Siobhan Townsend vs Elijah Black

[PWXonline]

Civil War Aftershock Match
Siobhan Townsend vs Elijah Black

Deadline: 6-26-14 at Noon CST

[Siobhan Townsend]

Wednesday, June 18th, 2014
8:37 PM
PWX Arena

The Requiem's leg throbs insistently every time she puts her weight on it, but she pays it no mind.

Even if the commentators may question her condition going forward, even if Abigail Lindsay thinks that she's done more than minorly inconvenience the blond that proved her superiority in the end... the limb can still bear her weight, and that is all the more that is required. Siobhan knows full well that her husband will be insisting she take it easy, but the Steampunk Prince is wise enough-- or perhaps kind enough-- to not hover at her side like an overly-concerned shadow, instead choosing to bask in the warmth and affection of the fans that his charge has been winning over more quickly than she ever expected. Despite her tendency to be aloof more often than not, there is some small corner of her mind that is allowing itself to enjoy the energy the crowd is giving off. It is... strange, drawing such a positive feeling into herself rather than solely driving herself forward on her own willpower, but it is surprisingly pleasant nonetheless. She barely even notices the few brave fans near the railing that reach for the sweat-slick flesh of her arm and shoulder, the light slaps and pats of approval something that are tolerated. The idea of the fans supporting her goal is a sign of hope, she cannot help but think--

A face amidst the masses catches her attention from the corner of her eye.

It is no surprise that Dominic misses it, not when he's obliging a young fan with a photo op that involves him placing his overly elaborate top hat upon the child's head. As a matter of fact, Siobhan is not surprised in the slightest that no one has noticed the unassuming blond male that looks much the same as he did the first time that she saw him. Not even time has dared to change much about him, the stoic rest of his expression not giving many lines even the chance to begin--but with his chosen attire of jeans and a simple black t-shirt, his outfit gives no cue toward his age just the same as the very beginnings of gray at his temples blends into his hair without much trouble at all. He looks just as unremarkable and Joe Everybody as he always has, but she spots him without much trouble at all. Considering everything they have been through together?

Trembling, jagged breaths escaped her as the fourteen-year-old girl finally broke beneath the weight of everything she had been put under. Every tear shamed her, she couldn't help but think-- made her fall short of what she was supposed to be. She was better than this weakness, better than the bruises and cuts and gashes that covered her frame beneath the funeral black that she had forced herself to wear. It wouldn't have been right for her to miss her mother's funeral, so the harsh taskmaster that was her kusine had relented in allowing her a day away from her training regimen. He had done so without much of a fight, as a matter of fact... but she hadn't noticed, not with the only parent she had ever known gone forever. Tears burned at the corners of her eyes as she struggled to hold them in, to contain everything that she knew was so very weak-- his hand settled upon her shoulder was all the more comfort she received, but it was all the more she needed.

It remained there as she broke down and wept at the side of that simple metal coffin, his presence ensuring that her fumbled attempts at saying goodbye went uninterrupted.

She always will be able to pick him out.

For a moment, blue meets blue across the physical distance between them as if no one else were in the room-- the cheers dropping away to leave behind the sound of a distant and chilling wind. No matter how hard she searches his expression, she finds not so much as a trace of what he is thinking and feeling... something she knows will never truly go both ways, not when she has found something to keep her human while he has not. That doesn't stop her from trying to keep the stoicism intact, to keep him proud despite how her leg aches all the more from her keeping her weight on it upon that ramp. Perhaps he takes pity on her, or maybe she's done enough this night to warrant it-- but before he backs away and allows his smallish stature to vanish amidst the crowd, he is gracing her with a nod, another little gesture that carries with it more than anyone save a select few could manage to gleam.

It is perhaps by the grace of God that the camera does not pick up Siobhan's faint smile in response.

-------------------------Ω-------------------------

While there is something to be said for laptop technology, to say that the camera in the particular model that Siobhan Townsend has open before her is nowhere near the resolution of the high-definition digital video camera that her husband usually insists upon using. One can only imagine just what he is up to at this particular moment in time to not be pointing it at his favorite subject, although the sound of him rummaging about can be dimly heard in the background. It's hard to tell just what room the Requiem herself has set up shop in, however, since the only illumination is the cool glow of the monitor itself. Such means the background is nothing more than a couple amorphous shapes in the darkness... not to mention how it does the same for most of her clothing since she is laying on her stomach. The high-collared t-shirt Siobhan wears prevents anything remotely resembling a view of her bustline, her hair pulled back to allow the distant beauty of her features to gleam subtly in the artificial light. Sure, Dominic would likely scoff at such a simple video making it to the proverbial airwaves-- but she can appreciate the simplicity of taking such a direct, simple approach to a task that she only sees as necessary thanks to the intervention of her contract.

It is about the only thing about the man that she is facing that is worth emulating.

The Requiem regards the camera with more disdain than usual-- something of a feat, that, but it's not one that Elijah Black should be proud of. If anything, such is a sign he might want to ensure that his insurance is up to date before Adrenaline comes around. Her annoyance does not quite make it to her tone, however. If anything? She sounds crisp and professional beyond the norm, a kneejerk reaction to a man that she feels unworthy of a proper emotional response.

With as much as you cry your eyes out when things don't go your way... I have to wonder just how you haven't drowned in your own tears yet.

Is that a bit of wishful thinking in the blond's tone? If so, could she truly be blamed for having it? Considering how her opponent has taken each and every opportunity to fire up his webcam and all but have temper tantrums over how things weren't going his way, Mother Theresa would have wanted to wring his neck... and considering how the Requiem is no saint, she's not going to have a problem choking the life out of the complaining child she is being forced to dignify with her attention. Barely managing to stifle the urge to roll her eyes, Siobhan continues.

Now it would be one thing if you had a legitimate grievance, but let's be honest-- or, at least, I will be since it seems you are incapable of such a thing. Anyway, the only crime that has been committed here is no one rewarding your mediocre talent the way that you feel it should. This makes the world, management, and anyone that doesn't patronize your failures with pats on the back against you, screwing you over when you'd be pleased as can be if you were the one benefitting from it. If, for example... you had been one of the two survivors of the Civil War match, why, it'd be hunky dory that you'd have a spot in a Number One Contender's match. Since you couldn't get the job done, though, it's the most unfair thing in the world that someone that's newer to the company than you are is getting that opportunity. Here's a novel thought; if you wanted to be in my spot, then perhaps you shouldn't have, oh I don't know... gotten eliminated halfway through the match. You might have drawn my blood at one point, but you weren't anywhere remotely near the winner's circle when the dust cleared-- and the last time we shared the ring wasn't the first time that's happened, either. Or was I supposed to conveniently forget how you ran out of steam about midway through the Opportunity Knocks Battle Royale? You have a history of doing when you don't have your partner to prop you up. As a matter of fact, considering how you've petered out around halfway in each and every multi-person major match you've had as of late-- it's all becoming clear to me now. You're not incompetent...

The Requiem's tone sharpens as her eyes narrow subtly, condemnation (and perhaps a little double entendre to the perverse in the audience) dripping off of the duo of words that leave her.

You're impotent.

Allowing those two words to burrow into the mind of her opponent-- and any man that is unfortunate enough to resemble him in that aspect-- the stoic expression upon Siobhan's face shifts subtly toward a smirk.

You are the epitome of professional impotence, from not being able to get the job done to not being able to face that reality in public thanks to how embarrassed it makes you. Why, I'd lay money that you want your insurance to cover some sort of... method of making you as good as you delude yourself into thinking you are. Instead, it's excuse after excuse as to why you can't perform when you need to. "John Pariah is pandering to his friends." "I'm being punished for telling the truth." "Venus is in retrograde." Here's a question for you, Elijah-- just how is John Pariah responsible for you being eliminated from the Opportunity Knocks Battle Royale when he wasn't anywhere near the ring, mm? No, really... I'd like to know. While you're at it, mind explaining to me how your version of the truth put you down for the three count in the Civil War match? Oh, and one more thing-- what in the ever-loving Hell does the movements of planets that you're probably too stupid to point out in the sky have to do with your failure to be anything more than a pathetic fucking whiner in the loser's circle when the stakes are high? Are you even remotely aware of how absolutely insipid you sound when one takes actual, for really real reality into account?

...okay, so Elijah Black may have never literally said anything about the planets above, but there is a theme being kept to here. Just watch, though-- he'll totally miss the point and cry slander. Unable but to roll her eyes, Siobhan faintly tsks to herself before she continues.

Who am I kidding? Of course you don't. If you did, then perhaps you would make strides toward being a credit to this business instead of being a detriment that makes itself all the more obvious with every delusional word you whine. Now I could go on the record as telling you to grow the fuck up, but there would be no point to it-- not when you're convinced that everyone in the world is at fault for your failures except for the one man that actually is. I could make the bold statement of leaving you no choice but to accept who's to blame as you look up at the lights and wonder just how many of your teeth I've knocked out, but I function in a world of honesty... and I know that head trauma is not some magical source of epiphany. Instead, I'm going to go for the simpler solution to your never-ending stream of bullshit. I'm going to do everything in my power to make sure the doctors have no choice but to wire your jaw shut for awhile. Who knows? Maybe being forced to listen to the world around you will finally make you learn just how wrong you've been all along.

The Requiem pauses, appearing contemplative for a moment before she is uttering what will be her final words for this particular on-camera appearance. She doesn't particularly give two shits about how her opponent will try to twist her words further on down the line, so she doesn't hesitate in breaking things down the rest of the way, so to speak.

Even if you learn nothing, at least you'll be silent for a few months... and that? That's good enough for me.

There is no fancy fade-out, no long and penetrating stare at the camera-- not this time. Instead? She's simply closing the laptop and ending the feed in the simplest way possible, a final slap in the face when it comes to the worth of Elijah Black.