Post by Murdoc on Feb 25, 2014 6:21:17 GMT -5
It’s nearly 5 a.m. All is quiet and yet ...
He cannot sleep.
The silence is deafening.
Only broken by the beautiful sounds of peaceful slumber. He can hear ... he can FEEL ... the relaxation exuding from her body with each breath. Her aura seeming to envelope the pair in a bubble in which all time and space is cast aside like the meaningless veneer it so usually is. The manufactured light of the alarm clock shines upon his face ... filling his eyes with its’ own unique brand of hatred, even going so far as to continue its’ inexorable march towards a new hour just to SPITE him.
It’s closer to 5 a.m. All is quiet and yet ...
... He WILL NOT sleep.
Even as the ravages of fatigue prod mercilessly at his mind, Murdoc will not allow himself to feel the exhaustion of the day. A fully realized promise had been made some hours ago ...
... and he intends on delivering. No matter the cost.
Standing ever vigilant at Dream’s Gates.
It could be anyone else in the world. Loving husband. Beautiful wife. Nestled together, feeling each others’ heartbeats as the sun rises to begin another glorious day. Wrapped up in a downy soft cocoon of blankets, sheets and pillows ... hiding away from the world at large to exist in a realm made solely for them. Rejecting the world at large ... and realizing their own.
But, as it ever does, the world has a tendency to rear its’ ugly head when everything is going so right, so perfectly.
The snow outside the window settles on the ground much like the snowy thoughts begin to collect upon his relaxed mind.
Truth. Murdoc has been unusually silent the past week or so. For some reason, the pressing concern of Whitey Ford and Non Compos Mentis were nothing compared with the desire to spend his free time with the angel now curled so delicately in his guardian arms. It had been increasingly difficult since Deadly Intentions. Both he and Eira had been working non-stop in one capacity or another since ... focusing on BUSINESS.
Of course, with Eira winning the World Championship and he having nabbed the North American championship ... it had only gotten worse. The media whirlwind had been in full effect and the only time left to enjoy each other’s company was now. One having drifted off into the ethereal and the other firmly on the shore until she returned.
Again, truth. He and Eira are slotted to take on Whitey Ford and Non Compos Mentis in the main event at the next Trauma. It would be more than prudent to focus on that match, wouldn’t it? Sure. If he wanted to LOSE. It’s simple: Whitey and NCM are two men, united by a separate but vaguely common goal. Eira and Murdoc? Are ONE UNIT. Eira and Murdoc know each other backwards and forwards, inside and out ... from beginning to end. Does anyone REALLY think that two thrown-together rejects would have ANY chance at taking out such a well-versed and cohesive team?
It was never about being above Pure Class Wrestling. It was about Pure Class Wrestling deciding that they were above HIM. About Pure Class Wrestling deciding that they were better off WITHOUT him. OR her. It was about two normal people, having been discarded by the Pure Class hierarchy ... showing the WORLD that these forgotten souls ... these mere humans ... were capable of everything and MORE. Their success is based on the fact that they are NOT high and mighty. They are NOT the elite. They are Untouchable.
He isn’t worried.
Not worried about the match.
Not worried about the fans.
Not worried about any of it.
He’s just happy to see her ... and FEEL her ... sleep soundly once again.
5:21 and he's done looking at the clock.
Find me when the sun sets again ...
He cannot sleep.
The silence is deafening.
Only broken by the beautiful sounds of peaceful slumber. He can hear ... he can FEEL ... the relaxation exuding from her body with each breath. Her aura seeming to envelope the pair in a bubble in which all time and space is cast aside like the meaningless veneer it so usually is. The manufactured light of the alarm clock shines upon his face ... filling his eyes with its’ own unique brand of hatred, even going so far as to continue its’ inexorable march towards a new hour just to SPITE him.
It’s closer to 5 a.m. All is quiet and yet ...
... He WILL NOT sleep.
Even as the ravages of fatigue prod mercilessly at his mind, Murdoc will not allow himself to feel the exhaustion of the day. A fully realized promise had been made some hours ago ...
‘Will you be with me?’
‘I promise you’ll fall asleep with my arms around you, Amba.’
... and he intends on delivering. No matter the cost.
Standing ever vigilant at Dream’s Gates.
It could be anyone else in the world. Loving husband. Beautiful wife. Nestled together, feeling each others’ heartbeats as the sun rises to begin another glorious day. Wrapped up in a downy soft cocoon of blankets, sheets and pillows ... hiding away from the world at large to exist in a realm made solely for them. Rejecting the world at large ... and realizing their own.
But, as it ever does, the world has a tendency to rear its’ ugly head when everything is going so right, so perfectly.
The snow outside the window settles on the ground much like the snowy thoughts begin to collect upon his relaxed mind.
I haven’t given a weekly promo to lambast Non Compos Mentis OR Whitey Ford.
Truth. Murdoc has been unusually silent the past week or so. For some reason, the pressing concern of Whitey Ford and Non Compos Mentis were nothing compared with the desire to spend his free time with the angel now curled so delicately in his guardian arms. It had been increasingly difficult since Deadly Intentions. Both he and Eira had been working non-stop in one capacity or another since ... focusing on BUSINESS.
Of course, with Eira winning the World Championship and he having nabbed the North American championship ... it had only gotten worse. The media whirlwind had been in full effect and the only time left to enjoy each other’s company was now. One having drifted off into the ethereal and the other firmly on the shore until she returned.
I’ve got a match to prepare for.
Again, truth. He and Eira are slotted to take on Whitey Ford and Non Compos Mentis in the main event at the next Trauma. It would be more than prudent to focus on that match, wouldn’t it? Sure. If he wanted to LOSE. It’s simple: Whitey and NCM are two men, united by a separate but vaguely common goal. Eira and Murdoc? Are ONE UNIT. Eira and Murdoc know each other backwards and forwards, inside and out ... from beginning to end. Does anyone REALLY think that two thrown-together rejects would have ANY chance at taking out such a well-versed and cohesive team?
Well, they DID manage to get the best of us at the end of the show. In the eyes of the fans, we have become human once again.
He isn’t worried.
Not worried about the match.
Not worried about the fans.
Not worried about any of it.
He’s just happy to see her ... and FEEL her ... sleep soundly once again.
5:21 and he's done looking at the clock.
Find me when the sun sets again ...
