Speaking through actions (For DSX and Thurma)

[Deus001]

The LAW gyms were always popular around the clock, 24/7 from the looks of it and some of its users would likely do just that if they could. Some chose to do it more during the night like the Paragon known as Ryan Knight and frankly he needed it for his soul he thought to himself. Mostly to forget what was going on recently. Him and Melony had decided to part ways, he wasn't going to dwell on the details. Didn't want to, the socials he had barely checked before and now were never checked because no doubt it was full of the usual ragebaiters. Granted though they had slowed greatly in recent weeks at least.

So The Paragon would either do one of two things in his nights now. Either read a book by his fireplace or workout and the latter was more stimulating. But he currently took a break and was sitting on the apron of one of the spare wrestling rings where he simply just stared off into the distance with his one eye, Ryan was dressed in a black rashguard and black leggings with 'Paragon' written in white letters down the right side with union jack patterned wrestling boots. His body lightly dripped with sweat as he simply waited for his body to rest so he could continue, so he wouldn't have to stop and think.........

[DSX93]

After the Slamathon In The Amazon,

had some extra motivation fueling him in the gym. He had another mountain to climb. New goals to toil for. It was the third time he'd stepped up to the big stage and came up short, a fact that his detractors online would never let him forget, not that he'd tried.

"Choke artist", was what one particularly prominent detractor had called him. And she wasn't wrong. Yeah, aside from those three occasions, he'd been emerging on his feet when the smoke cleared. Maybe he would've been wiped out and aching, but he'd be standing tall. But when it's time to bring home a belt? One that isn't even being officially recognized as a top prize, at that? To put an exclamation point to the activism he'd taken to in the promotion, lifting up the men's division? Telling the world that they're worthy, that they deserve the same respect and consideration that the women receive?

When shit gets real? He chokes.

It bothered him. Bothered the hell out of him. But at the same time, it motivated him. He's been doing this shit all his life: Getting beaten down and told he was nothing. Being underestimated. LAW has been one big tour of proving them all wrong.

He'd been dismissed as a just some scrawny ass wimp who was useful only for the purpose of getting better grades. The loser who's fated to die alone in his mother's basement. Look at him now.

World-class athlete. Millionaire. The man who'd won the heart of the most beautiful woman on the planet, inside and out, who was riding with him in his newest acquisition: A 1968

It had been a dream car of his ever since he saw Blade as a kid. One of many things that he'd once believed would only ever be dreams.

"Choke artist" was just another piece of wood in the fire that got him everything he's got today. A loyal fanbase. The money. The suits. The car. The comfort. The love. He earned all of it, and there was further he could go, still. Yeah, he still has his downer days. Those times where he feels lesser. Like he doesn't measure up. But that's something he knows now.

Just as the haters wouldn't let him forget his failures, his Lady would make sure he remembered his successes.

He parked the car, circled around to the passenger's side, and with his gentle smile, extended a hand after the door was open.

"My Lady."

[ThurmanMermanPlx]

It was truly astounding, the lack of respect people had. It was a fact that

knew well, long before get career really kicked off, but since it had, the disrespect become even more noticeable now that she was often on the other end of it. She'd been chirped more than once during and after matches, yes, but her thoughts now were not for herself.

The real eye openers began with Ryan Knight. Keira had heard her share of intense boos from an audience before, both for herself and her opponents. But that night, that match, that was the first time she'd ever had anything thrown in the ring. Had it been aimed in her direction intentionally, she'd have flipped them off and moved on. But for them to degrade her opponent, who had won fair and square in a clean and honorable fight, was unacceptable. And she'd had no problems stepping up to take exception to the absurd treatment of her opponent. Her interjection had a lasting impact; though not rallying behind him, as far as she could tell through further matches she'd seen, it seemed as though Ryan had not had to deal with objects being hurled his direction since.

And now there was Terrell. Black Severin had made a name for himself as one of the most vocal champions for equal treatment, and had earned his chances to prove himself several times over. For various legitimate reasons, he had to this point come up short every time. But it wasn't like he'd been blown out, completely dominated in his showings. No, he'd been in every single fight, but that didn't stop every commentator, podcaster, and keyboard warrior in the business from throwing shade his way.

Under normal circumstances, she knew he wasn't one to let that kind of talk get to him. But that meant little when he himself saw a choke artist when he looks in the mirror. It wasn't the noise that bothered him; it was the lack of results for all of his effort.

Keira couldn't blame him for that, but it made it very difficult for her to convince him not to go overboard. Yes, training was important, but pushing too hard was only going to wear him out when those big moments came again. What did help was to remind him of everything he had accomplished. His new car was just one example.

Even so, one couldn't neglect training, either - it was a delicate balance - and so, when he pulled up to the gym and opened her door, Keira took his hand with a smile and a playful tease. "Thank you, good sir."

The LAW gyms were open throughout the night, thanks in no small part to the sometimes seemingly lawless nature of the matches they allowed requiring constant access to the facilities. Still, it did not take too long to find one that - at first glance - appeared empty. Less people meant more free equipment at any given time... and also less eyeballs on Severin and herself, which was something she felt was important at this moment.

But as she stepped inside and set down her gym bag in preparation to strip down to her workout gear, a body caught her eye, sitting on the edge of one of the open rings. Her eyes widened with a mixture of surprise, recognition, and pleasure.

"Ryan? Ryan Knight? That is you over there, isn't it! The hell are you doin' here, man? It's been a while."

[Deus001]

Ryan was debating on maybe calling it a night now. His body was still doing its workouts and it just felt routine at this point. Perhaps he ought to just return home and pick out a massive book and spend the evening pouring through it by the fireside? Like he had done the night before? Perhaps seek the company of a fine French vintage? No that was the night before. Ryan sucked in a low sigh and exhaled. Melony had not only made him better but also brought him out of his shell for things and now here he was in a tailspin, just like before. No he'd not let his concerns show though, not in public at least.

Still as Ryan mentally debated departing his ears perked up from a voice nearby, it sounded familiar and he turned his eyepatch covered eye. That was Keira no? Ah yes he recognised them, how could he not. It was rare anyone stepped to bat for the Paragon and that promo she cut against the masses had left an impression on everyone. Ryan actually gave a smile and waved and stepped off the ring and made his way over to her and her companion.

"Good evening there Keira, I trust you've been well? Ah yes....." Ryan said as he looks to Severin and pauses to remember before saying "You must be Black Severin yes? I've heard great things of you good sir are you well?" despite his more rugged appearance Ryan still spoke with a refined and aristocratic tone, soft spoken even.