By the Sea
Jan 20, 2013 12:44:20 GMT -5
Post by Camellia on Jan 20, 2013 12:44:20 GMT -5
Plymouth, MA
Pilgrim Memorial State Park
A lone woman, hands clasped demurely behind her back, stares out over the ocean. The light ocean breeze travels through the air, teasing her auburn curls and causing her long skirt to flutter and sway. She pulls her white cashmere jacket closer and moves closer to the portico column, attempting to block the frigid wind. For several moments the silence is broken only by the waves crashing into the shore.
Cami: Plymouth Massachusetts. Colonized by the Pilgrims in 1620 when the Mayflower entered this very harbor. These English settlers were willing to take a risk and leave everything familiar and cross the vast ocean to explore uncharted territory. And their voyage ended here.
Turning from the sea, Camellia walks forward, her hand trailing along the guard rail. Stopping midway, Cami turns to peer down at the now famous boulder, 1620 engraved across the top.
Cami: Although it would be more accurate to say that their journey started here. This rock, Plymouth Rock, symbolizes the beginning of a new adventure. It is a testament to the courage and bravery of the men and women who made their home here. To the trials and hardships they faced, settling into this brave new world and facing that first harsh New England winter.
That first step also introduced them to a people, a culture, vastly different from their own. They eventually met Squanto and formed an alliance with Chief Massasoit, helping them to adapt and survive. To prosper in their new home.
With one final glance down, Camellia finally moves away. Leaving the Plymouth Rock and portico behind, she begins to walk along the boardwalk.
Cami: Similar to the Pilgrims, Plymouth Rock is the site of my new journey. Frontier Grappling Arts is the start of an exciting adventure into a brave new world. Oh, it does not require leaving home and travelling to far off lands. Although, there are some who would argue that New England and North Carolina are worlds apart.
At this, Cami laughs quickly. Even after the laughter dies away, she continues to smile brightly.
Cami: Brave new world. Now, that is only partially true. This is the third federation I have joined in less than a year. Not exactly a stellar resume, to be sure. Oh, I can give reasons, make excuses for why things didn’t work out in the past. I could expound on what I accomplished, what I have learned over the past year. How, with the “assistance” of a certain red-headed tyrant, a heart-felt gesture turned into a disastrous fiasco. One which prevented almost half the TWN roster from competing. Or how I am currently undefeated at PSW.
More laughter rings out over the crashing waves. Pausing to glance at the camera, she smiles wryly before continuing on her way.
Cami: Not that an undefeated streak with a sample size of one is very impressive, especially for those who have been playing the game for far longer than I. But, does any of that really matter? I’m here now, in FGA. Everything that has come before has led me to this place. It is up to me to continue forward, using what I have learned. And learning from my mistakes and triumphs from here on out.
Mr. Harter, I am flattered that you went to so much effort to get to know me before my match. Or should I say to try and dig up any dirt you could use against me. Was your expedition successful? Yes, yes, you found Twitter conversations with Mr. Blaine Harrison. And from those you infer that there were…improper relations taking place. Could our online interactions be seen as beyond the pale? Perhaps, if this were Victorian England where women were expected to be prim, proper and virginal while men were encouraged, or at least not discouraged, from behaving as rakes and rogues. I would never have guessed you had such old-fashioned morals! Unless you mean to say that a woman who is comfortable enough to enjoy flirting and feels no need to hide her femininity is to be considered a promiscuous slut? Please, say you are not that ill-informed!
As to your contentions that Mr. Harrison may have chosen me as his tag team partner…that would have been an enormous honor and quite a pleasure! Blaine was the top wrestler at PSW but more importantly, he is a sweet and charming man. Someone I would be privileged to call a friend. If I was in the running, I can only assume it would have been for my decisive victory over Mighty Max. Oh, pardon me! You may have overlooked that truth while searching for some lies. Sadly, this happens often to those who mold the facts to fit their answer. But you are welcome to infer and start whatever rumors you would like. My reputation will not suffer with those who know me or who look past baseless gossip-mongering. As for the others who may believe you, they are insignificant and easily forgotten. In the future, please feel free to ask my anything and I will endeavor to always tell the truth; my life is an open book.
I, too, have done my homework, researching my first opponent, my first trial. Mr. Harter, I watched a copy of your match against Mr. Corella in Woodbridge, CT. It was…amazing. A pure viewing pleasure, absolutely delightful. The back and forth action, counters, near fall after near fall – they all kept me on the edge of my seat throughout the match. The most impressive part was the demonstration of such superb skill and technique. I only wish, one day, to have a fraction of the talent showcased in that ring. I am in awe, truly.
Turning, Camellia steps off the boardwalk to traverse down the beach. Pausing near the water’s edge, Cami bends down to retrieve a perfect clam shell. Rising, she looks over her shoulder, sporting wink and a very mischievous smile.
Cami: Oh, Mr. Harter, I suppose you gave a…lukewarm performance as well. Well done.
Camellia’s weak clapping is drowned out by the distant cry of a seagull. Retracing her steps, she continues down the boardwalk. Thinking of what happened later in the show, Cami loses her smile. Her hand clenches around the delicate shell, forming a minute web of cracks to appear.
Cami: And then after that match, what you did to Mr. Mangold, all while he wasn’t able to himself…that was despicable. The craven act of a school yard bully. Typical of a child who is too afraid, too insecure to fight fairly. By your own admission, the fact you took such pleasure in inflicting so much pain is appalling.
Shaking her head, Cami lowers her gaze to stare wordlessly at the sand. Sighing softly, she looks directly into the camera. Her expression is a mixture of anger and disappointment.
Cami: One would have thought you would have had more pride, more self-confidence, more courage to not participate in such a cruel, brutal, senseless act. It appears as though I give you too much credit for basic decency. You are, after all, willing join with your….friend Mr. Drake in The Murder. Perhaps you will always be second rate, content to be a brute, a bully. If The Murder does rise to the top, can you honestly say that you made the journey through your efforts and hard work? Or by riding the, um, “coattails” of Mr. Drake?
I look forward to our match next week. I look forward to showing you how I was able to make such quick work of Mighty Max. Why my in-ring skills could impress someone of Mr. Blaine Harrison’s caliber. Prove to you and everyone here at FGA that I’m not just a pretty face, searching for a quick ride to the top. After fighting and climbing my way to the pinnacle, whether it takes one year or ten, you will be nothing but a footnote, another stepping stone on my way to greatness. A poor excuse for a man, for a wrestler, hidden in shadows.
Reaching the end of the boardwalk, Camellia once again faces the ocean, hands clasped behind her back, mesmerized by the tidal ebb and flow.
Cami: Mr. Harter, next week at the Plymouth Memorial Hall will you bring the man, brimming with potential, willing to fight his way to the top? Or the child-like bully, surrounded by shadows, too cowardly to fight in the open? I hope it’s the man, I really do.
The last sentence trails off as the scene fades to black.
Pilgrim Memorial State Park
A lone woman, hands clasped demurely behind her back, stares out over the ocean. The light ocean breeze travels through the air, teasing her auburn curls and causing her long skirt to flutter and sway. She pulls her white cashmere jacket closer and moves closer to the portico column, attempting to block the frigid wind. For several moments the silence is broken only by the waves crashing into the shore.
Cami: Plymouth Massachusetts. Colonized by the Pilgrims in 1620 when the Mayflower entered this very harbor. These English settlers were willing to take a risk and leave everything familiar and cross the vast ocean to explore uncharted territory. And their voyage ended here.
Turning from the sea, Camellia walks forward, her hand trailing along the guard rail. Stopping midway, Cami turns to peer down at the now famous boulder, 1620 engraved across the top.
Cami: Although it would be more accurate to say that their journey started here. This rock, Plymouth Rock, symbolizes the beginning of a new adventure. It is a testament to the courage and bravery of the men and women who made their home here. To the trials and hardships they faced, settling into this brave new world and facing that first harsh New England winter.
That first step also introduced them to a people, a culture, vastly different from their own. They eventually met Squanto and formed an alliance with Chief Massasoit, helping them to adapt and survive. To prosper in their new home.
With one final glance down, Camellia finally moves away. Leaving the Plymouth Rock and portico behind, she begins to walk along the boardwalk.
Cami: Similar to the Pilgrims, Plymouth Rock is the site of my new journey. Frontier Grappling Arts is the start of an exciting adventure into a brave new world. Oh, it does not require leaving home and travelling to far off lands. Although, there are some who would argue that New England and North Carolina are worlds apart.
At this, Cami laughs quickly. Even after the laughter dies away, she continues to smile brightly.
Cami: Brave new world. Now, that is only partially true. This is the third federation I have joined in less than a year. Not exactly a stellar resume, to be sure. Oh, I can give reasons, make excuses for why things didn’t work out in the past. I could expound on what I accomplished, what I have learned over the past year. How, with the “assistance” of a certain red-headed tyrant, a heart-felt gesture turned into a disastrous fiasco. One which prevented almost half the TWN roster from competing. Or how I am currently undefeated at PSW.
More laughter rings out over the crashing waves. Pausing to glance at the camera, she smiles wryly before continuing on her way.
Cami: Not that an undefeated streak with a sample size of one is very impressive, especially for those who have been playing the game for far longer than I. But, does any of that really matter? I’m here now, in FGA. Everything that has come before has led me to this place. It is up to me to continue forward, using what I have learned. And learning from my mistakes and triumphs from here on out.
Mr. Harter, I am flattered that you went to so much effort to get to know me before my match. Or should I say to try and dig up any dirt you could use against me. Was your expedition successful? Yes, yes, you found Twitter conversations with Mr. Blaine Harrison. And from those you infer that there were…improper relations taking place. Could our online interactions be seen as beyond the pale? Perhaps, if this were Victorian England where women were expected to be prim, proper and virginal while men were encouraged, or at least not discouraged, from behaving as rakes and rogues. I would never have guessed you had such old-fashioned morals! Unless you mean to say that a woman who is comfortable enough to enjoy flirting and feels no need to hide her femininity is to be considered a promiscuous slut? Please, say you are not that ill-informed!
As to your contentions that Mr. Harrison may have chosen me as his tag team partner…that would have been an enormous honor and quite a pleasure! Blaine was the top wrestler at PSW but more importantly, he is a sweet and charming man. Someone I would be privileged to call a friend. If I was in the running, I can only assume it would have been for my decisive victory over Mighty Max. Oh, pardon me! You may have overlooked that truth while searching for some lies. Sadly, this happens often to those who mold the facts to fit their answer. But you are welcome to infer and start whatever rumors you would like. My reputation will not suffer with those who know me or who look past baseless gossip-mongering. As for the others who may believe you, they are insignificant and easily forgotten. In the future, please feel free to ask my anything and I will endeavor to always tell the truth; my life is an open book.
I, too, have done my homework, researching my first opponent, my first trial. Mr. Harter, I watched a copy of your match against Mr. Corella in Woodbridge, CT. It was…amazing. A pure viewing pleasure, absolutely delightful. The back and forth action, counters, near fall after near fall – they all kept me on the edge of my seat throughout the match. The most impressive part was the demonstration of such superb skill and technique. I only wish, one day, to have a fraction of the talent showcased in that ring. I am in awe, truly.
Turning, Camellia steps off the boardwalk to traverse down the beach. Pausing near the water’s edge, Cami bends down to retrieve a perfect clam shell. Rising, she looks over her shoulder, sporting wink and a very mischievous smile.
Cami: Oh, Mr. Harter, I suppose you gave a…lukewarm performance as well. Well done.
Camellia’s weak clapping is drowned out by the distant cry of a seagull. Retracing her steps, she continues down the boardwalk. Thinking of what happened later in the show, Cami loses her smile. Her hand clenches around the delicate shell, forming a minute web of cracks to appear.
Cami: And then after that match, what you did to Mr. Mangold, all while he wasn’t able to himself…that was despicable. The craven act of a school yard bully. Typical of a child who is too afraid, too insecure to fight fairly. By your own admission, the fact you took such pleasure in inflicting so much pain is appalling.
Shaking her head, Cami lowers her gaze to stare wordlessly at the sand. Sighing softly, she looks directly into the camera. Her expression is a mixture of anger and disappointment.
Cami: One would have thought you would have had more pride, more self-confidence, more courage to not participate in such a cruel, brutal, senseless act. It appears as though I give you too much credit for basic decency. You are, after all, willing join with your….friend Mr. Drake in The Murder. Perhaps you will always be second rate, content to be a brute, a bully. If The Murder does rise to the top, can you honestly say that you made the journey through your efforts and hard work? Or by riding the, um, “coattails” of Mr. Drake?
I look forward to our match next week. I look forward to showing you how I was able to make such quick work of Mighty Max. Why my in-ring skills could impress someone of Mr. Blaine Harrison’s caliber. Prove to you and everyone here at FGA that I’m not just a pretty face, searching for a quick ride to the top. After fighting and climbing my way to the pinnacle, whether it takes one year or ten, you will be nothing but a footnote, another stepping stone on my way to greatness. A poor excuse for a man, for a wrestler, hidden in shadows.
Reaching the end of the boardwalk, Camellia once again faces the ocean, hands clasped behind her back, mesmerized by the tidal ebb and flow.
Cami: Mr. Harter, next week at the Plymouth Memorial Hall will you bring the man, brimming with potential, willing to fight his way to the top? Or the child-like bully, surrounded by shadows, too cowardly to fight in the open? I hope it’s the man, I really do.
The last sentence trails off as the scene fades to black.
