Diverging Directions

Seek the places where light meets dark, there you will find tales of inexplicably intertwined realms both near and far.

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Claire Gallows
Legendary Adventurer
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Eternal Light

Posts: 1577
Joined: Sun Feb 24, 2013 8:03 pm
Location: Dunmovin (Outside of Rhydin City), Underwood (New Haven), or Caelum Training Center

Diverging Directions

Post by Claire Gallows »

Mildly agitated, Hope rode the elevator down to the Arena and tipped the operator a little extra. "Sorry I don't know what's gotten into them tonight. Someone really got them into it." The kind old man shrugged and smiled as she stepped out. Hoodie, sweat pants, nikes, the usual attire clung on Hope as she made her way to the bar for a bottle of Scotch. Fetching a nice bottle of amber she looked at Sabine and waved and then gave Jewell a glance. She took a hold of two glasses and made her way up heading to a dirty skybox.

Claire took the stairs because eff that haunted elevator. Evidently all business, her sneakers took her right for the steps to the skyboxes without even pausing to fawn over (or trigger) Hot Dog with her dog loving affections. Along the way she flagged a wave to Jewell and Sabine but otherwise said nothing as she took the stairs up to the skyboxes.

Once inside Hope took a seat in one of the leather bound chairs and ran her eyes over all of the accolades gathered.

With a glance over her shoulder, she reached the top of the steps and turned down the hall of skyboxes, reaching a door painted pink and stepping through it. Hope was already there, Claire smiled. "Ey."

"Hey thanks for coming out tonight." She poured both of them glasses and stood until Claire took her seat.

"Yeah, I was back in town," again, "anyways. **** protesting at the Dragon's Gate manor. Had to make sure nothing spilled over to the orphanage, you know?" She shrugged, tired, but still took one of the glasses as she dropped into a chair. Mmph, comfy.

"What the hell is going on with that?" She took her seat afterwards and slid the second glass over to Claire's reach. "I've been taking some time to feel around New Haven. Still a little sore over it but it's been refreshing."

"I have no ****ing idea. I thought all that Humanity First **** died down after the election." She groaned and settled back. Knuckles of the hand wrapped around the glass were shades of green and yellow, bruises quickly healing. "Understandably so. Hopefully a little time has helped."

"I had no idea the tension was so... real. It's like a splintered city out there." It was easy not to see it in New Haven where everywhere you looked was picket fences and green lawns. "It has helped a bit. That's kind of what I wanted to talk about with you."

"It'll settle. It always does." Claire took her phone out of her pocket, checked the time and any pending messages before setting it to silent and turning it face down on the side table next to the chair. "Yeah? Whatcha got for me?"

"Yeah after how many Marketplace explosions?" She smiled at the grisly thought before it flattened into a more serious demeanor. "I wanted to talk about my contract. It's coming up on the latter months and I'm thinking of not renewing it."

"Right? I'm convinced they need to put a sign up with a count of how many days since last market cataclysm, you know?" She chuckled wryly then sobered as Hope did, eyeing her over the lift of the scotch glass. It was just enough of a sip to wet her tongue. As what Hope said registered, Claire's brows lifted. "Uh... oh." Eloquent as ****, Claire. "Is that coming up already?"

No matter how many times Hope ran through the ways this conversation went she felt the sting so much worse when it happened. She took a drink to hopefully blunt some of that but it did little. "It's been on my mind since I fumbled New Haven. I've been fighting for a while and I don't plan on stopping but I think it's time to put my energy to something more. I want to start my own gym."

The pull of her mouth said she was likely chewing on the inside of her cheek as she looked down into her glass. By her stare there must have been something awfully interesting at the bottom. "Ah..." Because what could she say to that, really. She didn't want a break, no, she wanted to do the same thing only elsewhere. Claire considered it for a few moments without looking up before she offered a most profound answer. "I see." Okay, Nayun. "Talk to Gio yet?"

The sound of ice melting filled the synapses in the conversation. That was far less than Hope had been hoping for. She didn't reach for the drink again since it wasn't going to help with that sandpaper taste. "No not yet. I felt it was only right to talk to you before worrying about anything else."

Her silence was a systematic shutdown, a closing of doors and windows one by one in hopes of warding off the sting. It did little to help though she did her best to rationalize the discussion. It wasn't a personal slight, she told herself. Professional, not personal. Professional. She swallowed another mouthful of scotch, the burn on the way down prompting her words. "I appreciate it." It was a truth, unfortunate as it was. "He's, um, probably not going to be too thrilled... if you wanna hold off on tellin' him til after Yule's over. S'there anything I can do to make you want to stay?"

"He's always seemed to have a cool head whenever I've seen him. I'll take your word for it though." She wasn't going to go hire an agent or something so cowardly but holding out on it for a little, it was the holidays. She felt bad enough to drop it now but dropping it after might have been worse. Or not, she'll never know. "You shouldn't change a thing. You took me in with no questions asked and even though we didn't get to win an IFL, I regret nothing about being on your team. You've been there for me Claire and it goes beyond contracts or legal terms or whatever. I'll always remember that. Dirty wasn't just a rest stop it'll always be a part of me." She took a drink and looked away feeling the salt burning the rims of her eyes. "I just want to push myself in new ways. And I want to build something from the ground up."

It felt like a movie break up, the it's not you, it's me that was bandied about so easily in scripts. But this wasn't a movie and at the end there would be no cut to free them from an act. When they left the box, it would be quite real. "I... um... I get it. It's fine. Totally. You've gotta do you and that's just... that's just how it goes sometimes, I guess. It's fine." She shrugged one shoulder and summoned a tight smile that couldn't quite light the blue of her eyes. "I'm not really, um, good at this, or whatever. Sorry. It's, um, it's been good having you."

Was it obvious Hope hadn't seen many rom coms? Or never really dated or had been dumped? Most people knew better than to use that line since it almost always telegraphed, oh it's definitely you. Unfortunately she didn't know how better to express the sentiment than tell it like it was. It was her and her wanting to build something. Nothing more and nothing less. "I'm sorry about the timing on this." They were nearing the end of this record and Hope stood up before leaning over to hug Claire. "If you're going to compete in anything I'll be open to should you need help. I don't need a contract to back you up on anything. It's been the best years of my life with you and what you've done Claire. Thank you for everything." No one was dying but it felt bad enough. She would wait for Claire's response but readied to head on out.

"It's fine." She said again. Maybe if she repeated it enough it would become reality. On the best of days she was horrid at the hugging thing and this was not the best of days. It ended up with an awkward pat-pat of her hand against one of Hope's looped arms. "Yeah, um. If you need anything just let us know." Us, some royal sort of 'we', she supposed. "Once some of this **** in the city settles, let Davien known he's still welcome to bring Malik by to play if he still wants. Look out for yourself out there, yeah?"

"Of course. I'll be holding some kid's classes once I get everything up and running too." Little grapplers all over Rhy'Din were just out there for the molding. I'll hold off on anything in the press until I run it by Gio first so he's not blindsided. I wouldn't want to cause you that kind of trouble." She wore a weak smile and felt like she'd offered to leave a hose running after lighting Claire's cat on fire. "I will. Stay safe Claire." Even if it was faint she held a hand up and waved as she made her way towards the box exit and paused to look over all of the memorabilia. Dirty helped make her who she was and nothing would change that. Her fingers slipped from the door frame and she made her way towards the steps. Hot tears ran down her face as she went. She told herself she wasn't going to cry but it did nothing to keep it from coming true.

"I appreciate it and you too." She nodded after the woman, holding her breath until Hope was out the door. Then and only then did she release it through a tight purse of her lips and a hunched lean of forearms to knees. It gave her a moment to scrub her bruised hands back through her hair, tangling her fingers at her crown as she counted the likely steps Hope would need to make her escape. Another thirty, sixty, ninety seconds passed before she lost count and finally sat back. "****."


[[Adapted from live play thanks to Hope <3. Edited for grammar and flow.]]
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Claire Gallows
Legendary Adventurer
Legendary Adventurer
Eternal Light

Posts: 1577
Joined: Sun Feb 24, 2013 8:03 pm
Location: Dunmovin (Outside of Rhydin City), Underwood (New Haven), or Caelum Training Center

Post by Claire Gallows »

The drive home seemed to stretch an eternity after Claire finally found the steadiness to leave the Arena behind. The evening’s caller and any other patrons were long gone and the lights were dim, stretching her shadow long in the moments where she passed the dwindling torchlight in the stairwell. Each step to the top had been Everest in and of itself and the bitter winter wind when she broke through the back door of the famed Red Dragon did little to convince her otherwise. At the very least it sapped her of her ability to cry, stealing the air from her lungs and stinging her cheeks and nose with its bite. Her Jeep had warmed quickly but the chill in her bones remained even as she passed the south gate of the city and hit the open road that would take her home. What ensued was a forty-five minute drag of needling questions that had no answers more often than not.

What could she have done differently?

What did she do?

Was she not supportive enough?

Was it something she said?

Something she hadn’t said?

Her throat was raw by the time she pulled through the gate of the sprawling compound south of town. In moments like that she was grateful for the heavy tint on the windows so the gatehouse guards couldn’t see the redness in her eyes as she waved in passing. They offered her the same thin, sympathetic smiles that had been so frequent since Noct’s passing. They were the ones that offered pity but little understanding in the grand scheme of things. Nobody understood why it had been so difficult for her to go back to the manor but it didn’t surprise them when the blink of her taillights turned off short of the manor’s garage and instead rolled down the hill to the guest house’s driveway. The chirp of the SUV’s car lock chased her to the cottage’s front door but she didn’t stay long, ducking in only long enough to assure Cooper that she had made it back safe and sound and to check on the twins who were long since asleep.

“I’m gonna head over to the gym for a bit. I’ll be back soon.” She kissed the cowboy hard, a lingering sort of affection that could have toppled her resolve if he had pressed much further. But as he always did, he let her go with a squeeze and a promise that he’d wait up for her.

Rather than take the Jeep, she walked the quarter mile from one edge of the property to the other, the forest’s embrace muting the whistle of the wind. Underfoot, dying leaves offered no crunch, soft and pliant under her weight as they sank into the underbrush of the wood’s carpeting. Midway she broke into a run, a sprint that made her lungs seize in protest until she relented at the gym’s front door. Arching letters over the entryway declared the place the Caelum Training Center, bold and proud of the name. On the door itself, a neatly printed notice declared the gym closed until January 2nd for the holidays. There would be no witness to the sniffle that held off the tears that had been threatening her for hours.

The metal door shut behind her with a resounding slam. To her left, the front office was dark, locked up tight. To her right, the trainer’s room was open but offered no light. Claire passed them both, her footsteps echoing in the empty hall before giving way to the cavernous center of the complex. A running track ringed the setup, paving a muted road for her to cross on her way to her destination. Within the track’s oblong frame, dueling rings of both regulation and specialty size encircled a single centerpoint. Elevated from the rest, the boxing ring had seen many a fight and at least a handful of meltdowns but none had ever been focused upon the ring itself. Claire ducked the ropes and rolled into the ring. Scuffed but still shiny, the pink capital letter D in the mat was a prominent declaration of just who the ring belonged to. Above, an oversized pink and black banner hung from the rafters, flying proud over its so called territory.

Three years. Almost three and a half. It was a blink of an eye by most standards but they were full of blood and sweat and tears, tears that trickled down her cheeks now that she was certain she could be alone with a grief that she wasn’t sure she was qualified to bear. It wasn’t as though Hope’s departure was a personal thing, that much she had spent the drive home trying to convince herself of. But at the end of the day, the sting was there, unrelenting in the face of rational logic. It would have hurt less had Hope slapped her in the face and insulted her mother or something. Why did it have to hurt?

“What is it all for?” She asked out loud, her voice cutting the silence and receiving no response. “The money? New Haven? Were we holding her back? I don’t ****ing know… ****. ****!”

Her fist connected with the ring’s turnbuckle. It hurt, a poignant reminder that the physical so often temporarily overrode the emotional. A second punch flew, then a third and a fourth, a fifth, a sixth, she lost count and quit only when it hurt to curl her hands into fists. With a choked sob, she jerked the top rope from its anchor point, leaving it to fall in a curl of vinyl wrapped manila. Climbing from the ring, she kicked over a weapon’s rack and then a second one with a clatter of metal and plastic, stooping to scoop up a short handled machete. With a twist of her hips, she threw it at the black and pink platform. True to her aim, the blade embedded itself square in the center of the matching logo on the side of the ring. Claire stalked ringwards to jerk the weapon free. Back into the ring she went to stab the sharp blade into the canvas, dragging it through the padding to cut diagonally across the pink letter. Foam lined the split, an off white wound to go with the pain she felt. Leaving the machete stuck in the mat, she climbed a corner post and jumped, her fingers curling to snag the corner of the banner that hung over all of it. Her weight was enough to bring it down, draping the woman in screenprinted silk.

Black and pink. They were colors under which she fought many a time, often with her teammates at her side. Until one by one they dropped.

Khoom moved on to the Temple of Chryrie.

Shadow had disappeared on some great elven quest.

Zack… she didn’t want to think about Zack.

And now Hope. It was like losing Clarice all over again only nobody had died. It was like losing a piece of herself and she couldn’t explain why. For Claire that may have been worse. Her nails raked through the fabric, digging until the threads gave, shredding in her grasp as she pulled it apart. It was left in tatters by the time she was done with it and, suddenly exhausted, she tumbled out of the ring to head for the locker room, pausing only to pummel a punching bag off of its hook, spilling sand from the hole left in the leather. It hurt, but not as bad as her heart did, yet another reminder that no matter the physical pain, the emotional found a way to catch up in the end.
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