Team Nox, Assemble?
Mar 15, 2016 13:39:49 GMT -5
Post by Stephen on Mar 15, 2016 13:39:49 GMT -5
March 17, 2016
19:35 EST
New York City, New York (Off-Camera)
“Are you sure you have everything?”
“Yeah, babe. This isn’t our first rodeo.”
“Speak for yourself.”
This was to be Stoney Stone and Wayward Nymph’s last night in New York. They were to report to Nox Sports’ Headquarters early the next morning to meet up with the rest of Team Nox to live feed a promotional video for their debuts in FGA. With the help of Stoney’s wife, Vanessa, they were in the final stages of finishing up their packing. They were going to be on the road for at least a month, so Stoney wanted to make just nothing of importance was left behind. Stoney did his final inspection of his clos-et, checklist in hand, as Vanessa folded and pack the bags while also helping Nymph sort through a medium pile of her clothes.
“Ugh!”
“What?”
“I can’t figure out what I’m going to wear tomorrow. I’m thinking about just wearing this.”
Nymph holds up a homemade, low-cut, graphic tank top. Vanessa instantly burst into a fit of laughter that caused Stoney to glance over his shoulder. A frown came upon his face as he looked upon the image of a nude woman with her legs spread open printed on the tank. Although her woman parts and eyes were censored by a black strip, her mouth was suggestively agape.
“That is not appropriate for a press panel, Patience. We’ve talked about this. We have to look like a team so you’re to wear Team Nox apparel, no exceptions.”
“As always, here's ‘The Man’ attempting to censor me. I will NOT be silenced! And it’s Wayward Nymph now.”
“I will NOT be calling you that. I’ve known you since you were a little girl. I can’t believe you encouraged her to go with that name.”
Vanessa shrugs at Stoney before winking at her little cousin. She begins to fold Stoney’s “Team Nox” singlet on the bed. Before she can place it in his duffle bag, however, Stoney walks over from the clos-et and inspects it. He shakes his head. Vanessa rolls her eyes and holds it out for Stoney to unfold and refold it to his fancy.
“I think the name is cute. A little teasing and kind of edgy.”
“It’s filth, and it’s repulsively suggestive.”
“Ya know, it’s ‘Wayward Nymph’, not ‘Nympho’, rock head. Geez. You act like I called my self ‘Super Slutty Girl from Slutsville’.”
“Watch your mouth.”
Stoney grunted as he placed the singlet into his bag. In the corner of his eye Stoney caught a glimpse of Vanessa and Patience grinning and sharing looks. He was outnumbered by women four to one in his household. Luckily his daughters were still his little angels right now; he feared that one day they would become more like Patience. They’d grown up seeing her almost every day because she and Vanessa were inseparable. She played with them, changed their diapers, fed them, looked after them while Stoney and Vanessa worked and travelled… Stoney sighed.
“Look Patience—“
“Wayward Nymph.”
“Wayward Nymph.”
“—I know that you want to express yourself. You’ve always been a creative girl, but this is not the stage of your career where creativity and making a statement is of importance. Your focus should be on your training. Let Troy and Aric worry about your image right now.”
“WHEE!”
Stoney and Vanessa jumped as Patience began rummaging through the pile of clothes. Stoney knew his word had fallen on deft ears as Patience rubbed his back comfortingly. Patience finally reemerged with a black, sheer mesh top.
“If I have to wear the Team Nox apparel then I’m going to make it look good. Nessa, where are the scissors?”
Vanessa looked at Stoney reassuringly before leading her cousin out of the room, but his concerns about Patience’s haphazard attitude lingered on his mind. She lacked the structure that was to be re-quired. It was why he wanted to be the one to train her, but Aric Keaton had decided to let FGA’s developmental promotion handle it. Aric had gone through the program himself and vouched for it, but even still Vanessa had to persuade Stoney that this was a much better option than him pulling triple duty as a competitor, leader, and trainer. She’d told him to focus on getting in synch with his partner, Zorro del Castillo, instead. That proved to be just as daunting as task as Zorro just wasn’t a team player.
March 17th
21:04 EST
New York City, New York (Via Security Footage)
It took Zorro the better part of two hours to find a bar that was to his liking. Everything in New York was too done up—novela demasiado. Zorro wasn’t one to be hip on anything other than fighting. That’s why when he entered this particular pub and saw that every television had nothing but fights on, he knew he’d found his bar.
“This place suits you, Zorro?”
Zorro nodded as he pulled up a seat at the far end of the bar. Troy Dawes did a quick once over on the bar before sitting down.
“You are no comfortable with this?”
Zorro didn’t care if Troy was comfortable or not. The fact of the matter was that Troy insisted on ac-companying Zorro since this was his first time in the city. Zorro didn’t appreciate being hovered over, and the scowl on his face indicated that he wasn’t too fond of being with his employer.
“It’s fine. It’s got a retro vibe to it, like it exists in its own domain. Kind of like yourself.”
A waitress came up to take their order. Zorro immediately ordered six shots of Tequila Anejo and waved the waitress off before Troy could get a word in.
“I’m more of a whiskey man really.”
“And you think that this makes you a man? Patético gringo.”
“I think it just makes me, me. Look I know you don’t want me here—“
Zorro scoffed. He’d heard this before. It didn’t matter that he was in a different country, people were ultimately all the same. They cared about every little thing more than they should have. Things that weren’t any of their business, they made their business. Ultimately, Troy opted not to finish his sen-tence and instead just grinned that knowing grin of his that Zorro found annoying. The waitress returned with a tray of six small glasses filled to the brim with the amber liquid.
“Thank you.”
The waitress smiled at Troy who winked back to her. Zorro starred down their interaction, his eyes especially locked on the waitress. Troy could have any woman he wanted. He was a trust fund baby, so Zorro assumed that he’d never done a hard day’s work in his life. Zorro pitied men like him: men who were doomed to live their lives ignorant of the enlightenment of combat. The waitress left as Zorro picked up one of the glasses. He glared at the small, smiling, blond man in front of him until he too picked up a glass.
“A la batalla de emoción. Mayo nuestras victorias nos traen más cerca a Dios, y pueden nuestros fra-casos ser nuestra penitencia para el fracaso de entender totalmente su amor.”
Troy’s grin widened into a beam as he nodded his approval of the toast. Both men downed their first shot quickly. Zorro then downed his second and third stacking each of the glasses inside each other as he finished. Troy eyed him with his head on his knuckle. Zorro wanted to punch him in the face.
“You absolutely fascinate me. I have to admit, when Stoney told me to reach out to you and sign you, I had my reservations. Here we are, a new agency, and our prominent signee wants us to sign a poten-tial liability to our brand. But, I couldn’t ignore what you were capable of. This—fighting, wrestling, grappling—it’s truly is your life’s purpose, isn’t it?”
“It is life’s only purpose, no? Survival. Some of us have to fight for the right while others are born with it.”
“I never pegged you as a Liberal.”
Zorro shook his head. Why did they always try to make things political, Americans?
Everything was a conspiracy that can be traced back to their government. A tree falls in through their roof and they blame it on the senator that passed a bill that increases their cost of health insurance. Did they think themselves so smart that they believe it ridiculous to simply blame the tree?
“You misunderstand.”
“Enlighten me then.”
Zorro looked to the ceiling. It was decorated with framed photos of famed boxers and fighters, past and present, which were nailed to the ceiling. He noticed a few of his childhood favorites. He remembered watching them and wanting to be like them. One particular photo reminded him of a poem that one of his coaches one made him read for motivation.
“El viento, un día brillante, llama
a mi alma con un olor a jazmín.
‘A cambio del olor de mi jazmín,"
el viento me dijo
"me gustaría te cambian por el olor de sus rosas.’
le dije, ‘no tengo ninguna rosas; todas las flores
en mi jardín están muertas’.
‘Pues bien’, dijo el viento,
‘voy a tomar tus pétalos marchitos
y sus hojas amarillas
y las aguas de su fuente.’
El viento de la izquierda. Y lloré.
y me dije: ‘Lo que ha hecho
con el jardín que fue confiado a usted?’"
Zorro returned his gaze to level and grabbed one of the remaining shots of Anejo and downed it. Troy eyed him, the smile on his face replaced by a look of sheer bewilderment.
“Antonio Machado wrote that. Lovely poem, no? At the same time, so pitiful. See, las flores, they were cursed to be dependent on another to ensure their survival. Doomed from the beginning be-cause they didn’t have to fight for it, didn’t have to earn it. It was just assumed that they would be taken care of. They existed with no purpose other than to leech off of another.”
Zorro nudged the final shot glass over to Troy, who took it while glaring at Zorro, his edges of his mouth sloped slightly into a barely noticeable frown. Zorro stood up and began to walk towards the exit. He stopped beside Troy who still held the glass in his hand.
“I believe it would be best if we keep our relationship strictly professional, señor Dawes.”
With that Zorro walked out of the restaurant. Troy sighed, that knowing grin returning. He downed the final shot before waving the glass into the air.
“As if we could ever be anything else. Waitress, whiskey on the rocks!”
March 18th
07:30 EST
Team Nox HQ (New York City, New York)
(Live Feed)
Nox Sports HQ was what you’d expect from an agency in its infant stages: a medium sized office in a very large building. On the entrance door read “Nox Sports” in a blue-grey inside of a purple grunge cloud. There was a small conference room in the back with a round table that seated six. Every member of Team Nox—Troy Dawes, Aric Keaton, Stoney Stone, Zorro del Castillo, and Wayward Nymph—were seated at the table. All were dressed in Team Nox apparel: Troy and Aric wore Team Nox t-shirts underneath their blazers. Stoney was dressed in a Team Nox sweat suit, while Zorro chose to wear the Team Nox tracksuit. Nymph had taken a pair of scissors to a Team Nox tank top and gave it a small mid-riff. She’d also taken the liberty of ripping the back into a smiley face. On top of the tank was a sheer, black mesh top that she’d cut into a crop top. Stoney did not look pleased as Troy Dawes cleared his throat.
“For as long as I can remember I have been a fan of combat sports. So much so, that I began to train as a wrestler at age eight. My mother did not like it, but my father, a former athlete himself, told my mother that it would toughen me up and show me what life is all about. My love of combat sports spill over into my teens where I trained in various MMA gyms. I dreamed of one day fighting for a living, but that was not in my father’s plans for me. He wanted me to one day take over his investment firm so off to college I went, fighting being nothing more than an hobby in the eyes of my father. Upon us graduating from college, I managed to… persuade my associate, Aric Keaton, into training as a wrestler which he did with reluctance. I wanted to live vicariously through Aric, but wrestling just was not for him. Aric’s role was to be behind the scenes as we now know. So, I had Aric help me develop a business model to which we presented to my father. He liked our initiative and granted Aric and I funding for an experiment. Thus, Nox Sports was born. It didn’t take long for us to decide on who we want our first client to be. Marcus “Stoney” Stone is a well-traveled man. The reputation of his strength is known from New York to Japan. Originally, he was going to be our first and only signing for a while, but Stoney had other plans. He brought Zorro del Castillo and Wayward Nymph to our attention and Team Nox had been assembled.”
Stoney stood up, his chair sliding back to the wall in the process. He walked to the head of the table where Troy Dawes was seated and stood beside him. He looked at every person sat in front of him and every person sat in front of him looked back.
“This Saturday marks the beginning of a new era in all of our lives. Before, we were nothing more than individuals with common goals, but now we share the same goal, making Nox Sports the most respected and accomplished brand in wrestling today. This isn’t going to happen overnight. Blood, sweat, and tears will be shed along the way. Times will get tough, and the pressure of success may try to turn us against each other, but if we can overcome the pressure, there is nothing that will stop us. On Saturday, Zorro and I going up against the team of Arik Blayde and Chris Vector. These two men have fought side-by-side. Luckily for them, neither have Zorro and me. Zorro and I have faced each other multiple times, so each of us knows what the other is capable of, but working together is not going to be easy.”
Zorro grunts causing everyone in the room to look at him. Troy Dawes grins at Zorro causing Zorro to get to his feet and walks towards the door.
“Somebody doesn’t like to hear about themselves.”
Stoney gives Nymph a look which causes her to giggle. Zorro just looks at her for a second.
“Mija, there is nothing that anyone can ever tell you about yourself. I am the only one who knows what challenges me, not Stone. This Vector and this Blayde, they are no challenge. I will beat both of them, without Stone.”
Zorro walks out of the door causing Stoney to frown. Troy just smirks as Wayward Nymph looks from Stoney to the door and back.
“Soo, we can just leave?”
“No.”
Troy chuckles as Aric Keaton shakes his head.
“Yeah, this is all going to go well…”
((OOC: Poem Credit: The Wind, One Brilliant Day by Antonio Machado))
19:35 EST
New York City, New York (Off-Camera)
“Are you sure you have everything?”
“Yeah, babe. This isn’t our first rodeo.”
“Speak for yourself.”
This was to be Stoney Stone and Wayward Nymph’s last night in New York. They were to report to Nox Sports’ Headquarters early the next morning to meet up with the rest of Team Nox to live feed a promotional video for their debuts in FGA. With the help of Stoney’s wife, Vanessa, they were in the final stages of finishing up their packing. They were going to be on the road for at least a month, so Stoney wanted to make just nothing of importance was left behind. Stoney did his final inspection of his clos-et, checklist in hand, as Vanessa folded and pack the bags while also helping Nymph sort through a medium pile of her clothes.
“Ugh!”
“What?”
“I can’t figure out what I’m going to wear tomorrow. I’m thinking about just wearing this.”
Nymph holds up a homemade, low-cut, graphic tank top. Vanessa instantly burst into a fit of laughter that caused Stoney to glance over his shoulder. A frown came upon his face as he looked upon the image of a nude woman with her legs spread open printed on the tank. Although her woman parts and eyes were censored by a black strip, her mouth was suggestively agape.
“That is not appropriate for a press panel, Patience. We’ve talked about this. We have to look like a team so you’re to wear Team Nox apparel, no exceptions.”
“As always, here's ‘The Man’ attempting to censor me. I will NOT be silenced! And it’s Wayward Nymph now.”
“I will NOT be calling you that. I’ve known you since you were a little girl. I can’t believe you encouraged her to go with that name.”
Vanessa shrugs at Stoney before winking at her little cousin. She begins to fold Stoney’s “Team Nox” singlet on the bed. Before she can place it in his duffle bag, however, Stoney walks over from the clos-et and inspects it. He shakes his head. Vanessa rolls her eyes and holds it out for Stoney to unfold and refold it to his fancy.
“I think the name is cute. A little teasing and kind of edgy.”
“It’s filth, and it’s repulsively suggestive.”
“Ya know, it’s ‘Wayward Nymph’, not ‘Nympho’, rock head. Geez. You act like I called my self ‘Super Slutty Girl from Slutsville’.”
“Watch your mouth.”
Stoney grunted as he placed the singlet into his bag. In the corner of his eye Stoney caught a glimpse of Vanessa and Patience grinning and sharing looks. He was outnumbered by women four to one in his household. Luckily his daughters were still his little angels right now; he feared that one day they would become more like Patience. They’d grown up seeing her almost every day because she and Vanessa were inseparable. She played with them, changed their diapers, fed them, looked after them while Stoney and Vanessa worked and travelled… Stoney sighed.
“Look Patience—“
“Wayward Nymph.”
“Wayward Nymph.”
“—I know that you want to express yourself. You’ve always been a creative girl, but this is not the stage of your career where creativity and making a statement is of importance. Your focus should be on your training. Let Troy and Aric worry about your image right now.”
“WHEE!”
Stoney and Vanessa jumped as Patience began rummaging through the pile of clothes. Stoney knew his word had fallen on deft ears as Patience rubbed his back comfortingly. Patience finally reemerged with a black, sheer mesh top.
“If I have to wear the Team Nox apparel then I’m going to make it look good. Nessa, where are the scissors?”
Vanessa looked at Stoney reassuringly before leading her cousin out of the room, but his concerns about Patience’s haphazard attitude lingered on his mind. She lacked the structure that was to be re-quired. It was why he wanted to be the one to train her, but Aric Keaton had decided to let FGA’s developmental promotion handle it. Aric had gone through the program himself and vouched for it, but even still Vanessa had to persuade Stoney that this was a much better option than him pulling triple duty as a competitor, leader, and trainer. She’d told him to focus on getting in synch with his partner, Zorro del Castillo, instead. That proved to be just as daunting as task as Zorro just wasn’t a team player.
March 17th
21:04 EST
New York City, New York (Via Security Footage)
It took Zorro the better part of two hours to find a bar that was to his liking. Everything in New York was too done up—novela demasiado. Zorro wasn’t one to be hip on anything other than fighting. That’s why when he entered this particular pub and saw that every television had nothing but fights on, he knew he’d found his bar.
“This place suits you, Zorro?”
Zorro nodded as he pulled up a seat at the far end of the bar. Troy Dawes did a quick once over on the bar before sitting down.
“You are no comfortable with this?”
Zorro didn’t care if Troy was comfortable or not. The fact of the matter was that Troy insisted on ac-companying Zorro since this was his first time in the city. Zorro didn’t appreciate being hovered over, and the scowl on his face indicated that he wasn’t too fond of being with his employer.
“It’s fine. It’s got a retro vibe to it, like it exists in its own domain. Kind of like yourself.”
A waitress came up to take their order. Zorro immediately ordered six shots of Tequila Anejo and waved the waitress off before Troy could get a word in.
“I’m more of a whiskey man really.”
“And you think that this makes you a man? Patético gringo.”
“I think it just makes me, me. Look I know you don’t want me here—“
Zorro scoffed. He’d heard this before. It didn’t matter that he was in a different country, people were ultimately all the same. They cared about every little thing more than they should have. Things that weren’t any of their business, they made their business. Ultimately, Troy opted not to finish his sen-tence and instead just grinned that knowing grin of his that Zorro found annoying. The waitress returned with a tray of six small glasses filled to the brim with the amber liquid.
“Thank you.”
The waitress smiled at Troy who winked back to her. Zorro starred down their interaction, his eyes especially locked on the waitress. Troy could have any woman he wanted. He was a trust fund baby, so Zorro assumed that he’d never done a hard day’s work in his life. Zorro pitied men like him: men who were doomed to live their lives ignorant of the enlightenment of combat. The waitress left as Zorro picked up one of the glasses. He glared at the small, smiling, blond man in front of him until he too picked up a glass.
“A la batalla de emoción. Mayo nuestras victorias nos traen más cerca a Dios, y pueden nuestros fra-casos ser nuestra penitencia para el fracaso de entender totalmente su amor.”
Troy’s grin widened into a beam as he nodded his approval of the toast. Both men downed their first shot quickly. Zorro then downed his second and third stacking each of the glasses inside each other as he finished. Troy eyed him with his head on his knuckle. Zorro wanted to punch him in the face.
“You absolutely fascinate me. I have to admit, when Stoney told me to reach out to you and sign you, I had my reservations. Here we are, a new agency, and our prominent signee wants us to sign a poten-tial liability to our brand. But, I couldn’t ignore what you were capable of. This—fighting, wrestling, grappling—it’s truly is your life’s purpose, isn’t it?”
“It is life’s only purpose, no? Survival. Some of us have to fight for the right while others are born with it.”
“I never pegged you as a Liberal.”
Zorro shook his head. Why did they always try to make things political, Americans?
Everything was a conspiracy that can be traced back to their government. A tree falls in through their roof and they blame it on the senator that passed a bill that increases their cost of health insurance. Did they think themselves so smart that they believe it ridiculous to simply blame the tree?
“You misunderstand.”
“Enlighten me then.”
Zorro looked to the ceiling. It was decorated with framed photos of famed boxers and fighters, past and present, which were nailed to the ceiling. He noticed a few of his childhood favorites. He remembered watching them and wanting to be like them. One particular photo reminded him of a poem that one of his coaches one made him read for motivation.
“El viento, un día brillante, llama
a mi alma con un olor a jazmín.
‘A cambio del olor de mi jazmín,"
el viento me dijo
"me gustaría te cambian por el olor de sus rosas.’
le dije, ‘no tengo ninguna rosas; todas las flores
en mi jardín están muertas’.
‘Pues bien’, dijo el viento,
‘voy a tomar tus pétalos marchitos
y sus hojas amarillas
y las aguas de su fuente.’
El viento de la izquierda. Y lloré.
y me dije: ‘Lo que ha hecho
con el jardín que fue confiado a usted?’"
Zorro returned his gaze to level and grabbed one of the remaining shots of Anejo and downed it. Troy eyed him, the smile on his face replaced by a look of sheer bewilderment.
“Antonio Machado wrote that. Lovely poem, no? At the same time, so pitiful. See, las flores, they were cursed to be dependent on another to ensure their survival. Doomed from the beginning be-cause they didn’t have to fight for it, didn’t have to earn it. It was just assumed that they would be taken care of. They existed with no purpose other than to leech off of another.”
Zorro nudged the final shot glass over to Troy, who took it while glaring at Zorro, his edges of his mouth sloped slightly into a barely noticeable frown. Zorro stood up and began to walk towards the exit. He stopped beside Troy who still held the glass in his hand.
“I believe it would be best if we keep our relationship strictly professional, señor Dawes.”
With that Zorro walked out of the restaurant. Troy sighed, that knowing grin returning. He downed the final shot before waving the glass into the air.
“As if we could ever be anything else. Waitress, whiskey on the rocks!”
March 18th
07:30 EST
Team Nox HQ (New York City, New York)
(Live Feed)
Nox Sports HQ was what you’d expect from an agency in its infant stages: a medium sized office in a very large building. On the entrance door read “Nox Sports” in a blue-grey inside of a purple grunge cloud. There was a small conference room in the back with a round table that seated six. Every member of Team Nox—Troy Dawes, Aric Keaton, Stoney Stone, Zorro del Castillo, and Wayward Nymph—were seated at the table. All were dressed in Team Nox apparel: Troy and Aric wore Team Nox t-shirts underneath their blazers. Stoney was dressed in a Team Nox sweat suit, while Zorro chose to wear the Team Nox tracksuit. Nymph had taken a pair of scissors to a Team Nox tank top and gave it a small mid-riff. She’d also taken the liberty of ripping the back into a smiley face. On top of the tank was a sheer, black mesh top that she’d cut into a crop top. Stoney did not look pleased as Troy Dawes cleared his throat.
“For as long as I can remember I have been a fan of combat sports. So much so, that I began to train as a wrestler at age eight. My mother did not like it, but my father, a former athlete himself, told my mother that it would toughen me up and show me what life is all about. My love of combat sports spill over into my teens where I trained in various MMA gyms. I dreamed of one day fighting for a living, but that was not in my father’s plans for me. He wanted me to one day take over his investment firm so off to college I went, fighting being nothing more than an hobby in the eyes of my father. Upon us graduating from college, I managed to… persuade my associate, Aric Keaton, into training as a wrestler which he did with reluctance. I wanted to live vicariously through Aric, but wrestling just was not for him. Aric’s role was to be behind the scenes as we now know. So, I had Aric help me develop a business model to which we presented to my father. He liked our initiative and granted Aric and I funding for an experiment. Thus, Nox Sports was born. It didn’t take long for us to decide on who we want our first client to be. Marcus “Stoney” Stone is a well-traveled man. The reputation of his strength is known from New York to Japan. Originally, he was going to be our first and only signing for a while, but Stoney had other plans. He brought Zorro del Castillo and Wayward Nymph to our attention and Team Nox had been assembled.”
Stoney stood up, his chair sliding back to the wall in the process. He walked to the head of the table where Troy Dawes was seated and stood beside him. He looked at every person sat in front of him and every person sat in front of him looked back.
“This Saturday marks the beginning of a new era in all of our lives. Before, we were nothing more than individuals with common goals, but now we share the same goal, making Nox Sports the most respected and accomplished brand in wrestling today. This isn’t going to happen overnight. Blood, sweat, and tears will be shed along the way. Times will get tough, and the pressure of success may try to turn us against each other, but if we can overcome the pressure, there is nothing that will stop us. On Saturday, Zorro and I going up against the team of Arik Blayde and Chris Vector. These two men have fought side-by-side. Luckily for them, neither have Zorro and me. Zorro and I have faced each other multiple times, so each of us knows what the other is capable of, but working together is not going to be easy.”
Zorro grunts causing everyone in the room to look at him. Troy Dawes grins at Zorro causing Zorro to get to his feet and walks towards the door.
“Somebody doesn’t like to hear about themselves.”
Stoney gives Nymph a look which causes her to giggle. Zorro just looks at her for a second.
“Mija, there is nothing that anyone can ever tell you about yourself. I am the only one who knows what challenges me, not Stone. This Vector and this Blayde, they are no challenge. I will beat both of them, without Stone.”
Zorro walks out of the door causing Stoney to frown. Troy just smirks as Wayward Nymph looks from Stoney to the door and back.
“Soo, we can just leave?”
“No.”
Troy chuckles as Aric Keaton shakes his head.
“Yeah, this is all going to go well…”
((OOC: Poem Credit: The Wind, One Brilliant Day by Antonio Machado))