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The Gym is, in essence, a sanctuary.

Joined: March 12th, 2018, 11:47 pm

May 4th, 2018, 3:07 am #1

The camera spawns to life outside of a dimly lit building, the flashing "Gym 24/7" sign giving away what the location was, otherwise it looked like every other plain white wall with some paint reconstruction needing to be done that would be found in Sydney. The front doors looked more like warehouse style side doors, that you had to really tug to pull open. Inside stood a receptionist, sneakily trying to catch photos of the only individual in there at the time, which as we get closer in sight, we recognize is Christian Andrews.

The receptionist is trying as hard as she can to make the weird pose she's doing with her phone seem normal, and luckily for her, Christian could care less what she's doing. He has his headphones on, and he's sitting on the bench, a weight bar with a 45 on each side sitting next to him, evidence of hard work being put up to the challenge. Christian however seems more intent on staring into the mirror, looking at his reflection and staring into his own eyes, his memories probably fading into what happened just a mere 24 hours ago. The song changes on his phone which is sitting across from him on the floor, and as it lights up, it reads the time as "1:34am". A time that nobody would usually be visiting the gym, at least not on a normal basis, and that's exactly what Christian had planned on.

He continued to stare across the free weight area and into the mirror, flashes of the Superbattle crossing his mind, especially the last part he remembered, the last part he watched.... the ring disappearing underneath him and then reappearing across the way, and the announcer doing their job, announcing his elimination from the match. Christian couldn't believe he got eliminated, or at least that easily, but it goes to show that being away from the ring for as long as he had prior, definitely costs you more than you anticipate....

He's a man who loves his silence, loves his alone time, because he knows that deep down he's never really alone. It's in this time that he can think, that he can let down his walls and be himself. It's this time that he can truly be, Christian Andrews. His expectations of emptiness though would soon come to a screeching halt. His focus was so zoned in that he didn't realize somebody else had made their way into the gym, somebody else had noticed him there, and that somebody was rapidly approaching...


TBC: Lal Singh
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LalSingh
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May 5th, 2018, 2:28 pm #2

Walking looked powerful when she took steps. Hence the "Power Walk" terminology applied to her simple act. The legs, long and muscly, went up into wide hips and a pronounced rear, all of which expressed strength and vitality. Singh's lower half was athletic poetry. Above the waist was defined core, and lithe sculpting of arms and shoulders. Her face symmetric and smooth like a well carved, stoic mask. Her eyes were onyx set in ivory. the black strands of her hair a raven's envy.

Copper tone skin beneath yoga pants and a midriff baring t-shirt, and one found themselves wondering if they were looking at an Olympian or Playboy Centerfold carved out of midnight and bronze.

Galatia with an eastern persuasion and a kicking penchant.

Lal Singh approached him with the entitled air she was known for. It was self evident attitude. She would walk right up to him, and talk as if in the familiar despite not being known for speaking at length, or knowing him at all in particular.

<Lal Singh>
‘Good to be able to address you outside of twitter, Mr. Andrews; I am Lal Singh. Spot me.‘

And she made her way passed him to a bench, raising it at an angle for inclines.

TBC: Andrews
Want To Be A True Believer Too...?
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Joined: March 12th, 2018, 11:47 pm

May 19th, 2018, 7:53 pm #3

Christian started steadying his breathing from his own set, trying to regain composure while the surprisingly taller Indian woman walked by him and made her way over to the bench he wasn't done with, and starts adjusting it to an incline. His face frowns as she starts, and his head tilts inquisitively as he ponders if she said something to him or not. He takes on ear bud out of his ear, and looks toward her. However instead of saying anything, he shoots a glance toward the receptionist who told him she'd make sure he would be left alone for the majority of his workout, and seeing how he's only been there 20 minutes, he'd hardly call that the majority.

The woman at the front desk knew very well who Lal Singh was, and that was obviously her intentions when she didn't stop Lal from walking into the gym. She shot a glance back towards Christian, an apologetic yet "nothing she could do about it" type of stare, which caused a slight annoyance to run down the muscular back of Andrews. He shakes his head and turns back to the tall Indian woman, realizing for the first time how muscular she was but not exactly admiring her body, he wonders if she did anything in sports herself. She looks towards him, and it appears as if she's waiting for a response although Christian wasn't exactly fond of talking in the gym, especially to strange women since usually it ends in ways that Christian wasn't looking to get involved with right now.

Christian stared at Lal, not having any idea this was the woman he was communicating with on Twitter, nor realizing that she was in the Royal just as he was, considering she was eliminated before he ever got called into the ring. Instead of inquiring to the woman or saying anything towards her, he slides the headphone back into his ear oblivious that she had asked him anything originally. He leans back and wraps his hands around the barbell, taking a deep breath and lifting the heavy weight off the rack and starting to press it.


TBC: Lal Singh
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LalSingh
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May 22nd, 2018, 5:00 pm #4

She had Stevenson, and Generation X on her mind. Her SB elimination an embarrassing one in many ways. Being first in and out for a laughable count of minutes. Was she angry? Furious. Was she just a little uncertain about Summerfest? Of course. Another numbers game. History so far had shown her foes in PRW to be incapable of facing her without back-up or superior numbers present.

It was tiring, but mostly disappointing. And it was unfortunate that she had begun to grow used to the thought of continued one woman stands. The only woman looking for a fair fight in a promotion that was notoriously “Hardcore” of late, and partial to numbers games. Bloodshed was the order of the day. Not legal, straight forward competition. She knew she would eventually reach the zero hedge, where survivability would reach nada and she would be beat in that ring.

And she concluded that in the end, all that mattered was that she was pinned. Fairly or not. That pissed her off even more. PRW didn't really care about the means, only the ends. Stevenson would be rewarded for his formation of a stable with coverage and booking. Antics would given blind, turned eyes. There would be T-shirts. There would be much commercial spots.

<Lal Singh>
‘Fair enough; you do not have to talk, and neither do I...‘

Singh said evenly, reducing the weight on the bar so that she could safely press without need of a spotter. She would work until her arms were warm, and then move on to her ever precious allies. Her legs.

<Lal Singh>
‘Silence is a treasured thing.‘

She added.

Up-down, Up-down, Up-down, Up-down, Up-down, Up-down, her thoughts wandered away from wrestling, from Stevenson and present company. Her mind emptying of attachments and the emotions attached to them. Breathing, and the motion, that was all that would be allowed to remain, along with a general awareness of her body straining, warming to the exercise.

Up-down, Up-down, Up-down, Up-down, Up-down, Up-down, warmer still, nagging thoughts flowing from the back of her mind. Up-down, Up-down, Up-down, Up-down, Up-down, Up-down, and sweat beaded on her forehead. Perspiration, negativity, karma, it all slowly flowed from her, her mind devoted to only the most basic of things. Counting, and the motion. Up-down, Up-down, Up-down, Up-down, Up-down, Up-down, and she set the bar in place, sitting up and exhaling.

She was starting to feel better about things already.

Rolling her shoulders, she laid back down, and focused her black wells on the center of the bar, hands gripped it the proper places, prepared to lift again for another series.

TBC: Andrews
Want To Be A True Believer Too...?
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Joined: March 12th, 2018, 11:47 pm

May 23rd, 2018, 3:15 am #5

Christian exhales one last time, pressing the weight up and off of his chest, a grunt coming from deep within him as he pushes it as high as his arms would allow him, and then slides it backwards onto the rack. The last one really took a toll on him, but he couldn't stop. His mind reminding him of the fact that he lost the Superbattle match, after several miraculous saves, and the opportunity stolen from him was not lost in translation. He turned his body slightly, relieving the tension on his back from the arch it made while he was pressing, and as he does his eyes make eye contact with the woman across from him.

Those eyes... dark, deep, they remind him of someone or something that he's run across recently.

Or was it ages ago? Time hasn't held it's value as much as it once did in his past, and his memory isn't as precise and sharp as it once was when it comes to insignificant (or what may have seemed it at the time) things. Then it occurs to him.

Lal Singh.

He had heard of her, and saw bits and pieces of her matches but he was so caught up in her style, her movements, and her steps of action, that he had failed to notice the similarities between the woman he watched and briefed himself on, and this one in front of him. He had been oblivious to her the entire time. Did she notice him?

He turned off the bench now, pulling himself to a standing position as he watched her form comply to the bar, her hands positioning perfectly as if she were filming a "How-To" video. He wasn't sure about company, especially hers with what little he knew about her from a personal stand point, and after his run in with another woman from the PRW just before the Superbattle, he remained cautious and skeptical.

Yet something remained. Call it curiosity, or perhaps just an inkling of suspicion, but he found his desire to talk to her more appealing and overwhelming than his lack of empathy toward human communion. As their eyes connected, he took a step toward her bench, as he was hoping it would cause her to momentarily stop and allow him an opportunity for communication.
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LalSingh
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May 23rd, 2018, 1:17 pm #6

Eye contact knew no language barriers. It spoke the universals. Intent, and interest...and desire. In this case, the intent to have her attention, his interest in her for whatever reason, and naturally, the desire to talk. Lal Singh set the bar back up, then sat up, looking at Andrews expectantly. The man had history, a legacy in the formative past of PRW. While he may not have been a sculptor or architect of the promotion's structure and culture, he'd left an indelible mark on it.

That was certain.

Regarding the man before her, Singh had a brief notion that she was somehow staring into an alternative reflection, but it was brief, an overly fanciful notion really. Perhaps? Passed exchanges on PRW's twitter, they had never encountered each other before in person, but, there was an overwhelming sense of familiarity regardless.

The silence being enjoyable, Lal Singh decided that it was to be broken; cats, gotten tongues, and men were all too common. He was either shy (unlikely), or a stoic waiting for her to ask him what he wanted. The strong Alphas of few words wasn't common as much in the States anymore, but still had many adherents back home. Dusky, quiet men that left their passions to be spoken through the winds and body language.

Thus, Lal knew quiet, Singh knew kicking, but Lal knew quiet.

She smiled wide. It had been forever since she'd spoken with a strong, silent type.

<Lal Singh>
‘We can hold peace, or we can say our piece...‘

TBC: Andrews
Want To Be A True Believer Too...?
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Joined: March 12th, 2018, 11:47 pm

May 24th, 2018, 2:22 am #7

Christian watched her as she brought herself to a sitting position, racking the bar behind her and staring at him with the same stare, matching the same intensity which is something Christian has not experienced in a long time, since his last partner was around back when Christian was still wrestling. Since, he had talked to a lot of people, with money, without money, with standings and name value, and those with little to their family name. Yet never in the past years has he remembered feeling the way that he did when she stared at him. That feeling that was common, familiar...

He was staring in the mirror.

Christian took a deep breath, his longing eyes continuing to take in the figure of the Indian woman in front of him, although he stared not as one who needed comfort, or wanted to test his masculinity by trying to compensate with sexual acts. His stares were deeper, looking past the outward sculpture that was her body, and looking into the scars and crevices around her body, the impact wounds from the battle she just endured, and exploring how her body reacted to her warm ups, the blood pulsing through her veins.

Christian knew she wasn't in any way, shape, or form, normal. No, she was special, just as he has found himself to be in relation to what most people call "normal", although he better defined it as "average." What he stared at, while his ears heard her as she began to speak, his eyes saw beyond her ability to build a sentence and speculated at her very existence. He heard her words but saw his own self, albeit with a lack of the hard life lessons that come with age and experience.


<Lal Singh>
‘We can hold peace, or we can say our piece...‘

Christian looked past her now, his eyes weighing down to the bench she had sat up on, and as he turned his body to shift toward the bench, he invited himself into a seated position next to Lal. His face hinted at the possibility of a smile, or perhaps just contentment, although it never fully broke through because his voice hinted at something greater, as he spoke for the first time that night since hours ago when he had to speak to the front desk girl.

Christian Andrews:
There was an old farmer who had found himself on a walk home in the middle of a snow storm one night. On the side of the road he found viper frozen solid from the storm and taking pity on it, he took it home and bundled it onto his bare chest, warming it up and nursing it back to health. The viper revived and turned to the old man that saved it, and bit the old man right in the middle of his chest. Dying, the old man asked the snake with his dying breath, "Why did you bite me after I saved you, brought you back to life, and loved you enough to risk my life for you?" The viper responded "You silly old man, I'm a snake."


Christian remained focused on Lal Singh, his eyes burying into hers as he got lost in his story, the final word producing a snap to reality, a reminder that he wasn't in his own thoughts as he may have assumed envisioning the story. He looked away from Lal, the moral of the story still baring resemblance to his own past, and his own hurts and horrors. As he pushed past his previous thoughts, his mind drifted back to the Superbattle.

Lal Singh had befriended, if that's not too strong of a word, Matthew Stevenson. Unfortunately what she had assumed was something, turned out to be completely something else and she, for better or for worse, got bit. Christian however wasn't just intending Stevenson to be the snake, but wanted her in the midst of her anger and the midst of her own confusion toward the night, to question... is there a snake in her? Christian hoped she would see the depth goes beyond the surface level, and that while nature vs nurture is definitely applicable here, there is something beyond that argument that faces our every day reality... There is nature, there is nurture, and then there is anarchy, or organized chaos that lives inside everybody.


Christian Andrews:
Boats do not sink because of the water that surrounds them. They sink because of the water that gets inside. I've watched you, and I've heard you, beyond what you say but what you feel. Lal, you have no leaks. So why then, is there water in your boat?


Christian inquires, a soft spoken tone showing his serious, confident, and yet almost tender and meek nature. He rests his hand next to Lal's on the bench, as he awaits her response.
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LalSingh
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May 24th, 2018, 12:40 pm #8

Without missing a beat.

<Lal Singh>
‘Hubris.‘

Lal Singh said it with a sort of confident steel, as if saying the word required her to express the meaning of it in her tone.

<Lal Singh>
‘I trusted someone without being able to get a solid read on who they were, what was going on inside their head. My selfishness, and self confidence made me careless; I ignored some warnings. I took someone at the honor of their words, and trusted them to uphold their end. They did not. And I paid the price for my hubris.‘

She sucked air, looking up at the ceiling.

<Lal Singh>
‘It is a deep bucket to fill, hubris, but I did, and I have flooded my ship with the pouring out of it.‘

TBC: Andrews
Want To Be A True Believer Too...?
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Joined: March 12th, 2018, 11:47 pm

May 24th, 2018, 10:24 pm #9

Self-Confidence

A word she used to describe herself, and the main word Christian caught as he listened to her share her heart. Christian smiled, but questioned to himself where she currently stood on the issue of confidence, because the lack of it definitely wasn't something that was an issue here. Christian stood up from the bench, nodding in response to Lal Singh.

<Lal Singh>
‘It is a deep bucket to fill, hubris, but I did, and I have flooded my ship with the pouring out of it.‘

Christian looked at her again, this time bending down and grabbing a single 45 plate. He leaned forward and slid it onto her bar that she had previously racked, the sound of metal clanking against metal vibrating the room. As he backed away from the weight to find another 45 he noticed her looking at him, and he wondered how inquisitive she was to him and if it matched his own desire and interest in her.

He walked a step or two over to the weight racks, and pulled off a 45 from the bottom rack full of 45's, except for the 6 that are missing from Christian's last mountain he was climbing over by his bench press set up. Christian lifts the 45 up beside his hip and walks over to the opposing side of Lal's bar, sliding on the 45. He smiles at her as he motions with his hand to lay back down and try this weight, granted it was a lot more on then what she was previously doing. He didn't even bother to take the weight off that was previously on the bar, which may have been his intention in the first place. As he waits for Lal to slide into place, he stops her from laying down by bending over and placing his head close to her ear, whispering down to her in a gentle yet stern motion. Nobody was around, yet it seemed like Christian was still wanting to protect Lal Singh from any prying ears while they held a conversation.


Christian Andrews:
Lal, you don't suffer from self-confidence. Self-confidence frees you to become better, greater, and allows you access to accomplish things you really could barely even fathom right now. Pride however, is not to be mistaken with confidence. Pride is confidence in your ability to hide and guard yourself, while confidence is having a belief in yourself that even in your weakness, you are great. Pride is ashamed of weakness, while Self-Confidence embraces it and thrives through it. Remember, good tells everyone how good they are but great... everyone tells you how great you are. You don't have to strive for anything, Lal, because I can assure you... you are great.


Christian pulls himself from leaning over Lal's incline bench and from behind her head, and positions himself into a proper spot position behind the barbell. This time as Lal turns away from him to lay down on the incline, and as she debates her next move, Christian makes eye contact with her again, this time through the mirror that was in front of them. His smile was one of warmth, genuine care, and even a hint of true desire. Not for what Lal can provide, but rather for who Lal was. Christian couldn't explain it, but Lal was literally.... well, for lack of a better word:

Intoxicating.
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LalSingh
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May 25th, 2018, 1:04 pm #10

The action of whispering in her ear, the way it was executed, and kindness behind the gesture, almost held the tenderness of intimacy. Anyone who might have been watching from a distance would have probably assumed Andrews had stolen a kiss or whispered something romantic.

But no, just kind, wise words. Which is what Singh needed. Her still amateur mentality, and far too trusting nature needed tempering, yes, but the human side of her needed to know that you could trust someone. That not every wrestler on the roster was out to plunge a dagger in her back or swarm her with minions. Singh wasn't just looking for fair fights, but fair treatment.

Regarding the warmth of Andrews' reflection, that feeling of similitude washed over her again as she pushed herself a bit more to deal with the added weight. She realized that it was increased considerably, and that Andrews had every confidence that she could handle it. No doubts whatsoever.

She started to waver with the weight after another mechanical and clean series of ups and downs with the bar. Andrews hovered his hands but didn't touch the bar.

<Singh/Andrews>
‘Two more.‘

They said it in unison.

Up-down, up-down, and she racked it smoothly with Andrews guiding. Sitting up, Singh smiled over her shoulder at Andrews, had a question on her lips for a second, but instead kept the silence a bit longer, settling for...

<Lal Singh>
‘Thank you.‘

Wiping sweat from her brow with a hand towel, she regarded the man in front of her again. The smile was kind, but the eyes were intense, travelled, confident. Different colors, yes, but they both, in a way, had the same stare. The difference was time, experience. Singh had more than once looked at her own reflection in various hotel mirrors, and contemplated her energetic, eager gaze looking back at her. Andrews' energy was evident there, yes, and the steely determination too, but his wells inhabitants were knowing, and perceiving.

Maturity.

She would have those very eyes one day, staring into an amateur's eyes staring back at hers thinking the same thoughts.

What price would she have to pay to get there, and to have those eyes?

TBC: Andrews
Want To Be A True Believer Too...?
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