Post by Helena Sawyer on Dec 19, 2016 4:55:53 GMT
We open on Helena Sawyer, curled up in the corner of her cell. The black cocktail dress she's wearing is trimmed in red and silver, much like her ring attire, and on her wrist is a black rose corsage, tied with barbed wire. She has a photo in her hands, and she strokes it with her thumb, cooing quietly and smiling with a rare, genuine fondness on her face.
"Pandora...oh, Pan. You raise so many questions, you know. How far am I willing to go? Do I dare sacrifice someone like you for fleeting temporal glory? Your affections are like nothing I've ever felt before...you tease, and you taunt, and you play at my heartstrings like they were the strings of a harp. But we both know you're no angelic chorister. You're much, much more fun."
She rolls the picture forward slightly between forefinger and thumb, showing the camera that it's a picture of Helena and Pandora, taken moments after their kiss at Survival of the Fittest. She sighs, standing, and rubs her corsaged wrist against her forehead. The barbed wire digs into her skin, not breaking through but eliciting a wince of clear pain from Helena. She lowers her arm again, slowly walking out of her cell as if in a trance.
"I drew your blood the last time we were in the ring together. I gave you the gift of pain...and you gave me the gift of a true surprise. You stole that kiss from me, stole my breath and my heart in one swift motion. If tonight were my last night in this place, before they threw me away again to rot, the moments we have stolen together in our dance would make it all worthwhile. Now...look what comes between us."
She mimes blocking something with the corsage, giggling briefly to herself. The sound doesn't seem to echo down the hall as one might expect in an abandoned asylum, fading quickly, and Helena shakes her head ruefully.
"A shield. I don't really know if either of us can count as maidens, but one of us will be bearing it before the night is through. Will it be you? Will it be me? Shields are supposed to protect, but this one is a wedge. It drives between, it splits apart...it sows doubt. Last I saw it hanging before me like Lady Macbeth's knife, it drove into my heart. I...I wasn't myself. I don't like not being myself. What will it do to you, Pandora dear? What will I do to you for it? I don't know the answer. I want to, but...I look into the what-might-be and all I see is...nothing."
Helena lets out a slight giggle again, sighing. Her shoulders slump slightly as she comes to the end of her hall. Helena leans against the doorway, looking each way down the four-way intersection. She waves in the direction of one of the blind corners, face lighting up with recognition even though the halls are empty. Helena turns and walks forward again, a slight spring in her step.
"From a woman who said nothing to one who said oh so much. Too much, maybe? Katie...you want us to think you're scary? Oh no no. Sweetheart, I see things that are leagues more frightening than you every time I close my eyes. And the worst part of that for you? Those things I see are my friends."
Helena wiggles her eyebrows, grinning and licking her lips as she struts forward, gathering momentum as she walks along. Her hand traces along the wall, lazily drawing random patterns in the dust on the concrete.
"Some might dismiss you out of hand because of your size. But...what's the saying? It's not the size of the dog in the fight, but how rabid it gets? Something like that. I was always more of a cat person. Anyway, there was a point to this. The point is, you're...you're trying too hard. You act like you should be locked up in here..."
She pauses at one of the cells, reaching in and yanking a straitjacket free. Helena wraps it around her shoulders, smiling and posing in the aisle. The faint sound of wolf-whistling seems to echo in the hall, and Helena rolls her eyes, smirking as she keeps walking, straitjacket in hand. Her hands rap against the bars, and as she speaks, her voice begins to pick up in speed and urgency.
"...wearing one of these. Trust me. You don't want that. You wouldn't last. You'd be throwing yourself at the door within a week, screaming that you were just playing, you're fine, really, everything's fine, let me out, please let me out, I didn't do anything wrong, open the DOORS, PLEASE LET ME OUT!"
Her last word turns into a scream that rips itself from her lungs, finally echoing as would be expected in the space that she's occupying. Helena looks down at her hands, dropping the straitjacket and shaking her head as her eyes widen. For a second, a glimpse of something underneath the paint surfaces, something horrified and all too cognizant of where she is. She closes her eyes, though, and when she opens them again Helena's expression has recovered some semblance of serenity.
"But there's no getting out for you. You talked a big game about being locked in this prison with us, about us being locked in with a real monster, and Kate? I hope, for your sake, I don't get to choose. Because if I do? I'll choose you, girlie. I'll teach you what real monstrosity looks like. And I hope it's a lesson you learn well. You want so badly to go out with your shield...I'll send you back on it."
She sighs, pausing at another threshold, and looks up at the ceiling, head lolling back with a lopsided smile. When Helena begins moving again, there's a distinct skip in her step, and her voice carries a certain singsong-y quality.
"Oh sisssteeeeerrrrr...Sister Sorrow, sitting resplendent in all her gory glory, dragging her pet project on a leash, leather and lead around your waist...it's been so long. It feels like...an Eternity."
Helena giggles, clearly proud of herself for that admittedly terrible pun. She sighs, shaking her head, and shrugs, a little shamefaced.
"Okay, so I really wanted to say that...but I'm being sincere here. I've wanted this since Extreme Endurance, since our moment together on the dance floor. I've wanted to feel your touch, your kiss with a fist, that agonizing bliss that only you can provide and that I've been so long denied. You make me sing with your sting, waxing lyrical and praising your miracle. But poor Warren. It's not getting through to him. I mean, what else can you do to him? You broke the girl, stole his world...all he has left is Daddy dearest, it's just the queerest thing. He's such a strong boy, not like any other toy, and when is this going to start to annoy? He's all work, and you're just trying to play...how much more can he take before his heart...starts to decay?"
Helena sketches a curtsy, and another round of ghostly noise echoes around her, this time applause. She straightens up, smiling, and skips forward again, her footfalls seeming to gain an echo as she walks.
"But this isn't about the games you play with Warren. This is about you. And what's yours. And what I want to be mine. I want it to call my own, to snuggle up with at night and tell me everything'll be alright. If I want this...I'm pretty sure I'll have to go through you. Whether you come for me or I come to you, we're going to meet again. So...we'll make an event of it. Break the cells open and let everyone out to play. What do you say?"
Helena strides into the center of a common area, voice ringing out into the space around her and arms spread wide. She smiles, taking a deep breath as she hops up onto a table, walking with grace that belies her jerky movements.
"So come one, come all for this tragic affair, and watch four women tear themselves to shreds for your amusement and joy! And at the end of it all, anointed in that beautiful sacrament of blood, toil, and tears...will it be my hand that clutches tight to that prime motivator? Well...I don't know about you, but it'd certainly help me sleep at night. To go through all that, and not even be able to walk away with anything to show for it? Why...that'd almost be crazy. See you soon, girls. I just...can't...wait."
Helena drops to her knees on the table, laying back as far as she can, and begins laughing, starting low and escalating quickly into a full-blown maniacal cackle. Her eyes close and her hands clench, cutting crimson crescents into her palm where the blood begins to well up, and Helena's head lays back, baring her throat to the sky as her laugh racks her body. We fade to black on this image, Helena writhing and contorting herself as her laughter echoes into the night.
Michelle rolled onto her side, staring at the mannequin. She'd decided that if Helena was going to try to force her way out, she was going to keep an eye on her. And so there stood a mannequin in her hotel room, wearing her ring gear, with her makeup case in its hands. Michelle snuggled into the pillow of her bed, yawning lazily, when her phone began to ring. Almost as if on instinct, she reached over and looked at the phone. Grace was calling. It was 2:15 in the morning. Why was Grace calling? She answered it blearily, blinking away the sleep that had threatened to encroach on her. "Mmhmm?"
"I know you're sleepy, buuuut...I want to show you something." Grace's voice was giddy, and Michelle's eyebrow shot up as she rolled into a sitting position.
"Wha's so important you havta call at stupid o'clock to show me?" Michelle mumbled. "D'we have a pt...pter...pterodactyl in the living room?"
Grace's laugh, even in Michelle's exhausted state, brought a glimmer of life to her eyes. "No. Even better. FaceTime me, come on. It's kind of a squirmy thing, so come ooooonnnn..."
Michelle tapped the button on her phone, grumbling good-naturedly as some of the energy came back into her voice. "Look, I don't even have any makeup on, I probably look like crap...and I really need to sleep, it's a pay-per-view after all, love—" Her excuses died in her throat as the camera kicked in.
Grace smiled broadly, holding the phone with one hand and cradling a tabby cat with her other arm. She grinned at Michelle's awestruck expression, tickling the underside of the cat's jaw. It purred loudly, and Grace giggled, tickling it again. "I've been thinking of names. What do you think about Merrill?"
Michelle stammered, tripping over her words in a desperate attempt to form a coherent response. "I-I think Merrill sounds lovely, dear. And adorable. She's so adorable. Did you just...go out and adopt a cat? Randomly? Can we afford it?"
"Of course we can, superstar. Or should I say champion?" Grace grinned. "So, Merrill and I are going to be waiting back at home for you. We can celebrate. The three of us and a movie. Relaxing. Having fun. I know Helena really takes it out of you, and that week off just wasn't long enough for my tastes." Michelle wiped a tear from her eye, unable to keep the smile from crawling across her face.
"Baby...that is so adorable...she's so cute, but I really need to sleep. I'll see more Merrill tomorrow?" Grace nodded firmly, and Michelle waved. "Ah love yoooou!"
"We love you too!" Grace smiled, looking at the cat. "Don't we, Merrill?" For her part, Merrill meowed obligingly. Michelle giggled, kissing the off button, and set her phone on the nightstand, sighing quietly as she glanced over at the mannequin one last time before closing her eyes and flicking off the light.
"Two-twenty, maybe I can get some sleep..."
No sooner, it seemed, than the light went out did she hear a scraping noise from the corner of the room. Michelle sat bolt upright, throwing the light on. The mannequin was sprawled out on the floor, the clothing missing. She threw herself out of bed, checking the door. The bolt was thrown, the latch was closed...Michelle shook her head, walking into the bathroom and hitting the light there.
As the light turned on, Michelle looked up and jumped back in surprise, thudding into the wall. She was in full ring gear with her face painted, and her expression was one of absolute shock. Michelle reached out to the mirror, tentative, but as she did, her lips worked with familiar ease. "You can't watch me all the time..."
Helena began to laugh, and Michelle scrunched her eyes shut, shaking her head. "No. No!"
"NO!"
Michelle sat upright in her bed with a start. The room was pitch black, and she reached over, hesitantly, taking her phone in one hand and checking the time. Two-twenty. Michelle sighed, shaking her head. "Just a nightmare..." she rolled onto her side, closing her eyes again, and as sleep reached out to claim her, a few final words dropped from her lips.
"Oh, it's always a nightmare...it all depends on who wakes up first..."
"Pandora...oh, Pan. You raise so many questions, you know. How far am I willing to go? Do I dare sacrifice someone like you for fleeting temporal glory? Your affections are like nothing I've ever felt before...you tease, and you taunt, and you play at my heartstrings like they were the strings of a harp. But we both know you're no angelic chorister. You're much, much more fun."
She rolls the picture forward slightly between forefinger and thumb, showing the camera that it's a picture of Helena and Pandora, taken moments after their kiss at Survival of the Fittest. She sighs, standing, and rubs her corsaged wrist against her forehead. The barbed wire digs into her skin, not breaking through but eliciting a wince of clear pain from Helena. She lowers her arm again, slowly walking out of her cell as if in a trance.
"I drew your blood the last time we were in the ring together. I gave you the gift of pain...and you gave me the gift of a true surprise. You stole that kiss from me, stole my breath and my heart in one swift motion. If tonight were my last night in this place, before they threw me away again to rot, the moments we have stolen together in our dance would make it all worthwhile. Now...look what comes between us."
She mimes blocking something with the corsage, giggling briefly to herself. The sound doesn't seem to echo down the hall as one might expect in an abandoned asylum, fading quickly, and Helena shakes her head ruefully.
"A shield. I don't really know if either of us can count as maidens, but one of us will be bearing it before the night is through. Will it be you? Will it be me? Shields are supposed to protect, but this one is a wedge. It drives between, it splits apart...it sows doubt. Last I saw it hanging before me like Lady Macbeth's knife, it drove into my heart. I...I wasn't myself. I don't like not being myself. What will it do to you, Pandora dear? What will I do to you for it? I don't know the answer. I want to, but...I look into the what-might-be and all I see is...nothing."
Helena lets out a slight giggle again, sighing. Her shoulders slump slightly as she comes to the end of her hall. Helena leans against the doorway, looking each way down the four-way intersection. She waves in the direction of one of the blind corners, face lighting up with recognition even though the halls are empty. Helena turns and walks forward again, a slight spring in her step.
"From a woman who said nothing to one who said oh so much. Too much, maybe? Katie...you want us to think you're scary? Oh no no. Sweetheart, I see things that are leagues more frightening than you every time I close my eyes. And the worst part of that for you? Those things I see are my friends."
Helena wiggles her eyebrows, grinning and licking her lips as she struts forward, gathering momentum as she walks along. Her hand traces along the wall, lazily drawing random patterns in the dust on the concrete.
"Some might dismiss you out of hand because of your size. But...what's the saying? It's not the size of the dog in the fight, but how rabid it gets? Something like that. I was always more of a cat person. Anyway, there was a point to this. The point is, you're...you're trying too hard. You act like you should be locked up in here..."
She pauses at one of the cells, reaching in and yanking a straitjacket free. Helena wraps it around her shoulders, smiling and posing in the aisle. The faint sound of wolf-whistling seems to echo in the hall, and Helena rolls her eyes, smirking as she keeps walking, straitjacket in hand. Her hands rap against the bars, and as she speaks, her voice begins to pick up in speed and urgency.
"...wearing one of these. Trust me. You don't want that. You wouldn't last. You'd be throwing yourself at the door within a week, screaming that you were just playing, you're fine, really, everything's fine, let me out, please let me out, I didn't do anything wrong, open the DOORS, PLEASE LET ME OUT!"
Her last word turns into a scream that rips itself from her lungs, finally echoing as would be expected in the space that she's occupying. Helena looks down at her hands, dropping the straitjacket and shaking her head as her eyes widen. For a second, a glimpse of something underneath the paint surfaces, something horrified and all too cognizant of where she is. She closes her eyes, though, and when she opens them again Helena's expression has recovered some semblance of serenity.
"But there's no getting out for you. You talked a big game about being locked in this prison with us, about us being locked in with a real monster, and Kate? I hope, for your sake, I don't get to choose. Because if I do? I'll choose you, girlie. I'll teach you what real monstrosity looks like. And I hope it's a lesson you learn well. You want so badly to go out with your shield...I'll send you back on it."
She sighs, pausing at another threshold, and looks up at the ceiling, head lolling back with a lopsided smile. When Helena begins moving again, there's a distinct skip in her step, and her voice carries a certain singsong-y quality.
"Oh sisssteeeeerrrrr...Sister Sorrow, sitting resplendent in all her gory glory, dragging her pet project on a leash, leather and lead around your waist...it's been so long. It feels like...an Eternity."
Helena giggles, clearly proud of herself for that admittedly terrible pun. She sighs, shaking her head, and shrugs, a little shamefaced.
"Okay, so I really wanted to say that...but I'm being sincere here. I've wanted this since Extreme Endurance, since our moment together on the dance floor. I've wanted to feel your touch, your kiss with a fist, that agonizing bliss that only you can provide and that I've been so long denied. You make me sing with your sting, waxing lyrical and praising your miracle. But poor Warren. It's not getting through to him. I mean, what else can you do to him? You broke the girl, stole his world...all he has left is Daddy dearest, it's just the queerest thing. He's such a strong boy, not like any other toy, and when is this going to start to annoy? He's all work, and you're just trying to play...how much more can he take before his heart...starts to decay?"
Helena sketches a curtsy, and another round of ghostly noise echoes around her, this time applause. She straightens up, smiling, and skips forward again, her footfalls seeming to gain an echo as she walks.
"But this isn't about the games you play with Warren. This is about you. And what's yours. And what I want to be mine. I want it to call my own, to snuggle up with at night and tell me everything'll be alright. If I want this...I'm pretty sure I'll have to go through you. Whether you come for me or I come to you, we're going to meet again. So...we'll make an event of it. Break the cells open and let everyone out to play. What do you say?"
Helena strides into the center of a common area, voice ringing out into the space around her and arms spread wide. She smiles, taking a deep breath as she hops up onto a table, walking with grace that belies her jerky movements.
"So come one, come all for this tragic affair, and watch four women tear themselves to shreds for your amusement and joy! And at the end of it all, anointed in that beautiful sacrament of blood, toil, and tears...will it be my hand that clutches tight to that prime motivator? Well...I don't know about you, but it'd certainly help me sleep at night. To go through all that, and not even be able to walk away with anything to show for it? Why...that'd almost be crazy. See you soon, girls. I just...can't...wait."
Helena drops to her knees on the table, laying back as far as she can, and begins laughing, starting low and escalating quickly into a full-blown maniacal cackle. Her eyes close and her hands clench, cutting crimson crescents into her palm where the blood begins to well up, and Helena's head lays back, baring her throat to the sky as her laugh racks her body. We fade to black on this image, Helena writhing and contorting herself as her laughter echoes into the night.
Michelle rolled onto her side, staring at the mannequin. She'd decided that if Helena was going to try to force her way out, she was going to keep an eye on her. And so there stood a mannequin in her hotel room, wearing her ring gear, with her makeup case in its hands. Michelle snuggled into the pillow of her bed, yawning lazily, when her phone began to ring. Almost as if on instinct, she reached over and looked at the phone. Grace was calling. It was 2:15 in the morning. Why was Grace calling? She answered it blearily, blinking away the sleep that had threatened to encroach on her. "Mmhmm?"
"I know you're sleepy, buuuut...I want to show you something." Grace's voice was giddy, and Michelle's eyebrow shot up as she rolled into a sitting position.
"Wha's so important you havta call at stupid o'clock to show me?" Michelle mumbled. "D'we have a pt...pter...pterodactyl in the living room?"
Grace's laugh, even in Michelle's exhausted state, brought a glimmer of life to her eyes. "No. Even better. FaceTime me, come on. It's kind of a squirmy thing, so come ooooonnnn..."
Michelle tapped the button on her phone, grumbling good-naturedly as some of the energy came back into her voice. "Look, I don't even have any makeup on, I probably look like crap...and I really need to sleep, it's a pay-per-view after all, love—" Her excuses died in her throat as the camera kicked in.
Grace smiled broadly, holding the phone with one hand and cradling a tabby cat with her other arm. She grinned at Michelle's awestruck expression, tickling the underside of the cat's jaw. It purred loudly, and Grace giggled, tickling it again. "I've been thinking of names. What do you think about Merrill?"
Michelle stammered, tripping over her words in a desperate attempt to form a coherent response. "I-I think Merrill sounds lovely, dear. And adorable. She's so adorable. Did you just...go out and adopt a cat? Randomly? Can we afford it?"
"Of course we can, superstar. Or should I say champion?" Grace grinned. "So, Merrill and I are going to be waiting back at home for you. We can celebrate. The three of us and a movie. Relaxing. Having fun. I know Helena really takes it out of you, and that week off just wasn't long enough for my tastes." Michelle wiped a tear from her eye, unable to keep the smile from crawling across her face.
"Baby...that is so adorable...she's so cute, but I really need to sleep. I'll see more Merrill tomorrow?" Grace nodded firmly, and Michelle waved. "Ah love yoooou!"
"We love you too!" Grace smiled, looking at the cat. "Don't we, Merrill?" For her part, Merrill meowed obligingly. Michelle giggled, kissing the off button, and set her phone on the nightstand, sighing quietly as she glanced over at the mannequin one last time before closing her eyes and flicking off the light.
"Two-twenty, maybe I can get some sleep..."
No sooner, it seemed, than the light went out did she hear a scraping noise from the corner of the room. Michelle sat bolt upright, throwing the light on. The mannequin was sprawled out on the floor, the clothing missing. She threw herself out of bed, checking the door. The bolt was thrown, the latch was closed...Michelle shook her head, walking into the bathroom and hitting the light there.
As the light turned on, Michelle looked up and jumped back in surprise, thudding into the wall. She was in full ring gear with her face painted, and her expression was one of absolute shock. Michelle reached out to the mirror, tentative, but as she did, her lips worked with familiar ease. "You can't watch me all the time..."
Helena began to laugh, and Michelle scrunched her eyes shut, shaking her head. "No. No!"
"NO!"
Michelle sat upright in her bed with a start. The room was pitch black, and she reached over, hesitantly, taking her phone in one hand and checking the time. Two-twenty. Michelle sighed, shaking her head. "Just a nightmare..." she rolled onto her side, closing her eyes again, and as sleep reached out to claim her, a few final words dropped from her lips.
"Oh, it's always a nightmare...it all depends on who wakes up first..."
Well howdy there pardner.