Post by Los Pollos™ on Oct 3, 2019 22:43:47 GMT
The rhythmic sound of the canvas, like a wild monkey beating on a war drum, provides the beat for the discordant song of the metal springs holding the ring together, wailing like a flock of toucans in a thunderstorm. This is the music that guides his dance. His dance of war. With his eyes closed he can’t see the sparring partners in the ring with him, but he doesn’t need to. He only needs to hear, smell and feel, to dispatch his foes, one after one, like a priest sacrificing captives to the gods.
The faint noise of a door opening and closing cuts through the sounds, followed by a slow beat of foot steps. He feels the presence in the room changing, and he doesn't need to open his eyes to know who just entered. His brother.
"...so I'm just asking you to go easy on him," Pollo Dorado continues in Spanish. Sangre never learned Spanish all that well, only as much as he needed, but while he doesn't understand all of Dorado's words, he fully knows the meaning behind them; he is scared.
"Are you asking me to lose?"
"No! Absolutely not! I'm not asking you to not try to win. I mean, our lucha libre tradition is already being criticized for being all show and exhibition. We need to prove more than ever that it's an effective style of combat. I'm just asking you to focus on just that; winning. No excessive violence."
There he goes again with the fancy words. But Sangre understands what needs to be understood. He always does.
"We will see what fate decides."
"I don't believe in fate."
"Fate doesn't need your belief in order to eat you."
Dorado stays silent for a moment, letting the stillness grow in the near empty gym. The trainers and trainees have all left. Now ita just the two of them, sitting on their knees across from each other in the ring.
"I'm not asking fate," Dorado finally says. "I'm asking you."
"What is the difference?"
Another silent moment passes. Dorado sits still, back straight and eyes fixed on Sangre. If one was to just study his body language, one would say that he's completely confident and in control at this moment. Sangre would say differently. He can see how his brother is actually feeling. And what he needs to hear.
"Fate is like the jaguar." Dorado doesn't understand but let's him continue. "You can try to fight it. You may even win. You may even kill it and wear its skin as a trophy. But, my friend, there are always more Jaguars in the jungle."
"So you just sit back and let the jaguar kill you?"
"No. You become the jaguar."
Another moment passes in silence, and just as it seems like Dorado is about to grasp the point, he breaks the silence.
"Can you just promise me that you won't try to break him. And fight clean. He's family after all."
He wants Sangre to coddle Último, treating him like a delicate little egg that breaks at the slightest touch, Sangre understands that. But Sangre also understands that when you treat something like it's weak, it becomes weak. To get the strongest chickens, you can't be afraid if a few broken eggs. Because if you won't let the egg crack, it will never hatch.
You can build all the fences you want, but no chicken is ever safe from the jaguar.
After a long silence, Sangre takes a deep breath, relishing in the tension, and looks Dorado deep into the eyes, as sincere as he's ever been.
"I give you my word, brother. I will treat him like family."
Whether you like it or not.
The faint noise of a door opening and closing cuts through the sounds, followed by a slow beat of foot steps. He feels the presence in the room changing, and he doesn't need to open his eyes to know who just entered. His brother.
"...so I'm just asking you to go easy on him," Pollo Dorado continues in Spanish. Sangre never learned Spanish all that well, only as much as he needed, but while he doesn't understand all of Dorado's words, he fully knows the meaning behind them; he is scared.
"Are you asking me to lose?"
"No! Absolutely not! I'm not asking you to not try to win. I mean, our lucha libre tradition is already being criticized for being all show and exhibition. We need to prove more than ever that it's an effective style of combat. I'm just asking you to focus on just that; winning. No excessive violence."
There he goes again with the fancy words. But Sangre understands what needs to be understood. He always does.
"We will see what fate decides."
"I don't believe in fate."
"Fate doesn't need your belief in order to eat you."
Dorado stays silent for a moment, letting the stillness grow in the near empty gym. The trainers and trainees have all left. Now ita just the two of them, sitting on their knees across from each other in the ring.
"I'm not asking fate," Dorado finally says. "I'm asking you."
"What is the difference?"
Another silent moment passes. Dorado sits still, back straight and eyes fixed on Sangre. If one was to just study his body language, one would say that he's completely confident and in control at this moment. Sangre would say differently. He can see how his brother is actually feeling. And what he needs to hear.
"Fate is like the jaguar." Dorado doesn't understand but let's him continue. "You can try to fight it. You may even win. You may even kill it and wear its skin as a trophy. But, my friend, there are always more Jaguars in the jungle."
"So you just sit back and let the jaguar kill you?"
"No. You become the jaguar."
Another moment passes in silence, and just as it seems like Dorado is about to grasp the point, he breaks the silence.
"Can you just promise me that you won't try to break him. And fight clean. He's family after all."
He wants Sangre to coddle Último, treating him like a delicate little egg that breaks at the slightest touch, Sangre understands that. But Sangre also understands that when you treat something like it's weak, it becomes weak. To get the strongest chickens, you can't be afraid if a few broken eggs. Because if you won't let the egg crack, it will never hatch.
You can build all the fences you want, but no chicken is ever safe from the jaguar.
After a long silence, Sangre takes a deep breath, relishing in the tension, and looks Dorado deep into the eyes, as sincere as he's ever been.
"I give you my word, brother. I will treat him like family."
Whether you like it or not.