Post by Nathaniel Caraway on Aug 17, 2014 6:18:19 GMT -6
Barely a day removed from my debut and already I was pining for home. The aches and pains of the physical pageantry that is professional wrestling is a welcome discomfort, one which I have no issue weathering. It is the mental and emotional drain on my being that leaves me longing for home, to the point that the mundane paths taken a thousand times before are suddenly soothing to the soul. The drive down familiar roads, the crispness of the upper Canadian air nipping at warm flesh even in the middle of summer and, of course, the gentle sway of the Gulf of St. Lawrence beneath the boat. Richard has taken over the task of steering the vessel, which allows me time to ruminate. I accept the blessing gladly.
From time to time I feel his gray gaze peering at me from behind closed eyes. Inwardly I suppress a smile, instead focusing on the wind tossing my hair and the slight sting of the salty air that I never tire of. It’s up to him to break the silence if he chooses, and it’s a decision not long in coming.
”A successful outing, sir. Were you able to accomplish all that you intended in your first match?”
I open one eye, catching him stealing another of those glances of his. He’s quick enough, smooth enough, to make it look as though it were a simple turn of his head to spot something in his peripheral, but I know him too well. It keeps my mood up, though, so I can forgive him his indulgences.
”It went more swimmingly than expected,” I replied.
”The plan proceeds apace, then. Excellent.”
”As expected. Though I’ve little doubt that Skylar’s erstwhile lover,” I continue, seeing little need to hide the mirthful disdain in my tone, ”is going to want a little vengeance for my ‘familiarity’ with his trollop.”
It is Richard’s turn to laugh, his shoulder shaking handsomely. A subtle turn of the wheel has the boat leaning, taking us within sight of my secluded slice of heaven.
”You did take certain liberties with the young lady, albeit for the benefit of another. You cannot expect the uninitiated to understand or accept your proclivities, sir. One would have better luck questioning an eagle as to how it soars so high.”
”Because it can,” comes my answer, calm and quiet. ”Let him come. He’s just another example, same as the rest of them save for one. Speaking of which,” I pause, locking my attention on Richard, whose form stiffens as if he feels my stare. ”Are my orders still overdue in being delivered? I am quickly losing patience in equal measure with the shortness of time left before initiation.”
”The day after your departure, sir. As ordered, they have been placed in the downstairs studio, unopened.”
Relief flows unbidden through me, forcing me to keep a tight rein on it lest my composure falter. Not that any save Richard would see it, yet still I hold back.
”Good. Is it too much to hope that-“
”On your desk when we arrive home, sir.”
I rise, walking forward to stand beside Richard as he guides the boat between the buoys, the boat’s presence between the floating markers signaling the systems in my home to open the storage area for the boat. Extravagant, perhaps, but considering a boat is the only way to or from my home, necessary.
”You never cease to amaze with your efficiency.”
”You’re too kind, sir.”
The rest of the short trip is uneventful and, naturally, my first destination upon reaching home is the basement where, as promised, the packages await. I can scarce lay eyes on them before Richard’s voice sounds from above, causing me to grate my teeth in frustration, not so much at him as at the interruption.
”The, ah, production crew has arrived, sir. Should I send them away?”
My first impulse was to respond in the affirmative, but requiring time to peruse and prepare what was mere inches from my hands now, I decided to get things over with now rather than indulging in procrastination.
”No. I will be upstairs shortly.”
”As you will, sir.”
[ Cut once again to the familiar study within Nathaniel Caraway’s home, the same locale for his inaugural address for the Unchained Wrestling Alliance. However, he has yet to make his appearance despite everything being ready for him to deliver his message. Only his attendant, Richard, is present. ]
Head Technician: “Is he, ah, expected soon? We’re on a schedule here.”
[ Richard turns to glare at the speaker as though he’d hurled the most ugly of racial epithets. ]
Richard: “Considering your unannounced arrival and demand upon his time, you are fortunate to get to hear him speak at all. It would behoove you to show patience unless you wish to return home and explain to your superiors how you, for lack of a better description, dropped the ball.”
[ There’s a moment where the head tech wonders if he should accept that kind of browbeating from a man who as far as he knows is little more than a glorified butler. Deciding to hold his ground, he bites back at Richard. ]
Head Technician: “He knew he had a match. Who are you to run your mouth anyway? We’re here on official business.”
Nathaniel Caraway: “HE…”
[ The rest, save for Richard, jump at the sound of Nathaniel’s voice cutting in sharply. He ambles fluidly into the study, straightening his crimson tie and the black jacket worn over it. Whereas they know little of Richard, mostly considering who he is and what he does, they’re well aware of Nathaniel. ]
Nathaniel Caraway: “…is not your concern. You will treat him with the same reverence and respect you are inclined to show me when you’re muddying up my home trying to get a few words for the sake of your precious ratings.”
Head Technician: “But you’re the one who wants these things done here instead of traveling to…”
[ Nathaniel cuts the tech off, snapping sharply. ]
Nathaniel Caraway: “I am well aware of my decisions. Richard.”
Richard: “Sir?”
Nathaniel Caraway: “See to making our distaste clear to Samuel while I tend to business.”
Richard: “Yes, sir.”
[ Richard has the poise to neither smirk nor skip in jubilation when he receives his instructions, but he still throws a withering stare at the rest of the group behind the camera before moving into the other room. ]
[ While whispering behind the aforementioned camera emits, comments of ‘overreaction’ and ‘getting in trouble’ are overheard but little else. Meanwhile, Nathaniel has walked to one of the two bookshelves in the room and begun perusing the leather-bound tomes, fingertips stroking along the aged covers silently. ]
[ He gives no indication of being ready to speak or even awareness that they’re still waiting for his comments. The head tech draws in a breath to dare fate with a question but is cut off, the would-be query squeezed to nothing in his throat as Nathaniel speaks. ]
Nathaniel Caraway: “…are you angry, Craven?”
[ Nathaniel laughs softly, the close view behind him showing his fingertips playing on spine of ‘War and Peace’ though he doesn’t pull the book from the shelf. The title itself says plenty. ]
Nathaniel Caraway: “Watching me lay hands on your Skylar, turning her from a woman of the night into, briefly, violently-beautiful art…must make you feel angry or, at the very least, inadequate. You’re wondering how I could produce something, for only a breath’s worth of time, from someone…something…like her when all your efforts can’t elevate her one minute inch from being a glorified lady of the night.”
[ To some that would be a pretty personal snap at a man he barely knows, someone who surely has reason to want to lay some pain upon Nathaniel even without such snark. Yet the disdain that Nathaniel shows here is not tempered by fear or favor. ]
Nathaniel Caraway: “No insult intended, of course. We must be what we’re born to be. She was born to be an expensive diversion for married men and dregs drunk on the fleeting success of gambling. You were born to be a shadow-dwelling peddler of secrets who, much like her, sells services to the highest bidder. It’s funny to me. In another time, someone like you would be quite useful to me in my endeavors.
Whatever you think of me at this point, Craven, understand that despite my harsh words and haughty tone, I’m no one’s enemy. Not Skylar’s and certainly not yours. But I know you’ll want to mete out a little of what you’d call comeuppance for my being so cavalier with your Nordic beauty recently. Do you think that will make her feel better? I’d venture a guess that right now she’s even more confused about her personal future, on whether or not breaking from the so-called Silver Baron is a good idea. I suppose I’m to blame for that.
After all, not everyone can handle the truth. My sweet nothings delivered to her waiting ear were just that: truth. The truth laced in them will be proven in time, just as my words toward Skylar not being the same when she left that ring will soon be proven true in due time.”
[ There are murmurs again from off camera, stopped only when Nathaniel turns to stare beyond it. ]
Nathaniel Caraway: “If you have something to add, share it with the group. Otherwise, save your mumbling until I’ve finished speaking.”
[ Immediately, the whispering stops. Nathaniel goes from irritated to serene in a short moment and turns back to the books briefly. Presently he walks away from the shelf and across the room, stopping at a small, round-topped table with a marble-white statue upon it. ]
[ The piece is the slender figure of a woman, not a scrap of clothing on her, rising from an upward burst of water. The foam hides what needs to be hidden, but that isn’t what draws attention. The face of the cold, silent figure is somewhat familiar. Nathaniel runs his index finger along the curve of the piece, his voice becoming quieter. ]
Nathaniel Caraway: “You’re going to be the same, you know. Leaving the ring differently than you went in comes with the territory against me, as the rest of the UWA shall discover after repeated examples. The beauty is that I can accomplish this whether I win or lose. And as you’ll see into the bargain, you and the rest will be all the better for it. How? That depends on the opponent. In your case, Craven…”
[ Continuing to stroke the contours of the statue for a moment, Nathaniel crouches down to get eye-level with the inanimate object, staring into the lifeless-yet-beautiful visage. ]
Nathaniel Caraway: “…well, perhaps that’s better left a mystery. You might try to resist me otherwise. But once I have you in the Last Whisper, the only thing you’ll be aware of as you fade into unconsciousness is the truth. You won’t be able to ignore it any more than Skylar was.”
Head Technician: “So, what’d you say to her?”
Nathaniel Caraway: “…what?”
[ His head lifts ever so slightly, attention no longer on the statue. ]
Head Technician: “Y’know, to Skylar.”
[ Quiet laughter emits from Nathaniel. Rested in that crouch before the statue, he looks over his shoulder at the group with an expression of amused disdain. Uncoiling, he rises to his modest full height again and tilts his head back, his arms stretched out wide at his sides. A few small pops can just be made out before he relaxes. ]
Nathaniel Caraway: “It concerns no one but her and her own. If you’re that curious, just watch her over the next few months and you’ll understand.”
[ He turns around, a warning look in his eyes. ]
Nathaniel Caraway: “But more importantly, so will she. And so will Craven. He’s getting his own dose soon, though he knows what’s coming whereas she did not. If she is intelligent, she will tell him everything about how I create my art within that ring, or what she’s experienced of it anyway. There is no ‘if’ with Craven. He was watching and is cognizant of enough of what makes me who I am to be ready.
If he defeats me, she will deserve his thanks. If he is defeated…he will have no one to blame but himself. He’s another brick on the path to me and nothing more. I will take what I need, deliver a hearty dose of what he’s lacking and move on. His devotion and intensity are admirable qualities and they’ll serve him well, certainly, yet they won’t be enough to keep me from what I seek. That is the beauty of devotion, of a single-minded approach to your most fervent dreams. Always accept that you can be slowed, interrupted…but never allow yourself to be stopped.
If that happens even once…you have opened the door to constant repetition.”
[ He shakes his head, waving a hand dismissively in the air. ]
Nathaniel Caraway: “But that’s enough of that, isn’t it? You would probably prefer something a little more straightforward. After all, a man in your line of work can’t be bothered by what-ifs and fancy theories, which is how all this must sound. Yet another reason I don’t care for this required expression in an occupation that is solved in the end with physicality.
It starts with the ringing of the bell, follows through with you giving in to all the things you felt when Skylar was transformed before your eyes and, in your own pretty way, beating the life out of me. And it ends with you stumbling up the ramp, an ear full of truth and a mind full of questions. Following will be a few drinks, perhaps some private time with the young lady and, in due course, the realization that I was right.”
[ Nathaniel gives one final stare into the camera before turning and walking from the room. His pace is gradual enough that his path is followed and his over-the-shoulder addendum is clearly heard. ]
Nathaniel Caraway: “You’re welcome.”
[ Fade to black. ]
From time to time I feel his gray gaze peering at me from behind closed eyes. Inwardly I suppress a smile, instead focusing on the wind tossing my hair and the slight sting of the salty air that I never tire of. It’s up to him to break the silence if he chooses, and it’s a decision not long in coming.
”A successful outing, sir. Were you able to accomplish all that you intended in your first match?”
I open one eye, catching him stealing another of those glances of his. He’s quick enough, smooth enough, to make it look as though it were a simple turn of his head to spot something in his peripheral, but I know him too well. It keeps my mood up, though, so I can forgive him his indulgences.
”It went more swimmingly than expected,” I replied.
”The plan proceeds apace, then. Excellent.”
”As expected. Though I’ve little doubt that Skylar’s erstwhile lover,” I continue, seeing little need to hide the mirthful disdain in my tone, ”is going to want a little vengeance for my ‘familiarity’ with his trollop.”
It is Richard’s turn to laugh, his shoulder shaking handsomely. A subtle turn of the wheel has the boat leaning, taking us within sight of my secluded slice of heaven.
”You did take certain liberties with the young lady, albeit for the benefit of another. You cannot expect the uninitiated to understand or accept your proclivities, sir. One would have better luck questioning an eagle as to how it soars so high.”
”Because it can,” comes my answer, calm and quiet. ”Let him come. He’s just another example, same as the rest of them save for one. Speaking of which,” I pause, locking my attention on Richard, whose form stiffens as if he feels my stare. ”Are my orders still overdue in being delivered? I am quickly losing patience in equal measure with the shortness of time left before initiation.”
”The day after your departure, sir. As ordered, they have been placed in the downstairs studio, unopened.”
Relief flows unbidden through me, forcing me to keep a tight rein on it lest my composure falter. Not that any save Richard would see it, yet still I hold back.
”Good. Is it too much to hope that-“
”On your desk when we arrive home, sir.”
I rise, walking forward to stand beside Richard as he guides the boat between the buoys, the boat’s presence between the floating markers signaling the systems in my home to open the storage area for the boat. Extravagant, perhaps, but considering a boat is the only way to or from my home, necessary.
”You never cease to amaze with your efficiency.”
”You’re too kind, sir.”
The rest of the short trip is uneventful and, naturally, my first destination upon reaching home is the basement where, as promised, the packages await. I can scarce lay eyes on them before Richard’s voice sounds from above, causing me to grate my teeth in frustration, not so much at him as at the interruption.
”The, ah, production crew has arrived, sir. Should I send them away?”
My first impulse was to respond in the affirmative, but requiring time to peruse and prepare what was mere inches from my hands now, I decided to get things over with now rather than indulging in procrastination.
”No. I will be upstairs shortly.”
”As you will, sir.”
[ Cut once again to the familiar study within Nathaniel Caraway’s home, the same locale for his inaugural address for the Unchained Wrestling Alliance. However, he has yet to make his appearance despite everything being ready for him to deliver his message. Only his attendant, Richard, is present. ]
Head Technician: “Is he, ah, expected soon? We’re on a schedule here.”
[ Richard turns to glare at the speaker as though he’d hurled the most ugly of racial epithets. ]
Richard: “Considering your unannounced arrival and demand upon his time, you are fortunate to get to hear him speak at all. It would behoove you to show patience unless you wish to return home and explain to your superiors how you, for lack of a better description, dropped the ball.”
[ There’s a moment where the head tech wonders if he should accept that kind of browbeating from a man who as far as he knows is little more than a glorified butler. Deciding to hold his ground, he bites back at Richard. ]
Head Technician: “He knew he had a match. Who are you to run your mouth anyway? We’re here on official business.”
Nathaniel Caraway: “HE…”
[ The rest, save for Richard, jump at the sound of Nathaniel’s voice cutting in sharply. He ambles fluidly into the study, straightening his crimson tie and the black jacket worn over it. Whereas they know little of Richard, mostly considering who he is and what he does, they’re well aware of Nathaniel. ]
Nathaniel Caraway: “…is not your concern. You will treat him with the same reverence and respect you are inclined to show me when you’re muddying up my home trying to get a few words for the sake of your precious ratings.”
Head Technician: “But you’re the one who wants these things done here instead of traveling to…”
[ Nathaniel cuts the tech off, snapping sharply. ]
Nathaniel Caraway: “I am well aware of my decisions. Richard.”
Richard: “Sir?”
Nathaniel Caraway: “See to making our distaste clear to Samuel while I tend to business.”
Richard: “Yes, sir.”
[ Richard has the poise to neither smirk nor skip in jubilation when he receives his instructions, but he still throws a withering stare at the rest of the group behind the camera before moving into the other room. ]
[ While whispering behind the aforementioned camera emits, comments of ‘overreaction’ and ‘getting in trouble’ are overheard but little else. Meanwhile, Nathaniel has walked to one of the two bookshelves in the room and begun perusing the leather-bound tomes, fingertips stroking along the aged covers silently. ]
[ He gives no indication of being ready to speak or even awareness that they’re still waiting for his comments. The head tech draws in a breath to dare fate with a question but is cut off, the would-be query squeezed to nothing in his throat as Nathaniel speaks. ]
Nathaniel Caraway: “…are you angry, Craven?”
[ Nathaniel laughs softly, the close view behind him showing his fingertips playing on spine of ‘War and Peace’ though he doesn’t pull the book from the shelf. The title itself says plenty. ]
Nathaniel Caraway: “Watching me lay hands on your Skylar, turning her from a woman of the night into, briefly, violently-beautiful art…must make you feel angry or, at the very least, inadequate. You’re wondering how I could produce something, for only a breath’s worth of time, from someone…something…like her when all your efforts can’t elevate her one minute inch from being a glorified lady of the night.”
[ To some that would be a pretty personal snap at a man he barely knows, someone who surely has reason to want to lay some pain upon Nathaniel even without such snark. Yet the disdain that Nathaniel shows here is not tempered by fear or favor. ]
Nathaniel Caraway: “No insult intended, of course. We must be what we’re born to be. She was born to be an expensive diversion for married men and dregs drunk on the fleeting success of gambling. You were born to be a shadow-dwelling peddler of secrets who, much like her, sells services to the highest bidder. It’s funny to me. In another time, someone like you would be quite useful to me in my endeavors.
Whatever you think of me at this point, Craven, understand that despite my harsh words and haughty tone, I’m no one’s enemy. Not Skylar’s and certainly not yours. But I know you’ll want to mete out a little of what you’d call comeuppance for my being so cavalier with your Nordic beauty recently. Do you think that will make her feel better? I’d venture a guess that right now she’s even more confused about her personal future, on whether or not breaking from the so-called Silver Baron is a good idea. I suppose I’m to blame for that.
After all, not everyone can handle the truth. My sweet nothings delivered to her waiting ear were just that: truth. The truth laced in them will be proven in time, just as my words toward Skylar not being the same when she left that ring will soon be proven true in due time.”
[ There are murmurs again from off camera, stopped only when Nathaniel turns to stare beyond it. ]
Nathaniel Caraway: “If you have something to add, share it with the group. Otherwise, save your mumbling until I’ve finished speaking.”
[ Immediately, the whispering stops. Nathaniel goes from irritated to serene in a short moment and turns back to the books briefly. Presently he walks away from the shelf and across the room, stopping at a small, round-topped table with a marble-white statue upon it. ]
[ The piece is the slender figure of a woman, not a scrap of clothing on her, rising from an upward burst of water. The foam hides what needs to be hidden, but that isn’t what draws attention. The face of the cold, silent figure is somewhat familiar. Nathaniel runs his index finger along the curve of the piece, his voice becoming quieter. ]
Nathaniel Caraway: “You’re going to be the same, you know. Leaving the ring differently than you went in comes with the territory against me, as the rest of the UWA shall discover after repeated examples. The beauty is that I can accomplish this whether I win or lose. And as you’ll see into the bargain, you and the rest will be all the better for it. How? That depends on the opponent. In your case, Craven…”
[ Continuing to stroke the contours of the statue for a moment, Nathaniel crouches down to get eye-level with the inanimate object, staring into the lifeless-yet-beautiful visage. ]
Nathaniel Caraway: “…well, perhaps that’s better left a mystery. You might try to resist me otherwise. But once I have you in the Last Whisper, the only thing you’ll be aware of as you fade into unconsciousness is the truth. You won’t be able to ignore it any more than Skylar was.”
Head Technician: “So, what’d you say to her?”
Nathaniel Caraway: “…what?”
[ His head lifts ever so slightly, attention no longer on the statue. ]
Head Technician: “Y’know, to Skylar.”
[ Quiet laughter emits from Nathaniel. Rested in that crouch before the statue, he looks over his shoulder at the group with an expression of amused disdain. Uncoiling, he rises to his modest full height again and tilts his head back, his arms stretched out wide at his sides. A few small pops can just be made out before he relaxes. ]
Nathaniel Caraway: “It concerns no one but her and her own. If you’re that curious, just watch her over the next few months and you’ll understand.”
[ He turns around, a warning look in his eyes. ]
Nathaniel Caraway: “But more importantly, so will she. And so will Craven. He’s getting his own dose soon, though he knows what’s coming whereas she did not. If she is intelligent, she will tell him everything about how I create my art within that ring, or what she’s experienced of it anyway. There is no ‘if’ with Craven. He was watching and is cognizant of enough of what makes me who I am to be ready.
If he defeats me, she will deserve his thanks. If he is defeated…he will have no one to blame but himself. He’s another brick on the path to me and nothing more. I will take what I need, deliver a hearty dose of what he’s lacking and move on. His devotion and intensity are admirable qualities and they’ll serve him well, certainly, yet they won’t be enough to keep me from what I seek. That is the beauty of devotion, of a single-minded approach to your most fervent dreams. Always accept that you can be slowed, interrupted…but never allow yourself to be stopped.
If that happens even once…you have opened the door to constant repetition.”
[ He shakes his head, waving a hand dismissively in the air. ]
Nathaniel Caraway: “But that’s enough of that, isn’t it? You would probably prefer something a little more straightforward. After all, a man in your line of work can’t be bothered by what-ifs and fancy theories, which is how all this must sound. Yet another reason I don’t care for this required expression in an occupation that is solved in the end with physicality.
It starts with the ringing of the bell, follows through with you giving in to all the things you felt when Skylar was transformed before your eyes and, in your own pretty way, beating the life out of me. And it ends with you stumbling up the ramp, an ear full of truth and a mind full of questions. Following will be a few drinks, perhaps some private time with the young lady and, in due course, the realization that I was right.”
[ Nathaniel gives one final stare into the camera before turning and walking from the room. His pace is gradual enough that his path is followed and his over-the-shoulder addendum is clearly heard. ]
Nathaniel Caraway: “You’re welcome.”
[ Fade to black. ]