Post by Spartan on Mar 8, 2020 21:26:54 GMT -5
He is alone.
He is sad.
The apartment was spartan, it had what was necessary, but lacked any of the extra luxuries that would turn a place of residence into a home. As such, Tristan Cross is laying on his double bed staring at the brilliant white ceiling. The upper half of his body is without clothing and reveals his exquisitely carved torso - the byproduct of hours in the gym. His lower half is covered in a pair of black shorts that come to and end just above his knees. He absentmindedly fondles with his glorious ginger beard, his monstrous fingers intertwining with the spindly wires of red hair.
His thoughts always wander to his happier moments in the past when he is alone. They always wander to his children, Georgia and William. In his mind, these children are being held captive by their mother. The woman who cheated on him with another man. An act he was unfortunate to walk in on. Unfortunately, his loss of temper in that moment - meant that he lost all court battles. He lost all access. But, that was going to change. He had to make sure of that. Sometimes because friends with the wrong people for the right reasons was better than just accepting defeat.
Sleep eludes him.
When lost in sadness the battle of sleep is not easily won.
Tossing and turning trying to sleep in like being thrown about in a fishing boat in the perfect storm.
Sleep came. But from exhaustion not rest.
Tristan Cross had a rough night, he tried sleeping but after a couple hours of sleep, he gave up and made his way to the bar that was closest to his apartment. He wasn’t there to drink the night away or anything like that, he was just tired of tossing and turning and staring at blank white walls. He was sitting on a bar stool at the end of the bar with a glass of water and a glass of some kind of whiskey on the rocks. He holds a cardboard coaster between his forefinger and the counter top and flicks with his fingers on his other hand for his own sad amusement.
“Why the long face?”
Cross is shaken from the moment by the arrival of a blonde woman. She has curves in all the right places and is dressed well in pants and a blouse.
“Not interested in paying for sex.” he says without looking at up.
She laughs. You can hear her take offense in the way she chuckles, but she moves past it without too much trouble.
“Sorry, bud, I ain’t no whore.”
“Then why are you bothering me.”
She snorts. This time she makes her offense obvious.
“Look, if you don’t want no company you don’t need to be rude about it.” there is a manner of force to the words that can only be delivered by a woman where she is annoyed.
Tristan looks up at the new arrival. She looks pretty to his sad eyes. He’s not really interested in conversation, he tries to portray this in his body language, but he fails as she sits on the stool next to him.
“Sorry.” he frowns.
“You don’t wanna take. That’s fine.” she speaks without turning to face him.
“Sorry.” Cross says again. “I didn’t mean to be rude.”
“Well you were.” she once again speaks without looking at him. She passes a nod to the bartender who treats her like a regular and places a glass of unidentified white wine in front of her.
Cross finishes the last of his water and offers a hand to the lady sitting next to him as he stands up to leave.
“I’m Tristan and I’m sorry to have been a bother to you.”
She looks at him and shakes his hand delicately. “Sienna.”
He orders another glass of water. He smiles at her and returns to spinning the coaster between his forefinger and thumb.
“You look sad.” Sienna says to him as she repositions herself slightly on her bar stool so that he shoulders are turned towards him even though she is still facing forward.
Spartan sits on a stool.
“I should really consider doing things your way, Lex. Sitting somewhere comfortable and just hitting record to say what you think about your upcoming opponents; kicking back, drinking a can soda, playing with your dog. Who knows really. But doing what you want without the glaring eye of the public bearing down upon you. I could do that, but that would be stealing your schtick and that wouldn't be a cool thing to do. Sure, I’ve done plenty of uncool things in the recent past - like aligning myself with Irina. But I feel that is a necessary evil. I can’t bear to be away from children any longer. I don’t earn enough to afford the type of lawyers that I need to enter into those sort of court battles. So I have made a deal with the devil.”
“Let it be known that those mental battles, those court battles are tougher than any possible battle I could face in the ring. They lead to many a sleepless night, many replays of events in the mind of what I could do differently. See, in the ring when you fight you can win or you can lose, Lex. Anyone with any length of career knows that. But, every loss is the opportunity to learn to grow to become someone better. That loss is erased from history, eventually or at the very least it's forgotten en masse. But to lose in life, while you can grow and you can learn - you can even become a better person. But what you’ve lost - it never comes back. It leaves you bent, twisted.”
“Broken.”
“See, Lex - in the ring - while I intend to lift you up atop my shoulders and send you spinning through the air with the Revolutionizer. That's my intention, but if I am broken down systemically I will bounce back. I will walk back down that aisle and get back into that ring. But, if I fail to regain my children… I may as well be dead.”
“When I lay restless at night, Lex, I don’t think about my wins and my losses, not in the ring anyway. But what keeps me awake at night is times when I think back to my children and happy moments we shared together. I think about those moments lost. It hurts, it burns, it leaves me.”
“Broken.”
“You’re a better man than me, Lex Collins. Despite working in a world that you despise you find a way to drive forward, you find a way to carry your head high, you find a way to fight - even if it is something you despise. And through it all you find a way to keep your family together.”
“Me. I’m just a broken mess. Sure, I lost them before I found wrestling that much is true. And sure I find the ring an escape from the failures of my life - that much is truer still. But it never stops me missing them. It never stops me thinking they will call another man, Daddy. That burns up inside. But it also drives me. It drives me to find a way to overcome those failures of mine. It drives me to become something better today than I was yesterday. It drives me to find a stronger tomorrow. It drives me to prove to myself that I am not.”
“Broken.”
“When Smith Jones did his thing - the opportunity was there for me. I had responsibilities sure, but a chance to test myself against the world champion, the only two time world champion in Alpha Pro History - those opportunities don’t come along very often so I had to seize it. Had to make sure that I was better on that day than I was the day before. To prove to myself that I wasn’t.”
“Broken.”
“And like when I step into the ring with you on Monday, Lex. It’s another measure, another tool of the trade of testing the type of person that I am. Facing the North American Champion is an incredible test, a belt I’ve worn and be proud of, but a belt I am currently not worthy of holding. But when I face you, Lex. When I give it my all - I will know in myself that I once again worthy of holding the title that you hold. Another way to prove to myself that I am more than a shell that’s.”
“Broken.”
“At the end of time, I doubt I can change anything though - because we are broken children walking through the ether. Some will where there cracks on the outside, some keep them hidden away. It’s our nature to put on a brave face I guess. Life does it to some people, but this business does it to everyone at some point in time. It’s just when and how we can rebuild… sometimes it's how often. That’s just the way it is.”
“On Metal, Lex. I will go out there to defeat you. I will every intention of lifting up and putting you down. But if I lose to you, there is no shame in that - you are, after all a…”
“Champion.”
He is sad.
The apartment was spartan, it had what was necessary, but lacked any of the extra luxuries that would turn a place of residence into a home. As such, Tristan Cross is laying on his double bed staring at the brilliant white ceiling. The upper half of his body is without clothing and reveals his exquisitely carved torso - the byproduct of hours in the gym. His lower half is covered in a pair of black shorts that come to and end just above his knees. He absentmindedly fondles with his glorious ginger beard, his monstrous fingers intertwining with the spindly wires of red hair.
His thoughts always wander to his happier moments in the past when he is alone. They always wander to his children, Georgia and William. In his mind, these children are being held captive by their mother. The woman who cheated on him with another man. An act he was unfortunate to walk in on. Unfortunately, his loss of temper in that moment - meant that he lost all court battles. He lost all access. But, that was going to change. He had to make sure of that. Sometimes because friends with the wrong people for the right reasons was better than just accepting defeat.
William was just a baby, not yet three months old. He lay giggly on the pastel coloured blanket just away from where Tristan Cross was playing with his daughter Georgia, who has just turned two. As the doting father that he is, he is sitting on a chair that is much too small for his frame that is carved from granite. In his hand is a plastic tea cup that is smaller than his palm, but he doesn’t care. His daughter wants to drink tea with Daddy, so he drinks tea with Daddy. Periodically, he looks over to William to ensure that he hasn’t got himself into trouble.
Yet his son is laying on his back making random gurgling noises to himself and showing no interest in anything going on around him. Looking at his children, Tristan Cross smiles - these moments in time are precious to him. Georgia drinks from her tea cup and insists that Daddy does too. Ever compliant with his daughters wishes and sips imaginary brew from the pink plastic. They both share a laugh. Tristan puts the cup down and reaches out to tickle William on the belly just to hear the innocent giggle of his son. Georgia laughs too, she loves her little brother.
The radiance of time exits Tristan Cross’ body through his smile as he allows himself to fall to the ground, knocking over the tea table, in the process to lay next to his son. While Georgia, jumps up and uses her father as climbing frame.
Yet his son is laying on his back making random gurgling noises to himself and showing no interest in anything going on around him. Looking at his children, Tristan Cross smiles - these moments in time are precious to him. Georgia drinks from her tea cup and insists that Daddy does too. Ever compliant with his daughters wishes and sips imaginary brew from the pink plastic. They both share a laugh. Tristan puts the cup down and reaches out to tickle William on the belly just to hear the innocent giggle of his son. Georgia laughs too, she loves her little brother.
The radiance of time exits Tristan Cross’ body through his smile as he allows himself to fall to the ground, knocking over the tea table, in the process to lay next to his son. While Georgia, jumps up and uses her father as climbing frame.
Sleep eludes him.
Georgia has her hair in cute little pig tails, she inherited her father’s dark ginger hair, as such she bears more than a passing resemblance to Pippi Longstocking. The similarity between the two has fast seen the fictional girl become Georgia’s hero. She climbs through her tree house with her stuffed monkey she plays games with herself in her mind. The conversation between herself and her monkey is watched from the window of the house by her father, Tristan. He smiles as his daughter is lost in the world of imagination and play. He watches go up and down the ladder, and in and out of the treehouse he bought and then built for their play. All the time she is laughing and giggling to herself and telling the story of adventure to the pet stuffed toy monkey she grips firmly in her right hand.
The infectious happiness of the eldest of the Cross children also pierces the heart and mind of her father. He can’t think of moments in time that are better than the moments of happiness children create for themselves in play.
The infectious happiness of the eldest of the Cross children also pierces the heart and mind of her father. He can’t think of moments in time that are better than the moments of happiness children create for themselves in play.
When lost in sadness the battle of sleep is not easily won.
William was a rambunctious lad. From the moment he could walk all he wanted to do was run. The trips, the falls, the bumps, the scrapes, Tristan Cross had lost count of them all. Yet, not of that mattered to little Will. He was always straight back to his feet to run headlong into the next adventure without the slightest care in the world. Tristan Cross was walking behind his son at a park close to their house. His son, just two, was having the most fun running to the top of the hill and rolling down past his father as his father continued to walk to the picnic area at the bottom of the hill. His daughter and wife were already down there, but he was running late because of work. William would shout at his father to watch him as he rolled down the grassy embankment and ran back to the top - time and time again. So much so, that Tristan had stopped walking and just watched William. Will laughed with glee as he rolled and smiled with excitement as he ran back to the top.
This was his favourite game. And for Tristan, as his father, whatever his son’s favourite game was - that was his favourite game too. He could see his wife waving to them from their position on the grass at the bottom. Tristan watched his son as he rolled past him one more time, but as Will rolled he scooped him up and carried him down the hill as they both laughed together.
This was his favourite game. And for Tristan, as his father, whatever his son’s favourite game was - that was his favourite game too. He could see his wife waving to them from their position on the grass at the bottom. Tristan watched his son as he rolled past him one more time, but as Will rolled he scooped him up and carried him down the hill as they both laughed together.
Tossing and turning trying to sleep in like being thrown about in a fishing boat in the perfect storm.
William was tucked up in bed. As the younger child he always went to bed slightly earlier than his sister. Tristan had already tucked his son into bed and was now sitting next to his daughter’s bed reading her a bedtime story. Her ears were pricked and her eyes were wide as her father ready to her with aplomb. She hung on every word until the last page was turned and the story was finished. Tristan kissed her softly on the forehead and pulled the covers up before turning off the lamp. Georgia whispered a cute ‘I love you Daddy’ to her father as he left the room, and he responded in kind.
Tristan Cross paused at the door for a moment just to watch his daughter breathing. He made the few steps to his right to check on his son, who was blissfully sleeping and unaware of his father’s presence. He kissed him on the forehead and moved to the lounge room of his home. The walls were covered with happy photos of his family. Some posed. Some candid. This made him smile.
Tristan Cross paused at the door for a moment just to watch his daughter breathing. He made the few steps to his right to check on his son, who was blissfully sleeping and unaware of his father’s presence. He kissed him on the forehead and moved to the lounge room of his home. The walls were covered with happy photos of his family. Some posed. Some candid. This made him smile.
Sleep came. But from exhaustion not rest.
Tristan Cross had a rough night, he tried sleeping but after a couple hours of sleep, he gave up and made his way to the bar that was closest to his apartment. He wasn’t there to drink the night away or anything like that, he was just tired of tossing and turning and staring at blank white walls. He was sitting on a bar stool at the end of the bar with a glass of water and a glass of some kind of whiskey on the rocks. He holds a cardboard coaster between his forefinger and the counter top and flicks with his fingers on his other hand for his own sad amusement.
“Why the long face?”
Cross is shaken from the moment by the arrival of a blonde woman. She has curves in all the right places and is dressed well in pants and a blouse.
“Not interested in paying for sex.” he says without looking at up.
She laughs. You can hear her take offense in the way she chuckles, but she moves past it without too much trouble.
“Sorry, bud, I ain’t no whore.”
“Then why are you bothering me.”
She snorts. This time she makes her offense obvious.
“Look, if you don’t want no company you don’t need to be rude about it.” there is a manner of force to the words that can only be delivered by a woman where she is annoyed.
Tristan looks up at the new arrival. She looks pretty to his sad eyes. He’s not really interested in conversation, he tries to portray this in his body language, but he fails as she sits on the stool next to him.
“Sorry.” he frowns.
“You don’t wanna take. That’s fine.” she speaks without turning to face him.
“Sorry.” Cross says again. “I didn’t mean to be rude.”
“Well you were.” she once again speaks without looking at him. She passes a nod to the bartender who treats her like a regular and places a glass of unidentified white wine in front of her.
Cross finishes the last of his water and offers a hand to the lady sitting next to him as he stands up to leave.
“I’m Tristan and I’m sorry to have been a bother to you.”
She looks at him and shakes his hand delicately. “Sienna.”
He orders another glass of water. He smiles at her and returns to spinning the coaster between his forefinger and thumb.
“You look sad.” Sienna says to him as she repositions herself slightly on her bar stool so that he shoulders are turned towards him even though she is still facing forward.
Spartan sits on a stool.
“I should really consider doing things your way, Lex. Sitting somewhere comfortable and just hitting record to say what you think about your upcoming opponents; kicking back, drinking a can soda, playing with your dog. Who knows really. But doing what you want without the glaring eye of the public bearing down upon you. I could do that, but that would be stealing your schtick and that wouldn't be a cool thing to do. Sure, I’ve done plenty of uncool things in the recent past - like aligning myself with Irina. But I feel that is a necessary evil. I can’t bear to be away from children any longer. I don’t earn enough to afford the type of lawyers that I need to enter into those sort of court battles. So I have made a deal with the devil.”
“Let it be known that those mental battles, those court battles are tougher than any possible battle I could face in the ring. They lead to many a sleepless night, many replays of events in the mind of what I could do differently. See, in the ring when you fight you can win or you can lose, Lex. Anyone with any length of career knows that. But, every loss is the opportunity to learn to grow to become someone better. That loss is erased from history, eventually or at the very least it's forgotten en masse. But to lose in life, while you can grow and you can learn - you can even become a better person. But what you’ve lost - it never comes back. It leaves you bent, twisted.”
“Broken.”
“See, Lex - in the ring - while I intend to lift you up atop my shoulders and send you spinning through the air with the Revolutionizer. That's my intention, but if I am broken down systemically I will bounce back. I will walk back down that aisle and get back into that ring. But, if I fail to regain my children… I may as well be dead.”
“When I lay restless at night, Lex, I don’t think about my wins and my losses, not in the ring anyway. But what keeps me awake at night is times when I think back to my children and happy moments we shared together. I think about those moments lost. It hurts, it burns, it leaves me.”
“Broken.”
“You’re a better man than me, Lex Collins. Despite working in a world that you despise you find a way to drive forward, you find a way to carry your head high, you find a way to fight - even if it is something you despise. And through it all you find a way to keep your family together.”
“Me. I’m just a broken mess. Sure, I lost them before I found wrestling that much is true. And sure I find the ring an escape from the failures of my life - that much is truer still. But it never stops me missing them. It never stops me thinking they will call another man, Daddy. That burns up inside. But it also drives me. It drives me to find a way to overcome those failures of mine. It drives me to become something better today than I was yesterday. It drives me to find a stronger tomorrow. It drives me to prove to myself that I am not.”
“Broken.”
“When Smith Jones did his thing - the opportunity was there for me. I had responsibilities sure, but a chance to test myself against the world champion, the only two time world champion in Alpha Pro History - those opportunities don’t come along very often so I had to seize it. Had to make sure that I was better on that day than I was the day before. To prove to myself that I wasn’t.”
“Broken.”
“And like when I step into the ring with you on Monday, Lex. It’s another measure, another tool of the trade of testing the type of person that I am. Facing the North American Champion is an incredible test, a belt I’ve worn and be proud of, but a belt I am currently not worthy of holding. But when I face you, Lex. When I give it my all - I will know in myself that I once again worthy of holding the title that you hold. Another way to prove to myself that I am more than a shell that’s.”
“Broken.”
“At the end of time, I doubt I can change anything though - because we are broken children walking through the ether. Some will where there cracks on the outside, some keep them hidden away. It’s our nature to put on a brave face I guess. Life does it to some people, but this business does it to everyone at some point in time. It’s just when and how we can rebuild… sometimes it's how often. That’s just the way it is.”
“On Metal, Lex. I will go out there to defeat you. I will every intention of lifting up and putting you down. But if I lose to you, there is no shame in that - you are, after all a…”
“Champion.”
