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X-treme Wrestling Federation » XWF Live! » Character Development RPs
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Covid has the power to break walls
Author Message
Shooter Syn Offline
Pew Pew Pewpewpew



XWF FanBase:
Very random

(heel alignment but liked by many; has earned respect despite breaking the rules often)


#1
04-24-2020, 01:23 PM

It's not nearly dark enough, but still. The scene opens in muted shades of grey, dust like tiny angels, dancing in the sliver of sunlight through a break in the curtains, hastily thrust together as a tired Syn made his way to bed at some ungodly hour... likely not too long ago. There's a mattress with covers thrown to the side, one leg on top, and one still underneath. Not dead to the world, not quite, or this would be one boring ass promo

*Master of Puppets intro plays*

Syn: What the?...

He lifts up his phone, the light ighting and dimming in time with the vibration of his phone, casting his face into 2 different shades of pissed off. With the grace and coordination of a man ten shots deep, he thumbs the little green circle with the receiver icon in it

Syn: Y'ello... oh hey m... what?

His head sinks slowly back in to his plump pillow, burying half his phone, still attached to his ear

Syn:... shit

_______________________________________________________

Bleary eyed and with a half filled glass tumbler slopping in his hand, Shooter sits at a tall back wooden chair, the light gloss of the wood whining on both chair and matching table. Shooter takes a sip and sits the glass down delicately. There's no real indication of how much time has passed, the room is showered in sunlight, and Syn, in a sleeveless white button up shirt and a brown pleated bolo, sans hat, staring in to the camera

Syn: Got a call from my mamma today. Woke me clean up out of my sleep.

Another sip, which he swallows hard, like the liquid was semi solid, or maybe his throat is too thick

Syn: This is a fucked up time we're livin' in. Everyone scared, hidin' away, their only respite sometimes seems to be makin' their way out to see the fightin' live. To see their favourites taking out their aggression against the guys they hate. Livin' vicariously through them cause they need SOME kinda fuckin' outleash to deal with their lot. We sometimes forget that, although we know our own personal reasons for being here and fightin', those fans have a reason for being here and watching. We are their escape, we are their anger, their frustration, we're their left over humour, a reason left to smile, to clap, and to keep goin'. We have a hell of a responsibility. They need this as much as we do.

Another pained looking sip, the sun, in it's travels, starts to throw more contrast on to shades face, his blackened eyes and taped nose can no longer hide the redness at the bottom of his eyes

Syn: This is a fucked up time we're livin' in. We go to work, we be who the fans need us to be, we travel the world, but we ain't allowed to see our fuckin' family. I ain't seen my momma in nearly three months, five weeks of that is lockdown and the other seven was me not appreciating what the fuck i had when i had it.
How many of you sittin' watching this stay with your loved ones? You're lucky, and don't ever forget it. You're the minority, we may all have someone, but we don't all have everyone, and those we miss, we do so by virtue, so we don't kill them with a fuckin' kiss.
I ain't seen my mamma in three months, i aint seen my granpappy in even longer. Years even. He got himself some brain disease and carted off to a shelter, i got photo's and updates, but always too busy to make it down there. I came up with the lamest fuckin' excuses on earth to save me going out of my way to hug a man that at this point forgot i exist.


Another long drink drains the glass. Shooter takes his time refilling, after a slow pour and another long drink he brings out a pack of smokes and taps one out with the palm of his hand, picks it out with his lips, and lights it with one swift move, the packet dropped carelessly next to the glass. He takes a long drag and savours it before blowing out the smoke

Syn: Yeah it's easy to take people for granted, especially those you love the most. I had plans to see him later this year. And i meant to stick with them too, till the fuckin' virus came along, then i had another fuckin' excuse to push it back.

Long drag, and Syn talks while the smoke billows out of his mouth in syllabic breath, like a morse code in mist

Syn: Granpappy died this mornin'... He's just... gone. I don't need to make up excuses any more, because the virus has ripped the reason away from me. This was a man i loved, i will always love, and i didn't make time for him because wrestlin', workin' fightin', was far more important to me than hearing him laugh one last time
He was my idol when i grew up, my Hero, from the old country, Irish through and through, he was 5 foot 3 and held himself like a giant, i talked the hind legs off a donkey, and he sold 'em back to it. He gave me advise that i carried through with me to adulthood, advice to live by. He dined with Royalty and drank with workmen. He fought in the Second World War, but he never talked about that. He always looked to the future, and was married for over 60 years.


Shooter turns his face away and takes unnatural quick drags of his cigarette, getting more natural, calmed drags, and he turns back

Syn: He was the paradigm of what it meant to be a gentleman and a philanthropist. He was generous with his time, his money and his love. All he made was effort and all i made was excuses. And now he's gone. Brain did a number on him before he went though. Started thinkin' my mamma was his sister and living WAY back when inside his mind. That's my comfort. Covid stole him from me, but his brain already did that to him, he didn't see it comin, he was already lost, and happy, reliving his life with what memories he had left. There was no fear, no wondering where we had all gone, cause to him. We didn't exist. And that's sad, but it's only sad to us, it ain't sad to him, and that's a comfort. I explained it to my mamma and i hope she listens to my words. Cause she needs an angle to get over this. She needs something to attach to for the same reason the fans need to keep comin' and watching us. To latch on to an escape. To find a soft landing cause she's fell hard, The diease took her daddy, and it's taken her right to go to his funeral. She has to grieve, alone, and won't ever get that chance to say goodbye, and not for bullshit reasons like me, but because it was stolen from her.

One last drag and the butt is smashed in to an unseen ashtray off shot

Syn: So for all those fans watching this cause they take an escape in our world. Turn off the video and phone your granpaw, your mom, your brother or sister. Phone the person this lockdown is keeping you from, the person you've been avoiding cause you changed the act of discourse in to a chore in your head. Turn off the video and fuckin' phone them, zoom them, skype or tweet. Message or send up fuckin' smoke signals. I don't care how you do it. Just do it, no more excuses.

Syn leans forward to turn the camera off, and the shot frames his full face as he leans in

Syn: Cause i promise you, and it's a real fucking promise, they may not be here tomorrow.


Love you Papa

GRANPAPPY SYN
1925-2020


OOC: reply if you want, OOC or IC, but be respectful, this is a proper 4th wall break style RP
Stay safe every one of you.
Love, Shooter Syn x
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[-] The following 5 users Like Shooter Syn's post:
Alexei Medved (04-24-2020), Atara Raven (04-24-2020), B.O.B. D (04-24-2020), red-x (05-06-2020), Vita Frickin Valenteen (04-24-2020)




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