- Messages
- 32
- Points
- 18
NAME: [ERIS MORTI¿]
EAW ELITIST | ALSO KNOWN AS [ЯEDÆǽŝijŅ]
…
That was…
The best.
…
…
I got what I wanted… Didn't I?
I'm glad.
I…
I want more.
…
…
…
No.
I can't do that.
But…
…
Mm.
Fine.
It'll have to wait, won't it?
I can feel it, you know. I'm… I'm not entirely sure what it is. I'm not sure what to even think of it. But I feel it. I feel it. I'm not sure what to do about it. I'm not sure when it will go away, or if it will. It has been a week. I have had time to heal. To recover. To think, and yet… Hm. It doesn't matter. Not yet. The answer to my problems isn't here. This burden is not anybody's to bear but my own, nor do I need to make it anyone else's.
There's more work to be done.
More battles to be fought.
For now, I suppose that's all that matters.
My opponent could have been the EAW World Champion had Bloodsport gone her way. She is hurt. Broken. Angry, and such a feeling will only make her more dangerous.
…
...
...
Hahah.
I can work with that.
It must be frustrating. Compromising your own morals in pursuit of your goals, only to remain empty handed. Betraying yourself, sacrificing your own identity all for your efforts to mean absolutely nothing. To do what you'd once promised yourself you never would. To be willing to let go of whatever limitations you previously held, whatever mental restraints previously plagued you in favor of achieving what you have been chasing for so long only to learn the stage you thought was yours was not actually what it seemed. You left one prison, only to find yourself in another. In a way, I can empathize with you for this.
And yet, I'm glad you failed. As unfair as it may sound, your failure may be a significant reason that this match becomes worthwhile for me. I don't say this to speak lightly of your wrestling ability. I say this to validate your own words. I'm glad that you're entering this match filled with rage. The kind of rage that'll lead to you rethinking your approach inside of the ring. The kind of rage that'll cause you to become an even bigger threat than you were before, because the last thing you need right now is another loss eating away at both your heart and your brain- and I am the one threatening you with it. What you have is the kind of pent up frustration that makes you exactly the kind of challenge I could use right now, so no, Bird, I don't intend to hide how I feel about your loss at Bloodsport, nor about your mental state heading into this match. Right now, you seem like just the right opponent to amuse me. Under the right circumstances, that is.
But to be frank, I don't require your approval to feel how I do.
You waste your time trying to get through to me, dear. Convincing me that you're not interested in dancing means nothing if you dance with me, anyway. If I punch you, would you be more concerned about why I punched you, or the fact that I did it at all? I would assume your first instinct would be to react. To retaliate after such an unprompted attack. The first thought that enters your brain would not be the “why” but the “what”, so please, just for one moment consider what you are telling me and ask yourself why any of it should actually concern me. I could guess what your mentality regarding this match would look like the moment it was announced, because for better or for worse, you are an open book. You don't hide any anger that you feel. You do not hide just how badly you wish to succeed. You allow every thought residing in your head to be known, so when this match came to be, do you think I ever for one moment doubted that you would bring me whatever I ask you to bring as long as it provides you even a chance of securing the victory that you could not last week?
I understand how you feel.
I feel your anger.
I feel your rage.
I know you want to hit something.
I know you want to hurt someone.
You have no reason to deprive yourself of that desire against me, because I will not return the favor.
Whatever the reason is. Whatever motivates you to fight me. Use it. Go ahead. Don't bother asking why. Don't second guess yourself. That inability to live in the moment, to merely fight like the caged animal that you are may be what cost you when you quite literally were trapped in that hellish cage against the Fireheart. You believed that you had everything under control and that your lack of restraint was enough to push you over the edge and into the welcoming arms of victory, but your micromanaging nature prevented you from addressing the same possibility that ultimately cost you the match. Hans Grayson, though he may seem otherwise, is far from weak. He was willing to fight fire with fire, because unlike you, he understood that what mattered was not control. He understood that what was important was not trying to stick to whatever plan he had already conjured up in his mind, but doing whatever it takes to survive- because THAT is what it means to be a fighter. You overthink, Bird. You worry so much about what you did wrong, what you must do differently, what circumstances you must force into alignment, but you did not lose at Bloodsport because you were too slow. Too weak. Too clumsy. You lost because Hans chose to stick his thumb in your eye just as you had done to him, and he drove your head directly into a bed of nails. He didn't care for whatever image you had already painted of him in your mind, and now, I think it is time you stop caring, too.
I suppose I can understand why you feel how you feel about me, but for your sake, I'll let you know that what I desire is not control over everything, or anything that concerns me. What would this sport be without its unpredictability? How would I find any enjoyment in this place if I knew exactly what was going to happen at all times? What I desire is excitement, Raven. I want to have a good time and sometimes that means giving my opponents a bit of a nudge, but other times, they're interesting enough to show me a good time all on their own. All I need is substance, Raven. Something for me to truly sink my teeth into, and I had that. I've been given that in a way I had never been before thanks to Caroline, and… And I……… Tch.
You understand, don't you?
Don't confuse me for a fool. I know how it feels to hold someone in the palm of my hands. To dangle them around as if they are puppets, trapped by strings motioned by me. I have no qualms with forcing my opponents hands and deciding their fates for them, but this is not just a game. This is a sport where authenticity will always triumph, and you'll never feel more alive than when your life is truly on the line, and nothing matters but this.
How do you feel, Raven?
Do you feel alive? Can you feel your own blood coursing through your veins? Can you feel your heart beat? Can you actually feel the fire burning inside of you- or are you really going to continue killing yourself figuring out the best ways to optimize it? I believe it to be fairly simply what you must do at Voltage. It is as you said. If you must hit me with one Talon. Two, three or even more, do it. Don't hesitate. Don't worry yourself with whether or not you'll be playing into my hands. The longer you spend trying to piece together every single second of our match, the wider of an opening you'll leave me to foil your plan and ruin your night entirely, just as Hans did. Open yourself up to the worst, Raven. Embrace the reality that matches like this are bound to be violent. They're bound to be nasty. Dirty. Order doesn't exist when you're in an all out brawl. The things you'll do only at your worst when you feel they're guaranteed to lead to your success are things some people will do even at their best, just because they can. Sometimes Raven, you just need to go out there and fight. With the heartbreak you're feeling right now, I think you could use a good fight.
I know I could.
Like it or not Bird, you and I are both losers. How we choose to feel about this fact is up to us, but I for one am not interested in hearing just how much you disapprove of my mentality in favor of your whining about a Championship match you happened to lose. Championship matches come and go, and you've already spent six years losing them, Raven. One more year without singles gold won't kill you- but you know what will?
Weakness.
Hesitation.
The inability to strike because you were trapped within your own head. There is nothing that'll ruin you quite like captivity.
Trusting in your control? That was what you claimed to be your fatal mistake, and yet it sounds an awful lot like the inaccurate description you've given me. The supposed difference between us. You don't know me too well it seems, but what you know even less is what's best for you. It is you, Bird. You are the one who suffers from the attempts at playing director. You fail because you believe you have any right to determine every miniscule outcome of a match prior to its ending. To decide the events that'll follow your every move. You deem the natural flow of the world to be part of your own story and now rather than confronting this weakness of yours entirely, you've decided that the best course of action is to double down and attempt to forge this story together by force! No, no no no. That's a copout, Bird. This is how you disappoint yourself. This is how you find yourself in the exact same position you were in following your match against Hans Grayson. You're no director. You're a fighter. A warrior. You are a wrestler!
What will you do when I don't provide you a cheap, easy obstacle to make you feel better about yourself?
What will you do when I don't roll over and die so you can regain your lost momentum?
Hit harder?
I welcome that.
I want that, and you know that.
Have you never considered, I may even be waiting for that?
You offer me such interesting possibilities, but it comes in a package that is unsure of how to manifest any of them. Let loose. Don't worry about what is next. Don't worry about the future. Don't worry about your currently nonexistent road back to the EAW World Championship. Hans Grayson is not your opponent, and he likely won't be your opponent again anytime soon. You can think of what you'll do differently should you get a rematch, but that line of thought won't do you any favors here. You're dangerous. You're resentful. You're bitter. You feel everything one should feel if they want to lay waste to whoever stands in their way, but you won't do much of anything as long as you look past me, denying that I even exist. You don't write me off because you've already sealed my fate. You write me off because you hope my fate has been sealed. You do so not out of rage, but out of fear. You double down not out of anger, but out of concern that you merely don't possess the means to stand at the top of a modern day EAW.
This is not fire, Raven. As I warned, this is weakness. This is what you need to rid yourself of, before it is far too late.
You try too hard to decide the battlefield rather than becoming a competitor capable of adapting to whatever scenarios are presented to you. Believe me, I have my preferences, too. There are certainly matches that are… Far outside of my tastes… But we can't decide every second of our lives, Bird. All we can decide is how we will respond to the situations we are put in- and I believe you saw with your own eyes what I chose to do inside of that Box. I chose to fight, down to the very end. I chose to fight, even at the end. I did the one thing that mattered to me, and if you want to achieve what matters to you, you need to stop trapping yourself in the confines of a closed-mind and leave room for the unpredictable. I may not have been in this company for too long so forgive me if I am out of place for saying this, but already I can say for certain that EAW is unlike any wrestling promotion I have ever been part of. There are some true monsters lurking in this company, and you can't afford to blind yourself to them. You must fight. You must look every threat you face in the eyes and understand what you're facing. Don't underestimate the kind of freedom anyone in a place like this would wish to enjoy.
I remind you, there is a reason you lost to Hans Grayson.
I am okay with you caring only for how I lose. You wondering only how much I can take before I fall, I can gladly accept. I am even fine with it if you choose to view me as nothing more than a junkie, but if this is the case, could you at least do me a favor and avoid ruining my next fix? We can help each other, and I am certainly doing my part. I have no use for an opponent who'll continue falling victim to the same mistakes because they don't believe in a concept as simple as unpredictability, or more accurately, the inability to see the future.
I'm giving you someone to hurt. Someone to fight. Someone to test yourself against, and the opportunity to reevaluate your approach to this sport.
All I ask that you give me is your best, and no, I don't mean your dull, empty threats and reluctant promises of the bare minimum.
I mean your best.
I don't want you to be willing only to hit me.
I want you to be willing get hit.
I want you to be willing to suffer.
If it comes down to it, I want you to be willing to burn in hell with me.
There is nothing worse than the threat of having your freedom taken from you, and I refuse to allow you to make such threats unfounded.
EAW ELITIST | ALSO KNOWN AS [ЯEDÆǽŝijŅ]
…
What is this…?
…
That… That Box...
What is this…?
…
That… That Box...
…
That was…
The worst.
The best.
…
What does she know?
How does she…?
Is she in my head?
…
How does she…?
Is she in my head?
…
…
I got what I wanted… Didn't I?
I'm glad.
I…
I hated it.
I want more.
…
…
…
Move on.
Just move on.
Forget about it.
Forget about… her.
Just move on.
Forget about it.
Forget about… her.
…
No.
I can't do that.
But…
…
Mm.
Fine.
It'll have to wait, won't it?
I can feel it, you know. I'm… I'm not entirely sure what it is. I'm not sure what to even think of it. But I feel it. I feel it. I'm not sure what to do about it. I'm not sure when it will go away, or if it will. It has been a week. I have had time to heal. To recover. To think, and yet… Hm. It doesn't matter. Not yet. The answer to my problems isn't here. This burden is not anybody's to bear but my own, nor do I need to make it anyone else's.
There's more work to be done.
More battles to be fought.
For now, I suppose that's all that matters.
My opponent could have been the EAW World Champion had Bloodsport gone her way. She is hurt. Broken. Angry, and such a feeling will only make her more dangerous.
…
...
...
Hahah.
I can work with that.
It must be frustrating. Compromising your own morals in pursuit of your goals, only to remain empty handed. Betraying yourself, sacrificing your own identity all for your efforts to mean absolutely nothing. To do what you'd once promised yourself you never would. To be willing to let go of whatever limitations you previously held, whatever mental restraints previously plagued you in favor of achieving what you have been chasing for so long only to learn the stage you thought was yours was not actually what it seemed. You left one prison, only to find yourself in another. In a way, I can empathize with you for this.
And yet, I'm glad you failed. As unfair as it may sound, your failure may be a significant reason that this match becomes worthwhile for me. I don't say this to speak lightly of your wrestling ability. I say this to validate your own words. I'm glad that you're entering this match filled with rage. The kind of rage that'll lead to you rethinking your approach inside of the ring. The kind of rage that'll cause you to become an even bigger threat than you were before, because the last thing you need right now is another loss eating away at both your heart and your brain- and I am the one threatening you with it. What you have is the kind of pent up frustration that makes you exactly the kind of challenge I could use right now, so no, Bird, I don't intend to hide how I feel about your loss at Bloodsport, nor about your mental state heading into this match. Right now, you seem like just the right opponent to amuse me. Under the right circumstances, that is.
But to be frank, I don't require your approval to feel how I do.
You waste your time trying to get through to me, dear. Convincing me that you're not interested in dancing means nothing if you dance with me, anyway. If I punch you, would you be more concerned about why I punched you, or the fact that I did it at all? I would assume your first instinct would be to react. To retaliate after such an unprompted attack. The first thought that enters your brain would not be the “why” but the “what”, so please, just for one moment consider what you are telling me and ask yourself why any of it should actually concern me. I could guess what your mentality regarding this match would look like the moment it was announced, because for better or for worse, you are an open book. You don't hide any anger that you feel. You do not hide just how badly you wish to succeed. You allow every thought residing in your head to be known, so when this match came to be, do you think I ever for one moment doubted that you would bring me whatever I ask you to bring as long as it provides you even a chance of securing the victory that you could not last week?
I understand how you feel.
I feel your anger.
I feel your rage.
I know you want to hit something.
I know you want to hurt someone.
You have no reason to deprive yourself of that desire against me, because I will not return the favor.
Whatever the reason is. Whatever motivates you to fight me. Use it. Go ahead. Don't bother asking why. Don't second guess yourself. That inability to live in the moment, to merely fight like the caged animal that you are may be what cost you when you quite literally were trapped in that hellish cage against the Fireheart. You believed that you had everything under control and that your lack of restraint was enough to push you over the edge and into the welcoming arms of victory, but your micromanaging nature prevented you from addressing the same possibility that ultimately cost you the match. Hans Grayson, though he may seem otherwise, is far from weak. He was willing to fight fire with fire, because unlike you, he understood that what mattered was not control. He understood that what was important was not trying to stick to whatever plan he had already conjured up in his mind, but doing whatever it takes to survive- because THAT is what it means to be a fighter. You overthink, Bird. You worry so much about what you did wrong, what you must do differently, what circumstances you must force into alignment, but you did not lose at Bloodsport because you were too slow. Too weak. Too clumsy. You lost because Hans chose to stick his thumb in your eye just as you had done to him, and he drove your head directly into a bed of nails. He didn't care for whatever image you had already painted of him in your mind, and now, I think it is time you stop caring, too.
I suppose I can understand why you feel how you feel about me, but for your sake, I'll let you know that what I desire is not control over everything, or anything that concerns me. What would this sport be without its unpredictability? How would I find any enjoyment in this place if I knew exactly what was going to happen at all times? What I desire is excitement, Raven. I want to have a good time and sometimes that means giving my opponents a bit of a nudge, but other times, they're interesting enough to show me a good time all on their own. All I need is substance, Raven. Something for me to truly sink my teeth into, and I had that. I've been given that in a way I had never been before thanks to Caroline, and… And I……… Tch.
You understand, don't you?
Don't confuse me for a fool. I know how it feels to hold someone in the palm of my hands. To dangle them around as if they are puppets, trapped by strings motioned by me. I have no qualms with forcing my opponents hands and deciding their fates for them, but this is not just a game. This is a sport where authenticity will always triumph, and you'll never feel more alive than when your life is truly on the line, and nothing matters but this.
How do you feel, Raven?
Do you feel alive? Can you feel your own blood coursing through your veins? Can you feel your heart beat? Can you actually feel the fire burning inside of you- or are you really going to continue killing yourself figuring out the best ways to optimize it? I believe it to be fairly simply what you must do at Voltage. It is as you said. If you must hit me with one Talon. Two, three or even more, do it. Don't hesitate. Don't worry yourself with whether or not you'll be playing into my hands. The longer you spend trying to piece together every single second of our match, the wider of an opening you'll leave me to foil your plan and ruin your night entirely, just as Hans did. Open yourself up to the worst, Raven. Embrace the reality that matches like this are bound to be violent. They're bound to be nasty. Dirty. Order doesn't exist when you're in an all out brawl. The things you'll do only at your worst when you feel they're guaranteed to lead to your success are things some people will do even at their best, just because they can. Sometimes Raven, you just need to go out there and fight. With the heartbreak you're feeling right now, I think you could use a good fight.
I know I could.
Like it or not Bird, you and I are both losers. How we choose to feel about this fact is up to us, but I for one am not interested in hearing just how much you disapprove of my mentality in favor of your whining about a Championship match you happened to lose. Championship matches come and go, and you've already spent six years losing them, Raven. One more year without singles gold won't kill you- but you know what will?
Weakness.
Hesitation.
The inability to strike because you were trapped within your own head. There is nothing that'll ruin you quite like captivity.
Trusting in your control? That was what you claimed to be your fatal mistake, and yet it sounds an awful lot like the inaccurate description you've given me. The supposed difference between us. You don't know me too well it seems, but what you know even less is what's best for you. It is you, Bird. You are the one who suffers from the attempts at playing director. You fail because you believe you have any right to determine every miniscule outcome of a match prior to its ending. To decide the events that'll follow your every move. You deem the natural flow of the world to be part of your own story and now rather than confronting this weakness of yours entirely, you've decided that the best course of action is to double down and attempt to forge this story together by force! No, no no no. That's a copout, Bird. This is how you disappoint yourself. This is how you find yourself in the exact same position you were in following your match against Hans Grayson. You're no director. You're a fighter. A warrior. You are a wrestler!
What will you do when I don't provide you a cheap, easy obstacle to make you feel better about yourself?
What will you do when I don't roll over and die so you can regain your lost momentum?
Hit harder?
I welcome that.
I want that, and you know that.
Have you never considered, I may even be waiting for that?
You offer me such interesting possibilities, but it comes in a package that is unsure of how to manifest any of them. Let loose. Don't worry about what is next. Don't worry about the future. Don't worry about your currently nonexistent road back to the EAW World Championship. Hans Grayson is not your opponent, and he likely won't be your opponent again anytime soon. You can think of what you'll do differently should you get a rematch, but that line of thought won't do you any favors here. You're dangerous. You're resentful. You're bitter. You feel everything one should feel if they want to lay waste to whoever stands in their way, but you won't do much of anything as long as you look past me, denying that I even exist. You don't write me off because you've already sealed my fate. You write me off because you hope my fate has been sealed. You do so not out of rage, but out of fear. You double down not out of anger, but out of concern that you merely don't possess the means to stand at the top of a modern day EAW.
This is not fire, Raven. As I warned, this is weakness. This is what you need to rid yourself of, before it is far too late.
You try too hard to decide the battlefield rather than becoming a competitor capable of adapting to whatever scenarios are presented to you. Believe me, I have my preferences, too. There are certainly matches that are… Far outside of my tastes… But we can't decide every second of our lives, Bird. All we can decide is how we will respond to the situations we are put in- and I believe you saw with your own eyes what I chose to do inside of that Box. I chose to fight, down to the very end. I chose to fight, even at the end. I did the one thing that mattered to me, and if you want to achieve what matters to you, you need to stop trapping yourself in the confines of a closed-mind and leave room for the unpredictable. I may not have been in this company for too long so forgive me if I am out of place for saying this, but already I can say for certain that EAW is unlike any wrestling promotion I have ever been part of. There are some true monsters lurking in this company, and you can't afford to blind yourself to them. You must fight. You must look every threat you face in the eyes and understand what you're facing. Don't underestimate the kind of freedom anyone in a place like this would wish to enjoy.
I remind you, there is a reason you lost to Hans Grayson.
I am okay with you caring only for how I lose. You wondering only how much I can take before I fall, I can gladly accept. I am even fine with it if you choose to view me as nothing more than a junkie, but if this is the case, could you at least do me a favor and avoid ruining my next fix? We can help each other, and I am certainly doing my part. I have no use for an opponent who'll continue falling victim to the same mistakes because they don't believe in a concept as simple as unpredictability, or more accurately, the inability to see the future.
I'm giving you someone to hurt. Someone to fight. Someone to test yourself against, and the opportunity to reevaluate your approach to this sport.
All I ask that you give me is your best, and no, I don't mean your dull, empty threats and reluctant promises of the bare minimum.
I mean your best.
I don't want you to be willing only to hit me.
I want you to be willing get hit.
I want you to be willing to suffer.
If it comes down to it, I want you to be willing to burn in hell with me.
There is nothing worse than the threat of having your freedom taken from you, and I refuse to allow you to make such threats unfounded.
