Post by Piper Whitlock on Sept 5, 2019 13:39:57 GMT -5
#SGT
Bloody Fucking Brilliant
Perfect jeans—the kind that were so comfortable they were almost pajamas and thus were also three threads away from splitting across the back from the thigh seam (those blessed with a killer bum, you know what I'm talking about)—an old and faded cut-off rock band t-shirt, and trusty boots that refused to fall apart did little to set one apart in the crowd at Chicago O'Hare International Airport. And that was the point. Piper wasn't trying to make sure that every last person in the zombie-shuffling crowd of arrivals and departures noticed her. She didn't mind if they did, but she didn't require the attention to sustain herself.
A few select dreads were pulled back along the sides, holding the rest at bay—out of her face and out of the way so that she could sling her bag over her shoulder. The thing had been all across England and the UK, to the US and back to England and back to the US and across the US... you get the picture. The once shiny patina of the metal buckles, rivets, and clips was scratched and dulled, the canvas faded until the browns and greens were less distinguishable. There were tiny holes on one side where once a half-dozen enamel pins from wrestlers who had been her mates and inspiration had decorated it, now moved to somewhere more permanent and reverent at home.
Nerves.
Not something that bothered her often anymore, so far removed from the days of being a rookie in her first set of hand-made gear trying not to lose her stomach on the other side of the curtain that separated the back door of the pub from the alleyway that was the "dressing room." But there they were now, making her fingers drum at the side of her leg as she made her way through the airport. The Club Pro Women's Championship in her bag was a lead weight, reminding her of the responsibility to carry it well.
This was big.
But so had been the Overpowered Tournament 3. So had been making it through to the finals, nearly winning the whole thing. So had been the triple threat match for Wrestling Club that had earned her the very Championship in her bag. So why now? Why the worry that she wouldn't be enough for this? Was it being the Champion? Did it make her feel a responsibility to be more?
Or was it who and not why or what? Was it stepping into the ring with fellow brick house Brit, Blaise Fader, and sharing a corner for the first time with two women she'd yet to see face to face in Izzy, host of the whole damn thing, and Nixie? Was it that she felt she had more people to let down that just herself this time if she didn't live up to the hype?
"Pfft. You could never let anyone down."
A smile pulled one corner of lips upward with a faint heat as she heard the voices chiding her in her head.
She was, after all, the Savage Sensation from Blackpool. She was the woman who was still undefeated in Wrestling Club. The woman who had gone through Diamond Caldwell, and Alessanda Esposito, and Gwen Margolis, and nearly CJ Cross. The woman who was prepared to be the face of two promotions. The woman who had refused to be relegated to pre-taped matches training facilities for bloody rookies because fucking hell she knew her own worth and she wasn't going to be treated like less.
Breathe, Piper.
Of course she was going to tear the roof off and burn the house down with Blaise. Final result and third opponent be damned, the battle between the two of them was going to steal the show, because that was what she was determined to go do. Of course she was going to get on with Izzy and Nixie and prove that the three of them were a force second to none, because that was what she had set her mind to.
This was big.
But big was good. New was good. A first time crowd was good. Tournaments were good. Three night events were good. Wrestling was good. She was good.
And she murmured, to herself,
"I am the Blackpool Savage, and I am a bit bloody fucking brilliant."
The fluttering in her chest slowed and the smirk on her lips turned to a smile. The clamminess of her palms abated and her fingers no longer felt the need to taptaptap against her leg as she walked. Nervousness turned to excitement. She was ready. More than ready. Back home they'd be watching. They'd be proud of her no matter what.
A flash in the crowd. Glitter and jitters just at the other side of the exit from the secured portion of the airport.
"PIP!"