Eleanor Gray and The Problem Student

[Malkavia]

In the dark after-hours of the evening, Charlotte wheeled around the Lioness gym, a 5-lb dumbbell serving as her Karaoke mic.

“I stumbled in at 2am all drunk
And full of smoke
My girl said I've had enough
That's it, I'm sick, get out!
So I stumbled down to Kelly's Pub
I told the girls me story
And we had another round…”

In spite of her ear buds, Charlotte’s go at the Buck-O-Nine staple was on neither key nor tempo, but what the girl lacked in vocal skill she made up for with the fearlessness of a solo audience. Then as the chorus kicked into gear she hopped on an exercise bike and pedaled like a spirit of sobriety nipped at her hooves.

“Aaaaand weeeeeeee'll
drink and drink and drink
And drink and drink and drink and
Fight—yeah!
And we'll drink and drink and drink
And drink and DRINK AND DRINK AND
FIGHT—YEAH!
And if I see a pretty girl, I’ll sleep with her tonight.

DOO-DEE DOO-DEE DOO-DEE DOO-DEE DOO-DEE DOO-DEE
DOO-DEE DOO-DEE DOO-DEE DOO-DEE DOO-DEE DOO-DEE DOOOOOOO”

Her breath started to catch up to her about halfway through the trumpety bit, so she dismounted the bike, rolled onto the floor, and stared up at the sickly-white fluorescent lights. Tuckered out but still nodding to the beat, she grinned. God it felt nice to be alone with her ridiculous self. For a night and a day she'd lived out of what became Cassandra’s human-kennel. Boats of fun, for sure, (sans the Vampire's unwanted involvement). But Christ. LAW could leave a girl a bit blown to bits couldn't it? Especially when she considered what other folks would make of such a shitter of a debut. Take Eleanor for example.

Eleanor Gray—Charlotte’s trainer to be. There’d be those who’d say the name Gray suited the old bat, on account of them being blind bloody idiots. Eleanor was a woman with buckets of colour in her veins, and she bled on fucking everything. The mat, life, Finella's face...everything. Charlotte had watched hours of her matches. In her more fanciful moments, she might have described herself as awed. At Eleanor’s Presence. At her tactics, her technique, her charisma. It was the kind of level she could only fantasize for herself…And all this from a woman who served almost a whole term as the mayor of a major American city. Fucking Colour, right?

(And she’s, right now, probably thinking we’re a washed-up bit of driftwood eating up a precious hour of her evening. Uncreative jobber can’t even pin a catgirl, right?).

No, no, no. different first-impressions were in order.

Shimmerlace slid onto the barbell rack. The one with the 200lbs of black steel bumper plates loaded at the top. Gritting her teeth, tightening her core, pushing with all her might, she budged the bar up and over its stand. “ACCCH FUCKIN’ SHIT AAAAGH!” Blood surged into Shimmer’s face. Veins popped at her brow. Her arms trembled and her breath hitched and struggled in her throat.

(The folks back at the old school'd always said she had a knack for selling)

Shimmer shifted to a grin and did a solid 10 reps like it was an unloaded bar—which it might as well have been with the trick bumper plates. Rather convincing ones, Shimmer thought. At the magic shop a few months back, she hadn’t known what she’d do with a set of low-weight fakes such as these bad boys, but come on. She’d needed them, and lo. Opportunity comes a'smilin'.

So, the plan was simple. Be fuckin’ dying when Eleanor stepped inside the gym. Then when Big Bad and Gray grabs the bar, THRUST. Thrust right into the old girl's sternum and follow the momentum to roll on top of her. And then...? Fuck, Shimmer didn't know. Get bent by Eleanor, laugh until she laid off. Probably.

“Aaaaand weeeeeeee'll
drink and drink and drink
And drink and drink and drink and
Fight—yeah!
And we'll drink and drink and drink
And drink and DRINK AND DRINK AND
FIGHT—
YEAH!”

[FreestylePoet]

When she was just starting out, Eleanor Gray was blessed to have some great mentors in her corner. It didn't matter where. Wrestling, advocacy, sex work, politics. Wherever she went, it never took her long to get under someone's wing. Maybe it was the gift of gab that had followed her throughout life. Maybe she just annoyed enough people until the right one came along. Either way, she found people with advice worth valuing. Their counsel was invaluable in Eleanor's youth.

So when LAW came asking her to return the favor? She couldn't say no. Even in her last few years wrestling, she'd briefly advised a handful of up-and-comers -- whether they wanted it or not. It was a fine line between meddling and mentorship, she knew, but Eleanor's advice was always as good as she could make it. She hoped her mentees took her words to heart, but it ultimately wasn't her problem if they didn't realize that.

The only question was what her newest charge would make of their little session tonight. Charlotte Lavigne -- or Shimmerlace Snuggleblossom, she supposed -- certainly didn't lack for panache. Eleanor had taken the time to watch her debut match, and while in another field, her commitment to the bit would be commendable, it certainly didn't help her in the ring.

Spoiler

Eleanor grimaced to herself as she walked through the Young Lioness facilities, remembering how Shimmer had pranced and giggled and hissed around with an oversized catgirl. Wrestling was supposed to be fun, but it was a combat sport, not Dungeons and Dragons! And Charlotte clearly had some talent to her. She just didn't give a damn about using it until she'd gotten roughed up enough. Was that the kind of girl who was gonna take her career in LAW seriously?

The fact that Charlotte was open to a Young Lioness evaluative training session gave one answer, but then again, the fact that she scheduled it for 8pm at night gave another. Sighing her trepidations away, Eleanor tapped her temporary keyfob onto the door. "Alright, Charlotte." The former politician opened the door...

...Only to see her student-to-be pinned underneath what looked to be about 200 pounds of steel! "Ah, shit-!" she muttered before hurriedly fast-walking towards her charge. "Warming up is important, but you don't have to go all out just yet...!" She reached down, rolling her shoulders in preparation of the arduous rescue attempt ahead...

[Malkavia]

—We shouldn’t do this.

By now, rolling that thought through the machine came as natural as swallowing. There’d been a deluge of should-nots—she positively should not study that, join that, cut that, wear that, dye that, book that, kiss that, suck that, fuck that, do that, and she’d said bollox and the world held its fucking orbit.

Another realization crept on the Seelie bandit: Eleanor was fucking buying it. Now granted, likely your girl didn’t have her guard up. This wasn’t some hackles-raised match, here at 8pm in Baby’s First Workout Room. But fuck, even Shimmerlace had thought maybe the veteran, the political operator, the prize of the BLCW would see through her. And screw it. It felt nice to anticipate failure—and fucking miss it by a mile for the first time in too damn long.

So when Shimmer’s trainer-to-be put her arms on the barbell, her student didn’t hold back. The Summertime Fairy sprung the trap with all the mischief, and pride, and bitterness her fey heart could muster and went THRUST.

[FreestylePoet]

Eleanor's friends always said that she was too motherly for her own good. Which was a curious thing -- or perhaps strangely fitting -- given her long-standing desire to not have any children, and even more ironic in light of her recent relationship history. Still, it was only right for a successful woman to pave the way for those who hoped to follow, so she just couldn't ignore a young, bright-eyed protégé in need. "Alright, on three, we'll both move this thing, got it?" And it looked like Charlotte was very much in need. "One... Two...!"

On three, Eleanor pulled, and her imperiled charge did the same! Decades of attention to fitness paid off in an instant, as her biceps and forearms flared with the strain of what was sure to be one hell of a curl. But instead of 200-plus pounds of iron, Eleanor found only 45 pounds and change coming up at her. With the unexpectedly reduced weight and Charlotte's "help" below, the power curl might as well have been Atlas holding up an asteroid.

Her arms curled up, up, up in a half-second, much farther than she'd anticipated, and the weight- "Gahh!" -donked her in the face! She fumbled after the bar, but it summarily fell to the padded floor with a thud. Now off balance, Eleanor's arms windmilled once, twice, thrice in wide circles before she finally caught herself on a backstep.

After catching her breath, Eleanor sighed. So Charlotte was gonna be one of those, it seemed. This certainly wasn't politics anymore, where the ranks of mentees were filled with those who were eager to build a network at best and downright brownnosers at worst. Wrestling always did seem to attract a more eclectic and mercurial bunch, which she ordinarily didn't mind. Having to tutor someone with those kinds of eccentricities was another story altogether.

Eleanor picked the dumbbell up calmly, walking back to her spot behind the bench. "Very funny." The CLANG! of the dropped dumbbell on its rack punctuated her sarcasm, as did her single unimpressed eyebrow. "And for your next trick...?"

[Malkavia]

“Wouldn’t be much of a trick if I told you that now, would it?” Shimmer stretched her arms over her head, sat up, and crossed her legs over the edge of the bench. “Imagine if La Atómica sent you an email about the cake.”

The BLCW match Shimmerlace fished out of the past took place on Eleanor’s birthday. “Would have taken some of the fun out it when she dove from the roof and drop-kicked you into the batter, right? Of course you showed her what’s what, in the end. Hoisted La Bufona with her own icing-covered petard!” Shimmerlace put an underscore beneath this last phrase by sweeping out her arm, conjuring in one gesture the cake-covered ring, the packed crowd, and the triumphant Eleanor.

“Course, I was rooting for the Mexican Jester, myself. And I’d take her record over yours if I could have her career. Folks like her are what inspired me to get into this.”

Shimmer hadn’t been sure she was going to say it until she’d said it. The Vampire would have died on the spot at the lack of politic—dismissing an influential potential ally so bluntly...While Eleanor was giving up personal time to be here. But on the other wing, if Eleanor’s reason for being here was to find a tiny copy of herself—mayhaps the most considerate thing was to save her the time.

So when she did say it, she was looking Eleanor in the eye. The vet had been a bit tough to read. There was annoyance there, sure, but nothing like the anger or dismissal there might have been. Or could still be. That thought shot anxiety through Charlotte, so she stuck out Shimmer’s hand and added, quick as hot oil dancing on a pan, “—No hard feelings, though, Eleanor. Still a right honor to meet one of the finest advocates for justice in America—aaand I fancy you’ll have a lot to show me about wrestling, too. Name’s Shimmerlace.”

[FreestylePoet]

The problem with reputation was that it had a way of preceding you. Granted, that was largely its purpose, and you'd think that after all these years, Eleanor would get used to being recognized. Not so; her eyebrow still arched at the mention of one of her more memorable matches -- and the admiration for one of her more memorable foes.

The younger woman's smile reminded her of sticky-sweet fondant, though her words tingled like the last licks of flame from a botched moonsault off a giant birthday candle. A practiced sigh blotted the icing and patted the fire, bringing her back to the much-more daunting deed of mentorship. If nothing else, Charlotte seemed eager. No, she reminded herself, Shimmerlace seemed eager. Whether that identity was a professional or personal one, it was the one her student introduced herself with. It matched her mien too, which was both comforting and distressing.

"Shimmerlace, then. I'm Eleanor, but it looks like you already know well enough about that." She accepted the hand, quirking the corner of her lips by way of greeting. "I might not be as... bombastic as some of the others in my old promotion... or even this one, really, but hopefully I'll be able to offer you a good word or two. I'm officially only here to 'evaluate' you, but I'd rather just get to know you."

Satisfied that there were no more weights, real or fake, to imperil the two of them, she turned and made for the exercise bikes. She hopped up on one, challenging her charge with a brow. "What, did you think I was kidding about warming up? C'mon, grab a seat, we can talk and bike." Because of course, the way to a class clown's heart was through hard work, right?

[Malkavia]

”Now you hold your horses just a second there, ey...” Glowering, Shimmerlace thrust a finger at her new evaluator in chief’s face, sidling round as she did to the bike adjacent the veteran of gray hair. The Profligate Pixie clambered up on a rig without ever breaking the iron line between her eyes and Eleanor’s. ”If we’re gonna race here...Ma’am...Then don’t you think for one. Fuckin’. Second. About getting no head-start.” Leaning into the handlebars, she flashed Eleanor a grin. ”Right—one… TWO… an… RIDE!!”

Already hot from the go she’d earlier had on this rig, the ache in Shimmer’s jambs spiked from the first thrust, but with Eleanor in her airspace, she adjusted. She swallowed and leaned into the pump pump pump of her legs until her body warmed to the exercise.

”So...” she said through heavy breaths, ”I imagine you’ll want to talk over my debut, ey?”

Actually, it struck Shimmer that a review of prior matches was unlikely to fit under the official rubric of an “evaluative training session.” Emphasis being on evaluative and all. But even as she had that thought, she knew, as she had not known before, that Eleanor had taken the time to review the fight against Cassandra. That certainty triggered the burst that sent the dam inside Shimmer toppling. From behind it came crashing the full force of days with no one, not so much as a half-interested Vampire, with whom to share a how about that over her first foray into the wilds of LAW.

”Black Father on a bent pipe, though, was fuckin’ wild weren’t it? I mean, Cassy’s somethin’ else! Big as a fuckin’ grizzly bear, punches like the Tempest Wind, yet did you see that fuckin’ POUNCE? One that crossed three quarters of the fuckin' ring? MONSTROUS, and you can imagine what that felt like in my gut. That cat's got legs like pistons—and them of more’n a few horses worth o’ power, I tell you what. No wonder the marks ate her up like rabbits on a fresh pumpkin—though I’ll note I weren’t without my own moments here and there. Your girl got her licks in and with some style to boot and brought home a cheer and laugh or two under my belt! Mmm, aaaand." Shimmer did not pause for breath so much as she slid into it, filling the gasp with a drawn out phoneme. ”...Speaking of home. Between me ‘n you, Cassy weren’t so terrible in bed, neither, though she did lean a little hard into the mammary department, if’n you don’t mind my saying so. I mean there are other parts o’ the body right? Like, smotherin’s fine as smothering does, but variety, ya damn cat, fuckin variety...Anyway, as regards the match—”

[FreestylePoet]

At her charge's instruction, Eleanor set off on a road to nowhere. Even though she spun in place, the candid pace felt nice. Hers was a leisurely stroll. No design and no expectations. Just her and Shimmer, riding along with nothing in mind beyond whatever came next.

Speaking of her riding partner, it seemed like Shimmer had opted for a much more urgent trip, if similarly quixotic. She ran with an endless motor, showing just how little she cared for things like rhyme or reason. Eleanor sighed and shook her head, chuckling under her breath at the boundless energy. Was she taking on a challenge or just tilting at windmills? Either way, she'd have to rein the rookie in so they could decide on one direction or another.

"As regards the match..." Eleanor interrupted the younger woman, a gentle reminder to slow down and concentrate on the ride. From her more lax perch, Eleanor could feel the excitement radiating off her. It was both a mist that clouded the way and a flicker to light their torch.

But what to ask? There wouldn't be much to gain from something so general as what Shimmerlace thought of the match or her performance. Besides, Shimmer would've overshared that even without Eleanor's say-so. The opposite side of things wouldn't do, either; outright asking such a mercurial gal to make demands of their training session was inviting disaster. Before Shimmer could pick up her pace once more, Eleanor took the middle path.

"How did you feel about it?"

[Malkavia]

Well obviously I found it a fuckin’ explosive craic and half. What kind of daft question is that—don’t ya see me vibratin’ here?

The whir of their spin bikes filled the room and receded, becoming background noise as stale as the fluorescent light while Eleanor’s question hung between herself and Shimmerlace.

”Well...”

Every time Shimmerlace tried to give voice to her enthusiasm, her throat would turn dry, parched, and close up. Eleanor was not...dumb. She saw—or heard...or saw and heard the rainbow Shimmer splattered all over the match. So. The question wanted something deeper. Plaster and plywood type talk.

Abruptly, Shimmer hit the brakes.

”Whew!” Shimmerlace took in several ragged breaths—as she was, indeed, huffing and puffing after hitting the “warmup” several degrees harder than her instructor. ”I guess I’d call that warm! Warm like a firebug on a May afternoon, or thereabouts. Don’t know if I beat ya in this here race, Eleanor, or quit halfway there, but I do believe this’ll be my exit off our warmup freeway.”

[FreestylePoet]

Silence was a learned comfort, and like many skills, having the edge in taciturnity could win the day. All Eleanor had to do was say less, and the other person would blab their mouth to fill the space. With the way Shimmer bounced off the walls, Eleanor expected the Young Lioness to do the same. She watched with as non-judgmental of an eye as she could muster, waiting for her student's answer.

Shimmer opened her mouth, only to be caught by a sudden winding. The damndest thing. A shame, really, that Shimmer's gusto for a workout got in the way of a good conversation. Oh well. Clever girl though she was, Eleanor wouldn't drop the issue just like that. Shimmer could huff and puff, but no amount of hiding could blow the question down.

Eleanor let her bike spin to a halt before hopping off. She hummed, pulling two water bottles out of her pack and tossing one to Shimmer. "Hell of a start, champ in the making. Keep putting in effort like that, and you'll graduate in no time." She waltzed towards the ring, thinking about how best to approach the real challenge. She had watched Shimmer's first match, after all, and there was a lot to like... from a fan's point of view. There was panache aplenty and even a handful of good spots, but not much in the way of building towards a win. Whether Shimmer cared about that or not was gonna mean a lot for how this mentoring gig was gonna go.

The veteran turned towards her mentee, leaning up against the side of the ring. "We'll leave the after-action report for later. For now, why don't you tell me about how you wanna wrestle? The style you wanna run?"