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Shilo Valiant & Marina Trent vs. Syren & Ravyn Tay
Topic Started: Mar 11 2010, 12:15 PM (236 Views)
Kassie Khane
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Admin and Second in Command of the Nation of Moderation
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Shilo Valiant & Marina Trent vs. Syren & Ravyn Taylor

Deadline: Noon EST Tuesday, March 16, 2010
RP Limit: 2 RP per person, per match
~~Good Luck to Everyone!~~
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Syren
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So Totally Awesome!
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My first. This week I'm introducing a new little segment in both Syren and Ravyn's RPs, a concept I used when I first came up with a Ravyn character (except back then it was in show segments and not RPs) - RTV! Basically it's little videos that Ravyn films. I have a few in mind that will tie in to both Jon's Lucas Knight RPs and my Syren RPs this week and show more about what Ravyn gets up to when she's not hanging out with Syren. They're all planned to be amazingly short and the first builds on a confrontation between Ravyn and Jacob Knight in my previous RP.

I don't plan for them to be every RP or for this one to count as a Ravyn RP, I have entirely separate stuff for Ravyn. Hope you enjoy both, I'd love feedback on either or both if anybody feels like giving any.

------

The Syren Song: Verse 26
“Stalkers are people too”


And as an addition...
Ravyn Taylor Presents
RTV || Episode 001: My First Video
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Ravyn
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The first from the delectable super-genius for the week, and the second episode of RTV rolled in as a bonus! The diary continues on from the previous entry, quite literally the next day. If you don't remember where we left off Ravyn had been granted a weekend pass to go home with her parents, whom she despises. That isn't about to change with spending the weekend with them either.

The RTV episode is once more from a few weeks ago and is a proper introduction to Marcus King, since he's appeared in Syren's RPs and at the shows several times without ever being properly introduced. This is why RTV exists after all, it allows me to tell her story from two points in time, both where she is now and how she got there and I quite like the differences in her that have obviously occurred in the last five years. ^_^

As normal, enjoy!

------

Ravyn Taylor's Diary
April 10th 2005


And as an addition
Ravyn Taylor Presents
RTV || Episode 002: Wrestling School Revolution
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Marina Trent
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The Black Swan
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_____________________________________________



Two pairs of hands closed over both suitcase latches at either end, and grappled, prying fingers under and flicking the metal fasteners up so they saluted to the mischief that permeated the hotel room like warriors to the cause. A small giggle sounded and a woman’s soft shush followed quickly after, coaxing the sound to rest into silence, out of fear their adventure and excavation be discovered. The grey suitcase opened, slow until it was jolted to a halt, a submission by the same eager hands that sought its contents.

The contents in question, at immediate sight, were not what these cheeky hunters were seeking and after a pause, the smallest pair of hands dived in and pulled the squashed mess of clothing and unidentified possessions up and out behind them in one bunch, two…

?
No, no! Gently, we have to put it back.

The same young woman who quieted the little figure now whispered urgently, though softly in regard, calming the bundle of excitement that kneeled beside her, arms full with dark matter and froze before dumping a second pile in a hurry to empty the case.

?
No need to rush, little one.

The dark-haired head peeking from behind the pile of clothes, nodded, setting the large lump of blacks, browns and blues behind them with the help of the young woman. After a moment, raising up onto their knees, hands again breached the strong border of the suitcase and very quietly shuffled through the remaining items, searching.

?
Ah hah.

A giggle sounded once… and then twice, in chorus between both ladies, one littler than the other, as they gathered their treasure into a separate bag, brought for the very purpose of safely transporting their find. Once the search items were secure, the hands went to work, restoring the state of the suitcase’s contents in a relatively orderly manner, though no more than they were initially. Taking care not to allow the suitcase lid to snap close and disrupt the stealth operation, it was lowered slowly before being pressed tight by one set of strong, yet lithe fingers, and locked closed by a smaller pair of hands - that of a child’s - smothering the salutes of latch one, latch two.

?
Mission accomplished.

The woman smiled adoringly at the grinning girl, who looked increasingly pleased with successfully fulfilling her duty alongside her partner-in-crime, as she pushed herself to her feet and subsequently took the young child’s hand in her left and ‘the bag of treasure’ in her right. Before she had even straightened, they were moving forwards, pattering with bare feet out of the lounge suite and into the bedroom.


___________________



Her beautiful giggles were contagious and by the time we crossed the living area and reached the bedroom of the hotel suite we were currently lodging in, I was full-blown laughing heartedly. I let her hand slip from mine and watched as she crawled on her arms and then hands and knees into the middle of the bed before flopping her bottom onto the disheveled sheets and giggling - near cackling now - shining with her laughter. I clutched the bag hanging from my hand up to my chest, as if the pressure would slow my heart that crashing about within there. As she and I quieted, though the excitement from our adventure remained heavy surrounding us, I followed her onto the bed until my legs were crossed indian-style, my back facing the door and my eyes to the child who had become my own weeks ago.

Marina
Well done, dear.

The dear girl’s smile lit up even more if that was possible.

Gwynplaine
We did it!

Marina
Yes, but remember…

I leant into her, lowering my voice and whispering to her in a playfully worrisome manner.

Marina
We have to be careful. Should we be in danger of being caught, just pretend, okay?

She nodded surely, a comically serious expression lining her pale, youthful face, the tiniest crease in her brow.

Gwynplaine
Operation Pup-

Marina
Ssh!

Her voice had been loud and clear in the bedroom, sharply raising one arm between us - a sole index finger pointed up - in a form of proclamation. I chuckled softly, enclosing her little fist within my gentle grasp, before bringing our hands to my lips and kissing the extended and exposed digit with a press of my lips. The giggle it wrought from her pulled at my heart.

I lower our locked hands to the bed between us, only to let go in order to reach for the bag in which the items of our hunt in question, reside. Setting it on my lap, Gwynplaine watches me patiently with a sweet curve of her lips - her hands tucked between crossed legs, mirroring mine - as I arrange the handles out of the way and reach into the cotton and pull out, one by one, the most precious of, well… theoretically speaking, inanimate objects.


___________________


Marina
Presenting!

I spread my arms out, holding them strong and reminiscent of a showgirl in my characterisation, making the most of the joy on Gwynplaine’s happy face, her smile providing the spotlight; at least it seemed that way. The Cerulean Tear, minus the costume and make-up, was calling this one…

With the help of my little associate, we had spent the last twenty or so minutes - I imagine longer, though - making over the contents that we had stol--borrowed from Shilo’s suitcase. We dressed the manic wonders birthed of Karnivale’s genius into two creations that even I beheld with equal horror, amusement and cunning pleasure.

Of course, to Gwyn, we were simply playing. From the moment the thought crossed my mind to utilise the sock puppets that were kept safely hidden at the bottom of his suitcase, although not anymore, as a way of entertaining the young child, I immediately imagined it to be a perfect way to mentally affiliate myself and Gwynplaine with aspects of mine and Shilo’s lives - without exposing her to the dangers and aspects that were inappropriate for a five year old. Since she had asked, “can you tell me a story,” something I hear from the young child on a regular basis, I suppose it was only a matter of time that these wooly instruments of terror were put to good use out-of-hours. Of course, who says I cannot have fun with this, too? In the first place, without any doubt, I adore every moment with my little one; Marina Trent enjoys creating worlds and singing tales to Gwynplaine as if she was truly her child. But this? This… this was the Cerulean Tear, enjoying herself, in deranged harmony; exercising her guile and operating the wit that steels the reserve of SCW’s arising daredevil.

I demurely snake a hand and then the other into the bag, which is still placed in my lap, reaching into it and biding time, working within the cotton, feeling the wool scratch against my forearms as I prepare.

In contrast to my previous presentation of grace, I yank a sock-clad arm unceremoniously from its residence within the bag and jerk it to a stop in front of a mesmerised Gwynplaine. She erupts into ringing laughter and I pull my other hand out, in the intention of putting a finger to my lips and indicate to her to take care in not making too much noise - out of fear of being discovered - only to get a mouthful of yellow and black yarn that served as hair to the pink sock. It had wobbly eyes that Gwyn had picked, glued unevenly by yours truly, and a frightening pattern of black that criss-crossed down the body of the sock. Spitting out shedding yarn from my mouth, causing the child across from me to continue her laughter, I recover my mishap and set my arms before me, curving my wrists and displaying the unveiled odditi--abominations in just, sock-puppet fashion; undignified in their representation.

Continuing, despite the lapse in the ‘grand’ reveal, I open the horrific pink mouth of the sock, situated on my left, using the contorted form of my hand to emulate the words I voice, silly and screeching:

?
Hey yah, ‘m So Totally--

Poking out my tongue from my lips, I blow an air raspberry, sending Gwynplaine into a fit of giggles. I grin happily before resuming my monologue, puppeteering the mouth in an almost morbid way.

Sock-puppet Vampy-Fish
Hiya Woe-Birdie, you are lookin’ real crazy today!

Rotating the head of the sock-puppet on my right, I make it look at Gwynplaine and incline its head topped with brown yarn. It is pink, too, however it’s been adorned with a strip of black about its ‘neck.’ I open its mouth and drone my words.

Sock-puppet Woe-Birdie
You’re not looking too bad yourself, I think you are so awesome.

Sock-puppet Vampy-Fish
Hey! No close, you don’t touch this amazingness!

Sock-puppet Woe-Birdie
Gal, you don’t know what you’re messing with, I have true skills and know long words like supercalifragilisticexpialidocious. I’ve been working real hard--

Curling my left wrist, I emulate Vampy-Fish to nip at her own sock-puppet body in a strange, ape-like manner, gnawing at the wool with the contorted mouth as if ignoring her sock-puppet friend and, or opposition. Gwynplaine reaches out and bumps the pitifully distracted sock-puppet with a spread palm. Recovering, Vampy-Fish lashes out at the disturbance - not to the young girl - but to the jerkish sock-puppet on my right hand.

Sock-puppet Woe-Birdie
Ow. What--

The attacking pink sock continues to nip at the body of its supposed companion, irritating it retaliate. Gwynplaine’s laughter crescendos as both sock-puppets begin to screech between them, battling with their (feral) mouths, pulling at yarn-hair, bashing against each other; the most retarded cat fight ever to erupt… between two sock puppets…

An uneven timed knock to the bedroom door startles everything into silence and I quickly peel - more like rip - the woolen horrors from my arms, shoving them into the bag as Gwynplaine watches the door, almost terrified, her rose-bud mouth dropped open. I twist to watch the door open very, very slowly - even comically. Shilo’s head pops around the door frame.

He raises a suspicious eyebrow and I watch as his eyes scan the room before focusing in on us.

Shilo
Hi there.

I can only imagine how inconspicuous Gwyn and I must look, cross-legged, our knees brushing each others, though turning to smile innocently at the man who had befallen to our wicked plan. But if that was to change, it was now.

Marina
Hello, love.

I casually gesture to Gwynplaine, working to keep my voice relaxed.

Marina
We were just story-telling.

It wasn’t a lie.

Shilo
Oh, really?

Gwynplaine’s vigorous nod in conjunction with my forcefully sweet expression couldn’t have been more farcical than something Sperling or Taylor would throw about in one of their promotional letters. I wondered how long it would take for my mate to be sure we were up to no good.

His expression went from seemingly suspicious in jest to genuinely intrigued and within moments his entire form breached the door way and he dashed over to both of us, letting the mattress catch him, reclined on his side, head propped up by his left hand. Gwynplaine let out a squeak of surprise and my heart rate sky-rocketed. Uh oh.

Shilo
So…

That cunning grin emerged onto his face as he looked from me, fidgeting, to Gwyn as she stared at him as if he’d grown an extra couple of heads. His eyebrows wiggled in cheek at Gwynplaine, before shifting his eyes to me; gods, there was no chance of escape now. Abandon ship?

Shilo
What story? Why didn’t I get an invite?

I shake my a little at his humour, smiling, hoping my demeanour would relax the tense child across from me.

Shilo
What kind of story?

Marina
A fantasy.

He whistles, understanding.

I chuckle softly, absent-mindedly pushing the bag between all three of us off the edge of the bed and onto the floor, nearest to me. Some deity had other ideas and, to myself and Gwynplaine’s misfortune, a handle caught on my right arm as I attempted to smoothly excavate the danger from the situation. Shilo’s reflexes are sharp, fast and it was mere seconds before he had snatched the bag and dashed off the bed, away from my reach, in case I retaliated. Little Gwyn slid off the bed and put herself behind my seated self, pressing to my my back and fisting her hands in my t-shirt.

If anything, I didn’t feel horrible that we had gone and borrowed Karnivale’s material for entertainment purposes without consulting Shilo - kind of a double positive, but still - though I felt terrible that this game had programmed Gwynplaine to feel fear in the wake of the imminent discovery of our mischievous labours.

I reach behind, holding the child to me and speak softly.

Marina
It’s okay, little one, don’t worry.

I watch, in some level of satisfactory pleasure as Shilo reaches into the bag, head lowered and releases a gasp.

Marina
Mission abolished, little one.

Shilo
What did you do?!

He pulls out the pink atrocities, holding them out in front of him as if they’re diseased. His incredulous expression changes into horror as he realises further of the ‘damage’ done.

Shilo
Sock-puppet Jesus?! You cross-dressing traitor!

Marina
That’s Vampy-Fish.

His disbelieving expression, frozen on his face, shifts to focus on me. A minute or so passes, his face steadily slackening. Eventually deadpan, he strains to grasp this insanity - and that, my friends, is an accomplishment not many can declare.

Shilo
Vampy-Fish?

Marina
Vampy-Fish. And that’s Woe-Birdie.

He blinks once, twice…

Shilo
… You know, sometimes I think maybe I’ve rubbed off a little too much of you.

I shrug, now grinning. He features relax into a near evil grin to match my own as he again returns his regard to the sock-puppet creations once more. Shaking his head slightly, he proclaims:

Shilo
Brilliant.

But before he can return to the bed or even exchange another thought, little hands yank both excruciatingly pink slops of wool and begin to attack Shilo’s side with them. The slap-slap against his clothing and the sight of Gwynplaine concentrating on defending their mission - the small crease in her brow, returning - I allow myself to keel over onto the bed and ascend into a fit of hysterics.

Shilo
Marinaaa!

Gwyn’s angelic laughter joins mine in chorus for a few moments, only to stutter and transition into happy shrieks as I hear Shilo roar playfully. Two weights, one much heavier than the other, join me on the bed, and I listen with a light heart, closed eyes, to the laughter reverberating throughout the room.

And two pink stains of wool lie on the carpet, abandoned.


__________________________________


There is a sacredness in tears. They are not the mark of weakness, but of power. Washington Irving

___________________



Shutter your eyes. The darkest exposure bodes and it is a horror that will bleed every soul.

That is, if you have them, Girls of the Fantastical Delusions.

The mind is assuredly indicative of many aspects of the self and given the state of either of your own, let’s be clear: soul or no, something shall crack at the impact of your fall from grace, Dark Fantasy, this Breakdown. Bone and spirit.

To enlighten; Ravyn - supposably of sound mind - you adamantly speak of prophetic virtues. Given your apparent high level of intelligence, while that in itself is questionable in consideration of your resolve altogether, to what extent does your analytical ramblings have to do with the circumstance of those whom you do not understand. You have met myself in the arena once before and yet you are proclaiming nonsense about the entirety of Karnivale as if it is some sort of godly truth. My, I did not expect anything less. While it would be a waste of breath to assist you away from your delusions, for obvious redundant reasons, I do seek to shine light on the Dark, the fragmented triad that you regard yourself within; Karnivale remains to be a force that you yourself have yet to encounter. Regarding your promotional letter, I somewhat pity the misconceptions that you boast over a power you know not of at any length. And yet, you speak in the same breadth of virtue, which applies to one’s morale, despite the fact you are making psychoanalytical ‘conclusions’ and assumptions based upon what? Words on the cross-wind? Match dates? Your self-professed ‘superiority’? Swallow that complex, before you choke on more than you can chew.

What you don’t understand, and I do not expect you to, is that power is not alluring to the pure of mind. Championships have never held allure to the myself or the Necro-Merchant at face value, for what is “disgraceful” is that you make such an assumption. If you knew anything of whom you are set to face within the ring, you would not make such a fatal error of character judgement - to alleviate your psychiatric reference fancies. And if such an error indicates what the Necro-Merchant and the Cerulean Tear must tolerate when we meet you in the arena, I pity Syren. For someone who is deluded by priding herself on supposably being able to read their opponent, Ravyn, you waste a lot of ink and breath failing to conclude succinctly on the matter. One little mistake, be reassured, I shall be there to pin you post the fall.

Analyses and formulaic ways of thinking are static and I am intrigued, once again, how this stunted approach shall apply to your technique within the ring, how, further along the track, your lack of imagination will play upon the development - and lack thereof - in your wrestling career, in like. You do well to present the same old bullshit, little birdie. I warn you; this cat is hungry.

Enlightening you further - poor dear, kept in the Dark - amid all the rambling of milestones and lost opportunities, Karnivale’s history is not and has never been made in one night. We are making our history, writing our manifesto and conquering the best and worst to attain where we wish to be, and that… even then, we do not speak of championships, though, yes, they are what reels in the money and here be the light: whether we must claim a title in order to earn our pay, we will, regardless of whom sweats under the belt’s leather. Karnivale are writing their history… Where is yours, Dark and Delusional? Possibly stagnant and rotting in the fracture stressing and growing between you both?

Your glory at either side - hardly alongside, I have not once seen you compete as such on a significant level - exists frail and by loose threads, have you noticed? Oh, why yes, you have. Syren, do you hear? If my perfect vision informs me… well, perfectly… Ms. Taylor addresses to SCW itself that your reign grows stale despite her best interests and loyalty to you. Yes, you have far to fall, indeed. Quite simply, it’s sweet, and not to dumb things down in order for either of you to listen and absorb the following closely - of course, I wouldn’t bother for two compulsively self-obsessed mongrels - what do you have between you exactly? To be honest, Syren, I never understood what Ravyn saw in you. She is an opportunist, for that I know better than even yourself, having stood as an opposition, before her, and why should that mode of thought change, particularly in one so fixed in her delusional complexes that reality warps around her - like space with gravity.

If anything, I am patient to see the day when she concludes that the only thing between her and a championship title shot is the one with who she is affiliated and adjoined with in the first instance, ultimately resentfully and against her ‘higher’ interests. All I see is a constant imbalance, a stretch of compromise; trust for a share of power between two completely self-absorbed, which only contradicts the nature of such a relationship in itself.

Your confidence in each other and in yourselves in admirable - it is a power to behold - until one notes that it is that power which denotes the very prelude to corruption within the self and the collective. Why, Ravyn, you are quick to speak of the arrogance of others, are you not? Tell me, how long does it take for you to quiet about that which you know little of when a cerulean blue knee meets violently with your jaw? It would be a pleasure to experiment upon that with you when our match comes to pass.

Though, I have felt your flesh bruise, little birdie; what does the reigning Women’s Champion of SCW sound when she screams in submission? Siren-like or siren-like? My bets are on ‘banshee.’ I am intrigued, because, Syren, there remains much hype about your form within the ring. Agreed, never mind what lies, or doesn’t, within that dusty skull of yours, ripe with chemical staining as a result of painting peroxide through your hair on a frequent basis… you’ve been knocked in the head a couple of times, too, yes? No no, it’s understandable, I vow not to let you have it lightly and subordinate every impact Shilo Valiant and I shall inflict upon you. Yes, you too, Ravyn… masochistic feral.

To encounter your form within the ring will be a venture to foreshadow a greater rising for the Cerulean Tear, a conquering, so… do not disappoint me, Syren. Do you dare to, otherwise?

Not that I care, truthfully, and whether you are surprised or not at that, it is not of a concern in the same way that I am unfazed by how continuously my opponents underestimate my focus, drive and have disregarded the capacity I uphold to learn swiftly regarding all aspects of SCW and the wrestling world. My birth into this has been rightfully harsh and challenging, participating in demanding matches, and yet, do you see where I stand? Beside one who I have known long before seeking to dominate this world, unlike yourselves, consecutively battling with our hearts on the mat and our souls above the rest. There remains nothing for either of you to vouch for at such a level; your loyalty, vain as the festering layer of ignorance clinging underneath your skin.

Vengeance, in like, is vain. What value does it have? It certainly doesn’t pay.

It nearly floors me, though not quite, how much people are able to function, clouded by fallacy and constantly spitting their own self-worth onto everyone and everywhere.

In truth, relish in your misconceptions and play upon your primary insults akin to that of an insecure child, abusing as she may have been once abused, believing I reside in complacency. Fall under the illusion many have already suffered as a result of, fixing themselves sure that I exist as a farce. And “untested?” Goodness and I thought self-obsession couldn’t have inflicted so strongly upon your capacity to understand the happenings of SCW that may not involve you but hold relevance, but… apparently not.

Oh, girls, you make me laugh. Wipe the mess from your eyes, the arrogance that gathers in their corners, for you do not realise - once again - the Cerulean Tear falls freely and willingly, with grace. She dives in a spectacle, descending into the storm that is where she reigns.

A sole tear in a sea of light.

Fantastical failure awaits you both, creatures of delusion, surreal and bloodied, swallowing your fall and wrenching you down to lie under the feet of the Necro-Merchant and the Cerulean Tear.

Have fear, for not even your fantasies will drown out the pain and splendor of falling to the depths of the dare devil’s kingdom, screaming blue and burning in the light, unprotected from your Dark.


_____________________________________________

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Shilo Valiant
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NECROPHOBIA!


Record: 12-2-1
Next Match: Vs. Dark Fantasy w/ Marina Trent


“Down My Boulevard of Broken Dreams”


The night was already here, with less than twenty-four hours left before Breakdown. Two days and it still hadn’t really sunk in.

“Down the Boulevard of Broken Dreams”


The radio’s numbers glowed their green, revealing the time as 2:53 am. That meant I had been pacing in a circle on top of the plush, white carpet of the bedroom for the last two hours. So I had been thinking. What did anyone expect?

“I welcome you to your permanent resident of the Boulevard of Broken Dreams”

I felt the sting in my ribs from the last spear. The doctors had asked me to be careful. Too bad no one had asked Christian Savior to do so. He had aggravated the injury, more than I was willing to admit. Nothing serious that required time off, but still rather painful. Still, living through pain was part of the job, at least that’s what I’d be taught to believe by the SCW roster.

“Trapped and walking down…”

I shook my head so I didn’t have to hear my voice again. I had lost. Pure and simple. More than that, I had been pinned for the first time in my career. Six months of being a wrestler and not once had I been pinned or forced to submit. And with twelve victories out of fifteen matches to my name, that made an average higher than anything I had achieved in the classes Spider had taught me. Still, to lose to my old friend, turned enemy.

--Shilo--
What’s next?

To be honest, every time I had entered the ring and saw the fan signs like “Shilo Valiant = Unbeatable” or “Necro!!!” or “Can’t stop the Boulevard”, it had made me feel…special. Now, those signs would not be up anymore. They would be lies if they were. Retribution had done more than break a record or begin a new era. It had severely crippled Karnivale. With Masquerade losing his Adrenaline title, and my United States Championship being taken from Savior, we had little to nothing to bounce off of for this Breakdown. Still, to have that concept of invincibility taken from me felt strange…

--Shilo--
But in a way good.

My voice whispered quietly. It felt different now. I didn’t feel the need to try and maintain my “winning streak” now that it was over. I didn’t feel the need to hide any weaknesses. Was I pissed at losing the title? Sure, it meant a drop in paycheque, so who wouldn’t be pissed?

As my jeans rubbed against the carpet floor, I wanted to feel upset that Savior had beat me. I wanted to feel rage that the bad guy had won in this case. I wanted to, but I couldn’t. The better wrestler had won. The five-year veteran had bested the rookie by a stroke of fortune. So I had lost the battle this time. Someday, I would get a rematch for the United States Championship…maybe even the Heavyweight Championship, and when I did, should it be Savior again…I would be ready.

--Shilo--
Ready and trained!

***********************************************************************

The alarm clock went off as the few strings of a familiar chord play. As Shilo Valiant pulls himself out of his bed, he quickly dressed before heading to the fridge. He was but a few hours away from Breakdown, and he wanted to be ready. No more losses. No more excuses. Training!

With sluggish movements brought by his still sleepy demeanor, Shilo reaches the kitchen. Quietly, he pulls out a large glass from a drawer and three eggs from the fridge. Slowly he breaks said eggs into the glass, making sure not to get any shells within the glass. Looking at the glass’ new contents, the drowsy Necro-Merchant fishes out a fork from a nearby counter before mixing the eggs together. With one last gulp of spit, Shilo pours the contents into his mouth, whisking the eggs around with his tongue and cheek…

Before spitting them into a nearby frying pan. Turning on the power, Shilo waits patiently for the eggs to cook, thus becoming scrambled eggs. The music in the background continues in its low volume chord as Valiant quickly serves the scrambled eggs onto a plate before wolfing them back. As the first few notes of a song are heard, Shilo is then suddenly seen running out of the hotel, dressed in track pants, running shoes and a windbreaker. As he begins running, the music picks up into “Hearts On Fire” by John Cafferty.

“Silent darkness creeps into your soul
And removes the light of self-control”

A shot of Shilo is seen as he runs through the streets, passing the occasional drunk and bum. Eventually, he crosses a street, making sure to adhere to all lights and signs before reaching a small, local gym. To his dismay, however, the gym is closed, preventing him access as the music continues. Determined not to ever give up despite this defeat, Shilo pushes onward, the music building.

“The cave that holds you captive has no doors”

Another shot is show of Shilo reaching another gym. This one smaller and with less of a logo design. However, like the previous one, this gym is closed. Agitated, and now slightly angered, Shilo pounds on the glass door window before running full tilt down the street, sweat glistening off his face.

“Burnin' with determination
To even up the score

Hearts on fire”

Another shot. Another gym…another closed…another missed.

“Strong desire
Rages deep within”


Picking up a discarded paper, Shilo sees that a “Popeye’s Gym” is open twenty-four seven. As he reaches it, however, he discovers that the paper is two weeks old and the gym is closed for renovations. Angrily, Shilo crumples up the paper with his one hand before throwing it down the street.

”Hearts on fire
Fever's rising high
The moment of truth draws near”


As the music builds into a power and presence, Shilo is seen running full tilt up a flight of stairs. Often using his hands and legs to propel him up said stairs, he suddenly reaches the very top of the fair-escape stairs and now stands on the roof of the building. Running to the edge of the building, which is the tallest in the small subdivision that he is currently in, Shilo throws his arms in the air angrily and passionately.

--Shilo--
DRACO! I mean… WILMA! No, that’s not it… ALL CLOSED! Dammit! SYREN AND RAVYN!!! That’s the one!


Ring ring ring…

Gasping for air, Shilo hears the sound and quickly digs out his cell phone before flipping it open and pressing it to his ear.

--Shilo--
Hello?

--Marina--
Shilo, could you stop shouting please?

--Shilo--
Marina?


Indeed, perhaps it is the sound of Shilo’s dear mate that brings Shilo down from his emotional high from the endorphins.

--Marina--
What are you doing with all that shouting?

--Shilo--
You heard me from your room?

--Marina--
Shilo, you’re on top of our building. The windows in my room are open, and I am four floors underneath you, so yes.

--Shilo--
Amazing.

--Marina--
Would you please get back in here before you wake Gwynplaine up and/or catching your death of cold!

--Shilo--
Yes mom.

--Marina--
Don’t give me that sass!


Groaning, the Necro-merchant flips off his phone and shoves it in his pocket before turning to look at the roof…where the orchestra has followed him.

--Shilo--
Nice work guys. Sorry, though, gotta go home now.

--Orchestra--
Awwww.

--Shilo--
Now now. I’ll see you guys in my next montage. I promise.


The orchestra become all smiles as they slowly make their way back to street level with Shilo. As he makes his way towards his hotel, Shilo suddenly turns to the band as they look up at him.

--Shilo--
Hey, can one of you guys play that sad tune from the old The Incredible Hulk?


The soft piano notes are heard in earnest as the tune plays. Slowly, Shilo begins walking up the stairs towards his sad new day…


I stick out my thumb and I could be Ravyn and Syren after they lose their job to incompetence… I mean…Doctor Banner.


***********************************************************

Shaking my head, I returned to reality as the clock struck 3 am.

--Shilo--
Maybe training isn’t a good idea.

--Marina--
No kidding. Now please come to bed.


Turning my head to observe the bed, I notice Marina’s resting form, driven awake by me somehow.

--Shilo--
What did I do?

--Marina--
You were singing that damn Rocky song and shouting names. I thought it was past lovers, but I don’t think you’ve ever done a Draco before.


Tired, and a bit teased at me, she sticks her tongue out playfully before closing her eyes for the rest of the night. As my body sighed heavily with my breath, I pulled the covers up and over to slide into the bed with my one love. I guess mental warfare was the suggestion, I thought, as my eyes slowly lowered into the slumber that awaited me…
<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

The poking of something into my forehead for what felt like the umpteenth time was enough for me to forcefully push my eyes open and stare into the dark-colored eyes of the young girl Gwynplaine. The child looked at me, her eyes dancing with fear and the temporary thought that all hope was gone. In her arms, she clutched her pillow as tightly to her small body as humanly possible.

--Gwynplaine--
Shilo?

--Shilo--
Gwynplaine?


I felt my eyes itch as I had awakened from a dream, or rather a nightmare. I had watched myself be beheaded by the guillotine, after being skewed with a rusty spear. Common idea, watching yourself be tricked, killed, or anticipating a scare, getting it and still being afraid. The mind sure loved to fuck with itself.

Checking the clock, I almost groaned out loud at the time, silencing myself so as not to awake Marina. The clock read a green and frustrating 4:19am. Turning my head back to Gwynplaine, it took a lot of energy not to yell or make my eyes bulge out of my head like Syren in a tube-top, except my eyeballs are 100% real.

--Shilo--
What’s the matter?

--Gwynplaine--
I…

She looked around, as if she was afraid that someone were watching her before her eyes settled back onto me.

--Gwynplaine--
I had a bad dream.

The way she said it, those few words, made me almost smile if I wasn’t so tired. Nightmares seemed to be a common thing in this suite. Still, with facing Dark Fantasy, which sounded like some high-budget, low-profit film made by George Lucas and Jim Henson, I needed my sleep dammit!

--Shilo--
Gwynplaine, nightmares can’t hurt you. They are just your mind working as you sleep. Now, back to bed with you.

I let my eyes happily close, enjoying the sensation that came with such an action. Unfortunately, Gwynplaine wasn’t as easily convinced.

--Gwynplaine--
But I’m still scared…

Forcing one eyes open, the other now pressed against the pillow to make this possible, I stared at this little human version of Pandora’s box.

--Shilo--
What do you want me to do then?


The small child looked down at her hands, as if they held the meaning of life, as she examined them with intricate detail. She was shy, but it did not take long for her to admit what she was thinking, not when there was a Boogie-Man on the loose somewhere in the house.

--Gwynplaine--
Can I sleep with you?

--Shilo(deadpan)--
No.

--Gwynplaine--
Shilo, please…


My open eye suddenly caught her hands shaking and her eyes shifting around the room. She was terrified and would probably have less sleep success than I would. But if I let her sleep with Marina and I, then odds are I would have zero sleep!

--Shilo--
Climb aboard.


Curse my soft heart! As I closed my eye, I heard the soft squeal of delight as Gwynplaine suddenly scampered over my form. I groaned abruptly as I felt her small foot accidentally slip and swing to land right on the right side of my face. Thank god she was small or else I probably wouldn’t have made it to the next breakdow-

I groaned loudly as the infant accidentally slammed her knee into the floating ribs of me. The ones that were not quite healed thanks to the new United States Champion. I tried not to move or make any indication that she had hurt me, instead finding relief when she slid down my back to land comfortably between Marina and I. Thank god we had both been too tired to spoon last night.

Using her pillow, Gwynplaine, as quietly as possible settled into the bed, quietly crawling under the covers before taking a small, deep breath.

--Gwynplaine--
Thanks, Shilo.

--Shilo--
Less talk, more sleep.


I said as I closed my eyes shut. I had no desire to have a conversation now. Hopefully, she would get the hint and keep quiet from here on out. I heard her readjust herself for a moment before slowly letting out one last long breath. She then settled into a normal, slow breathing pattern, as if she was trying to get to sleep, her fears gone in the safety of Marina and I. Letting out a breath with a slight smile, I was surprised when I felt the sensation of a warm hand grazing my bare arm. It was larger than Gwynplaine’s and unlike her, knew just how to touch me to make me calmer than thought possible. Releasing a breath again, I heard the sound of lips kissing something before I felt those fingers again, this time pressed to my temple gently before the hand receded. I could only assume that Marina had approved of my handling of our “daughter”.

Maybe now I can get some sleep…

I thought happily as I finally found the familiar grip of dreams and nightmares descend upon me once more…
<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

Breakdown!

--Shilo--
Okay, okay, Shy. Let’s take this from the top.

I muttered those words while I walked along the arena. Breakdown had already started, and I could hear the fans from their seats cheering and shouting at the top of their lungs. Whom they were cheering for, I couldn’t be certain. I mean, I could barely hear myself think over the noise. Good thing that hadn’t changed. Picking up the pace, I quickly reached the stairs and ascended them, one step at a time.

Okay, so I had lost to Christian Savior. I had been pinned. Was there a shame in that? Last night I had felt fine about it. The night before that I had been okay too. But now? For some reason I could not shake, there was doubt in my mind. You know when you do something risky like jumping over a park bench with a flip leap or try and play chicken with an incoming train? It’s so easy to repeat and do as long as you don’t get hurt, emotionally or physically. Well, both had happened to me and I couldn’t shake the reality that it might happen again.

--Shilo--
Who am I kidding?! I’m about to wrestle with three other women in the ring! I’m the luckiest son-of-a-bitch in SCW!

The thought cheered me up a little, though I mentally made sure not to say that when Marina was in the general vicinity. Avoiding the few people that were taking the washroom break, probably during a Jake Starr promo… great wrestler, lousy talker… I slipped into the maintenance wing of the arena and scaled another flight of stairs, these ones leading higher than any fan was allowed to go. Retribution has been a rather down night for me, but it had done something special for SCW. Despite it being a simple effect, the idea of zip-lines was popular again, and Sasha had heard them cheering like mad maniacs of “NECRO!!” when I had appeared. Which is why I found myself ascending the stairs to the top scaffolding of the arena. It didn’t take long for me to reach it, but once I had, I had the chance to look down at the audience, who were unaware that their ‘Master of Scare-monies’ was above them. Now, I had been full of adrenaline, and a bit of Necro, at Retribution. It was fast-paced, high energy, the works. So the zip-line hadn’t bothered me. Plus it was only seventy to a hundred feet from where they had hooked me up, on top of and behind the titantron. This one was…slightly more.

Ok, so I was shitting in my pants.

Slowly, one step at a time, I heard the fans calling “1…2…3!” as the match ended. The theme music played, but I was caught with their count. I officially hated that count, at least when it was me being pinned. Grasping the rails of the catwalk, I was across it and in the center as the next match began. I didn’t care for the theme music, and to be honest, not for whomever won, either.

--??--
Shilo!


Turning my head, I saw a man from across another catwalk run at me full tilt. Tightening my hold on the rails, I was relieved when he stopped several feet away from me to approach me slowly.

--??--
Welcome to the heavens.

--Shilo--
Yeah, too bad I’m not ready to die.

--??--
First time up this high?

--Shilo--
Let’s just say I don’t do this on regular occasions.

--??--
You mean being high up?

--Shilo--
No jumping from heights. I’m high on any given occasions.


The old man laughed at me then, which is when I realized that he was old. With white hair and a face more wrinkled and beaten than Stacy Kissenger’s va-jay-jay, his light hearted laugh was a severe contrast to what I had expected.

--Shilo--
I’m Shilo Valiant.


Slowly, I held out my hand and felt it immediately seized and grasped tightly as he shook it.

--??--
Pleased to meet you.

--Shilo--
And you are?

--??--
Not important.


I felt my eyebrow instantly quirk upwards at his statement.

--Shilo--
Well, I would like to know the name of the man that I am putting my life into.

--??--
Just call me “guy”.

--Shilo--
Guy? Guy Russel? Guy Louis? Guy Hebert? Come on, what’s your real name?

Truthfully, I didn’t care. I just needed something to distract me from the realization that we were over two hundred feet in the air. I didn’t care what his name-

--??--
It’s a girl’s name.





--Shilo--
Okay…my curiosity is peaked. Tell me.

--??--
You’re here to get suited up and told how to do this-

--Shilo--
No name, no zipline.


Okay, I was being childish, but I really wanted to know! This was more fun than watching two girls talk about how they wanted to make a name for themselves, and giving hour long rants on how they would systematically do it while making sure they didn’t ruin their make up. TOTALLY!

--??--
Fine. It’s Gail.

--Shilo--
Gail?


The old man simply nodded his head, appearing as embarrassed as if he had told me he had no penis.

--Gail--
I guess my mother wanted a girl.

--Shilo--
Gail? Gail-Ann? Gail-Mary? Gail of winds? You kidding me?

--Gail--
Yeah, like I haven’t heard shit like that before. See, this is why I didn’t want to tell you.

--Shilo--
Gail. I’m just messing with you. Come on. Gail’s a fine name. I have a daughter named Gwynplaine.

--Gail--
Gwynplaine?

--Shilo--
Yeah! I live for the strange and the absurd.

I live for the strange and the absurd…

--Gail--
Well, then let’s get you harnessed up.

--Shilo--
Right…um…just so we’re clear though…I’ll no go splat at end of this right?

--Gail--
Shilo, for the amount they are paying me, you’ll be lucky if you land and hurt the hair on your head due to wind resistance.

--Shilo--
How much are they paying you?

--Gail--
A lot.

--Shilo--
Why?

--Gail--
Cause I’m the best.

--Shilo--
No, I mean, why hire you when they could just get a stage hand to hook me up.

--Gail--
Cause they want this done right and exciting. They must really like you, actually.

--Shilo--
What makes you say that?

--Gail--
Cause this is going to make your career. Entrances like these.


I was surprised at his words as he slowly re-explained the harness to me. I already knew how to work one from my experiences in the past, but the actually “falling” required a bit more finesse than before. As he attached the harness to my body over my coat, I felt secure as he checked the locks and the lines.

--Shilo--
Ummm…has anyone died doing this?


The old man shook his head at me in response as he secured the last knot.

--Gail--
Yes.


Great…

--Gail--
But only those that didn’t listen to me.

--Shilo--
Check.

--Gail--
Alright, you’re all set.


As he patted me on the shoulder, I felt my heart rate speed up quickly at his words. This was more nerve-racking than facing Infection and Greaternity in the same night! It was so shuddering to my senses that I didn’t recognize the sound of feet approaching us until Gail smiled at me and started walking away.

--Gail--
I’ll be at the controls. When you hear your music, simply lift your hands with the thumbs up sign, count to three than step off the edge.

--Shilo--
Sure! Jump to my death! Next time, you be the one on the zipline!

--??--
Personally, I like my Necro-Merchant on the ground…Particularly under me.

My head jerked over to the side to see the blue goddess that I knew and loved smiling at me, her body sashaying back and forth.

--Shilo--
Me too.


Slowly, Marina placed their hands on my forearms before resting her head against mine.

--Marina--
You’ve been worried, haven’t you?

--Shilo--
Well it is two hundred feet above the ground.

--Marina--
You’re afraid of losing again.


My mouth clenched together. Once more, my cerulean tear had cut me to the quick. It was amazing how easily she could do that.

--Shilo--
Yeah. You’re gonna tell me that it’s all gonna be okay and if I believe in myself, everything will work out?

--Marina--
I’m your mate. Not your mother.


She quietly giggled as she pulled her head back to look into my eyes. The mask of the Necro-Merchant was still readable to her, just as the mask of the Cerulean Tear was readable to me.

--Shilo--
I don’t want this to be it for us winning.

Sad but true. Jake Starr was headed down the same path that I was. That every flash in the pan and hot streak superstar was on. Bad streak of luck that could break my career-

WHAT WAS I TALKING ABOUT?!


--Marina--
What are you talking about?

--Shilo--
Stop reading my mind!


Playfully, my mate stuck her tongue out at me before leaning over the edge as the fans cheered for their winner of the match.

--Marina--
When did you start caring about winning matches?

--Shilo--
I…I guess when I started winning ten straight in a row.

--Marina--
Shilo…this isn’t about records! Don’t you remember why you signed on to SCW? Why you brought me with you?

--Shilo--
To have fun?


Her face beamed with a bright smile.

--Marina--
Exactly! So what does it matter whether you win or lose a match here and there?

--Shilo--
It was Savior too.

--Marina--
Savior will be in your face again. But you need to let this go as well.

--Shilo--
I know. It’s just…hey! I thought you said you weren’t my mother!


With a suddenly quickness, Marina placed her two fingers on my mouth to silence me.

--Marina--
I’m not. I’m your mate.


She said before suddenly pushing herself against me and forcing her tongue deep into my throat. Quickly, instinctively, I grasped the rails to secure us, scared for a moment that we would fall, but it was only for a moment. As she pulled herself away from me, she smiled at me knowingly.

--Marina--
That’s for any doubts you have left.

--Shilo--
What if I have doubts in any other departments?

--Marina--
I’ll take care of those later.


She smiled as she quickly run off along the scaffold as the Dark Fantasy’s theme song began to play. Leaning over the railing, I saw Ravyn Taylor and Syren enter the battle zone to a mixed reaction. Sure, they were hot, but no one liked a bitchy femme fatale. Still, it would be interesting to fight both them at the same time. Not arousing interesting but still interesting. As the pair posed and revealed parts of their assets to the crowd, I had time to mull over their words from their previous promos.

--Shilo--
It’s surprising how those girls think they are doing something new and ordinary. How Karnivale has never seen the likes of them before. So when they send us a video promo of someone standing still and a letter to us as material, they think that’s original. Still…I have seen that before…let me think, I know I have….oh yes! This is exactly the same format that Infection used, even after Karnivale beat them seven times. Kissenger would do the “strongly worded” letter and “WellIcan’tWinAnyMatch” took the direct approach.


With a bend, Syren strutted her body inside the ring like a fucking peacock. Still, I liked Syren. She seemed the only one of the two girls who didn’t have her head up her ass. True the pair had said pretty much the exact same thing in the promos, as if they had been up all night writing them together while reading Vogue magazine, but at least Syren was daring us to see her not as a Kissenger wannabe, unlike Ravyn. But Syren had to get one thing perfectly clear…

--Shilo (shouting)--
It’s not makeup! It’s face paint!


Not that she could hear me, but hey, at least I felt better. Ravyn, on the other hand, was too see-through for me to be taken as entertaining. It was clear that eventually, she was gonna backstab Syren when she realized that her “championship reigns” in Majestic and wherever else didn’t mean fucking thing here in SCW. I wanted to respect both girls for taking on Karnivale and trying to make a name for themselves, but the fact was, they had taken the carbon copy road that every other team had made against us in the past.

As their theme ended, I heard the familiar tune of “Whispers in Dark” by Skillet. Turning my head to the entrance way, I was surprised Marina had gotten down and to the entrance in time. Still, as I watched her walk through the rain and effects of her entrance, she struck me as far more beautiful and exotic compared to the Dark Fantasy. If anything, the misnomer of Dark Fantasy was just that. There was nothing dark about them. It was like watching “lesbian porn”. Yes, you got a good feeling when you came and saw double tits, but there was nothing new or exciting about them. Marina was the “new and unique”. She was the exotic. Her style demanded it. Still, all I could see Dark Fantasy do was laugh at her appearance of blue. The fans, on the other hand, were eating it up faster tan the pretzels they sold outside.

--Shilo--
Big mistake, girls.


To mock Marina was inviting trouble. Stacy had done the same thing, and Ravyn would be eve more complacent as she had beaten Marina in the past. It was not something Marina wanted to let happen again. Ravyn and Syren’s styles may have been good on their own, but they did not mesh together like Marina’s and mine did.

--Shilo--
It’s not about appeasing the fans in these tag matches. It’s about communication, and how can you have that when you both want what the one of you has? The Women’s championship.


I knew that would be the undoing of those two. It was only a matter of time. It was surprising they had lasted the few weeks they had. With a smile, I watched the DF run from the ring as Marina entered it. As she stood on the turnbuckle and blew her kiss to the audience, she slowly turned to look at the two opponents. I couldn’t make out all their facial details, but they seemed to be asking where I was. With a smile, Marina stood in the middle of the ring and slowly raised her hand directly up towards me as “Sin with A Grin” played. The fans were confused by still went nuts as they heard my music. With a slight shake in my spine, I raised my hand to give Gail the thumbs up. Then…I counted.


1…


Dark Fantasy was the weaker of the two teams on the sheer count that they were women. Not weak emotionally, but I was the stronger being, as I could lift more. Not to be sexist or anything!

2…

I mean, what was it to be sexist nowadays anyway? It wasn’t like a bad thing to ascertain that men were built differently then women and that allowed certain advantages for both sexes, was it?

3…

--Shilo--
DEAR GOD I’M GONNA DIE!


I said as I suddenly stepped off the scaffolding, my body beginning to fall. It was slower than a full descent though, milking it for all it was worth Sasha was! At first no one realized, but I soon saw a fan point his hand up, push his friend, who pushed his friends, who told their friends. Soon, the whole arena was cheering for me and clapping their hands and shouting “NECRO!”. And I wasn’t even half-way down yet! Still, as I descended, I let my mind drift a bit as I finally saw the two faces of Ravyn and Syren, who seemed either shocked or pissed at my entrance.

So you both thought that by losing one match, I had lost my edge. You both thought that you could continue a possible unlucky streak now for the Necro-Merchant. You both thought that this would your ticket to fame and fortune, similar that that which has followed on the heels of Karnivale. Amazing ambitions, girls, I respect that. But there’s a difference between Marina and I and you too.

I’m not here for the titles. I never have been. I’m not here for the fame. That comes and goes with the times. I’m here for the fortune. The money! The adrenaline! The fun!

But you both were right, Shilo Valiant has been changed since Retribution. Losing to Savior lit a fire under my ass that made me want to run as fast as I can. Made me want to scream at the top of my lungs. Made me want to dance! Because I realized that as good as I was, I wasn’t the best. Does that matter with me? Hell yes, it does. Because if I am the best, then I get the main-event spots, and if I do that, think of the millions I’ll make a night! Money, money, money! Oh it’s funny! In a rich man’s world! GO ABBA! GO ABBA!



With only fifty more feet to go, I felt my legs brace for impact, remembering what was said by Gail in avoiding injury.


You both think this is your match and that I will be trying to prove something to the both of you. I’m sorry but you both couldn’t be more wrong. This isn’t my match. This is Marina’s match. I have nothing to prove in fighting the two of you. If I lose? So be it, I go on and fight tag matches again. I’m the damn Tag Team Champion after all. If I win, another notch in my record. Yippee!

Marina is the one wishing for her career to be made in this match. She has her reasons, and one of them is being smothered by the muffin-top of Syren. The Women’s Championship. Face it, Syren, you haven’t defended it against anyone worthy of a challenge in months. The retired/not-retired Ashley Cherry? Hello?! Everyone’s beaten the Cherry’s! Hell even Amazing Ninja could beat the Cherry’s! Whether you like it or not, Marina will face you one day for the Women’s Championship, and she will be focusing on you more than Ravyn focuses on her “writing skills”. Seriously, Ravyn, invest in Bngay, cause you write more than Edgar Allen Poe, and with just as much tripe. Seriously, you just repeated everything Syren said, except with a few more flourished of poems that help your rhyming scheme. I can do it too!

There once were two girls in the ring
Who ran when they felt the Necro sting!
They cried as they lost, their hopes breaking at the seams…
As they began their walk… Down the Boulevard of Broken Dreams!



My feet hit the ring and my knees and legs took the impact. Slowly, I reached for my harness, only for Marina to suddenly put her hands up against my chest. Smiling at me knowingly, she slowly whispered something to me.

--Marina--
Gail taught me how to remove the harness.

For some reason, that was the sexiest thing I had heard all night. I couldn’t help it! As she removed the harness and sent it flying back to the heavens, I quickly spun her around to face the audience. Though surprised, I quickly leaned into her ear.

--Shilo--
Seductive.


She smiled knowingly as she felt my lips on her neck. Slowly she lowered herself onto her left knee, her right leg spreading out in a straight line to the right as she ran her hands down my legs. With a loud cry of “Necro!”, I suddenly threw my head back and arms open as the lights went from blue to normal. Quickly helping Marina to her feet, we reached opposite turnbuckles once again, and this time, when I shouted…the audience shouted back. I was still their “Necro-Merchant” and they were still my junkies and necrophiliacs. And no loss now or ever would change that. I screamed and it felt good. Win or lose, do or die…one thing was certain…

--Shilo--
It’s showtime!


The End


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Syren
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So Totally Awesome!
[ *  *  * ]
Big thank you to Olek for changing the deadline to 5pm, I'm in uni all day on Tuesday's (9am to 7pm GMT) but after I was thinking up ideas for the second Syren RP yesterday I knew this one had to be posted and I got the story done last night but would have had to post with really terrible shoot because I didn't get a break at uni today at all and what I had written in class was poor.

If you've been following Syren's adventures lately though you'll know of her massive crush on Lucas Knight, and if you've been following the RTV segments this week (and Lucas's RP, which ties in) you'll see that Ravyn has had her troubles with members of the Knight family as well. Well this RP brings that all together and begins a storyline that Jon and me have been planning since he joined SCW.

I really hope you enjoy both the Syren scene and the third RTV of the week, which features the lovely Syren as well. If you've got any comments on my stuff this week I'd love to hear them as well.

------

The Syren Song: Verse 27
“You are so my bestest friend EVER”


And also...
Ravyn Taylor Presents
RTV || Episode 003: The Female of the Species
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