- + x { Act One - Scene One; 'The Bells . . . they toll for Thee' } x + -

{A lone bell tolled the hour, thunder rolling along the outside of stone walls, candlelight flickering from an open window, a balcony, upon which a lone figure stood. The rain poured just near their face, dampening blonde locks, the young woman tilted her head back, letting the drips from the awning hit her face, opening her mouth, letting her pale lips take in the drops of cold liquid, to quench her throat and her thirst, as her hands rested on the stone banister, lengthy nails scraping it’s mossy coating, spiders running over pale, catlike fingers, her body standing calm. The view changed, coming to her profile, her lips curving into a dark smirk, sardonic in it’s simple curvature, before turning towards the view, green eyes flashing open with their own glowing inner-light. A chuckle, so faint, so much like a heavy breath, as she rolled her neck to a sickening pop, then looked out over the landscape again.}

-x{ the INCARNADINE icon -:- The Kat }x- : To think … that they think so low of the women in this federation that they send two people to do one woman’s job. I tell you now it would take every woman in this federation at once to take me down. There is no recourse, for the women that dare to step into my path. It’s funny. Usually, I figuratively bury careers and sanity in the wayside, but this time, not only do I get to bury their pride … but their fragile bodies as well. I get to do what comes naturally. And for once, my two lucky opponents will know the beauty of the grave, before their time. They will feel the weight of the earth coming down upon their bodies as I toss the ground upon them, to feel what it is like to have death embrace you from the ground, and take you into it’s cold, eternal arms. To feel, what it is like to have someone you hate, smiling as they put you to rest, not only your body, but your soul, and your pride, and your career. All of it taken away from you by someone you could come to despise. I will gratefully be that woman, to take their bodies and put them to the earth, to take from them, to rip from their minds their boastful natures, and their pride, and leave victorious over those that would seek to rebuke me and treat me as less than I am. I will have no other recourse than to destroy these two souls and send them to the god that made them … I will have no other choice, than to shine in the light as they bathe and drown in the darkness that will be the earth when they are covered in six feet of cold, unforgiving, life-taking earth, and I stand above the graves, and spit upon them, giving them a last salute before I take my chances as Champion once more.

{Her blonde hair dripped in wet ringlets over her face, covering her eyes as she stared out into the darkness. She seemed to be pondering something, putting her head down for a moment, her hair dripping along the railing until she clicked her tongue, and continued.}

-x{ the INCARNADINE icon -:- The Kat }x- : Jenna Jameson … once a name so famous that every boy over the age of sixteen knew everything about you - the size of your hips, your breasts, how many men you could screw at once … it was all catalogued and detailed by perverts that had nothing better to do with their time but to make their own little forms of you, to take your likenesses because the world was not theirs. Noble, but sickening that you could so literally sell your body - at least in silicone and cyber skin form - to make little lonely sex fiends the world over content to screw silicone and rubber. How … utterly, disgustingly noble. Now you take the wrestling world, and sell your image to the world, thankfully for the rest of us now with your clothes on, and you seek what? Respect? A Name? You could never have respect. You have sold yourself too low, and I doubt anyone - even yourself - could have respect for the whore you still are. I’m sure if Playboy came running to your door you’d leap at the chance to go back into that line of work again. But you’ve gotten sicklier now, much the skeleton of your former self, and I doubt that even a necrophilia addict could find pleasures in your skeletal slanting curves and silicone chest. I doubt an airbrush artist could cake enough clay onto you to make you look like a woman again, but I will help you. I will give you a way out. I will bury you so that maybe the leeches and rats can bloat your corpse enough to make your body at least appeasing enough to be a half-decent shell of your former self. Such A Shame ...

{She seemed to shake her head in shame, and then roll her shoulders in a non-chalant shrug, letting out a huff of a breath. She looked out over the scene again, up at the pale crescent moon, that gave just enough of a glow to see the streets below. She seemed to be watching the drops hit the ground for a moment, before turning her body, to lean back against the railing, and look straight ahead, grinning once more, her eyes seeming to burn with hatred. The words next came out like the hiss of a serpent.}

-x{ the INCARNADINE icon -:- The Kat }x- : Then there is miss Trish Stratus. A woman renowned for being ‘innovative’ and surpassing her original stints in the wrestling world to become something better. How sweet. But it’s all been done before. She’s tried to be good, she’s tried to be bad, yet no one seems to really care. She’s tried to put a crack into the world, but in the end she’s failed. You see, to get these people to remember your name, you have to be feared … respected … and known as a killer. A Monster … and that I am.

- + x { Act One - Scene Two; 'Old Friends . . . Not Yet To The Grave' } x + -

PLACEHOLDER FOR SCENE WITH ANNIE

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- + x { I N T E R M I S S I O N } x + -