Post by Emma Danielson on Jul 8, 2013 22:52:25 GMT
She lit…the ringpost…on fire.
Not regular “grab a tin of lighter fluid and a box of matches” lit it on fire. Straight-up just made shoot fire from the ringposts. How in the world…what in the world…what the hell did I see? No, can’t linger on that…I’ve got to stop the slide.
And here to help me stop it is Miss Jessica Reed. Jess, I should be inclined to dislike you from the get-go. Your sister’s shacking up with Roberto “Designated Villain” Verona, and you’re just so aggressively…obnoxiously…HAPPY. It’s like I’m being force-fed a box of Lucky Charms, it’s all rainbows and goofiness and…and I’m trying to figure out WHY I don’t dislike you. By all rights, I should be swatting you around just for the crime of breathing my air.
But something about you…maybe it’s finally hearing someone new who doesn’t have their head up their ass talking to me. Maybe I see a bit of what I could have been in you. I want to hate you, and…and I can’t. I can certainly fight you. I fight my best friends for fun and profit all the time. But I can’t hate you.
I came onto the big stage on my own. I didn’t have anyone to back me up. I had a friend, yeah. But we were just friends. And he didn’t come charging to my rescue or anything. I could take care of myself. Part of me feels like I’ve kind of lost that edge. Time was, I walked into a room and people knew to give me space. I could reasonably say I could take any two or three women on the roster. Of course, that doesn’t always hold together, but…it was a perception. And that’s a perception I want to make happen again.
I…I could waste your time and mine yammering on about how mean and rough and tough I can be, but the fact is, I don’t need to. You acknowledged it yourself. You know what I can do, I know what I can do, the fans damn sure know what I can do…all that’s left is to get in the ring and actually go at it. You’ve got heart, Jessica. And more than just heart, you’ve got potential.
Maybe…maybe that Lone Ranger thing isn’t such an awful analogy. Well, apart from the fact that the Lone Ranger had Tonto, but…maybe it’s time I stopped caring who I dealt with. Put it out of mind. Just…have fun again. Enjoy what I do. Make some money. And remember why it was I fell in love with this sport.
Ryan, I don’t know all that much about you. You’re getting a softball this week, though. So…please, don’t screw this up. You need this, and so do I. So, kemosabe…let’s saddle up. Let’s take that first step down the trail to El Dorado.
Let’s ride.
We open on Emma at the bar, a bottle of beer in one hand and a few darts in the other. She sighs, setting down the beer and fishing out one of her darts. She lines up on the board, aiming, and she pulls back to throw, but is interrupted by her father’s voice as she moves to throw.
”Your shoe’s untied.”
Emma’s gaze flicks downward for a moment as she releases the dart, causing it to go wide and thud into one of the inner wedges. She recovers, shaking her head and glaring at her father, who chuckles and steps in, exchanging places with her.
”All these years and you still fall for that? Dammit, girl. Work on these things.”
Emma mutters something that’s likely unbroadcastable before taking a drink and leaning against the wall.
”So, what’s on your mind? You don’t play dirty tricks with darts unless something’s bothering you.”
Marcus nods, pulling back and delivering his dart directly into the inner slice of the 20. He looks over at her, fighting to keep a self-satisfied smirk off of his face.
”Ya got me. Em...you know how much this hurts me to say, but I think that Conway woman might have been right. You were all over the map last week. Bouncing from idea to idea, couldn’t make up your damn mind. If you’ve got your head straight, I want to know just what in the hell you think you’re going to be doing moving forward.”
Emma blinks, a bit annoyed. She sets down the darts, picking up her beer again.
”I don’t understand what’s so confusing. I want to win the Heiress to the Throne tournament. I want to be the Diamonds Champion. That’s my plan. It’s not about anyone else. It’s about me, plain and simple.”
”Yeah, yeah, that’s all well and good, but what if you lose? Don’t cut me off, Emma. What if you lose? What do you do then? Do you just mope in the corner? Do you choose an enemy? Face it, you’re only human. And humans make mistakes, Emma. Nothing to be ashamed of…I just want you to get your head in the game.”
Marcus reaches for a cigarette, but forces his hand away, shaking his head. Emma crosses her arms, moving to stand in front of the dartboard.
”Whoa, whoa. Aren’t you supposed to be encouraging me? What’s with all this crap? I’m not sure whose side you’re on right now…”
The older man shrugs, grabbing his own beer and knocking back a mouthful of it.
”I’m on your side. I’m just asking you to focus. Can’t afford to get sidetracked with all this chest-puffing about identity. You want that win, Emma? You have to stop worrying what people think. Don’t give me crap like you don’t. I know you’ve been playing things up. For who, I don’t care. All I know is you’re wasting your time trying to play a character. Take all that effort, put it into clearing house, and maybe I might not have to have this talk with you. Or lie about your shoes being tied.”
Danielson rolls her eyes, nodding, and sighs, walking over. She takes her father by the shoulders, looking him in the eyes with a slight smile on her face.
”Alright. For you, Daddy. I’ll beat people up for you. Consider it an early Christmas present.”
Marcus laughs, shaking his head, and hugs his daughter, patting her back.
”That’s my girl. Now come on. You’ve still got a chance to catch up, and I want to see you try.”
Emma nods, squeezing the hug before letting go, and walks over, collecting her darts. She spins one between her fingers, a smirk forming on her face as we fade to black.
Not regular “grab a tin of lighter fluid and a box of matches” lit it on fire. Straight-up just made shoot fire from the ringposts. How in the world…what in the world…what the hell did I see? No, can’t linger on that…I’ve got to stop the slide.
And here to help me stop it is Miss Jessica Reed. Jess, I should be inclined to dislike you from the get-go. Your sister’s shacking up with Roberto “Designated Villain” Verona, and you’re just so aggressively…obnoxiously…HAPPY. It’s like I’m being force-fed a box of Lucky Charms, it’s all rainbows and goofiness and…and I’m trying to figure out WHY I don’t dislike you. By all rights, I should be swatting you around just for the crime of breathing my air.
But something about you…maybe it’s finally hearing someone new who doesn’t have their head up their ass talking to me. Maybe I see a bit of what I could have been in you. I want to hate you, and…and I can’t. I can certainly fight you. I fight my best friends for fun and profit all the time. But I can’t hate you.
I came onto the big stage on my own. I didn’t have anyone to back me up. I had a friend, yeah. But we were just friends. And he didn’t come charging to my rescue or anything. I could take care of myself. Part of me feels like I’ve kind of lost that edge. Time was, I walked into a room and people knew to give me space. I could reasonably say I could take any two or three women on the roster. Of course, that doesn’t always hold together, but…it was a perception. And that’s a perception I want to make happen again.
I…I could waste your time and mine yammering on about how mean and rough and tough I can be, but the fact is, I don’t need to. You acknowledged it yourself. You know what I can do, I know what I can do, the fans damn sure know what I can do…all that’s left is to get in the ring and actually go at it. You’ve got heart, Jessica. And more than just heart, you’ve got potential.
Maybe…maybe that Lone Ranger thing isn’t such an awful analogy. Well, apart from the fact that the Lone Ranger had Tonto, but…maybe it’s time I stopped caring who I dealt with. Put it out of mind. Just…have fun again. Enjoy what I do. Make some money. And remember why it was I fell in love with this sport.
Ryan, I don’t know all that much about you. You’re getting a softball this week, though. So…please, don’t screw this up. You need this, and so do I. So, kemosabe…let’s saddle up. Let’s take that first step down the trail to El Dorado.
Let’s ride.
We open on Emma at the bar, a bottle of beer in one hand and a few darts in the other. She sighs, setting down the beer and fishing out one of her darts. She lines up on the board, aiming, and she pulls back to throw, but is interrupted by her father’s voice as she moves to throw.
”Your shoe’s untied.”
Emma’s gaze flicks downward for a moment as she releases the dart, causing it to go wide and thud into one of the inner wedges. She recovers, shaking her head and glaring at her father, who chuckles and steps in, exchanging places with her.
”All these years and you still fall for that? Dammit, girl. Work on these things.”
Emma mutters something that’s likely unbroadcastable before taking a drink and leaning against the wall.
”So, what’s on your mind? You don’t play dirty tricks with darts unless something’s bothering you.”
Marcus nods, pulling back and delivering his dart directly into the inner slice of the 20. He looks over at her, fighting to keep a self-satisfied smirk off of his face.
”Ya got me. Em...you know how much this hurts me to say, but I think that Conway woman might have been right. You were all over the map last week. Bouncing from idea to idea, couldn’t make up your damn mind. If you’ve got your head straight, I want to know just what in the hell you think you’re going to be doing moving forward.”
Emma blinks, a bit annoyed. She sets down the darts, picking up her beer again.
”I don’t understand what’s so confusing. I want to win the Heiress to the Throne tournament. I want to be the Diamonds Champion. That’s my plan. It’s not about anyone else. It’s about me, plain and simple.”
”Yeah, yeah, that’s all well and good, but what if you lose? Don’t cut me off, Emma. What if you lose? What do you do then? Do you just mope in the corner? Do you choose an enemy? Face it, you’re only human. And humans make mistakes, Emma. Nothing to be ashamed of…I just want you to get your head in the game.”
Marcus reaches for a cigarette, but forces his hand away, shaking his head. Emma crosses her arms, moving to stand in front of the dartboard.
”Whoa, whoa. Aren’t you supposed to be encouraging me? What’s with all this crap? I’m not sure whose side you’re on right now…”
The older man shrugs, grabbing his own beer and knocking back a mouthful of it.
”I’m on your side. I’m just asking you to focus. Can’t afford to get sidetracked with all this chest-puffing about identity. You want that win, Emma? You have to stop worrying what people think. Don’t give me crap like you don’t. I know you’ve been playing things up. For who, I don’t care. All I know is you’re wasting your time trying to play a character. Take all that effort, put it into clearing house, and maybe I might not have to have this talk with you. Or lie about your shoes being tied.”
Danielson rolls her eyes, nodding, and sighs, walking over. She takes her father by the shoulders, looking him in the eyes with a slight smile on her face.
”Alright. For you, Daddy. I’ll beat people up for you. Consider it an early Christmas present.”
Marcus laughs, shaking his head, and hugs his daughter, patting her back.
”That’s my girl. Now come on. You’ve still got a chance to catch up, and I want to see you try.”
Emma nods, squeezing the hug before letting go, and walks over, collecting her darts. She spins one between her fingers, a smirk forming on her face as we fade to black.
Well howdy there pardner.