Post by Deleted on Mar 15, 2017 7:30:54 GMT
Presenting the Lacklan Saga Story of
Ascension, Part VII
If I Ever Leave This World Alive -- Sapphic Realization
Ascension, Part VII
If I Ever Leave This World Alive -- Sapphic Realization
~~Thursday, February 23rd, 2017: OFF CAMERA~~
Lacklanland was all atwitter. Men and women alike, even children of all ages, bustled about with near panic. Everything had to be correct. Everything must be done perfectly. Or else there would be a price to pay. A steep price. The Blood Princess would not wish to be displeased.
There was no snow on the grounds of the territory in Maine off the Penobscott River, but it was still painfully cold. It had been only 22 degrees when the plane landed at Bangor International Airport, and an hour later, it had only risen a few degrees. The sun was still at least an hour away, but the marching band was present, all 200 strong, shivering despite their woolen uniforms. Lips nearly froze to metal mouthpieces as horns were brought to mouths as the black car pulled up to the red carpet, the band playing the Lacklanland National Anthem, the crowd of Denizens cheering mightily.
Mackenzie Micheala Grey steps out of the car with a look of pure shock on her face. A marching band. A crowd of (very) white people dressed in dark and warm clothing welcoming her. A legitimate group of paparazzi taking pictures. Plenty of those “stormtroopers” around, too. And in the middle of it all, a little ball of black and red puffery that could only be her best friend, her porcelain princess.
Sarah Selena Lacklan could not be more proud of her people. Dressed in one of her most royal dresses possible, a black and red ordeal that sparkled with diamond dust down the pleats, she was the epitome of all that Lacklanland stood for. She WAS Manifest Destiny. Sure, she had threatened every member of the marching band with 30 lashing should any of them be late, and double for the section leaders, but they had all been there, lined up in their neat rows. She so did love a marching band! The Denizens played their role well, of course, cheering the movie and television star appropriately. Her guard was resplendent in their matching black coats, their silver pins of rank shining brightly, all no doubt polished to gleam despite the early morning gloom. But out of it all, nothing and no one shined more than her best friend stepping out of the car.
Sarah felt her heart jump a little as some of her guard led Kenzi down the red carpet. The two had grown extremely close in the last few months, even with their minor hiccup last month. Okay, major hiccup. The two of them picking at one another as they got deeper into their All That Glitters roles exploded into a physical fight. Sarah’s eye still hurt from the unexpected punch. But that was then, this was now. Hugged out, forgiven, forgotten. And now she was here for a special day with her in her Winter Wonderland.
“Its freezing, Sar!”
Indeed, her dark friend was hugging herself and shivering. But that is what she gets for wearing California clothes! The dunce did not even bring a jacket! Sarah lunges forward and embraces her friend.
“No worries, Ken. We will get you outfitted by the Lacklanland tailors before you know it!”
The day zoomed by in a whirlwind of fun. The two oddball friends laughed over everything from the fur coat Sarah provided, which made Kenzi look like the proverbial wolf in sheep’s clothing, to the weird creepy dude who had been ogling Sarah since she was twelve years old, that one with the triple jowls. They ate cakepops at the Lacklanland Confectionary Company, cookies are the Lacklanland Cookie Company, and more cage-free chicken breast than Kenzi could handle. The only thing they could not find that Kenzi was looking for was pancakes. And she could not understand why Sarah had to smoke a cigarette every time she asked about the pancakes Sarah always seemed to be craving.
Sarah held a gala that night in celebration for her friend. All the dignitaries were there, of course, representatives from both the Mayor of Bangor and the Governor of Maine. Even First Citizen Skeeter came out of the woods to visit. And while teaching Kenzi how to waltz was hilarious (“MANG! I don't ballroom dance, I slide up and down on a freaking pole!”), her favorite moment came when she was able to introduce her to her father. Even though the cancer was destroying his body, he still stood tall as she introduced her best friend to him. And Kenzi barely quivered in fear at all when looking into his masked gaze!
The end of the night saw the two of them alone in the ballroom, giggling over glasses of red wine. The dignitaries were gone, the party-goers at home, only a couple of servants floating around at the edge of sight.
“I cannot thank you enough for being here today.” Sarah’s British accent and perfect diction were so strong today as to seem exaggerated. “I receive so few visitors whilst at home.”
Dressed in a frilly black and red dress, shining with diamond dust down its pleats, she was every inch the Blood Princess. Her third wardrobe change of the day included soft slippers built for dancing, her hair in an elaborate hive, and a black veil hanging down her face. Her curiously red eyes, blazing in the relative dark of the ballroom, turn from her drink to her friend. Those eyes drink in Kenzi’s own formal dress, a white affair which hugs her hips on a pleasingly snug way, the red velvet top allowing a hint of cleavage, shines brightly next to Sarah’s bundle of red and black.
“Seriously, I cannot tell you when I had so much fun crammed into one day.”
Kenzi gave the most genuine of laughs as she fell against her friend’s magnificent puffery, then covered her mouth as she leaned away, “Sorry...your highness!” She winked at Sarah, as she fluffed the finery back into its perfect form, “I had the mostly lovely time Sarah...I truly did.”
She looked down at her hands, a hint of sadness touching her ebony cheeks, “After...my break up...I was pretty sure that I wanted to just live an amazing life like this every day...but I thought it was a stupid fairytale.” She looked up at the Blood Princess, her large brown eyes glistening, “You made my dream come to life in a way I never thought possible.”
She shrugged and gave a shake of her head, “I’ll never be able to repay that...never.”
A smile comes to Sarah’s ruby lips. She takes Kenzi’s hand.
“Come. I want to teach you something.”
Standing up, Sarah leads Kenzi to the end of the room where the grand piano rests. The court pianist, along with a string quartet, had played all night for both dances and ambiance. Folding her dress underneath her legs, Sarah gracefully lowers herself to the bench. She pays the spot next to her and Kenzi more or less flops down next to her.
“As well as voice, I have been classically trained in the piano. Father paid well for master teachers.”
She smiles, her lithe fingers caressing the black and white keys.
“From what I understand, Mother used to play for Father.”
She turns her head to look at Kenzi.
“Do you play any instruments?”
Kenzi smirks, giving a shrug of her shoulder.
“I played a flute once when I was in high school, but it was sticking out of the side of a giant cardboard box.” She frowned as she recalled the memory, “It didn’t make any noise and it tasted funny...”
She looked at Sarah, her expression deadpan.
“...probably doesn’t count, huh?”
Sarah narrowed her eyes but then shakes her head.
“My godfather taught me this song. He plays the guitar, so it is a touch different, and I do not play it as fast as the original, but it is very pretty.”
She pauses, lips pursing.
“It has been going through my head all day. Because of you.”
She turns back to Kenzi, staring into her eyes. But then she winks and pushes her shoulder with her own.
“Ready?”
Kenzi grins with a nod, patting her friend on her thigh.
“Sure! Let’s give it a try.”
Sarah's fingers hit the keys at a rapid pace. While she had the disclaimer of playing it at a slower tempo, it was still a jaunty tune. After a few introductory bars, her voice lifts.
“If I ever leave this world alive
I’ll thank you for all the things you did
In my life”
I’ll thank you for all the things you did
In my life”
Sarah’s voice is high and beautiful, her tone clear and bright.
“If I ever leave this world alive
I’ll come back down and sit beside
Your feet tonight”
I’ll come back down and sit beside
Your feet tonight”
Fingers dance across the keys.
“Wherever I am, you’ll always be”
She looks at her friend, a smile both on her face and in her eyes.
“More than just a memory”
Her red eyes shine bright with wetness for a moment, her smile deepening.
“If I ever...leave this world...alive.”
Kenzi’s hands go to her mouth, her eyes wide as she stares at her friend.
“Oh my God! Sarah! That was so lovely...wow...”
Kenzi truly seems to be amazed by the richness of Sarah’s ballad. She puts her hand on Sarah’s arm, as she looked at her with earnest.
“That was magnificent Sar!”
She leaned in and hugged her, sniffing as she was nearly overcome with emotion over the idea that the song had been meant for her. It had truly brought tears to her eyes.
“You make me sound...so...so important!”
Kenzi giggles, wiping at her eyes as she pulled back, an even bigger smile on her face now. Sarah can only smile in return, her own eyes unashamedly wet with tears. They then both go to push the other with their shoulders and nearly drive each other off the bench. Giggling, the two set themselves to the task of memorizing the song. They play it again and again until Kenzi knows it backwards and forwards.
Kenzi was shocked to see that Sarah had not been kidding when she said that she had prepared not only a suite for her...but an entire floor. She would have a handful of servants to take care of any whim for the morning, anything she wanted to eat (“A giant stack of pancakes!”), and any comfort she could want.
Sarah was full of mixed emotions as she entered her own bedchamber. She had made it pretty obvious to anyone paying attention that, should she be given the chance, she would bang the everliving crap out of her best friend. But this? This was something wholly different. And not something she knew how to deal with.
~~The PrincessTwilightSexyFang podcast, as viewed on hotgoths.fuckyeah:: ON CAMERA~~
‘Sup, Denizens!
I know...I know...anyone paying attention knows that I have been putting out a LOT of these vlogs lately. But! BUT! Those have been pretty focused on my upcoming Fn Awesome title victory (and yes I said victory! Come at me, bro!), but I have ignored just about everything else. A lot has happened in my little corner of #FSociety, ya know?
We did not win the tag titles. We didn’t lose! But we did not win. In a way, TEHREAV and I did what we said we were going to do: Kick major ass. Did you see us?! We fucked EVERYBODY up! It was awesome! I flew through the air, kicked the crap out of people, Mel deconstructed some faces. Totes cool. Then one of the Champs...I am not sure of which is which...snuck in and pinned one of those clown mask fuckers and retained.
LAME.
So here we go again, the Blood Reavers (FTW!!) teaming up to continue our dominance of the division. And yes I said dominance! We took down that skittles dude and the throwback fucker and they were never the same. We beat Silver and Kenzie so bad that Silver needs to take a break. We knocked those clown freeway dudes right out of the company. Now it is just a matter of beating Locke&Keyes and taking what is ours.
Though we really should stop just putting two random dudes together for us to pick apart. I mean, Morrow and Callaghan? That is just sad. But more on that later! Oh, I will get there, believe you me. But just looking at this as a practice, as an abstract idea, these random schmoes will never compare to me and TEHREAV. No bit of randomness is going to be able to take down the sheer awesomeness of the Blood Reavers (FTW!!).
Okay...yes...we were initially paired randomly. But how were they supposed to know that they had united the single greatest team in tag history? How were they supposed to know that they unwittingly brought together Elsa and Anna? Or Elphaba and Glinda? Or Usagi and Rei? They just did.
But our team is not just about that Heaven-sent chemistry. Nope, there is another factor that Random Jobber Team is in trouble for: We train together. A lot. See, I have been spending a lot of time in L.A., the reasons for which have NOTHING to do with a certain dark goddess whose hair drives me fucking wild and makes me want to….
.................
Wait, what was I talking about?
Oh! Random Jobber Team! Right! So, lots of training. It means that I have had to spend a lot of time in that crappy GrayNoMoreFoote gym, but we got our shit together. Our timing! Kickass. Our nonverbal communication? On point. We’re even working on a tandem finish!
So by all means, Robb...er...Chris? Inferno Network dude?
Okay, I will be honest: I am uncertain who is in charge of which place right now.
Anyway! So by all means, person in charge: Keep throwing random people together. Keep giving us easy wins. All you are doing is making us even better. And before you know it? We will be the blacksmith’s puzzle that no detective can figure out, and the Blood Reavers (FTW!!) will have gold around our waists.
~~Monday, March 6th, 2017: OFF CAMERA~~
Sarah was a ball of misery.
The week before had been the most exciting stretch of time in her life.
Thursday: All day with Kenzi at her home in Lacklanland.
Friday: Met a nice friend of Kenzi’s, a girl named Sabrina, and went clubbing with them and their other friend Steph. They even got arrested! It was amazing!
Saturday: Had to go home and explain to Father what happened...and he chuckled and asked what took so long. He was proud of her for knocking out that pig with her sick right hook!
Sunday: She had sex with Kenzi.
That still shocked her. The attraction which had always been there had grown rapidly that weekend. They found each other touching at odd times, making contact for seemingly no reason and for longer than what would be appropriate. And then she joined Kenzi in her room to help her stretch for her match and...well...they had sex.
The following week had been a whirlwind of depravity, as if the attraction between them was bottled and the cork was released, the pressure so great as to shatter the neck. They kept it quiet, though anyone paying attention could see the tonal change between the two, which included Melissa Reeves knowing well what was going on between her roommate and her tag partner. Every time they were behind closed doors? One jumped the other. Once even public with her own sister being none the wiser! Sarah had literally lost intimate apparel and Kenzi had so many bite marks on her neck that she had to wear a scarf around her neck to avoid being constantly mortified.
Things went fast, even faster than Sarah was used to living. Drinking, drugs, and sex were their lives for the week. But then it came crashing down like any other structures put up without a solid foundation. They got into a fight, pushing and screaming, and ended things with one another. They would each argue that their position was correct and that the other was in the wrong, but no matter what, the battle over a point of intimacy was personal and ugly.
Sarah was now back home in the cold of Lacklanland. Her was a ball of sad anger, a black and red puff of eyes threatening to shed tears and promising to instead lash out and hurt others. The staff within the manor knew better than to get in her way, knew better than to challenge the Blood Princess, for even as a little girl she had been known for her irrational temper. Quick to anger, faster to lash out, sluggish to cool down. Thankfully for those around her, at least on this day, someone was in Lacklanland who could handle her like no one else.
“The hell has your panties in a bunch?”
The unmistakable voice of Dexter Severin. The wrestling journalist is seated across from Sarah, the two sharing a small table overlooking the Lacklanland Forest, a pot and two cups between them. The man was relatively short, though of such a stocky build as to seem nearly as wide as he was tall, with short brown hair flecked with gray and a black and red beard equally salted. A black trench coat hanging to the floor added to his stocky appearance, Doc Marten boots thoughtlessly tapping the leg of the table.
“Serious, Sarebear, I had figured this whole ‘ZOMG I AM TEH GOTH CHICK’ stuff would have ended by now.”
Sarah gives him one of her patented massive eyes, her feelings thrust into the exaggeration of the movement. She wore a solely black dress, not even one splash of color for relief, her entire body covered by either leather or velvet. Even her face was covered in black, a see-thru mesh veil hanging down from her hair to her chin.
“I am in a bad mood, Godfather.”
Dex snorts.
“Ya are always in a bad mood, Sarebear. Even as a baby ya were all, ‘Fuck this shit. Burn it all to the ground!’”
Dex chuckles as Sarah simply rolls her eyes again.
“Ya gonna tell me what it's about or not?”
Sarah looks at her her cup of tea. She mulls over telling her godfather her romantic troubles. He was no roadmap, after all: He has gotten annulled to Zoe, her Fairy FUCKING Godmother, in quick order in January. He was CONSTANTLY in relationships with women who were way out of his league. What did he know of matters of the heart? But...well...he certainly knew more than she did.
“I had my heart broken on Saturday.” A mixture of sadness and anger which had been fueling her for days blossomed within her. “I told her that I was in love...and that I refused...REFUSED...to believe that she did not feel the same for me...and she told me to go away, have a nice trip home.”
Sarah shakes her head, mind casting back to that wretched night and even worse morning.
“I-”
“Stop thinking with your cock.”
The crassness of her godfather stops her cold, her eyes going wide.
“What?!”
Dex takes a drink of his tea and then leans forward, his face serious.
“You’re 19, Sarebear. You’re not in love. You’re horny.”
Sarah’s eyes go even wider.
“Who dare you?! I-”
“She’s 19 too, right? You’re both hot? Reckless? Living life? That’s not being in love, Sare. That’s being normal. Being in love is...complicated.”
Her mouth is open but no words can find their way out. She decides to take a drink of her tea, instead. Dex laughs.
“At least you’ve finally figured out that you’re a lesbian.”
Tea is sprayed out from ruby lips.
“What?!”
Dex looks at her funny.
“You. Lesbian. You’re gay, Sarah. Always have been.”
“That makes no sense. Literally no sense. I’ve dated guys.”
Dex takes a drink of his tea.
“Did I ever tell ya about how your Ma and I met?”
Sarah shakes her head. She knew that Dexter was the best friend of the mother she never met, but there were few stories from the time before they found their way to the part of Maine that would later become Lacklanland.
“A mutual friend named Stephanie. Steph was, in a word, slut. Major. Big time. Even when we were all in high school, she slept around like nothing. But these days? Major dyke. Like, major bull dyke. Turns out that even then she was sleeping with the girls as much as the guys. And looking back? I can see how she chased the skirts, the predatory look in her eyes. And that look? You’ve had that look in your eye since you were 14.”
Sarah looks insulted.
“So you are saying that I am a dyke?”
“No,” says Dex, shaking his head. “You’re a skirt. Sometimes skirts click. What does this girl look like?”
Sarah hesitates for a moment, but then reaches into her purse and pulls out a small picture. She smiles as she looks at it: A copy of the picture they took in one of those dumb old photo booths inside a bowling alley. She grows sad immediately after the smile hits her face. She hands it over to her godfather, who whistles when he takes it.
“She’s pretty. Not what I expected...but pretty.” Dex hands it back, looking at his goddaughter. She looked so much like his old friend Lena that it was startling. Well, except for the whole albino thing: That came from her father’s side. “So now what? She turns ya down and ya give up? That doesn’t seem like my Sarebear.”
Sarah comes as close to a snort as could ever be heard from a princess.
“Please. You know I never lose. I misstepped, but I immediately altered my tactics, just like I would any battle. My ninja skills are, as you know quite well, on goddamn fleek.”
She smiles, a hint of what could only be described as devious glee entering her red eyes.
“She says that she does not want a relationship, just a series of encounters, friends with benefits. But over the course of the week, she and I have been on several dates, worn each other’s clothes, even had a candlelit meal. I ninja’d her a girlfriend. Now she just needs to realize it.”
She pauses, her expression turning reflective.
“If it is as you say...if what I am feeling is less love and more lust, then I suppose I owe her an apology. I pressed when perhaps I should not. And perhaps she really does not feel the way I think she does. How interesting.”
“Hey.”
Sarah looks up, her red eyes taking in the very tired light blue eyes of her godfather..
“Remember what you Ma said.”
Sarah nods.
“Have faith.”
Dex nods.
“And remember what your Da says.”
She nods again.
“Fight for what is worth fighting for.”
Dex nods again.
“Put the two together, Sarebear. Have faith...but fight. Fight...but have faith.”
The two grow silent in reflection, drinking their tea. Dex notices smoke in the forest, a thin stream coming out of a clearing.
“Well,” he says, finishing his tea. “Guess I better get off to why I am actually here. Need to talk to Skeeter.”
Sarah looks surprised..
“The First Citizen? Whatever for?”
A grimace comes to Dex’s bearded face.
“Family business. Brother business.” He stands, his trench coat brushing the floor, his fingers popping the collar up. “If it’s important...fight for it.”
He leaves Sarah to her self-reflection.
~~Tuesday, March 14th, 2017: ON CAMERA~~
The Grom Malibu gelato shop in Malibu, CA had never seen a foursome quite like this.
Four women walked through the door heading into upscale ice cream goodness and caused every head in the room the turn. A busy during Southern California’s first heat wave of the year, men, women, and children of all shapes and sizes filled the parlour, but nothing compared to the four beauties walking in a line. They were an odd group to be sure: Two light-skinned brunettes, equal in height, walking hand-in-hand. The other two were shorter, though of a matching height to one another, but were as vastly different as the other two were similar: One with dark skin and long braids, the other the palest white possible with platinum blonde hair. All wore sunglasses, though the pale girl wore very large glasses that covered up quite a bit of her face.
“Do you not just LOVE ice cream?”
The pale girl removes her sunglasses, the oddly red eyes shining. The two taller women, Melissa Reeves of #FSociety and Cynthia Machado of The Proving Grounds, make their way to the front of the store. The short dark woman, Kenzi Grey from Ladies All-Star Wrestling, sporting what appears to be a hickie the size of a softball on her neck, including what are obviously deep teeth marks, smiles as pale girl talks. She knows what this is about.
“I LOVE ice cream. All sweet and creamy. And gelato? Might as well be the royalty of ice cream, right? What could be more appropriate for the Blood Princess?”
Sarah Selena Lacklan walks up to the front of the counter, red eyes taking in the multitude of flavors.
“All the variety in ice cream! You can have anything you want. Exotic fruits. Savory herbs. Hell, you can bacon! And I suppose that is the problem I have with you, Aiden. All these options, all this flavor in the world, and you are just plain vanilla.”
Sarah turns to the camera, a smirk on her ruby lips.
“Earlier in the week I teased you about exactly what flavor of vanilla you are. Golden? Bean? Country-churned, mayhap? I ask...I tease...because the vast majority of people cannot tell the difference from one variant of vanilla from another. Most cannot discern any difference whatsoever. Such is the case with you. All this flavor that is possible in our world, all the variety of styles and temperaments that inhabit our sport, and you are just plain vanilla. You look and talk just the same as nearly every other plebeian on Twitter. I, literally, cannot distinguish you from any of the other feckless morons I run across.
“Mind you, you are not going to lose on Sunday due to your lack of social media skills. Oh no, no no, I am not someone like Silver who thinks that any of that matters. You are going to lose on Sunday because you just do not measure up to what I have to offer. I fully understand that you have some experience in the sport. I fully understand that you have some title wins for companies who have since closed their doors. And I am not surprised by that, either: If you were the champion of my company I was shut down, too!
“But when it comes to me? The Inferno Network is dying, literally dying, to have my face plastered everywhere. As I recently brought up on my totes popular blog, I have been able to run roughshod over people in Fucking Awesome and been gifted titles matches as a reward. They want me. They want my flavor. And when compared to you? When compared to your vanilla? I might as well be sprinkled rainbow. On fire.”
Sarah looks back to the display of italian ice treats and notices what two of her friends have ordered. Melissa has something with chunks of cookie in it (Holy crap! She DOES like biscuits?!), while Cynthia has a bowl of something white.
“Cyn! Really?! I am *trying* to make a point here!”
The Tennessee transplant smiles and shrugs her shoulders and she and Sarah’s tag partner find a table. Sarah gives them both one of her patented massive eyerolls and turns back to the display.
“ANYWAY! While it is true that vanilla still is the number one selling ice cream flavor, it is not because of quality. No...oh no...it is because most people are sheep. Because most people would rather live in their little zone of comfort, in their little bubble of life. But I refuse to live that way. I refuse to be ordinary. I choose to be brighter than the sun.”
Sarah smirks as she chooses her own flavor: Chocolate. She offers Kenzi a wink but the multi-media star just turns to the counter. When Kenzi speaks to the man behind the counter, she does so in a remarkably accurate imitation of Sarah’s British accent and perfect diction.
“Platinum vanilla please, with a hint of lavender. And if you get it wrong, I will burn your entire shop to the ground.”
The attendant is not sure what to think, but Kenzi immediately giggles and looks at Sarah. Sarah’s own face is pure annoyance. Kenzi nudges her with her shoulder and Sarah rolls her eyes again, another exaggerated movement. She turns back to the camera.
“You lack any and all plumage, Sir. Generic face and voice, generic size, generic style. Even your girl is as basic as they come. You have no weapons in which to harm me, no power to do anything more than fall to the mat when I breath on you. So please, do yourself a favor and just stay home. Enjoy your time with your child. Enjoy your Plain Jane girl. You cannot measure up to fantastic reality of who and what I am. I am the Firestarter, the Bloodletter, the red and black, the revolution. And boring, monotonous little boys like you are exactly why I fight, exactly why God has granted me with His Light.”
Kenzi takes the two cups of gelato and joins her friends at the table, but Sarah stays where she is, again looking over the flavors. She offers a smirk as she looks at a burst of red: Dragonfruit.
“At least your partner has some color.”
Sarah motions to the attendant and the man in the white apron gives her a sample. Sarah takes the profered spoon in her mouth, red eyes closing, a look of contentment coming to her sharp features. There is a twinkle in her eyes as she opens them.
“Not quite my prefered flavor,” she says with a sideways glance to the woman at the table who, clear as day to anyone watching, has bright scratch marks along skin exposed above her shirt’s neckline, “but I *do* enjoy myself a rapscallion. I have never been the biggest fan of Irish cooking, I will skip the pig’s blood and all, but there is a certain...delicacy...in scoundrel.”
Sarah sticks her tongue out and licks the spoon clean, her red eyes suddenly smoky. She takes extra long doing so, licking the spoon well after it is clean. Then she giggles and winks at the camera.
“Hope you enjoyed that, Rosa.”
She giggles again, even clapping her hands in delight, her high voice childlike for a moment.
“As I mentioned earlier this week, Ryan, the biggest downfall that you and Aiden face is the fact that you are not a team. Oh, certainly, you are both big, strong, burly men. Particularly you! Massive! You are over a foot taller than me and weigh over a hundred pounds more than I do! But I fear no evil, no brute. You may well stand as the oak in this match, strong and resolute, but my massive legs are build to chop down trees. And down you shall go, down you shall fall.
“Your bland partner will not do you any good, either, Ryan. The Random Jobber Team? The two people from the Proving Grounds thrust together to face one of the premiere tag teams within all of the Inferno Network? This is no cinderella story, dearie. You two shall fall quickly and soundly to the united front of Melissa and I. Because as I have mentioned before in the past few weeks, Melissa and I are not just two people. We are a team. We fight together, eat together, train together. We have been working on a new move, a piece of tandem offense, which we would love to debut by blasting one of you. Hell, we even eat fancy Italian ice cream together.”
Sarah smiles as she makes her way over to the table with her friends.
“Your family name will not save you, dearie. All of our joked with one another about prison changing you will not save you. You getting into trouble because of silly flirtations will not save you. Nothing will. The two of you are fighting history and are that is a losing battle. Years from now, the students of the future will look back on the reign of the Blood Reavers, studying how the team of Lacklan and Reeves went on to dominate tag wrestling, and they will not even know yours names. Just two random people thrust together in a failing bid to stop the inevitable. Locke and Keyes got lucky at Cold Down when they pinned another nameless, inconsequential loser. Their titles will be ours before long. But you? I will not even remember your names by next week.”
Sarah stops and looks at the table with her friends, red eyes locked on the tight braids of the girl sitting away from her. From here she can see both the mark on her neck and the scratches along her back.
“Some realizations are sought and other seek you. And the realization Random Jobber Team is going to have? It is seeking them. You either choose to ride the flames or you hide from them. I choose to ride them.”
~~Two Days Before -- Sunday, March 12th, 2017: OFF CAMERA~~
Jean-Paul Lacklan could feel each and every one of his years as he sat on a bench in his weight room. Wearing nothing but a white muscle shirt and tight black pants, his half-mask covering the lower half of his face, he could feel his body being eaten away. The cancer had started in his skin all those years ago, but its relentless assault on his body, from organs to entire respiratory system, had been ruthless, without mercy.
How long since he had been able to breath fully, to take open his mouth wide and fill his lungs? Months. The hunk of metal and wires surgically placed in his throat, the only thing that allowed him to talk, had severely limited his ability to breath. It had turned his deep baritone into a mockery of of its former gravity, leaving something less human and more robotic. His head, the flesh of his hairless scalp naught but a mass of red and purple burns, the flesh mottled, felt as it was freshy on fire, as if that day long ago was revisiting him so close to the end. His entire body was a mess. He needed a cane to walk anywhere, and even getting out of bed was a struggle most days.
Oh, to be taken away to His side, to rejoin his Beloved Selena after all these years. To be free of the pain. He had no strength left. No strength.
Except for the pillar of strength pressed against his back.
His daughter, his lovely, loving daughter. Sarah. She sat opposite, their backs pressed against each other, the scritching of her quill on a pad of paper the only sound in the room. How many times had they sat in this very position, their backs pressed against the other, lending the other strength in silence? Countless. Even as a little girl, she found herself leaning against him as he worked. Writing letters or sermons, perhaps just speaking to God, and a little child, her albino condition making her seem a red-eyed ghost, lending him her strength.
The day she realized for the first time, at the tender age of five, that the mother she never knew, the mother taken away just moments after her own birth, never going to walk through that door, no matter how hard she prayed.
The day she left school, having completed all of her credits two years early, and needed support in her decision on what to do with her life.
The day he finally decided to let her train to become a wrestler, both under his instruction and under his friend Nikita Dolore.
The day he learned of the cancer...and then of the terminal reality of it.
And now today. The day he was to let her go. Forever.
Her life had been tumultuous, this he knew. A lifetime of people, his people, the people who had flocked to him and his message of salvation, looking to her not as a person but as an idea. A lifetime of being treated differently because of what she looked like. A lifetime of living in the shadow of the Voice of God. He did not envy her task of spreading her own wings.
But spread she did! He was infinitely proud of her, as proud as any father could be. As much as he may have argued initially, she was succeeding as a professional wrestler, even starting in the tag team division, just like he did. And she was making friends outside of the compound, just as he had charged her to. He knew she ran into initial difficulty, even a few crushing defeats, particularly with girls her age, but she was succeeding now. She beamed when speaking of her tag partner, Melissa, and the circle of friends involved with her. But a whole different look entered her eye when she spoke of Mackenzie, the girl who visited to so much fanfare two weeks before. They even got arrested together! He had begun to worry that Sarah was being too reserved; after all, her mother had been arrested for the first time at 16.
And now...now...she was leaving him. She was moving out to Hollywood, all the way on the other side of the country in California. The why of it made sense, of course: She would be near her partner, allowing them to train together, and she would be but a few hours from Las Vegas, the home location for one of her companies, and Los Angeles boasted one of the largest airports in the world. It all made practical sense. But he needed to truly be on her own, to truly separate herself from the strings of Lacklanland. She was to live on a stipend, and not be able to call upon the coffers for any reason, and even learn to drive a car. She visibly pouted at that demand!
She was leaving. Tomorrow. And here she was, her back pressed against his as she had always done, drawing in her pad. She needed something. And he would provide what little strength he had left.
“Father?”
Lacklan’s lips, dried and cracked though they were, smiled from underneath his mask. While his daughter had never known her mother, she was still somehow her carbon copy. Her voice carried Selena’s Londoner tongue, his Beloved’s clear and perfect diction. The soft “as” in Father always made his heart melt.
“Daughter?” Even that one word pained him, his throat straining.
“Is love important?”
Odd question. Matters of the heart never seemed to matter much to her.
“Of course, Daughter. It is one of the few pure things in this world. It is worth fighting for.”
The scritch of her quill on the pad of paper.
“Is it worth sacrifice? Even when it hurts?”
“Especially when it hurts. But remember what I told you before: It must be easy. If it is not? Then it is not real.”
The scritch of her quill on the pad of paper.
“I have met someone, Father.”
Ah. There it is. What this is all about. Is that why she was so happy this weekend? Her entire trip home to visit him had been a whirlwind of his petulant princess, but everything had suddenly changed yesterday morning. The servants said that she had been seen making a dash, a true sprint, to her bedchamber, her phone in her hand. And then it was nothing but sunshine and rainbows from her. Well, relatively, anyway.
“Oh?”
The scritch of her quill on the pad of paper.
“What if I told you this person was...different...from us. Very different.”
Interesting.
“I would commend you, then. You need more culture than what Lacklanland has to offer.”
The scritch of her quill on the pad of paper.
“What if I told you this person was black?”
Odd question. There must be something else here, something deep.
“What does race or ethnicity have to matter? God sees us all the same.”
The scritch of her quill on the pad of paper.
“What if I told you this person was a girl?”
That came out as a whisper. He could feel her body shift against him, her posture and countenance changing. This...this was important.
“What are you saying, Daughter?”
Silence. No scritching of the quill.
“Father...Daddy…”
She had not called him “Daddy” since she was seven. There was a quiver in her voice.
“I think I’m gay.”
She sounds almost broken. Why?
The large man turns slowly, his body groaning in protest, his left knee needing his hands to assist in its operation. But he does turn to face his daughter. But he sees her back, she has not turned.
“You have had male suitors before.”
“Yes,” she says, her shoulders slumping. “Recently, in fact. But...there is alway something...wrong. Like...it’s just...hard, you know? And you say that love is supposed to be easy, that the love you and Mother shared was effortless. And it doesn’t feel that way.”
She pauses, her shoulders still slumped, such a foreign picture from her usual prideful bearing.
“But with her...it just feels RIGHT. Like...we were meant to be together. And I...I just...I am so afraid that you...that you will be ashamed of me...”
Those last few words come out as a sob. She was crying. He had not seen her cry in many years.
Lacklan takes her by the shoulders and gently turns her, his grip as if he is holding a small bird: Too gentle and she will fly away, too strong and he will crush her. As she turns, he sees her sketchpad, sees what she has been drawing as they held each other up with their shared strength. A girl. A woman. Dark skinned. Freckled nose. Braids.
Ah. Now he understands. Her fierce and excitable friend.
He takes her chin in his hand, lifting it up. She was so beautiful, as if God had taken his Beloved’s face and frosted it, made it moonlight, and placed rubies in her eyes.
“Nothing you could ever say, or ever do, would make me be ashamed of you. You are my daughter, my Blood Princess. And I hope that what you and Mackenzie have, and what you find, equals what I and your mother had.”
Tears stream down her face openly now. One final piece of advice. One final moment to be his little girl’s hero.
“If you love her, do not let her go, no matter what. Do you understand?”
She burst into tears, unabashedly weeping, and leaps into his arms. Lacklan holds his daughter, feeling her hot tears soaking his shirt, feeling them slick his chest. He held her, proud of her, ready to let her go, to let her be her own woman. Deep inside him, he feared that it would be the last time he ever saw her.
He was right.
End.
