Post by Sylver Morrigan on May 31, 2008 21:56:36 GMT -6
The scene opens in Sylver Morrigan's living room, where she is sitting on the couch, a glass of clear liquid (presumably vodka) in her hand. She sits foward, her elbows on her knees, her shiny pink hair hanging in her face.
There is no sound. No background noise, no television on, no cats scampering around. Nothing. Silence, save for the occassional distant pop of fireworks from a nearby major themepark*.
Morrigan is clearly thinking, and thinking hard.
Morrigan: It's not like I've forgotten you're my brother, Dan, I just grew so far away from you the further I grew into myself.
Flashback to Morrigan and Dan Hampton, standing together in the ring, triumphantly holding the ICW Tag Team Titles above their heads. Morrigan is dressed in silver, a little slimmer than she is now, momentarily clean, looking thrilled to be sharing this moment with Dan.
Flashback further in the past, a discussion in person between Hampton and Morrigan... Hampton talking about how he was wrestling in this fed, EWA, and how there was room for a woman like Morrigan, with skills like Morrigan, to advance. Morrigan confessing that as athletic as she was, as much technical wrestling skill that she had, she didn't feel she could compete with some of the more high-flying, high-risk wrestlers. Dan leaning back, smiling, saying he's be glad to show her some moves and help her get into ring shape. Morrigan smiling back.
Flashback even further, to a day now almost 12 years ago, Morrigan putting all her posessions, which were not many, into a Reliant K in front of a small white house on Long Island. A couple of laundry baskets full of clothes, a backpack, a pillow, one black garbage bag containing everything else she owned. Tears streaming down her face, looking back at the house, 17 years old and being kicked out of her house; it felt like having her brother, her best friend, taken away. Morrigan jumping into the car, slamming the door, and driving off crying so hard she could barely see.
Morrigan: I've never forgotten. I remember when Mom would yell at us for fighting in the living room. She always thought we were, like, mad at each other. We never were, were we? The only times we really fought was over my decisions, my drug use, my problems.
You truly are the 'Golden One'. You've fought your way up through the wrestling world to become one of the most celebrated champs ever. You fought your way out of the conforming, stifling life that was waiting for us. And, through it all, I was the one fucking up, the one messing around, the one ruining her relationships with everyone, including you.
Morrigan knocks back a healthy amount of the vodka, and lifts her head up. It's obvious that she's been crying; her mascara is smeared, her eyes are red. The past is not something that Morrigan talks about easily, it seems. It also appears she is heavily intoxicated at this point. A photo album, clearly showing pictures of a young Sylver Morrigan and Dan Hampton at various family and school gatherings sits open on the coffee table. My, oh my, Morrigan seems to have fallen head first into reliving her jaded past, even including her childhood.
Morrigan: And while blood may be thicker than water, this is business, Dan. I get it, and wouldn't have it any other way. I know you wouldn't dream of going easy on me, and you know I feel the same way. So don't worry, I'm all set for the match on Thursday, ready to do my damndest to beat the crap out of you and Dudley - and blood or not, I know you feel the same way.
Who knows, maybe things can be different this time around. I've been so involved with my own shit the last few years, between the drugs, rehab, my failed marriage.... maybe now we can take the time - outside of the ring - to get to know each other again.
Morrigan drains the glass and puts it on the table, closing the photo album. Finally, a sound besides Morrigan's voice: the loud, plaintative mewing of a cat. The small white cat comes tearing out of Morrigan's bedroom, makes a beeline for the couch, and lithely jumps up onto Morrigan's lap, demanding attention and chirruping loudly. She scratches it under her chin.
Morrigan: But about this Thursday... Kayne, you're right, I have no game but my 'A' game, and on Thursday, we will both have a chance to prove ourselves to the wrestling world. Me to prove I am once again the best wrestler I can be, one of the top in ICW, and you that you deserve the respect of your peers.
Although, I might disagree with your handling of the past. While it is, in fact, in the past, the past is what shapes us into who we are today, it affects the way we react to things, the way we make decisions. While we may be the future of ICW, the past of ICW is important, not just for the memories, but for what we can learn from it. If we learn from our mistakes - or the mistakes of others - we can avoid making those same mistakes in the future.
However, if we ignore the lessons that this life has to teach us, we are destined to make those same mistakes again. And again. And yet again until we fucking learn that lesson. It is unwise to discount not only the past of others, Kayne, but the past of ICW. There is much to be learned.
Morrigan stands up, cradling the cat to her chest. She walks towards her bedroom, turning out the living room light, and closes the door as the scene fades to black.
*All themepark names have been removed to protect the innocent (ie: me) from their lawyers. But it's big, 8 miles from my home in Central Florida, and involves a mouse. Be jealous, I didn't move 1200 miles to the armpit of the country because I love the damn humidity and the 'palmetto bugs' (they're fucking roaches and they're everywhere) and fire ants.
There is no sound. No background noise, no television on, no cats scampering around. Nothing. Silence, save for the occassional distant pop of fireworks from a nearby major themepark*.
Morrigan is clearly thinking, and thinking hard.
Morrigan: It's not like I've forgotten you're my brother, Dan, I just grew so far away from you the further I grew into myself.
Flashback to Morrigan and Dan Hampton, standing together in the ring, triumphantly holding the ICW Tag Team Titles above their heads. Morrigan is dressed in silver, a little slimmer than she is now, momentarily clean, looking thrilled to be sharing this moment with Dan.
Flashback further in the past, a discussion in person between Hampton and Morrigan... Hampton talking about how he was wrestling in this fed, EWA, and how there was room for a woman like Morrigan, with skills like Morrigan, to advance. Morrigan confessing that as athletic as she was, as much technical wrestling skill that she had, she didn't feel she could compete with some of the more high-flying, high-risk wrestlers. Dan leaning back, smiling, saying he's be glad to show her some moves and help her get into ring shape. Morrigan smiling back.
Flashback even further, to a day now almost 12 years ago, Morrigan putting all her posessions, which were not many, into a Reliant K in front of a small white house on Long Island. A couple of laundry baskets full of clothes, a backpack, a pillow, one black garbage bag containing everything else she owned. Tears streaming down her face, looking back at the house, 17 years old and being kicked out of her house; it felt like having her brother, her best friend, taken away. Morrigan jumping into the car, slamming the door, and driving off crying so hard she could barely see.
Morrigan: I've never forgotten. I remember when Mom would yell at us for fighting in the living room. She always thought we were, like, mad at each other. We never were, were we? The only times we really fought was over my decisions, my drug use, my problems.
You truly are the 'Golden One'. You've fought your way up through the wrestling world to become one of the most celebrated champs ever. You fought your way out of the conforming, stifling life that was waiting for us. And, through it all, I was the one fucking up, the one messing around, the one ruining her relationships with everyone, including you.
Morrigan knocks back a healthy amount of the vodka, and lifts her head up. It's obvious that she's been crying; her mascara is smeared, her eyes are red. The past is not something that Morrigan talks about easily, it seems. It also appears she is heavily intoxicated at this point. A photo album, clearly showing pictures of a young Sylver Morrigan and Dan Hampton at various family and school gatherings sits open on the coffee table. My, oh my, Morrigan seems to have fallen head first into reliving her jaded past, even including her childhood.
Morrigan: And while blood may be thicker than water, this is business, Dan. I get it, and wouldn't have it any other way. I know you wouldn't dream of going easy on me, and you know I feel the same way. So don't worry, I'm all set for the match on Thursday, ready to do my damndest to beat the crap out of you and Dudley - and blood or not, I know you feel the same way.
Who knows, maybe things can be different this time around. I've been so involved with my own shit the last few years, between the drugs, rehab, my failed marriage.... maybe now we can take the time - outside of the ring - to get to know each other again.
Morrigan drains the glass and puts it on the table, closing the photo album. Finally, a sound besides Morrigan's voice: the loud, plaintative mewing of a cat. The small white cat comes tearing out of Morrigan's bedroom, makes a beeline for the couch, and lithely jumps up onto Morrigan's lap, demanding attention and chirruping loudly. She scratches it under her chin.
Morrigan: But about this Thursday... Kayne, you're right, I have no game but my 'A' game, and on Thursday, we will both have a chance to prove ourselves to the wrestling world. Me to prove I am once again the best wrestler I can be, one of the top in ICW, and you that you deserve the respect of your peers.
Although, I might disagree with your handling of the past. While it is, in fact, in the past, the past is what shapes us into who we are today, it affects the way we react to things, the way we make decisions. While we may be the future of ICW, the past of ICW is important, not just for the memories, but for what we can learn from it. If we learn from our mistakes - or the mistakes of others - we can avoid making those same mistakes in the future.
However, if we ignore the lessons that this life has to teach us, we are destined to make those same mistakes again. And again. And yet again until we fucking learn that lesson. It is unwise to discount not only the past of others, Kayne, but the past of ICW. There is much to be learned.
Morrigan stands up, cradling the cat to her chest. She walks towards her bedroom, turning out the living room light, and closes the door as the scene fades to black.
*All themepark names have been removed to protect the innocent (ie: me) from their lawyers. But it's big, 8 miles from my home in Central Florida, and involves a mouse. Be jealous, I didn't move 1200 miles to the armpit of the country because I love the damn humidity and the 'palmetto bugs' (they're fucking roaches and they're everywhere) and fire ants.