Post by Deleted on Oct 14, 2017 14:48:08 GMT
Friday the 13th. Morning. Tokyo, Japan. In the TARDIS.
There’s something about today. An unexplained feeling, a giddiness, a shaking up of the cosmos that jolted Anna out of bed and into the box. It wasn't because of the date, though that certainly amplified the mystique. Something else. The intangible ebb and flow of things. The week seemed to fly by--a matter of perception, she corrects her thought--and she was here for her rather confused sentient wrestling company/son. Dr. Irons, one of its former heads of medicine turned would be conqueror, said something about an anomaly…
“I love an anomaly.”
She speaks to her reflection in the mirror with a smirk. It hasn't been all that long ago that she connected this line to the so-boring-he’s-interesting Jan van der Roost. And now here comes another moment, this time much closer to her emotional frame. Everything was getting closer. The entire time from her regeneration to the present, Anna had compartmentalized every aspect of her life inside her head. Everybody she knows has a special cube just for them.
Drunken romantic interludes with Brien, kinship with the Buchanan's, sisterhood with Caleb, being a mother for BGDF, a merciless friend of Hammerstein, a seeker for Betsy...even her career--the role of professional wrestler--was separated into halves. There is a Team OVERKILL Anna and Anna-On-Her-Own. Never shall the two meet. Yet slowly, just like the polar ice caps, the boundaries are beginning to melt. She could feel it. The melding, the blurring of lines turning a paint by numbers masterpiece into Picasso. At least, one can hope for that much.
A brush runs through her hair, life properly maintained. The music from the control room blaring out in speakers everywhere as she thinks about the trials and tribulations ahead. The glitch, being a lumberjack, the hunt for the VERY BIG, VERY POWERFUL United States championship, the Team OVERKILL World Tour and its first baby steps, and ultimately making sure she still holds the Estrel Medal at the end of this weekend. Just one more match. One more. Then a break from the utter frustration that has plagued her run. But first, she had to run through James Edwards.
It’s on thinking of him that the ghost of Polly Styrene possesses her music library and belts out into the cosmos.
Identity is the crisis, can't you see?
The Time Lord laughs not because of she who sings or the self harming muse she was inspired by. The thing that makes her cackle out loud is that this one particular line remains the unabashed truth. There is no identity crisis. It is the crisis or, if we are to get technical with such things, our picking and choosing and other people's perceptions is. It always will be. Nobody--with the exception of herself--is a better example of this than the Burning Heart.
Edwards, when focused and willing, is a talented athlete and a strong contender for the medal. His slight drawl punches up his badassness as he digs a grave for weeks on end to bury his past in. He doesn't want to be seen as weak. He doesn't want to be remembered as that guy who gets all distraught and emo whenever he has a setback. He desires to push those feelings down so deep into the ground both figuratively and literally that they can never escape again.
But they will.
James Edwards can dig as long and as deep as he wishes. That just means he’s delaying the inevitable. When the weakness, the doubt, and the anguish of not living up to his own standards breaks the surface, they’ll just be a thousand times worse because they will have to burrow through hell to rise again. In this regard? He’s his own worst enemy.
Anna's own burial plot for these feelings is shallow by comparison. She hates having the feelings as much as he does. But knowing that they're an inevitable part of her whole existence makes it slightly easier. She knows she's going to have the turns. The depression. The self-loathing. And she'll fight it for a moment because it fractures everybody's view (and her own) on who she is as a person. But letting them come--for a few hours, for a day--and allowing them to pass over her is better than the alternative. Anything is better than burrowing them deep into the ground and hoping they stay dead.
Anything is better having the Howling take over.
And this is the biggest difference.
There’s something about today. An unexplained feeling, a giddiness, a shaking up of the cosmos that jolted Anna out of bed and into the box. It wasn't because of the date, though that certainly amplified the mystique. Something else. The intangible ebb and flow of things. The week seemed to fly by--a matter of perception, she corrects her thought--and she was here for her rather confused sentient wrestling company/son. Dr. Irons, one of its former heads of medicine turned would be conqueror, said something about an anomaly…
“I love an anomaly.”
She speaks to her reflection in the mirror with a smirk. It hasn't been all that long ago that she connected this line to the so-boring-he’s-interesting Jan van der Roost. And now here comes another moment, this time much closer to her emotional frame. Everything was getting closer. The entire time from her regeneration to the present, Anna had compartmentalized every aspect of her life inside her head. Everybody she knows has a special cube just for them.
Drunken romantic interludes with Brien, kinship with the Buchanan's, sisterhood with Caleb, being a mother for BGDF, a merciless friend of Hammerstein, a seeker for Betsy...even her career--the role of professional wrestler--was separated into halves. There is a Team OVERKILL Anna and Anna-On-Her-Own. Never shall the two meet. Yet slowly, just like the polar ice caps, the boundaries are beginning to melt. She could feel it. The melding, the blurring of lines turning a paint by numbers masterpiece into Picasso. At least, one can hope for that much.
A brush runs through her hair, life properly maintained. The music from the control room blaring out in speakers everywhere as she thinks about the trials and tribulations ahead. The glitch, being a lumberjack, the hunt for the VERY BIG, VERY POWERFUL United States championship, the Team OVERKILL World Tour and its first baby steps, and ultimately making sure she still holds the Estrel Medal at the end of this weekend. Just one more match. One more. Then a break from the utter frustration that has plagued her run. But first, she had to run through James Edwards.
It’s on thinking of him that the ghost of Polly Styrene possesses her music library and belts out into the cosmos.
Identity is the crisis, can't you see?
The Time Lord laughs not because of she who sings or the self harming muse she was inspired by. The thing that makes her cackle out loud is that this one particular line remains the unabashed truth. There is no identity crisis. It is the crisis or, if we are to get technical with such things, our picking and choosing and other people's perceptions is. It always will be. Nobody--with the exception of herself--is a better example of this than the Burning Heart.
Edwards, when focused and willing, is a talented athlete and a strong contender for the medal. His slight drawl punches up his badassness as he digs a grave for weeks on end to bury his past in. He doesn't want to be seen as weak. He doesn't want to be remembered as that guy who gets all distraught and emo whenever he has a setback. He desires to push those feelings down so deep into the ground both figuratively and literally that they can never escape again.
But they will.
James Edwards can dig as long and as deep as he wishes. That just means he’s delaying the inevitable. When the weakness, the doubt, and the anguish of not living up to his own standards breaks the surface, they’ll just be a thousand times worse because they will have to burrow through hell to rise again. In this regard? He’s his own worst enemy.
Anna's own burial plot for these feelings is shallow by comparison. She hates having the feelings as much as he does. But knowing that they're an inevitable part of her whole existence makes it slightly easier. She knows she's going to have the turns. The depression. The self-loathing. And she'll fight it for a moment because it fractures everybody's view (and her own) on who she is as a person. But letting them come--for a few hours, for a day--and allowing them to pass over her is better than the alternative. Anything is better than burrowing them deep into the ground and hoping they stay dead.
Anything is better having the Howling take over.
And this is the biggest difference.