Post by Amy "Sapphyre" Rhoades on Jan 4, 2008 13:35:49 GMT -5
Exodus was soon. Amy was more than ready. Her demeanor was intense. Three years of being passed up, and now it's finally her time to step out into the spotlight that she has sent numerous wrestlers into. Three years, building, stewing, and boiling to the brim of being over-looked. Ignored of her talent.
And it's a three year explosion in the making. Amy stands from her kneel in the corner of the training facility's ring after saying her light prayer. She takes a few deep breaths, looking around at the contraption that had been her life, her home, for nearly five years. Now 23, Amy has been charging after this profession hard-nosed since she was done with High School. Eventually driving from her home in Providence, Rhode Island, to Stanford, Connecticut, in search of a job. She'd succeeded, given a developmental contract, only for it to be released when she "didn't look the part."
Amy was devastated, agreeing to stay on as a trainer in some last ditched attempt to cling onto what was the greatest thing in her life, slowly watching it kill her from the inside.
Now she feels completely alive, and her first big shot will not go wasted. She bounces off of the ropes behind her, sprinting to the other side, and in one fluid motion, turns her back to the ropes, not breaking speed, and bouncing off of them, sprinting to the other. This motion continues for five ring sprints back and forth, until on the fifth one, she takes to the air, planting both feet on the middle rope, grabbing the top. The ropes swing under her weight, until the tension slingshots them back, with Amy following it's motion. She's airborn, higher than she's ever been off of a springboard, stretching herself in the air. Any particular move she's practicing? None... just her airborn presence. Her instincts. Her agility.
The former gymnast bends and contorts in the few seconds of air travel, her legs almost directly behind her, her back arching before landing gracefully and dashing to the other ropes, springboarding again, this time, a moonsault, through which she lands on her feet. She dashes to the other ropes perpendicular to her previous trajectory, bouncing off of them and sprinting to the other side before jumping over them, to the outside and landing on her feet. The woman breathes heavily as she slides back into the ring, building her stamina, ready for the fight that is ahead. She starts swinging her feet at her shadow, practicing her kicking motions, adding in some spinning kicks, back kicks, leaping kicks, and even a backwards flip kick. She hops up onto the nearby turnbuckle, executing a beautiful 450 splash... modified so she could land on her feet of course. She was ready, she could even feel it... only one last thing.
She grabs a nearby steel chair outside of the ring, folding it up and holding it in her hands. Her every breath was heavy, beads of sweat forming on her forehead. She's mesmerized by the cold piece of steel in her hands. The harm she promised to do with it, the statements she promised to make. Every fiber of her body was ready... and, with the deafening crash of steel meeting steel on the ring post, Amy drops the chair...
"I'm ready..."
She is mentally prepared.
And it's a three year explosion in the making. Amy stands from her kneel in the corner of the training facility's ring after saying her light prayer. She takes a few deep breaths, looking around at the contraption that had been her life, her home, for nearly five years. Now 23, Amy has been charging after this profession hard-nosed since she was done with High School. Eventually driving from her home in Providence, Rhode Island, to Stanford, Connecticut, in search of a job. She'd succeeded, given a developmental contract, only for it to be released when she "didn't look the part."
Amy was devastated, agreeing to stay on as a trainer in some last ditched attempt to cling onto what was the greatest thing in her life, slowly watching it kill her from the inside.
Now she feels completely alive, and her first big shot will not go wasted. She bounces off of the ropes behind her, sprinting to the other side, and in one fluid motion, turns her back to the ropes, not breaking speed, and bouncing off of them, sprinting to the other. This motion continues for five ring sprints back and forth, until on the fifth one, she takes to the air, planting both feet on the middle rope, grabbing the top. The ropes swing under her weight, until the tension slingshots them back, with Amy following it's motion. She's airborn, higher than she's ever been off of a springboard, stretching herself in the air. Any particular move she's practicing? None... just her airborn presence. Her instincts. Her agility.
The former gymnast bends and contorts in the few seconds of air travel, her legs almost directly behind her, her back arching before landing gracefully and dashing to the other ropes, springboarding again, this time, a moonsault, through which she lands on her feet. She dashes to the other ropes perpendicular to her previous trajectory, bouncing off of them and sprinting to the other side before jumping over them, to the outside and landing on her feet. The woman breathes heavily as she slides back into the ring, building her stamina, ready for the fight that is ahead. She starts swinging her feet at her shadow, practicing her kicking motions, adding in some spinning kicks, back kicks, leaping kicks, and even a backwards flip kick. She hops up onto the nearby turnbuckle, executing a beautiful 450 splash... modified so she could land on her feet of course. She was ready, she could even feel it... only one last thing.
She grabs a nearby steel chair outside of the ring, folding it up and holding it in her hands. Her every breath was heavy, beads of sweat forming on her forehead. She's mesmerized by the cold piece of steel in her hands. The harm she promised to do with it, the statements she promised to make. Every fiber of her body was ready... and, with the deafening crash of steel meeting steel on the ring post, Amy drops the chair...
"I'm ready..."
She is mentally prepared.