Tea Time
Feb 4, 2016 10:23:24 GMT -5
Post by Camellia on Feb 4, 2016 10:23:24 GMT -5
Camellia is sitting on an overstuffed loveseat, legs curled underneath, sipping tea from a delicate china cup. The soft strains of Mozart fill the room as Cami stares reflectively out the large bay windows.
Cami: It has been almost one month since my last match. That last match was disappointing, to say the least. Sadly though, the result was hardly unexpected. It seemed as though Yun was not willing to let bygones be bygones and work together as a team. So kudos to Luke and Ricky. While the better wrestlers may not have won, the better team did.
This last month has been a bit of a holiday. I decided to take some time to travel, clear my head. It is amazing how restorative the waters of Bath can be.And that cute villa in southern Italy...the wine was simply delicious.
As they say though, all good things must come to an end. I return from my vacation, excited to see who I will face now. I open my email, happy to see….Nero. A man who calls himself The Leper Messiah.
Really? That is the best they could come up with, with almost thirty days of sitting around doing nothing? To have me face a man who, by definition, is the savior of those with leprosy?
This seems to be a new low. What self-respecting individual would knowingly and willingly name himself after a disease that has such a large stigma attached to it? In olden days, those with leprosy were pitiful outcasts, pushed to the fringes of society. They were so mangled and deformed by the disease that no one could get close, let alone touch them.
And yet this man, this Nero, has styled himself as a savior to all those outcasts. He will...what, lead them to some promised land where they can be happy and free? Every time I hear that nickname, Nero, all I can picture is a mangled, grotesque figure with drooping jowls and flesh hanging in strips of his body. Disgusting.
With an exaggerated grimace, Cami visibly shudders at the prospect of touching such a gruesome figure.
Cami: I can already hear the ensuing hue and cry - but Camellia, they moan, you cannot seriously believe what you are saying! To take the name seriously, why that is beyond idiocy! Cami has finally lost it, to take a random name so seriously, to dissect it down to the nth degree.
No, my dear, simple friends, I do not in fact believe that Nero considers himself a true savior to the downtrodden. I do, however, think the name that he has fashioned for himself tells us much about the man. He is a weak, pathetic worm of a man, who was always pushed aside, by parents, by neighbors, by friends. He is so desperate to prove that he is worth something, that he a grandiose name declaring himself the protector of those like him. The reality is, he isn’t some magnificent protector, a champion for the downtrodden. He is simply an outcast, a freak of nature. A modern-day leper, if you will.
Nero, I understand, I truly do. You are searching for your raison d'être, for the answer to that age-old question of why am I hear. Sadly, casting yourself as the second-coming for the outcasts of the world, is not the way to go.
Either that, Nero, or you are a twisted shell of a person who has nothing better to do than play-act in a fantasy instead of focusing on what is important - improving your mediocre skills as a wrestler. Sad, really.
Shaking her head at the vagaries of human nature, Cami finishes her tea and sets her cup on the low end table. Unfolding her legs, she slowly stands, shaking out her skirts before heading out of the room. Pausing at the doorway, Cami gazes directly into the camera.
Cami: Of course, Nero, there is one other possibility. It is entirely feasible that everything said here today is simply a fabrication of an over-active mind. That there is no more substance to your name, to your being, then there is to the air that we breathe.
That you are so boring and utterly unimportant, as a person, as a wrestler, as an opponent, that I needed something to amuse myself. That this story is as meaningless as facing you in the ring: both are a complete waste of time, but ultimately something that I cannot get out of doing.
I would wish you luck in our match Nero, but you need more than luck to succeed. You need a miracle, perhaps some divine intervention or a savior. Instead, I will simply say adieu, mon cher.
Cami: It has been almost one month since my last match. That last match was disappointing, to say the least. Sadly though, the result was hardly unexpected. It seemed as though Yun was not willing to let bygones be bygones and work together as a team. So kudos to Luke and Ricky. While the better wrestlers may not have won, the better team did.
This last month has been a bit of a holiday. I decided to take some time to travel, clear my head. It is amazing how restorative the waters of Bath can be.And that cute villa in southern Italy...the wine was simply delicious.
As they say though, all good things must come to an end. I return from my vacation, excited to see who I will face now. I open my email, happy to see….Nero. A man who calls himself The Leper Messiah.
Really? That is the best they could come up with, with almost thirty days of sitting around doing nothing? To have me face a man who, by definition, is the savior of those with leprosy?
This seems to be a new low. What self-respecting individual would knowingly and willingly name himself after a disease that has such a large stigma attached to it? In olden days, those with leprosy were pitiful outcasts, pushed to the fringes of society. They were so mangled and deformed by the disease that no one could get close, let alone touch them.
And yet this man, this Nero, has styled himself as a savior to all those outcasts. He will...what, lead them to some promised land where they can be happy and free? Every time I hear that nickname, Nero, all I can picture is a mangled, grotesque figure with drooping jowls and flesh hanging in strips of his body. Disgusting.
With an exaggerated grimace, Cami visibly shudders at the prospect of touching such a gruesome figure.
Cami: I can already hear the ensuing hue and cry - but Camellia, they moan, you cannot seriously believe what you are saying! To take the name seriously, why that is beyond idiocy! Cami has finally lost it, to take a random name so seriously, to dissect it down to the nth degree.
No, my dear, simple friends, I do not in fact believe that Nero considers himself a true savior to the downtrodden. I do, however, think the name that he has fashioned for himself tells us much about the man. He is a weak, pathetic worm of a man, who was always pushed aside, by parents, by neighbors, by friends. He is so desperate to prove that he is worth something, that he a grandiose name declaring himself the protector of those like him. The reality is, he isn’t some magnificent protector, a champion for the downtrodden. He is simply an outcast, a freak of nature. A modern-day leper, if you will.
Nero, I understand, I truly do. You are searching for your raison d'être, for the answer to that age-old question of why am I hear. Sadly, casting yourself as the second-coming for the outcasts of the world, is not the way to go.
Either that, Nero, or you are a twisted shell of a person who has nothing better to do than play-act in a fantasy instead of focusing on what is important - improving your mediocre skills as a wrestler. Sad, really.
Shaking her head at the vagaries of human nature, Cami finishes her tea and sets her cup on the low end table. Unfolding her legs, she slowly stands, shaking out her skirts before heading out of the room. Pausing at the doorway, Cami gazes directly into the camera.
Cami: Of course, Nero, there is one other possibility. It is entirely feasible that everything said here today is simply a fabrication of an over-active mind. That there is no more substance to your name, to your being, then there is to the air that we breathe.
That you are so boring and utterly unimportant, as a person, as a wrestler, as an opponent, that I needed something to amuse myself. That this story is as meaningless as facing you in the ring: both are a complete waste of time, but ultimately something that I cannot get out of doing.
I would wish you luck in our match Nero, but you need more than luck to succeed. You need a miracle, perhaps some divine intervention or a savior. Instead, I will simply say adieu, mon cher.
