Post by Lantlas on May 15, 2015 13:20:48 GMT -5
There I was... Ended, defeated. Slain at the hands of Tomas Eldenshade. The fight was over. He'd dispatched with Eldarin, and now, at the brink of the end of my run in Pure Class Wrestling, it would be the end of immortality as I knew it. Nothing I could do would change anything from where it was going.
Except it didn't.
Lying on the floor, defeated, a face I hadn't seen in years managed to do what neither Eldarin or I could do; defeat Tomas Eldenshade. Somehow impervious to his malicious influence, this person who shouldn't even have existed pierced through the image of pretentious pedagogy and ended it just as quickly as he'd dissolved everything in my life. It was Emerald, but grown up somehow, not the little girl I remembered. Not the sweet, adorable blonde with pigtails and a rough grasp of grammar, but a full-grown, dangerous brunette with a penchant for quick kills. Her eyes stared a hole through me. I could tell she was aware of who I might be, but had nothing with which to connect it, like staring into an empty vessel, desperate for something to click.
I took her in, and began her training. I didn't know why; my connection with PCW was all but severed. The impact of Tomas had rendered me far weaker than I'd imagined. I couldn't compete at the level I used to, and the younger superstars were outmaneuvering me in every way. However, that didn't mean I had nothing left to say, and it didn't necessarily mean I had nothing left to give PCW. A legacy, perhaps, would be the way to go.
At the time I left PCW, I had the most wins in company history, and I knew that would be overcome, likely by either Non Compos Mentis or Phinehas Grimm one of these days. They deserved it, for they held out longer than I could. They didn't succumb to the darkness of someone like Tomas Eldenshade and allow themselves to be physically destroyed as well as emotionally manipulated into burning every bridge that had been built for you.
But a silent legacy, passing on all the knowledge I'd accumulated over the years? Teaching someone else to do what I couldn't anymore at the time? That I could do. But I also knew it had to be in secret. A new blossom couldn't grow if the image of the old one were constantly there for comparative analysis. If this girl entered PCW with the attachment of my name, or any associative name for that matter, her career would constantly be put up against the Hall-of-Fame legacy that I'd be leaving. She'd have to answer questions about me, identify me, try to explain to people what I never could. She'd draw comparisons to me, be constantly asked if she thought she could live up to my legacy, if she could outwrestle me in my prime... Everything she would've ever done would've been only based on her name association with me.
Therefore, they couldn't know, and also therefore, she wouldn't. She'd just come from the other world; she had no reason to know who I was or where I'd come from. I'd train her to take her assassin skills and apply them to wrestling without any basis of reasoning on my part, explanation of how I knew what I did, or any sense of society surrounding it. She'd have to discover all of that on her own, and I knew when the time came that Nacho Grande would handle the society stuff for which I never had much of a stomach. He was always pretty good with that kind of thing. I lost the taste for it around 2007.
Now, my little girl knew everything. My Emerald, my Gem, was receiving her first world championship match. I could only imagine her anticipation being similar to mine as it was nine years ago, when just before, I'd discovered that she was alive. She was only a little girl then, swinging picnic baskets and talking to stuffed animals. Now she was a dangerous assassin who stood up with the likes of Sadistic and Eira and didn't back down, even without the physicality and capabilities with which I'd been blessed. She stood eight inches shorter and a good bit of weight lighter, but it never stopped her. She couldn't be imposing like I was, so she learned to let her actions be the intimidation factor, and she'd gotten herself to the world title shot in fourteen months.
And it was without any of them knowing who she was, including herself.
That is what I'd wanted to do. I wanted to mold Gem into someone that people could love, identify with, and get behind without them having to know that it was really Lantlas's little girl. They could just fall in love with Gem as she was, as I had many years ago, because she was Gem. She could express herself, or not. She could speak, or not. She could just see Grant or Loki as a mentor, a friend, or something more if she chose. She could stay the Underground Queen, or strive for bigger greatness. It was her decision, and her decision alone to make, because in no way was she forced to live up to that enshrined name in the PCW Hall of Fame. It was pure, unattached, unadulterated, and it was the best legacy I could ask for. To let her make it on her own without knowing anything about being associated with me, that is what I wanted to accomplish.
Now, four years later, I'd dress for the first time since that day. I'd stand with Nacho Grande and Devon Drake, ready to trump any interference laid out by Sadistic's hooligans, but other than that, I only hoped I could be there to celebrate with my daughter when she did what she was capable of doing all on her own. She could become PCW Champion; not because she was Emerald Anduril, Lantlas's Daughter, the Elven Assassin, but because she was Gem.
That was all I ever wanted out of any of this.
Except it didn't.
Lying on the floor, defeated, a face I hadn't seen in years managed to do what neither Eldarin or I could do; defeat Tomas Eldenshade. Somehow impervious to his malicious influence, this person who shouldn't even have existed pierced through the image of pretentious pedagogy and ended it just as quickly as he'd dissolved everything in my life. It was Emerald, but grown up somehow, not the little girl I remembered. Not the sweet, adorable blonde with pigtails and a rough grasp of grammar, but a full-grown, dangerous brunette with a penchant for quick kills. Her eyes stared a hole through me. I could tell she was aware of who I might be, but had nothing with which to connect it, like staring into an empty vessel, desperate for something to click.
I took her in, and began her training. I didn't know why; my connection with PCW was all but severed. The impact of Tomas had rendered me far weaker than I'd imagined. I couldn't compete at the level I used to, and the younger superstars were outmaneuvering me in every way. However, that didn't mean I had nothing left to say, and it didn't necessarily mean I had nothing left to give PCW. A legacy, perhaps, would be the way to go.
At the time I left PCW, I had the most wins in company history, and I knew that would be overcome, likely by either Non Compos Mentis or Phinehas Grimm one of these days. They deserved it, for they held out longer than I could. They didn't succumb to the darkness of someone like Tomas Eldenshade and allow themselves to be physically destroyed as well as emotionally manipulated into burning every bridge that had been built for you.
But a silent legacy, passing on all the knowledge I'd accumulated over the years? Teaching someone else to do what I couldn't anymore at the time? That I could do. But I also knew it had to be in secret. A new blossom couldn't grow if the image of the old one were constantly there for comparative analysis. If this girl entered PCW with the attachment of my name, or any associative name for that matter, her career would constantly be put up against the Hall-of-Fame legacy that I'd be leaving. She'd have to answer questions about me, identify me, try to explain to people what I never could. She'd draw comparisons to me, be constantly asked if she thought she could live up to my legacy, if she could outwrestle me in my prime... Everything she would've ever done would've been only based on her name association with me.
Therefore, they couldn't know, and also therefore, she wouldn't. She'd just come from the other world; she had no reason to know who I was or where I'd come from. I'd train her to take her assassin skills and apply them to wrestling without any basis of reasoning on my part, explanation of how I knew what I did, or any sense of society surrounding it. She'd have to discover all of that on her own, and I knew when the time came that Nacho Grande would handle the society stuff for which I never had much of a stomach. He was always pretty good with that kind of thing. I lost the taste for it around 2007.
Now, my little girl knew everything. My Emerald, my Gem, was receiving her first world championship match. I could only imagine her anticipation being similar to mine as it was nine years ago, when just before, I'd discovered that she was alive. She was only a little girl then, swinging picnic baskets and talking to stuffed animals. Now she was a dangerous assassin who stood up with the likes of Sadistic and Eira and didn't back down, even without the physicality and capabilities with which I'd been blessed. She stood eight inches shorter and a good bit of weight lighter, but it never stopped her. She couldn't be imposing like I was, so she learned to let her actions be the intimidation factor, and she'd gotten herself to the world title shot in fourteen months.
And it was without any of them knowing who she was, including herself.
That is what I'd wanted to do. I wanted to mold Gem into someone that people could love, identify with, and get behind without them having to know that it was really Lantlas's little girl. They could just fall in love with Gem as she was, as I had many years ago, because she was Gem. She could express herself, or not. She could speak, or not. She could just see Grant or Loki as a mentor, a friend, or something more if she chose. She could stay the Underground Queen, or strive for bigger greatness. It was her decision, and her decision alone to make, because in no way was she forced to live up to that enshrined name in the PCW Hall of Fame. It was pure, unattached, unadulterated, and it was the best legacy I could ask for. To let her make it on her own without knowing anything about being associated with me, that is what I wanted to accomplish.
Now, four years later, I'd dress for the first time since that day. I'd stand with Nacho Grande and Devon Drake, ready to trump any interference laid out by Sadistic's hooligans, but other than that, I only hoped I could be there to celebrate with my daughter when she did what she was capable of doing all on her own. She could become PCW Champion; not because she was Emerald Anduril, Lantlas's Daughter, the Elven Assassin, but because she was Gem.
That was all I ever wanted out of any of this.