Post by Erin Gordon on Aug 10, 2019 15:37:40 GMT -5
Summer squalls coming out of nowhere have never bothered Erin Gordon.
They're just a fact of life for anyone that calls Northwestern Pennsylvania home, and even more so for the residents of Blooming Valley since her particular neck of the woods gets them most of all each year. Not a summer's gone by without at least a dozen sudden storms that roar up out of nowhere, blotting out the sun and shaking the Earth for miles around with their thunder before seemingly disappearing just as quick, the lingering puddles and glistening grass the only hints they ever existed at all. While she's seen plenty of townies take shelter at the first signs of a drizzle like they'd melt if they got wet, she's always known that the rain's no more of a hindrance than the snow come winter. If anything, she much prefers dealing with the former since she doesn't need to shovel it.
Lord knows she shovels enough as it is, after all.
The rain's just beginning to let up as the visual fades in on the Oncoming Storm, the blond advancing toward the camera with a shovel in one hand, the other hanging limp at her side. While her jeans and simple black t-shirt cling to her close enough to be considered a second skin of sorts thanks to the rain, she's not paying any mind to it--and thanks to the wide-brimmed hat atop her head, she doesn't need to worry about wiping the water out of her eyes. Stepping into the shelter of the barn's wooden embrace, the shovel is leaned in a corner before she's letting out a sigh and tipping her head back to let her hat shed the miniature puddles it's collected. Considering how she wound up all wet at Redacted, she reckons this is as reasonable a state to address her return to the ring as any and, knowing that she's got a lot to get off her chest, she doesn't leave her audience waiting for long.
"Well, ain't this a bitch. Not comin' back to being an active wrestler--that is somethin' I've been itchin' for since Fabian Dufresne threw me and my dreams of goin' after championship gold over the top rope. Turns out bangin' your bad knee on a hard cement surface ain't good for it, so the doctors told me to take it easy for a spell and that spell's passed, so here I am with a new opportunity to make an impact in the Margarita Mix.... with a connivin' bastard as a partner." To say that she isn't happy about her partner in the 2019 Margarita Mix is a gross understatement... but then again? That word perfectly described what she thought of Logan--gross. She was pretty sure that, if the metaphorical slime that clung to his every action was made into the real thing, a tidal wave of disgusting ooze would flood the OCW arena and leave no room for him to breathe, much less anyone else. Death by slimeball... and there's a faint upward tick of one corner of her mouth. "Now I know that things could always be worse--I mean, I could be havin' to deal with the thorns of either members of R.O.S.E., or maybe needin' to beat some respect into that jackass Vargas so he stops makin' us rednecks look bad--but that don't mean I have to like the situation I'm in. I don't think nobody can blame me for not bein' thrilled about how I've got a lyin', cheatin', cheap-attackin' sumbitch for a partner in this shindig. And while playin' nice benefits Logan for now since even he knows he can't get to the finals alone, well--considerin' his schemin'? I wouldn't be surprised if he whipped round like a water moccasin and sank his fangs into me the moment it became convenient. It's just in a snake's nature to do that kinda thing, same as it was to pick up a chair and beat the shit outta GREAT SCOTT just because a win wasn't a strong enough first impression for his likin'. I don't get how it said anythin' good about him, but then again... I think I'm better off not tryin' to understand what goes on in Logan's head. Just gotta focus on bein' prepared to remove it if needs be, I reckon."
The Oncoming Storm nods, resolute in her decision to pull an Old Yeller on Logan if he forces her hand--not that he'd take her seriously. Not until it was too late for him to escape her particular brand of backwater justice. A sigh.
"But there ain't no point in bellyachin' anymore about havin' to keep the eyes that all mothers have in the back of their heads open, is there? Not when I got two major threats to deal with in front of me that both deserve my full attention on their own. Together, well--there ain't much that Mike Zybala and Jenna have in common, not on the surface anyway. There's the obvious shit about how they both wanna make an impact and advance, but beyond that? It's all opposites. Old and young, male and female, vet and rookie, size and strength and style in the ring... the list goes on, and it makes it seem impossible for the two of'em to even understand each other, much less be able to work together as a team in any way that'd be better than Logan and I. Hell, chances'd seem good that it'd be even worse on account of how Zybala can't take a Goddamn thing seriously to save his life, and Jenna's got the weight of the world on her shoulders even without takin' the fact that she's debutin' in a far higher profile match than most newbies do into account." Erin cants her head to one side just a little, the shadow her hat casts upon her face shifting with the motion. " And for all his underhanded tactics and fucked-up thinking, Logan's shown that he's willing to do whatever it takes to get the job done, even if it means workin' with someone that thinks he ought to be behind bars for what he did if what Lilith's said has even so much as a single grain of truth--and me? As much as I hope my partner--"
And there's a word she decides to never use again for Logan, as disgusting as it feels leaving her lips. It almost feels like that time she tried the whole raw egg thing and wound up throwing it up before she could make herself swallow, but without the benefit of actually having the potential of being good for her.
"--rots in Hell for all he's done, I gotta bust my ass in that ring each and every time I set foot in it on account of my boy. And if that means havin' to work with Logan, then that's what I'll do... though I ain't gonna slither through the grass on my belly to do it, just so we're clear. Any success that's mine is gonna be earned the right way, God damn it. And even if he's had to dip down every now and again to keep Marcus Welsh on his toes, I know Zybala's the same way--and so is Jenna, if I had to bet on it. Jenna's got a huge shadow to break out of and call it a gut feelin', but I think she knows that her legacy's only gonna last if she follows in those incredible footsteps of refusin' to stoop to other peoples' lows. Come to think of it, maybe that's all the more Zybala and Jenna need to come together as a team--that same moral compass that hasn't led me astray yet." After a moment of consideration, Erin nods to herself. "Yeah... instead of worryin' about what makes'em different, I need to focus on what drives them since I can understand that just fine. Even if the means ain't entirely on the up-and-up, the end is somethin' I get without even havin' to try--and even if I'm saddled with a partner that I don't much care for? I ain't gonna let it stop me from makin' my way to the top of the mountain. It don't matter how hard the goin' gets, or who I gotta haul partway up the path before whuppin' them... or what obstacles trip me up momentarily only to vanish the way Fabian apparently did."
A roll of distant thunder, a parting rumble filling the silence--an accidental lining up of words, or is it? Perhaps it's more than a subtle movement of her head that makes the deeps of gray eyes flash, that connection to the land that nourishes her and hers so long as she tends to it faithfully and respects its wishes.
The valley protects its own... and woe be unto those that stand in the way of its daughter.
"I will endure... and I will rise."
Fade.
They're just a fact of life for anyone that calls Northwestern Pennsylvania home, and even more so for the residents of Blooming Valley since her particular neck of the woods gets them most of all each year. Not a summer's gone by without at least a dozen sudden storms that roar up out of nowhere, blotting out the sun and shaking the Earth for miles around with their thunder before seemingly disappearing just as quick, the lingering puddles and glistening grass the only hints they ever existed at all. While she's seen plenty of townies take shelter at the first signs of a drizzle like they'd melt if they got wet, she's always known that the rain's no more of a hindrance than the snow come winter. If anything, she much prefers dealing with the former since she doesn't need to shovel it.
Lord knows she shovels enough as it is, after all.
The rain's just beginning to let up as the visual fades in on the Oncoming Storm, the blond advancing toward the camera with a shovel in one hand, the other hanging limp at her side. While her jeans and simple black t-shirt cling to her close enough to be considered a second skin of sorts thanks to the rain, she's not paying any mind to it--and thanks to the wide-brimmed hat atop her head, she doesn't need to worry about wiping the water out of her eyes. Stepping into the shelter of the barn's wooden embrace, the shovel is leaned in a corner before she's letting out a sigh and tipping her head back to let her hat shed the miniature puddles it's collected. Considering how she wound up all wet at Redacted, she reckons this is as reasonable a state to address her return to the ring as any and, knowing that she's got a lot to get off her chest, she doesn't leave her audience waiting for long.
"Well, ain't this a bitch. Not comin' back to being an active wrestler--that is somethin' I've been itchin' for since Fabian Dufresne threw me and my dreams of goin' after championship gold over the top rope. Turns out bangin' your bad knee on a hard cement surface ain't good for it, so the doctors told me to take it easy for a spell and that spell's passed, so here I am with a new opportunity to make an impact in the Margarita Mix.... with a connivin' bastard as a partner." To say that she isn't happy about her partner in the 2019 Margarita Mix is a gross understatement... but then again? That word perfectly described what she thought of Logan--gross. She was pretty sure that, if the metaphorical slime that clung to his every action was made into the real thing, a tidal wave of disgusting ooze would flood the OCW arena and leave no room for him to breathe, much less anyone else. Death by slimeball... and there's a faint upward tick of one corner of her mouth. "Now I know that things could always be worse--I mean, I could be havin' to deal with the thorns of either members of R.O.S.E., or maybe needin' to beat some respect into that jackass Vargas so he stops makin' us rednecks look bad--but that don't mean I have to like the situation I'm in. I don't think nobody can blame me for not bein' thrilled about how I've got a lyin', cheatin', cheap-attackin' sumbitch for a partner in this shindig. And while playin' nice benefits Logan for now since even he knows he can't get to the finals alone, well--considerin' his schemin'? I wouldn't be surprised if he whipped round like a water moccasin and sank his fangs into me the moment it became convenient. It's just in a snake's nature to do that kinda thing, same as it was to pick up a chair and beat the shit outta GREAT SCOTT just because a win wasn't a strong enough first impression for his likin'. I don't get how it said anythin' good about him, but then again... I think I'm better off not tryin' to understand what goes on in Logan's head. Just gotta focus on bein' prepared to remove it if needs be, I reckon."
The Oncoming Storm nods, resolute in her decision to pull an Old Yeller on Logan if he forces her hand--not that he'd take her seriously. Not until it was too late for him to escape her particular brand of backwater justice. A sigh.
"But there ain't no point in bellyachin' anymore about havin' to keep the eyes that all mothers have in the back of their heads open, is there? Not when I got two major threats to deal with in front of me that both deserve my full attention on their own. Together, well--there ain't much that Mike Zybala and Jenna have in common, not on the surface anyway. There's the obvious shit about how they both wanna make an impact and advance, but beyond that? It's all opposites. Old and young, male and female, vet and rookie, size and strength and style in the ring... the list goes on, and it makes it seem impossible for the two of'em to even understand each other, much less be able to work together as a team in any way that'd be better than Logan and I. Hell, chances'd seem good that it'd be even worse on account of how Zybala can't take a Goddamn thing seriously to save his life, and Jenna's got the weight of the world on her shoulders even without takin' the fact that she's debutin' in a far higher profile match than most newbies do into account." Erin cants her head to one side just a little, the shadow her hat casts upon her face shifting with the motion. " And for all his underhanded tactics and fucked-up thinking, Logan's shown that he's willing to do whatever it takes to get the job done, even if it means workin' with someone that thinks he ought to be behind bars for what he did if what Lilith's said has even so much as a single grain of truth--and me? As much as I hope my partner--"
And there's a word she decides to never use again for Logan, as disgusting as it feels leaving her lips. It almost feels like that time she tried the whole raw egg thing and wound up throwing it up before she could make herself swallow, but without the benefit of actually having the potential of being good for her.
"--rots in Hell for all he's done, I gotta bust my ass in that ring each and every time I set foot in it on account of my boy. And if that means havin' to work with Logan, then that's what I'll do... though I ain't gonna slither through the grass on my belly to do it, just so we're clear. Any success that's mine is gonna be earned the right way, God damn it. And even if he's had to dip down every now and again to keep Marcus Welsh on his toes, I know Zybala's the same way--and so is Jenna, if I had to bet on it. Jenna's got a huge shadow to break out of and call it a gut feelin', but I think she knows that her legacy's only gonna last if she follows in those incredible footsteps of refusin' to stoop to other peoples' lows. Come to think of it, maybe that's all the more Zybala and Jenna need to come together as a team--that same moral compass that hasn't led me astray yet." After a moment of consideration, Erin nods to herself. "Yeah... instead of worryin' about what makes'em different, I need to focus on what drives them since I can understand that just fine. Even if the means ain't entirely on the up-and-up, the end is somethin' I get without even havin' to try--and even if I'm saddled with a partner that I don't much care for? I ain't gonna let it stop me from makin' my way to the top of the mountain. It don't matter how hard the goin' gets, or who I gotta haul partway up the path before whuppin' them... or what obstacles trip me up momentarily only to vanish the way Fabian apparently did."
A roll of distant thunder, a parting rumble filling the silence--an accidental lining up of words, or is it? Perhaps it's more than a subtle movement of her head that makes the deeps of gray eyes flash, that connection to the land that nourishes her and hers so long as she tends to it faithfully and respects its wishes.
The valley protects its own... and woe be unto those that stand in the way of its daughter.
"I will endure... and I will rise."
Fade.