who are lost to feel better about themselves. Anything that screams from the top of its lungs that it's evil…" she lifts her right hand and shakes it in the air with a smile. "Not so much."
Okay so right about now you’re thinking how off gimmick this is… But we SWEAR this isn’t some weird spoopy Halloween gag okay? Just stay with us a few more minutes…
"And, that's kinda how wrestling works too."
SEE
"We have the people like Katya who; god love her - are so busy trying to convince everyone that THIS time is gonna be her time, that she conveniently forgets all the other times that were going to be her time too… I really hate to say it but if I were being honest? I’d have to say that it seems as though she is focusing all her attention on convincing people she’s half as good as she was hoping to be; so we will all forget the fact that she’s been a big. Fat. Failure."
Turning her thumb down, Indi blows a raspberry loudly and then throws her hand over her face.
"Oops, that was mean! Speaking of mean though; let's talk about the big bad wrestle boi and his fire kink. Drell is the guy who everyone bet on cause he looks like he could run through the arena wall without breaking a damn sweat - only to become a googly eyed puppy dog for a less talented wrestler and her boyfriend… Honestly? Can’t relate.
Drell and Cross have a lot in common though, they both make excuses for being subpar cheats. They both hide behind women who have failed more times than our Russian beauty AND they both have about as much chance winning this thing as Moxie has at maintaining her standing in a company for more than three weeks.
I guess what I'm trying not to say here, because i’m so nice is this;
Not a single one of these people really want this; be it for stature or standing or heck, just chaos… You don’t WANT this, you aren’t going out there because that Championship means something to you… ME? This is what I have been working for, this is my freaking DESTINY! Moxie, you might have talked so big like you wanted this and girl. I love you. Really. But we both know your mind hasn;t been her and you all but lost focus as soon as Danny tossed that belt at your feet and deemed you not worthy. You were supposed to be my biggest competition and instead, you’ve turned into a warning tale for the kids… I wanted more for you.
You should want more for you."
Looking down into the ash and dirt at her feet, Indi bends; running her fingers through the soot she reveals a small silver crucifix; the edges are a little tinged with black from the hot flames. As she places it on her palm, it seems to fit perfectly within the small lines of a scar that already rests there.
"Sometimes, it’s about feeling as though you belong… Sometimes worship is about thinking there is something bigger than you. That there is a purpose to everything and that eventually - it will all become clear. Thats a nice thought, isn’t it Fuku? See, pretty girl, you and Krahe aren’t that different - reasons and whys may not be the same, but what you want. A chance, a repentance, the acceptance - all the same, so much so the same, that he didn’t even notice you hot on his heels when he wd chasing your…sister?"
honestly, still not sure how that works.
"Family is a world a whole lot of leaders use, heck Manson himself called them sisters, the MAnson family, yada yada yada; hey, if it makes you feel better to pretend that ain’t all some great cult of worship to the dudes who keep you locked up like a secret then oooookay. But so long as you keep doing for everyone else? You can’t do for you.
That’s why you don’t want this enough; not selfish enough but too blind to see what selflessness is too - you could be great.
You should want to be great."
Indi cocks her hand and lets the crucifix fall to the floor, as it clunks into the ash and a fresh poof of ashy air hits her face, Indi finally smiles. Dotted between the particles of ash and soot are tiny, teeny, fluttering, little butterflies emerging from the soot.
"For others, finding religion is a second chance. You can be born again and wash away the sins of the man you were before. If only you can accept him, or her, into your heart. That is where you live isn’t it Krahe?"
As she speaks, Indi lifts her right hand once again; extending her index finger that same smile tugs at her lips as one of the ash colored butterflies take up residence on the curve of her finger. Going silent she simply watches it for a few minutes, letting the quiet tick over as she studies the butterfly.
"A man born of chaos and need, there was once a time when you lacked direction. You, my sweet, sweet bud; had nothing. A hand for hire that nearly left the only thing you have in this world… Dead. You failed her, not cause you weren't good enough… not cause you didn’t care for her. But cause you were so busy running around lining your pockets and filling a book, that you didn’t see the danger; so now here you are with a fresh cut and a new attitude that underneath it all is really the same… Do you want this Zack? Or do you just want to show her that you can do more than win it when the bottom line lies beyond the ring?
I don’t know… but the universe does."
Slowly the butterfly begins to dissipate, becoming nothing more than particles of ash in the air. Stepping through the remains and down the space that would once have been the aisle, she approaches the altar just off to the left and takes a seat on a charred stump that was likely once a bench or pew. Adjusting the skirts of her black dress she looks down at her soot stained fingers and closes her eyes.
"Worship comes in many forms guys, when I was a kid. I hero worshipped my father; my dad was small time at best and even though he never broke into the big leagues? He was the best wrestler in the whole world… to me. My daddy had a following, a fan base who would scream his name with every move and gasp and clap their hands every time he took flight. Those people, they came just to see him soar - just to see him do what he did best and they did it with the devotion and adoration of a good Christian woman in her Sunday best.
But nobody worshipped him like I did; when I first got into this, it was because of him. A legacy wrestling was our religion and going to shows was our church. Every week was somewhere new and I wanted this because he wanted this… The universe guided me into this and like a moth to a flame I was drawn in; but as time ticked by and things got hard, when he went away just like my mama, I had to wonder if this was my place. If I belonged here…
And then it happened, they remembered my name, they clapped for each dive and they screamed for me, the winds shifted and I stopped being a follower. I became a Deacon; sermons held inside that ring drew people to me and I woke up, I saw what the universe had been telling me all along… It isn’t for them, it isn’t for him.
I am no longer the lady in her Sunday best, I am the preacher and the guidance, I am what they need. I am what Valor pro need and in my failures, in my struggles.. I have become what I was always supposed to be.
I AM UnYielding."
He knows he is damaged goods...he knows he is worthless...all he can do is make people happy by making his beautiful dolls...
His work became quite popular in the news papers and television broadcasts for displaying his art in public places. And he loved his given name by the public too...
The Doll maker...
"Just like daddy right?"
“Let me make you beautiful.”