Post by Deleted on Aug 1, 2021 13:52:08 GMT -5
Row upon row of polished wooden pews sat in near darkness. The church merely another large empty space at night.
The coming daylight would reveal a floor of a beige marble, trimmed in gold leaf with tiny flecks of green scattered throughout.
It provided a subtle backdrop beneath a perpetual rainbow cast via the stained glass windows set above and behind the dais and into the arched roof that led to the steeple and bell tower.
Sparsely lit candles provided meagre light, casting long and flickering shadows that hung over the parish.
The slow cadence of laboured footsteps preceded the voice of our host. “Time heals all wounds. That’s what they say, isn’t it?” A male voice asks. Low and steady, there’s a hollow quality to his voice, an almost mocking tone.
Echoing from the marble floors all the way to the balconies meant to house the choir during Sunday mass, the enigma had been silent following Honor, something no one had likely expected. Especially in light of how things ended.
Not that it was by his own folly, but the result stained him like blood. It was one thing to lose honourably, but to have the result taken from him? To have his destiny stolen from him like that. That feeling of never knowing if he would have escaped, it haunted him. It was torture.
He closed his eyes and could picture every detail as though it were still happening now. Donzig, the great talker, had almost dethroned him and many questioned if he would have escaped on his own. A question he had asked himself. There was only one answer.
Freakke would pay. Pay for what he had stolen from him. Honour. But that would have to wait. A thorn in his side.
Walking along the front of the alter, ‘D’ is layered in shadow. Black upon black, his suit reminiscent of a traditional Asian style suit, complete with a trimmed and rounded collar. “Time has done nothing for me but allow my wounds to fester Steve Awesome. How do you think that bodes for you?” The foul mood of ‘D’ following Honor had bled into every aspect of his life.
He trained harder, working long into the evenings sharpening skills he had felt had failed him or that had come across as eroded during the match with Donzig.
But this too, would have to wait. Another thorn in his side. They were beginning to add up.
“You and Freakke have made your decisions. You were both faced with a the choice all men face.” A somberness takes hold of his voice, this was obviously important to him. “To take the honourable path or the short cut…” He trails off, his thoughts drifting back to the ring.”…you chose the path you felt was easiest. So, you attacked me like a coward, tipping your hand in the process.”
Venom drips from his words as reverence is drowned and annoyance takes hold of him. “You wouldn’t have done something so stupid if you didn’t feel like you had to. Thinking that by doing so, it was the only way you could get an advantage. But, your little attack did something you never anticipated.”
Looking straight into the soul of Steve Awesome, it’s a penetrating gaze, a penance stare. “It has awakened the darkness within me. You see, the duality of men’s souls is that they contain the potential for great acts of love and great acts of hate.” Taking a moment to seemingly ponder his own words, ‘D’ looks out across the empty congregation and nods affirming some unseen decision.
“Hate comes for you at August on the Atlantic. Nothing else Steve Awesome…nothing else.” His words run cold now, he had thought he and Awesome had an understanding, but if that fool wanted a monster…he’d get one.
“You made what was supposed to be an Honourable match, personal…” Anger flashed in the steel blue eyes of ‘D’, the normally cool and collected enigmatic Vodou warrior growls. “I’m dangerous at the best of times, but focused? Focused I’m a force of nature. Pain. Destruction.” Pacing once more, it’s clear he struggles with this choice. With what he must become. “That’s why I’ve been quiet. I’ve taken my time, reviewed the match at Honor time after time and I come to the same conclusion each and every time.”
The personal nature of attacking someone wasn’t lost on the enigma, Awesome made one critical error. He didn’t finish him when he had the chance. “Steve Awesome can’t keep me down. He took his best shot, I was literally in the middle of a tough fought match…and that wresting equivalent of a unic still couldn’t finish me.”
Awesome had done what few others had, he now joined the likes of The Departed and Kintaru. Steve was now more than a challenge. He was an enemy. “You think yourself amusing Steve? You’re a clown, and that’s coming from someone who wrestles in paint. I’m going to expose your greatest fear to the world Steve. I’m going to show everyone what you don’t want them to see, what keeps you up at night…”
Closer than before, we can see the intensity held within his eyes. “…that you’re not…that…good.”
We pan back, slowly slipping away into the darkness. The enigmatic preacher had delivered his sermon, soon the light would become a shining beacon. The light of hope forcing the darkness of despair back. How much longer would that light shine?
The coming daylight would reveal a floor of a beige marble, trimmed in gold leaf with tiny flecks of green scattered throughout.
It provided a subtle backdrop beneath a perpetual rainbow cast via the stained glass windows set above and behind the dais and into the arched roof that led to the steeple and bell tower.
Sparsely lit candles provided meagre light, casting long and flickering shadows that hung over the parish.
The slow cadence of laboured footsteps preceded the voice of our host. “Time heals all wounds. That’s what they say, isn’t it?” A male voice asks. Low and steady, there’s a hollow quality to his voice, an almost mocking tone.
Echoing from the marble floors all the way to the balconies meant to house the choir during Sunday mass, the enigma had been silent following Honor, something no one had likely expected. Especially in light of how things ended.
Not that it was by his own folly, but the result stained him like blood. It was one thing to lose honourably, but to have the result taken from him? To have his destiny stolen from him like that. That feeling of never knowing if he would have escaped, it haunted him. It was torture.
He closed his eyes and could picture every detail as though it were still happening now. Donzig, the great talker, had almost dethroned him and many questioned if he would have escaped on his own. A question he had asked himself. There was only one answer.
Freakke would pay. Pay for what he had stolen from him. Honour. But that would have to wait. A thorn in his side.
Walking along the front of the alter, ‘D’ is layered in shadow. Black upon black, his suit reminiscent of a traditional Asian style suit, complete with a trimmed and rounded collar. “Time has done nothing for me but allow my wounds to fester Steve Awesome. How do you think that bodes for you?” The foul mood of ‘D’ following Honor had bled into every aspect of his life.
He trained harder, working long into the evenings sharpening skills he had felt had failed him or that had come across as eroded during the match with Donzig.
But this too, would have to wait. Another thorn in his side. They were beginning to add up.
“You and Freakke have made your decisions. You were both faced with a the choice all men face.” A somberness takes hold of his voice, this was obviously important to him. “To take the honourable path or the short cut…” He trails off, his thoughts drifting back to the ring.”…you chose the path you felt was easiest. So, you attacked me like a coward, tipping your hand in the process.”
Venom drips from his words as reverence is drowned and annoyance takes hold of him. “You wouldn’t have done something so stupid if you didn’t feel like you had to. Thinking that by doing so, it was the only way you could get an advantage. But, your little attack did something you never anticipated.”
Looking straight into the soul of Steve Awesome, it’s a penetrating gaze, a penance stare. “It has awakened the darkness within me. You see, the duality of men’s souls is that they contain the potential for great acts of love and great acts of hate.” Taking a moment to seemingly ponder his own words, ‘D’ looks out across the empty congregation and nods affirming some unseen decision.
“Hate comes for you at August on the Atlantic. Nothing else Steve Awesome…nothing else.” His words run cold now, he had thought he and Awesome had an understanding, but if that fool wanted a monster…he’d get one.
“You made what was supposed to be an Honourable match, personal…” Anger flashed in the steel blue eyes of ‘D’, the normally cool and collected enigmatic Vodou warrior growls. “I’m dangerous at the best of times, but focused? Focused I’m a force of nature. Pain. Destruction.” Pacing once more, it’s clear he struggles with this choice. With what he must become. “That’s why I’ve been quiet. I’ve taken my time, reviewed the match at Honor time after time and I come to the same conclusion each and every time.”
The personal nature of attacking someone wasn’t lost on the enigma, Awesome made one critical error. He didn’t finish him when he had the chance. “Steve Awesome can’t keep me down. He took his best shot, I was literally in the middle of a tough fought match…and that wresting equivalent of a unic still couldn’t finish me.”
Awesome had done what few others had, he now joined the likes of The Departed and Kintaru. Steve was now more than a challenge. He was an enemy. “You think yourself amusing Steve? You’re a clown, and that’s coming from someone who wrestles in paint. I’m going to expose your greatest fear to the world Steve. I’m going to show everyone what you don’t want them to see, what keeps you up at night…”
Closer than before, we can see the intensity held within his eyes. “…that you’re not…that…good.”
We pan back, slowly slipping away into the darkness. The enigmatic preacher had delivered his sermon, soon the light would become a shining beacon. The light of hope forcing the darkness of despair back. How much longer would that light shine?