Post by Aidan Carlisle on Sept 15, 2016 6:53:53 GMT
[The story portion of my most recent Boardwalk RP, with a few little implications for the on-going saga.]
It was with a soft hiss that Aidan rolled over in her bed. It wasn't just because she was still sore as hell from the grueling four phase Lethal Lottery competition she'd taken part in—and won—on Sunday. Her right forearm had peeled uncomfortably off of the engraved faceplate of the EOW Heavyweight Championship belt. What could she do but laugh at herself, though? That was what she got for falling asleep with the thing next to her on the bed.
It wasn't alone, however. The Internet Championship was sitting there as well. For the longest time she had sat there on the edge of the bed last night just staring at them. Thoughts had swirled around and around in her head, and she had just let them.
The EOW Heavyweight Championship was her first top tier championship. It had taken nine years, nine long years, but she had done it. It would always, always be special because of that. It was an important milestone, one that she felt ought to have come a long time ago. That didn't diminish the pride she felt now in the least, however.
But the Internet Championship was no less important to her. She had held and defended it for longer than any other in her career since returning to the States—having recently surpassed her Tag Team Championship run with Bryan in 4CW—and every day just added to that. She was closing in on being the longest reigning Internet Champion in Boardwalk Wrestling history. That was a marker that she was determined to reach.
One that James Edwards would no doubt be equally determined to make sure she did not reach. The errant thought was shrugged off. He was the contender now, but their date wasn't set and was bound to be a ways away. She would deal with that when the time came
With a sigh Aidan threw her legs over the edge of the bed. Her whole body protested, but she forced it to cooperate. On her way into the bathroom, she examined the “EAVYWE” imprint on her arm left behind by the faceplate of the belt. She had to chuckle again.
Her muscles felt marginally better after a nice, hot, extended shower. Enough that she could trudge downstairs. Her eyes fell on the paper on the table and she frowned at the memory. Then she looked at it more closely. It was blank.
“Huh...”
She shrugged it off. There had probably been two sheets stuck together and she had just left one behind after picking up the top one to toss it out or something. It wasn't like she was ever going to call him after reading everything that happened, now was she?
Speaking of calls... She sighed heavily as she picked up her phone from where it was on the counter to charge over night. Nothing. No missed calls, no texts. She tried dialing Liam anyway.
She held her breath, but that didn't stop the call from going straight to his voicemail. Why did she keep hoping he would answer? It wasn't like they would have allowed him access to his cell phone in jail, even in cordial England.
But why hadn't he called her again at this point?
Was he trying to protect her from all of it? Was it worse than she knew? ...Was there something else going on? She felt a little guilty for having that suspicion. There was no logical reason for her to think it, and realistically no reason she should have been jealous over anything.
Was it even jealousy? ...No, now that she thought about it, it wasn't. It was annoyance that she could be worrying over something big when there was something not so big going on. But that in and of itself was foolish because she had just made up that whole thing in her head anyway... …fuck. It was too early for this shit.
She completed the path to the fridge and dug out one of her coffee drinks, not budging until she had opened it and had a sip. With that out of the way she had to wonder... what the fuck was she going to do for the day? Her next matches were still more than a week away each. She wasn't going to shirk on training for either of them, but she didn't have to do that now. It was okay to take a rest, sometimes.
Her eyes slowly shifted back toward that blank paper on the table. An uneasy feeling settled over her. Something about it bothered her. After a few moments she strode over and picked it up, examining it closely. Whatever page that had been on top of it on the pad had certainly been written on. She could see the indentations, but she couldn't make out the words.
Finally, her eyes flicked up and she happened to catch her own reflection in the mirror at the back of the decorative cupboard in the corner of the dining area. She stared at herself for a long, long while. She looked tired, but no one was going to blame her for that. She wasn't seeing phantom wounds, so that was something.
“What the fuck are you doing?”
She spoke to her reflection, but of course it didn't answer.
“We've got enough ghosts, we don't need to be making up more.”
The whole thing was a mess. Liam stuck in England, insisting that she stay put in Delaware and stay out of the mess. How was she just supposed to keep going on with her life? And yet... she was. She'd done what she had to do when their account was frozen.
The rest... it was hard to argue that she had to do any of that. Illicit New York meetings, conversations full of revelations, accomplishing arguably the biggest win in her career when she should have been so worried she couldn't compete... that was all on her. The motivation for it all... that was on her too, and so was the celebration afterward.
Aidan sighed again, and closed her eyes. The images that danced through her mind ought to have bothered her. But they didn't. She was playing a dangerous game, the sort that had a nasty habit of not allowing there to be any winners.
It was with a soft hiss that Aidan rolled over in her bed. It wasn't just because she was still sore as hell from the grueling four phase Lethal Lottery competition she'd taken part in—and won—on Sunday. Her right forearm had peeled uncomfortably off of the engraved faceplate of the EOW Heavyweight Championship belt. What could she do but laugh at herself, though? That was what she got for falling asleep with the thing next to her on the bed.
It wasn't alone, however. The Internet Championship was sitting there as well. For the longest time she had sat there on the edge of the bed last night just staring at them. Thoughts had swirled around and around in her head, and she had just let them.
The EOW Heavyweight Championship was her first top tier championship. It had taken nine years, nine long years, but she had done it. It would always, always be special because of that. It was an important milestone, one that she felt ought to have come a long time ago. That didn't diminish the pride she felt now in the least, however.
But the Internet Championship was no less important to her. She had held and defended it for longer than any other in her career since returning to the States—having recently surpassed her Tag Team Championship run with Bryan in 4CW—and every day just added to that. She was closing in on being the longest reigning Internet Champion in Boardwalk Wrestling history. That was a marker that she was determined to reach.
One that James Edwards would no doubt be equally determined to make sure she did not reach. The errant thought was shrugged off. He was the contender now, but their date wasn't set and was bound to be a ways away. She would deal with that when the time came
With a sigh Aidan threw her legs over the edge of the bed. Her whole body protested, but she forced it to cooperate. On her way into the bathroom, she examined the “EAVYWE” imprint on her arm left behind by the faceplate of the belt. She had to chuckle again.
Her muscles felt marginally better after a nice, hot, extended shower. Enough that she could trudge downstairs. Her eyes fell on the paper on the table and she frowned at the memory. Then she looked at it more closely. It was blank.
“Huh...”
She shrugged it off. There had probably been two sheets stuck together and she had just left one behind after picking up the top one to toss it out or something. It wasn't like she was ever going to call him after reading everything that happened, now was she?
Speaking of calls... She sighed heavily as she picked up her phone from where it was on the counter to charge over night. Nothing. No missed calls, no texts. She tried dialing Liam anyway.
She held her breath, but that didn't stop the call from going straight to his voicemail. Why did she keep hoping he would answer? It wasn't like they would have allowed him access to his cell phone in jail, even in cordial England.
But why hadn't he called her again at this point?
Was he trying to protect her from all of it? Was it worse than she knew? ...Was there something else going on? She felt a little guilty for having that suspicion. There was no logical reason for her to think it, and realistically no reason she should have been jealous over anything.
Was it even jealousy? ...No, now that she thought about it, it wasn't. It was annoyance that she could be worrying over something big when there was something not so big going on. But that in and of itself was foolish because she had just made up that whole thing in her head anyway... …fuck. It was too early for this shit.
She completed the path to the fridge and dug out one of her coffee drinks, not budging until she had opened it and had a sip. With that out of the way she had to wonder... what the fuck was she going to do for the day? Her next matches were still more than a week away each. She wasn't going to shirk on training for either of them, but she didn't have to do that now. It was okay to take a rest, sometimes.
Her eyes slowly shifted back toward that blank paper on the table. An uneasy feeling settled over her. Something about it bothered her. After a few moments she strode over and picked it up, examining it closely. Whatever page that had been on top of it on the pad had certainly been written on. She could see the indentations, but she couldn't make out the words.
Finally, her eyes flicked up and she happened to catch her own reflection in the mirror at the back of the decorative cupboard in the corner of the dining area. She stared at herself for a long, long while. She looked tired, but no one was going to blame her for that. She wasn't seeing phantom wounds, so that was something.
“What the fuck are you doing?”
She spoke to her reflection, but of course it didn't answer.
“We've got enough ghosts, we don't need to be making up more.”
The whole thing was a mess. Liam stuck in England, insisting that she stay put in Delaware and stay out of the mess. How was she just supposed to keep going on with her life? And yet... she was. She'd done what she had to do when their account was frozen.
The rest... it was hard to argue that she had to do any of that. Illicit New York meetings, conversations full of revelations, accomplishing arguably the biggest win in her career when she should have been so worried she couldn't compete... that was all on her. The motivation for it all... that was on her too, and so was the celebration afterward.
Aidan sighed again, and closed her eyes. The images that danced through her mind ought to have bothered her. But they didn't. She was playing a dangerous game, the sort that had a nasty habit of not allowing there to be any winners.
