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| Joseph Englider vs. David Miller | |
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| Topic Started: Feb 4 2013, 02:16 PM (226 Views) | |
| Kassie Khane | Feb 4 2013, 02:16 PM Post #1 |
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Admin and Second in Command of the Nation of Moderation
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Joseph Englider vs. David Miller 2 RP Limit for singles; 2 per team for tag Deadline: Noon EST Friday, February 8, 2013 ~~Good Luck Everyone!~~ |
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| Mr. D | Feb 7 2013, 11:07 PM Post #2 |
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The SCW Owner and Leader of the Nation of Moderation
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Deadline extended until 11:59 pm EST. |
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| Miller | Feb 8 2013, 08:26 PM Post #3 |
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Advanced Member
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OOC: Yeah, I got nothin'. A few ideas rolling around in my head, but I'll wait until we have a longer time span before I start experimenting. Right now, all I know is I need to get back to that 'borderline' I used to live on. Too dark to be a face, too honorable to be a heel...etc, etc. Good luck, Joe. +++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ I lost. Again. It’s almost becoming a habit lately. Between Kelly back at Breakdown. The Annual Rumble last year. You have to wonder if everyone’s been right all this time. Knots. Winchester. Cole. Dubrinsky…even that little fuck, Hurse, is running his mouth now. What makes it worse is knowing I can’t do anything about it. What am I gonna’ say? I had an ‘off-year’? For the last THREE years? That I’ve been competing injured? That my head just hasn’t been right? Not a fuckin’ chance. I may be guilty of a lot things, but making excuses ain’t one of ‘em. The simple fact is I’ve lost more matches in the past two years…than my entire career combined! I could make excuses. I could shift the blame. I could do anything I wanted. But I won’t. I refuse to. The losses are there…because I allowed them. The losses are there…because I didn’t stop them. The losses are there…because I’ve become weak… Over the last four years, I’ve become a simpering, sniveling, spineless little shit, always looking over my shoulder, always with my hand out. Looking for acceptance, for praise and adulation. And for what? A few chants I barely hear? Some random stranger pestering me for my autograph? Fuck that. I didn’t get into this shit because I wanted to be everyone’s hero. I didn’t become who, and what I am, so I could stand in that ring and play ‘role model’ for all the little kiddies out there. I’m here, because there is nothing, not one fucking thing in this world that I love more than beatin’ some poor bastard down to a bloodied, broken pulp! Because it’s what I know. …it’s all I know. And it’s the one thing I do better than anyone else. It’s why I am the Toughest Bastard Breathin’. It’s why I am the Most Dangerous Man in SCW. Or at least…I was. Before Colin Cole. Before Natalie Dubrinsky. Before Gable Winchester. Because of them, people have forgotten just what made me “The Assassin” to begin with. They’ve forgotten what happened to Jake O’Neil. What happened to Juan Ramirez…Kris Glory…Grayson Steel…Jae Dillinja. They’ve forgotten the trail of bodies, dreams and careers I’ve left shattered in my wake. They’ve forgotten the countless champions, legends and Hall of Famers I’ve humiliated. They’ve forgotten why I am…the best there is…at what I do… …and more than that, they’ve stopped believing. …they’ve stopped watching… Maybe it’s time I gave them a reason to start again… +++++REC+++++ “On January 23, 2006...a man entered the Land of Supreme. Untested. Unheralded. And by all counts, unknown to Supreme Championship Wrestling. For all his accolades, all his accomplishments, all his reigns as a champion in one form or another…the world at large knew almost nothing about this faceless rookie…” A simple, solemn voice penetrates the black field, before it all fades away to reveal an image that has become almost tradition within SCW. In the foreground sits a steel chair, the seat dented and blood-stained, the whole thing reversed to the camera…allowing the familiar figure of David Miller to straddle it. The man is shirtless, leaving his scarred and tattooed torso fully visible. Both arms are folded atop the chair’s back. A few long seconds pass, before he raises his eyes to the lens, and peers through the dim shadows, unblinking. “Now…six years later…after enduring some of the most barbaric moments in the history of this company…from my bloodbaths with Speed, to Gold hurling me thirty feet to the concrete floor, to standing face to face with three of SCW’s living legends: Valentine, Savior and Andrews, all at once…I find myself in that same situation. Everything I’ve done, has been forgotten. Every opponent, every victim I left broken at my feet, has been paved over and left behind, by the fans, the history books…and memory, itself. After six years of blood, sweat, tears, pride and pain…David Miller has become nothing but a face in the crowd… “And honestly…I deserve to be.” Bowing his head in obvious personal shame, the former “Assassin” of SCW takes a moment to collect his thoughts before bringing that unyielding stare back to the camera. Even with the failing light from the single bulb off-screen, there’s no mistaking the dark, yet fiery burn at the back of the man’s emerald eyes… “Three years ago…I was the man who single-handedly dominated a merciless division like the Underground, with nothing but my own two hands. Two years ago, I faced two SCW Champions, back to back…Greg Cherry and Damian Angel…and I left them both a lifeless heap in the center of the ring. Four years ago, I ran rampant through this company…dropping every…last…man, they were foolish enough to put in front of me. Names like Weapon, Savior, Wheeler, Kayl…nothing but notches in my belt. Even the great Shawn Winters wound up flat on his back when he stood toe-to-toe with me! Why? Because then…I was the purest athlete in wrestling! Then…I was the single…most dangerous man in Supreme Championship Wrestling… “Then…I was unstoppable. “So what happened? What changed? What was it that finally hurled me down from the mountaintops, when every last living soul in this company had already tried…and failed. Well, to be honest, that’s the very same question I’ve been struggling to answer ever since that night two years ago when a man by the name of Gable Winchester walked into SCW…and brought my world crashing down around me. Now, I could play all the loopholes I wanted. I could blame it on the Board and that bullshit suit against the Career Killer, but I’m not that pathetic. I could claim it was an off-night, or that my head wasn’t in it…but if there’s one thing even my harshest critics can says…it’s that I’ve never once tried to excuse myself from a loss. The fact of the matter is, for one reason or another…I just haven’t been the same man I was back when I first arrived in the SCW.” Taking a deep sniff that flares his nostrils, Miller glances off for a moment, then stares back into the camera. “And that’s my fault. I’ve spent every night since the Pay-Per-View runnin’ shit through my head from every possible angle, and by the end of it all…the simple truth is I’ve stopped being that guy. I stopped being the same David Miller that dominated the Underground Division. I stopped being the same David Miller that took a heartless shit like the Real Speed, and pushed him to his absolute limits. I stopped being the same David Miller that climbed into that ring, stood in the DEAD CENTER of the New Blood Rebellion, and dared…DARED…every last one of those fucks to throw the first punch! …just to watch them back away… “Bottom line is, I stopped being what I always claimed to be… “I stopped being what I always KNEW I was… “I stopped being the best there is…at what I do. “Call it a switch being flipped if you like. Call this last match with Winchester, this latest assault by the watered-down pussies in Aries Allocco’s so-called “Majestic” a wake-up call…call it whatever you like, so long as it gets through that from this point on. I’m done. I’m done playing by the rules of the game. I’m done playing the loyal little soldier on the roster. I’m done sitting back and biding my time, taking whatever little scraps I’ve given…instead, I think I’ll start taking a few things for myself. Just like I took that moment to put my face less than an inch from the ‘Executioner,’ himself. Just like I took the challenges ahead of me, and not only emerged, I stood above them all, hand raised in nothing more than absolute defiance at the thought of being slowed, of being stopped…of being told that I couldn’t have what I wanted…and deserved. “Maybe I’m not Jake Starr. Maybe I’m not Shilo Valiant. Maybe I’m not even the David Miller of four years ago…but I am still, and will forever be, the single greatest wrestler this company has ever seen…and I don’t care how long it takes. I don’t care how many bones I have to feel break in my body, how many times I have to wake up in a pool of my own blood, or how many times I have to be carried back to the fucking infirmary…I will not rest, and I will not stop, until everyone in SCW, and the world…remembers who I am. “I am…David Miller. “I am…the “Assassin” of SCW. “And I will return to my place atop the mountain. I will regain that dominance, that supremacy once again. “…don’t believe me? …” Rather than utter the words so deeply etched into SCW history, Miller simply rises from the chair, and takes a few slow steps out of the scene…allowing it all to fade silently back to the black field of before. |
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| The Academy | Feb 8 2013, 11:54 PM Post #4 |
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SCREW THE RULES! I HAVE MONEY!
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OOC: This is my first crack at CD for Englider. The premise of this is the idea of a "midnight television show" with a host and such. Much like the older "smokey bar tale" shows of the 90s and 00s. Edited for coding Notes: - Because the CD takes a more "story-base/tv-show" view, the host of this show is more like a narrator for us, the readers, creating the fourth-wall for Joseph and the other characters. Much in the way of the shows like "Masterpiece Theatre" or "Tales from the Crypt", the host is meant for the viewers/readers, the characters completely oblivious. - Though the CD is technically "off-camera" in the SCW world, anything written or posted is fair game to use should someone wish. The promo is "on-camera" material. - The following rp may contain language or material that may offend some readers. If you do not like reading about situations of a sexual nature, course language, or darker humor/concepts of nature, do not continue reading. - Lastly: The following has been closed captioned for the hearing impaired...Enjoy! Legend: Yellow = Words from Katarina Isis ________________________________________________________________ [align=center]You turn on your television and change the channel. You flick through, to some, unsure of what to look for, and to others, knowing what time it is. Your eyes all see the same thing that causes you to stop. A family room, large and opulent. One of comfort and luxury, but it is the woman you see that grabs your attention, for she wears... Nothing... The bare back of this woman is rather enticing as she runs her hands along her hair, drying it as she sings: "You can try to resist Try to hide from my kiss But you know But you know that you can't fight the moonlight " Her elegant, sultry voice lures you in, desiring to see more. Her lower body is blocked by a counter-island in the middle of the family room as she stands in the kitchen area in the background of the living room. With a turn of her head, her eyes scan the mirror to the side wall, hanging off a section of the wall close to her, with a gasp, the young woman turns around, her hands having gathered a white towel from the counter up to her chest, though not in fear of being seen it would seem as she smiles at you. I didn't hear you come in. I hope you don't mind me like this but you're earlier than I thought. With a slight pout, the dark-eyed woman wraps the towel around her curvaceous frame before stepping out around the island and into the main living room. Mmmm, don't tell me you just couldn't stay away from this place and little, old me? She waits for you and though you may give no answer, your silence is enough for her as she treats you with a smile. Hm-hm, you naughty boys and girls. Do your parents know that you're awake at this hour? No? Well, don't worry. I won't tell on you. She assures with a wink to you and those that can not turn away. Leaning back to sit on the white couch, her black towel wrapped snugly around her, your host lifts her right leg up to place over her left, comfortably sitting before you with nothing but that towel to conceal her. “I am for those who believe in loose delights, I share the midnight orgies of young men, I dance with the dancers and drink with the drinkers.” This is the place for such delight. This is- As she speaks, the television behind her, sitting within a display stand, suddenly turns on, revealing the logo of a crescent moon and words spelled along the bottom. "Moonlight Sinema". And I am Katarina Isis, but you can call me "Kat". I hope you aren't falling asleep tonight, because I'm not the kind of girl that likes to be left somewhere by herself. Besides, you'd miss the story I'm about to tell you. It's about a man and a woman. Simple, isn't it? Well, this man has a little problem with this woman and- Well...I rather not spoil it. I call this episode: "Regrettably Reunited" The camera zooms towards the television as Katarina fades from your eyes...the tale having begun... [/align] ____________________________________________ "HALLELUJAH! HALLELUJAH!" Joseph Englider's eyes flew open as he sat up in his bed, his hand immediately grabbing the cellphone, which had caused Handel's "Messiah" to blare out at eight o'clock in the morning. With a push of a button, the music ended, once more leaving the young man in complete silence. "Uh, why can't I just stay in bed?" he thought. He didn't really want to be out and about today, especially with his upcoming match on Breakdown, but fuck if Englider didn't know that he would eventually lose this argument. Mind as well start before it's started, he thought as he pushed himself out of bed to shower, stripping out of his sleep pants, which crumpled at the floor, to step into the large shower space and turn on the hot water. Every hotel and apartment he went to, Englider maintained one rule. That it be up to his own standards. These included good cleaning and elegant bathrooms. In the past, specifically in his early years of wrestling, Joseph had lived in run-down motels, friend's houses, even in a dumpster a few times in the really early beginnings. Now, after about two decades of doing this kind of work, it was something Joseph never wanted to return. And as he bathed in the shower, he tried desperately to get the memories out of his hand, even trying to masterbate for a moment or two. His mind wasn't into it. It was still troubled over that last match he had. The one he had lost. Well, loss was loss and that was part of the business, but what a stupid way to go. What bothered him more was that this little group "The Perfect World" as they called themselves seemed to be getting nowhere. As if THAT was their perfect world. To go nowhere. "And why haven't I been pushed forward yet?" He asked, the voice ringing in the shower as the sound bounced off the walls. It had been in SCW for a bit of time now, and yet it seemed that he had not gotten anywhere. He was still booked in these slow, thrown together matches. He hadn't even been considered for Body, Heart and Soul. Or Gang Rulz or even the End of the Year. Not a single Pay-Per-View appearance in three months. Hell, he was rarely used on the shows and- "AH! Fuck!" he groaned as his knee suddenly ached with a sharp pain. Quickly, he sat back against the large frame of the tub, the cold porcelain contrasting with the hot water of the shower. Quickly propping his sore knee up, the foot resting on the other side of the tub/shower, Englider quickly massaged the knee, swallowing down the spurts of pain that lanced through his leg every so often. "Gonna be the damn death of me" he said aloud as he finally relaxed his hands, the hot water running over the massaged flesh. The girl he had lost to had also targeted his knee, but it seemed like her attacks had just agitated the knee, not damaged it further. It always acted up every now and then and maybe he had just bruised it again. A few more minutes of massaging and the pain subsided. It always did. And if it didn't do it on his own, he still had the painkillers to help him dull the ache. Still didn't stop his problem with being dismissed and pissed on at SCW, but it wasn't like he- "HALLELUJAH! HALLE-" Berry, that would be a nice girl to fuck, Joseph thought. Though, to be honest, he wouldn't be upset with any woman at these times of the day. Where his body was starting to wake up and his extremities warmed up to the arrival of full blood from his awakening heart. Quickly, Joseph turned off the hot water as he remembered what the song had indicated. Someone was calling him. Quickly, he scampered out of the room and grabbed his cellphone, not caring for the water that dripped off his form as he stood on the carpet. "Hello" he said. "Joseph. Good you're awake." "Yes I am, Eric. What is it?" He waited on the phone for his agent to answer him, but it seemed to take a minute, which was rather unsettling to Joseph. "Just want to ask how you're doing." "Good till you called. Now? With you calling me "just to ash how I'm doing"? I feel like this is an 11 out of 10 on bed. "Not that bad, Joseph." Eric quickly responded. "Oh bullshit. Why would you be calling me then? Has my match been cancelled?!" Joseph panicked. He hadn't planned on returning to Kingston till a day or two after Breakdown. But if SCW had decided not to use him tonight...what a fucking waste of time! "No, though really..." Eric answered. "What? Really what?" Englider demanded. "It's just...SCW talent-relations...we just spoke on the phone." "Yeah? And?" "Well I took your requests to discuss with them and...they turned them down." "Turned them down?" The idea was ludicrous! "How the hell could they do that, Eric? I've been there for months and only lost one match. How can they turn me down for being in their shows?" "Well, I asked them that and they said that there 'wasn't enough to invest in you due to your age'." "They said that?!" "Word for word, Joseph." "Fucking nitwits!" Joseph yelled, turning on a dime to march around the room, his wet feet brushing along the soft floor. "You mean to tell me that they're not-for Christ's sake, Eric. You're my agent! How can they not be putting me in any of the last three pay-per-views?!" "Did you not hear me-" "Yeah, you said it was an age thing. And that's bullshit and we both know it. I'm 35. Not 50." "But you're in a sport of 20s to early thirties." Eric Randall retorted. "So?!" "Look, Joseph, I tried. And I'm on your side here. But the fact is, they didn't budge." There was silence between the two parties as Englider continue to pace around the room. "But they didn't cancel my match?" "No, though you might think they should have." "Why?" Joseph implored. "Did something happen for the match? Is anyone being added?". These were all things that Englider had contemplated numerous times. SCW had gone on a binge lately, allowing wrestlers from the past and even rival corporations like Majestic Wrestling, to enter their shows. Yet, here he was sitting on the bench! "No, you're still booked, but apparently, that's it. Nothing on Aggression or Supreme Saturday." "Come on, Eric! Not even a dark match? They got a fucking German jackass booked for tonight too." "I don't know, Joseph. Maybe you..." There was silence on the one side, which did nothing for Englider's nerves as he pulled out boxers and socks and other clothes. He was getting out of this room and this hotel. Eric was staying a few floors below him, as Joseph had strung him along to deal with the "lack of exposure". Still, as he turned the phone to speaker mode in order to dry off with a towel, Joseph had to lean close to the phone as he heard Eric's voice. "Maybe you just need to repackage yourself. A new gimmick." "A new gimmick? Eric, I've been the Scarlet Ghost for nearly thirteen years!" "Maybe it's time for a tune-up. "Now. I am the Scarlet Ghost and the Scarlet Ghost is me. I'm not going to throw that away because you can't do your job and SCW won't do theirs!" The average person would assume that Joseph was throwing away an agent, but he had said shit like this to Eric Randall for nearly a decade and Eric had returned such venomous words back as well. They often threatened leaving the other, but it never happened, and probably never would. "Well, I don't know what you want me to do. Maybe I can get more leverage if you win your Breakdown match." "Oh please, Eric!" "What? He's a viable opponent. Been around in SCW for years-" "He's a pushover guy that's left the company so many times. He's like Terror-Terry back in EWF! Remember him? And all those names?" "Joseph-" "Terror-Terry, the Target, Tornado-Terr, Anton Terrington, Terror-Terry again. They guy came and went, like, a hundred times when I was working there." "I remember." "Yeah, well this guy's no different. Evidently, he keeps coming and going with new excuses or reasons and then comes back with a new agenda that-" "He's a former champion, Joseph. It's good exposure." "Exposure....you know if I wanted exposure like this, I'd just drop my pants and show everyone my balls, okay?" He allowed himself a moment to let that phrase sink into Eric's cranium. "I don't care about exposure like that. He's the same as those rookies I beat. People with no drive and no real bite. Just empty promises." "Well, call it what you will, but I think you winning this is going to help my case in getting you noticed again." "Yeah, well I like to see it to believe it, so let's see you actually do something right." He hung up on Randall before the agent had a chance to respond. Winning a match, that would be simple, Enlgider thought as he threw on a dress shirt and the pants he had lay on the bed as he had paced around the room. People like Miller were the kind Englider had seen time and time again. This kind of business required a commitment in order to harbor success. Partially the reason Englider had given Eric such a hard time about it a moment ago. Englider had wasted money traveling to Body, Heart and Soul in the hopes of being used, only to watch people that had lost the majority of their matches get placed in front of him. Problem is that while Englider knew the concept of this being a “young person’s game”, it didn’t serve his agenda any either, he noted as he opened the door and rounded out of the room and down into the lobbey/sitting area. The hotel divided into two parts. One was the lobby for room acquiring, checking in and the like and the other part of the large room was the breakfast service. He had already been here a day, so it allowed him to walk in and sit in an empty booth with ease. The waitress was quick, which Joseph was grateful, and as he saw her long neck and large breasts under her shirt, he allowed himself back to wonder about getting a girl with him after the show. Would it be that difficult? Looking back up at the young woman, he saw the look in her eyes. She didn’t want to be working her job. Odds are she lived near the hotel too, to be here so early in the morning and, if he had to assume, given the fact that she had no obnoxious definition in her legs, she didn’t exercise that much, which left her…lacking in true self-confidence but smug with her own looks. And given the way the girl was studying him, Englider was sure she had a fondness for older men. “Just the platter special, alright?” “What kind of eggs?” she asked as she jotted his request down. “Surprise me.” He smiled before handing her the menu. “Surprise you?” she looked at him incredulously. Englider almost laughed out loud seeing the look on her face. Oh this girl was fun. Not stupid but not very good with surprises. “Yeah. I’ll take whatever you got.” “Umm…okay…bacon or sausage?” “Neither. I’m straight.” Englider answered flatly, earning a wide-eyed surprised stare at the waitress. “Sorry.” The man remarked. “I don’t get asked that question very often.” “Yeah…okay…how bout I just get you the bacon?” “Sure.” An hour later, Englider had finished his meal and as he took the last sip of water from his glass, he saw the young lady approach him, the look of caution and curiosity in her eyes. “Did you enjoy your meal?” she asked quietly. “Good food. Good company. I’d come by here again.” “Glad to hear it. I’ll just take those for you.” The waitress responded before gathering up the plates and placing the cheque on the table. “I appreciate it.” Joseph replied with a smile. “You’re welcome, sir.” Slowly, the waitress turned away before suddenly handing the dishes to the kitchen staff, turning around and walking back to Joseph, a look of determination in her eyes. ”Excuse me.” ”Hello, again.” Those words and a grin was Englider’s reply. ”When I asked you about the…if you could just settle something for me…the sausage thing…were you just being coy or were you-“ ”Trying to pick you up so I could fuck you senseless? The second.” He replied without hesitation, standing up and placing two dollar bills of large amounts onto the table before straightening his dress shirt. ”I’m in room 623 for the next two hours.” ”I…uh…I’m…” the female stuttered and stammered. “623.” Joseph replied before walking away, his black, shiny shoes marching over the soft carpet. With a soft sigh, he pushed the button on the elevator. Yes or no, the girl would be of no concern of his when he left for Kingston tomorrow afternoon. Besides, not like she didn’t know the game, he said to himself with grin. That was the problem with people. They played innocent when all along, they wanted to be villains. The stuff dreams were made of. He was no villain…merely a realist…the world was full of tricksters and followers and you either pulled the strings or you played the puppet. And Joseph Englider was no puppet. And as he leaned against the elevator wall, he saw the doors close before suddenly they were caught by a hand with familiar graceful fingers. Slowly, Joseph pressed the open button to reveal the waitress standing before him, her large breasts practically bursting from her uniform button-shirt. “You do this often?” She asked, an eyebrow raised. His response was a smile as he looked around the elevator. ”All the time. I’m quite good at it. Never done it in an elevator, though.” He replied off-handedly as she stepped inside, the door closing behind her. Without any hesitation, the girl quickly hit the stop button on the elevator as it reached the fifth to sixth floor space, tearing at her buttons to reveal a dark purple bra. “Neither have I.” She smiled fully before pushing herself up against Englider, eagerly taking his earlier invitation while quickly undoing his belt. A quick fuck in an elevator…I think Aerosmith did a song about that…and here I thought today wasn’t going to be interesting… It was the last thing Englider thought before the elevator was filled with a young girl’s cried for pleasure as she reached her climax before Englider reached his floor… __________________________________________________ [align=center]You are brought from such sights and thoughts back to a smiling familiar face of Katarina Isis… Well now…wasn’t that fun? Look at the smile on your faces, but oh! Some of you wanted more? More from our little story? You ARE naughty, aren’t you? Well…do not worry, I did promise that the story was about a man and a woman…you’ve met the man…but the woman…not yet…. Surprised? Do not be. Life is full of wonders and moments of delight and it’s those delights we hold dear here for you all to see. The kind of delights dreams are made of. But that’s something for another night. You better get off to rest. Katarina responds with a wink, adjusting her towel around her frame before tossing her hair back with a free hand. Oh don’t worry…I’ll still be here next time you visit… Girls like me never really want to leave a place like this…and sooner or later, when you come back…I’ll be sure to welcome you. But for now…from myself and the others bere at Moonlight Sinema… Her voice a soft purr, Katarina gently blows a kiss to all of you who visited. Good-night…[/align] Before the camera fades, leaving you to your own pleasures… ______________________________________________ [align=center].:Requiem of a Dream:. Song: Dreams Begin Verse: Miller in the field…[/align] Close your eyes for a moment... Allow your mind to ease. Consider your fears, consider your hopes. Feel yourself drifting through the dark... Now open your eyes... Hello, SCW Dreamers...Did you have a pleasant dream? We are here. At the edge of awake and the start of night. We descend into a place with sights and sounds, anew. It is a realm of saccharine play and strange emotion... to a place of endless dreaming. There comes a time when we must give in to these states where the mind is truly open to all possibility and imagination. It tells us more of ourselves even beyond our conscious understanding and in those moments, heavy with sleep, we connect with a part of us that no one can touch. We all dream, but it is for those small few that truly know to embrace that subconscious power. Who remembers? Who fears to? For those able to open themselves to that inner knowledge will find a spectrum of their being that is otherwise inaccessible. There is something about you Miller that says you are just couldn’t be that kind of person. Do you think to open yourself in the depths of night but to learn beyond what you are fixed in believing? A large part in watching you and listening to what you have to say just informs me that you are far too caught up in the past to remember the present. Our past fills our dreams, but it is only when we accept what was do we finally start to see beyond that in the deep slumber. Into a place that gives us the ability to look forwards by looking backwards, I fail to see how you are able to do that given at every turn you highlight what was. Is that your dream, MIller? To return to that time? Well, let me say now, you never will. Your naivety is evident and it comes from your inability to accept that the SCW you once knew is long gone. Like the dreams that leave us before they can stay long enough to remember. Disappearing into the waves of our consciousness and waking presence, where our sight becomes focused on the surface of all things. It is unfortunate for me to say, but most of the people who speak of are long gone. They are no more and at this rate, neither should you. Within SCW, there is little room for those who are struck dumb with what was and what will no longer be. It’s a harsh reality for you, but I am willing to illuminate you to the hidden meanings this lends to. This is a way to new innovations and a path to more than just rehashed times. Would you not want to see that for a place you have long lingered being apart of? You continue to fail to make distinctions between what was and what you will yourself now to be here, Miller. In SCW, there is more to just closing your eyes and hoping for the best. You must give in, breathe the arena and make each feelings expand and color your very consciousness. No hesitation. No fear. No matter how much you dwell on the past, it will haunt you either way. Choose to realise though, that such lost dreams are not worth your while. Even so... do you really have any hope left in you? Is it just fading a light in the dark? Fading in and out, a spur of dreams running on the edge of nightmares. In much the same way as the many names you do much to uphold. But you must understand. It is a vain exercise that only serves to disenchant who you are, Miller. You corrupt yourself and if you are too afraid to realise who you are at the centre, you will continue to dance around these names and ideas until you are forever lost. Forever lost to the times of long past in a way that many have suffered by. For those who do dwell so, no matter what their history, it took them down into a dark, dreamless existence. And don’t you want to have pleasant dreams? Don’t be foolish and decline, because I will bring you to realise what you should do. I will be an example for all of SCW. In a way that you never were and shall never be. After all those years, you should have learnt by now, but it seems with every match, every opponent, you drown further into the darkness... You lose sight of your hopes, your dreams. I’m not even sure you know what you truly want anymore. You know what you were. But not what you will be. And even if you believe what you will be is the best of yourself, you fail still to see that you always have struggled. You bide your time and wonder, because you wait for the answers to fall into your consciousness. You fail to realise though that it isn’t going to come from elsewhere. It’s not going to come from someone else. If you need to be told, I will tell you...I will show you. But you only have yourself to blame. Up until this point, nothing much has changed. You have only deteriorated and no matter what you say, I can see how your mind keeps you from the potential to imagine. It’s a strange, fantastical place to be, seeing the dreams of the many and being able to see through people’s convictions. I see their nightmares. I see yours, MIller. And you don’t even realise what yet is to come, what yet you are to experience. You thought you’d bled enough, that you’d been left in the dust enough times? You have no idea. On and on, again and again, down and down you go... Into the descent. Into the nothing. And I will be there. Waiting, only to ask: "Did you have a pleasant dream?" |
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7:25 PM Jul 10