Once More, With Feeling (Feat. Emilia Morasanu, Calista Petridis, and Maria Esteves)

[DSX93]

sat in the back row of the chairs that were set for the class of Young Lionesses and Lions. Her characters: Sybil, Daeva, Gwyneth, Charlie, and all the others, and whoever may come to be in the future were all aligned with The Coterie, but Emilia's name was known only to management and to the few who worked with her in the Morasanu Productions venture. It was by design, to allow her some breathing room away from her ring personas.

That venture was exactly why she was here. Acting has been a large part of her life from her childhood onwards. Home movies with her sister, and increasingly professional works for her YouTube channel: Ophelia Productions. Plus some coaching to further advance her craft. She was in no need of the assistance that this promo class was providing.

Instead, her goal was to find another co-star. Be they among the instructors or a particularly talented rookie. Most likely the latter; she didn't have a good feeling about the former. This class could be observed only by wrestlers on the main roster, in case they were in the market for any trainees. No outsiders. It's what Jaclyn and Phoebe would call a "red flag".

After going through the introductory tips, which revealed less than Emilia was expecting, Andrea Holly would point her out..."You. Why don't you come up here and show us what you've got?"

Emilia rose her from her chair and made her way to the ring. Climbed onto the apron, and-

"Ah-ah!"

Okay. She stopped in her tracks.

"Down." Ms. Holly pointed to the floor right in front of her. "You haven't earned that yet."

Ah, she's of the "ring is a privilege" mentality. It was one that Emilia never quite understood. Testing your trainees' resolve? Sure. But why keep them out of the ring for entire months when that's what they're there to work in?

It wasn't as prevalent in combat wrestling, but there were still instructors who held it. Mainly crossovers from the scripted variant, of whose ranks Emilia suspected that Ms. Holly here originated. She stepped down from the apron, narrowing her eyes at the woman.

"I'm not a dog."

"No, but if you ever wanna step in between those ropes in a proper arena, you'll bark when I tell you to."

Yep, this place is no good. Emilia was tempted to point out that, contrary to her belief, neither she -- nor anyone in this room, for that matter -- needed her tutelage to get themselves inside of an LAW ring. But fuck it. She'll play along.

"Now I'll give you one minute. Cut a promo about anything. Anything you want." Andrea gave her a challenging look. One that said, 'Go ahead and make that promo about me. I dare you.' She was sorely tempted, but it would be best to turn to the audience of her fellow rookies. Let them see her expressions -- there's a lot to study there.

Andrea -- she would not be calling this woman Ms. Holly -- produced her phone from the pocket of her shorts and started scrolling through her apps. Most likely to start a stopwatch timer. She didn't have long to choose a topic.

"Go."

"One minute." Emilia paused, staring out at nothing, eyes unfocused, like she'd just left reality to visit her past. Every second sucked her fast into the reliving of some event. "To all of you, one minute must seem like nothing. A moment in time that's gone." And then she came back, her hazel eyes swept across her audience. A snap of her fingers followed. "In a flash. You don't even remember it." Another pause as she took in their reactions. They weren't all in yet, but were interested in more. "You have no idea. None of you know just how long one minute can feel." She raised an index finger to punctuate her statement. Her words were not meant to be condescending. They were a warning. "I used to be just like you." Her hand fell to her side, as though in some sort of defeat that brought a sadness to her eyes. "I know what's coming now, but still...Sometimes, I wish I still was." Their focus took another shift from the real world to the event she was referencing.

"I didn't know what was out there. Then..." Her hands began to rise, arms crossing her chest as she laid them on her shoulders. "One night, I'm-" With the hands that weren't meant to be hers, she suddenly threw herself back, right into the apron. Hard enough to hurt, the impact pushing a grunt out of her. And the picture would be clearer for it. "I'm fighting, and...! And then it bites me, and I can't anymore." Her trembling hands slid to another placement on her chest. Right over the heart, one on top of the other. Her voice was similarly affected she continued, "It's killing me, and all I can do is lay there." Her eyes began a slow descent, as though towards a sight that she knew would be nothing but unpleasant. Like her hands, they settled on her chest. "And then I'm damned."

Emilia stayed like that for a few more seconds, counting every one that passed. She'd be cutting it close.

Her hands stilled, and lifted her head at a cinematic pace, eying the audience again with a cool resolution settling on her pretty features, and in her voice. This was going to be some ugly business. But there was no other choice. "Like all of you will be." She took a few steps forward, imagining a camera right about...there. Just in front of the first row.

"There's nothing you can do to stop it. No one you can turn to. No weapon you can wield that would fend it off. LAW is damned." The statement was followed with an animalistic hiss, and subsequent baring of razor sharp fangs. The product of top-tier surgery. Some of the onlookers in the front row flinched, but overall...They felt it. They were disturbed, just as she intended.

"Time."

It started slow, with

in the first row, who had arrived even earlier than she did. When she started clapping, others followed, and then Emilia was receiving a unanimous ovation. Including, yet with exception of Andrea, who was trying not to be too obvious with the daggers she was staring at her with. She didn't like trainees who talked back. And that she had real talent presented what she saw as a problem.

"Thank you." The ice was still present in her voice. In. Out. A deep breath to rid herself of the character she'd invented, and then she went back to her seat. After that, Andrea's brown eyes searched for her next pick.

"How about..." Settling on a redheaded woman. The only one in the bunch. "You. Same deal, one minute."

[RockRye]

Calista leaned against the far wall of the studio, her posture casual but her hazel eyes sharp, soaking in every detail of the unfolding scene. She hadn’t come to participate—of that, she was certain. Though officially still a rookie within LAW, there was no mistaking her experience when it came to promos. This wasn’t her lesson to learn; she loved this art too much not to master it long ago.

She was here purely for enjoyment, her love for wrestling’s theatrical side pulling her into the room like a moth to a flame. Wearing simple jeans and a tank top, her loose, wind-tousled ginger hair added to her laid-back appearance. Calista’s spot at the back of the room had been carefully chosen, far enough to signal she wasn’t interested in the instructor’s attention but close enough to observe the newcomers without interruption.

The instructor, a stern woman with a clipped tone and an air of authority, called forward another observer. Someone who, like Calista, clearly had no business being labeled a trainee. The woman’s posture was regal, her expression cool and aloof, exuding a quiet confidence that suggested she had long since mastered this aspect of the craft.

And the instructor? Unpleasant. She reminded Calista of many directors who wielded power and rules for the sake of the power, not the merit of the rules.

The room was quiet as the woman began her promo, her voice steady and measured. A few lines in, Calista smirked, recognizing the undertones of a vampiric gimmick. A classic choice, but it was all in the execution, and this woman was executing it well. She finished with a flourish, earning polite applause from the trainees and more enthusiastic clapping from Calista herself.

Unfortunately, her applause caught the instructor’s attention.

“Seems like we have another expert in the room,” the instructor said sharply, her eyes locking onto Calista. “Why don’t you come up and show us how it’s done?”

For a moment, Calista froze, caught mid-clap. She hadn’t planned on participating, no. This wasn't supposed to be her spotlight. But the instructor’s tone left no room for refusal, and Calista wasn’t one to back down from a challenge. Brightening her smile, she pushed off the wall and strode to the front with a breezy confidence, her hands smoothing her jeans as she moved.

As she reached the front, her eyes darted around the room, taking in the trainees, the instructor, and the other observer. She needed an idea, and she didn't want to steal from the previous woman's bag of tricks. After a moment's pondering, her gaze fell on a latecomer dragging a folding chair noisily across the floor. The metal legs screeched against the tile, drawing annoyed glances from the group.

An idea sparked.

The instructor stated for her to begin.

She took a moment to fluff out her hair, letting the silence hang just long enough to build anticipation. Then, she started pacing slowly, her steps light and almost dance-like, her tone conversational but tinged with her trademark slyness.

“You know… chairs are funny things,” she began. The trainees exchanged puzzled looks, but Calista pressed on, her voice taking on an almost lyrical quality.

“Think about it. People sit on them every day. They’re everywhere. They're in offices, in homes, in arenas. And yet, no one really sees them. They’re just there. Silent. Unnoticed.” She gestured toward the folding chair with a flourish. “Like that one.”

The room chuckled softly, and Calista’s smile widened.

“But here’s the thing about chairs.” Her voice dropped, taking on a conspiratorial tone. “No one remembers them. They’re just… there. A part of the background. Forgotten, until someone decides to break them or throw them out.” She clapped her hands together suddenly, earning jumps around the room. “They collapse.”

She paused, letting the sound echo in the room, her hazel eyes gleaming with amusement.

“And in this business, wrestlers can be like chairs too. The ones who don’t stand out? Who don’t make a statement?” She snapped her fingers. “They get sat on. Used. Forgotten.”

Her pacing picked up, her movements more animated as she warmed to her theme.

“But me?” She stopped abruptly, spinning on her heel to face the group. “I don’t get sat on. I don’t fade into the background. I’m the kind of girl who turns you into a chair. Figuratively speaking, of course.”

She winked, earning more laughter from the room, though the instructor remained stony-faced.

“When I step into that ring, it’s not just about winning. It’s about making sure every single person in that arena remembers my name. Because the ones who don’t? The ones who buckle under the pressure?” Her voice dropped to a near-whisper. “They’re just furniture. And furniture? Furniture doesn’t get remembered.”

She leaned forward slightly, her gaze sweeping the room, her voice turning flirtatious.

“So, here’s the deal. If any of you think you’ve got what it takes to keep up with me?” Her grin turned sharp. “You’d better bring your best. Because if you don’t?” She straightened, her expression hardening. “You’ll be just another chair in the pile.”

"Time."

[DSX93]

Chairs?

The others would show confusion, but in Emilia, one could see intrigue. Aside from The Coterie and a few other friends who so far were working shows in differing parts of the globe, she didn't spend much time around people. Unlike the nameless character she'd made up, she wasn't like them. Never was. From childhood onwards, they never let her forget it. And by the time she was a teenager, she'd learned to take pride in it.

After all, it wasn't the masses who paved the way forward.

At the end of the day, people are largely the same. Sure, they've got their small differences, little things that make up the individual, but ultimately, they all fit neatly into some box or another. There are very few who can truly be called "unique". The twenty-year old Emilia was not so foolish as to ever claim that she knew it all, but she certainly knew enough. And the lesson she learned in her short time on this earth? The majority aren't worth the time and effort it takes to get to know them. They don't know what it's like to be the outlier, and they take a long time to start caring. Too long, in so many tragic cases.

Despite that truth, she would take up an interest in psychology. It wouldn't be her primary focus in college, however. Film and chemistry took those spots. But she did have her curiosity about what makes people tick. Why they are the way they are. It started with criminal investigation stories that took a deep dive into the lives and minds of serial killers and miscellaneous crazies, and from there she would branch out her research. She found it a big help for her acting projects, expanding her horizons to allow her to portray a wider variety of personalities. To find their motivations and reasons for being.

And in her everyday, she found it useful in sussing out others.

"Sussing out". A term -- apparently of Australian origin (or more widely used in the region, at least) -- that the goth has recently discovered in watching Black Severin's run through "Conker's Bad Fur Day". She's taken a liking to it, but wouldn't be able to tell you why if you asked.

But yes, it's been useful in sussing out others. Making better predictions of their character, even from a distance. Gleaning more from how they carry themselves.

And that redhead who was standing by herself at the back wall? Her body language was too...Easy. Relaxed. She wasn't here to learn either. But she looked a little too fresh-faced to be here looking for trainees. But then again, she thought the same of Alix Jacques.

And she wasn't giving off "too cool for school" vibes either, so what is she here for? A question that she would've asked, if she'd had the time.

Emilia was keeping an eye out for her in particular. In fact, she was hoping to see a performance from her. Andrea, seeming to hear her thoughts, had her come up to deliver. And in the process, presented a prospective co-star. She didn't like the pressure that was being put on her, but she had to admit, it made for a good demonstration of how this woman handles improv.

Quick on the draw. Creative. Took an unconventional idea, brought it around to something conventional, and made sensible parallels. All the while keeping it easy. This wasn't a gimmick. This was...Insert Name Here -- she has to get this woman's name -- being unashamedly herself. And Emilia knew -- there was no guessing here. She knew that she was looking at a theater kid. "Game recognizes game", as the Americans say.

This time, she'd be the one to lead the applause, with the same enthusiasm the redhead had shown for her.

"Excellent! Excellent! Let that be a demonstration: With a little creativity, you can make a promo out of anything."

She said that, but from her front row seat, Emilia was close enough to see into what she knew to look at. The windows to the soul, as they call them. Andrea's smile was just big enough to be considered acknowledgement of the talent she had before her, but her eyes were telling a different story. Where other teachers would see a boon, she saw these performances as something threatening.

"Thank you." The fellow expert would be given time to return to where she was before Andrea would ask, "Now let's see if the rest of you were taking notes." Her eyes began another search in the back row, looking for someone who didn't have the same confidence about them. But she would find her candidate -- Maria Esteves -- sitting up front. "You."

No! She had to practice and practice and practice to give her valedictorian speech. She couldn't stack up to those two on the fly!

"O-okay." Maria rose from her seat, taking some stiff steps forward like she was walking towards the gallows. Funnily enough, she found it easier to walk into the center of a room full of VIP's in a see-through nightie. How backwards is that?

"You know the drill. Go."

Aaand she froze. What the hell should she even talk about?

"Um...Can I go later?"

"Professional wrestling is gonna be full of moments where you have a mic shoved in your face out of nowhere. Consider this practice."

"Uh, okay."

"One minute. Go." It was clear in Andrea's voice: She was just going through the motions here. There was no warmth whatsoever. Emilia had the feeling that Maria was lucky that she was restarting that timer. The poor girl turned to the audience of her fellow rookies, radiating stage fright.

"Y-yeah. Every day I've got people looking at me." And a pause. Not for effect, but to scramble for her next words. "Turning up their noses up at me." Words that ought to come with indignation, but sounded more like she was reading from a script. "They come to me, and they ask, 'what the hell makes you think you deserve a place here? What makes you think that you can be an LAW superstar?" She gave her head a shake and started looking insulted, but it wasn't there in her tone yet. "Bitches don't know about the blood, sweat, and tears that I've shed!" And here was where Maria would make a fatal mistake: The generic line was one thing, but she didn't even believe in it. These were the words of a character that was entirely out of her grasp.

And it went over as well as one would expect. Some of the others were snickering and stifling laughter. And there was one girl in the back who didn't even bother.

"I've been busting my ass, day in and day out to get to where I am today!" The poor girl was drowning and looking for a raft. More than that, she was contemplating whether or not she should even keep trying to swim. It was painful to watch. "They look at me and they see some square little girl, but I am the future of this business!"

At that point, others started joining in. Not everyone, but enough to be the nightmare of an introvert made reality. Maria turned her eyes downward, at nothing particular. Just anywhere but another person's eyes as that sinking feeling set in.

"Yeah. That's why I wanted to...Nevermind."

Maria didn't wait for any word from the coach; she just started walking. She blew it.

Andrea made no moves to stop her, nor did she do anything about these hyenas. Just stood there and shrugged her shoulders. That was all Emilia needed to see. She got up, and gave the blonde the second she needed to turn to her. She wanted to be looking right into her eyes when she said to her, "You're worthless." And that was it. No speech. No shaming words. She's learned a long time ago that it it would be a waste of breath with people like this, even if they came from their own parents. It takes a hard knock or a few, whether figuratively or literally.

She too made her way to the exit, but not without receiving a smartassed comment first. "That's cute, but you're not the one teaching a class, honey. Good luck with the indies!"

That got a chuckle out of her. "Don't need it!"

[RockRye]

Calista took a theatrical curtsy as the applause for her promo swelled, her grin as bright as the spotlight she’d just commanded. She straightened with a small flourish, offering a gracious nod to the room before stepping back toward the back of the seating. On her way, her eyes caught those of the first woman who had been called up, a fellow observer who, much like herself, had clearly been plucked out to show the newcomers how it was done. The woman was the first to join the applause for Calista, and Calista returned the favor with a wink.

Sliding back into her spot at the rear of the room, she leaned casually against the wall, her posture nonchalant but her mind racing. She could tell by the faint tightness in the instructor’s expression that her performance, much like the first woman’s, hadn’t exactly gone down as planned. Clearly, this wasn’t a session where the instructor expected to be upstaged, least of all by two women who weren’t even technically students.

The newcomers turned in their seats, some openly staring at her, their curiosity as plain as the challenge simmering in their eyes. She could feel the target she’d just painted on her back, a mix of admiration and competitive ire emanating from the trainees. Calista told herself she’d be annoyed by the inevitable flood of questions coming her way, but deep down, she was more than a little proud of it.

She folded her arms and shifted her focus back to the next participant. A young woman stepped to the front, visibly nervous as she began her promo. Calista tilted her head, listening intently at first, but it didn’t take long to recognize the problem. The words were fine, if painfully unoriginal, but the delivery was lifeless. The girl might as well have been reciting from a promo handbook, her eyes darting to anything and everything for reassurance with every sentence.

Prone to secondhand embarrassment, Calista began to fidget. She chewed at her cheek. Her fingers absentmindedly picked at her nails, and she rocked on the balls of her feet, silently willing the poor girl to change direction. The trainee’s voice wavered under the pressure, and when snickers broke out from the other students, she stumbled to a merciful conclusion.

The laughter from the others grated on Calista, her brows furrowing. If it had been her class, she’d have turned on those chuckling and handed them thirty seconds to prove they could do better. It irked her to no end that the instructor didn’t share her sense of justice or even basic decency. Instead, the woman moved on as if nothing had happened, leaving the trainee’s confidence in tatters.

Calista felt her irritation bubbling over. She shifted her weight and decided she’d already had enough. A sense of camaraderie with the newcomers, or even the entertainment value she’d initially sought, wasn’t enough to outweigh the sour taste the instructor’s approach left in her mouth. And while blurting out insults didn't suit her, she absolutely agreed with the first promo-giver; this instructor shouldn't have been instructing anyone.

She plucked at her purse and turned to leave, quietly heading toward the door. The instructor’s voice cut through the room like a lash.

“Oh, are you walking out too? Got any smartassed comments before you go?”

Calista stopped in her tracks, half-turning back. Her gaze swept the room, lingering on the newcomers who were still staring at her. She smiled, light but mischievous, and addressed the class directly.

“If any of you want to avoid being chairs—” she glanced meaningfully at the folding chair from her promo, earning a few chuckles, “—I’d recommend signing up with a different instructor. Might help you actually stand tall in this business.”

Her words hung in the air as she gave a small wave and sauntered out, her exit punctuated by a ripple of whispers among the trainees. As those whispers faded behind her, Calista slowed her pace just enough to glance around. The first promo-giver was a few steps ahead. Calista hesitated for half a second before shuffling her feet to catch up, her sandals scuffing against the hallway floor.

“Hey,” she called lightly, her tone easy and casual but with just enough volume to make sure she was heard. "For the record, I totally agree."

[DSX93]

Maria was right outside. For a moment, she considered going back in there. After she takes a few minutes to calm down and figure out what she's going to say, that is. No way was she making a second attempt without a plan. Lesson learned: Never do a promo without a plan.

Not every wrestler does interviews. And some of them are beloved in spite of that. Maybe if she does some submaxing -- becomes the best sub who ever subbed -- she could be one of them. Then she'd be owned by some cool, sexy Dominant, and she wouldn't have to worry about making any speeches. Unless they make her give one.

But if they owned her, really owned her -- having her power voluntarily surrendered to them -- they wouldn't.

She figured she should go back to the dorms for now. Give it some time for this to go away. She didn't see any cell phones recording her failure, but this is LAW: They have cameras everywhere. If she weren't at odds with God right now, this would've been a moment that called for prayer. In its place was hope: Please don't let this show up on the internet.

She slipped her hoodie on, took a quick look between Uber and Lyft to see which of the two would cost her less -- Lyft, this time -- and was about to book a ride when...

"Hey!"

When the presumably goth chick called out to her.

Yeah, I know I suck. I don't need to hear it.

"Leave me alone, please." The "please" was just to avoid a fight; she doesn't know how to wrestle, but she does know that in the world of pro wrestling, one could break out at any time, over anything and nothing. And she doesn't need an ass kicking to go with this shit sandwich.

And that, Emilia could feel. She held up her hands, to placate her. "I come in peace. I wanna help."

Oh. Maria breathed a quiet sigh of relief, then started tensing up again when she saw the redhead coming towards them. Not as much; the levity she displayed moments ago made her feel like less of a threat. Emilia herself wasn't worried at all. She hadn't caught everything she said, but she heard some of pushback against Queen Bitch and the others back there. Something about them being made into chairs. The goth had the feeling that she was going to be very popular in LAW.

"Thanks." She'd respond, then turn her eyes back to Maria. "Like I said: Queen Bitch back there? Worthless. It's people like that who let the Serina Levesques, Kentas and Gail Kims of the world go."

The Latina didn't know who any of those people are, but she smiled and nodded her head anyway, assuming that they must've turned out great. She appreciated the sentiment.

And speaking of talent..."What's your name?" Now that her fellow expert was standing right there, she had to make sure she learned it.

[RockRye]

Calista caught up with the first promo-giver just as she stepped into the hallway. Noticing the other one, the one who had struggled with her promo, lingering nearby, Calista sauntered over and stuffed her thumbs into the loops of her jeans, catching the tail end of their conversation.

“That instructor was awful,” Calista said with a casual shrug, her voice laced with amusement. “Honestly, the best wrestlers in that group should be smart enough to steer clear of her after one day in there. She brought all of that on herself.” She directed a pointed look at the one who had struggled. "Which is to say, you're smart to get out now."

When asked for her name, Calista tilted her head and smiled. “Calista Petridis,” she said. “Not usually the type to crash a class, but hey, that was a special situation. Too good to pass up, don’t you think?”

She glanced at the one who had been mocked earlier, softening her tone. “You alright, by the way? That mess wasn’t on you. You don't make promos without time to prepare. You respond to promos without time to prepare.”

[DSX93]

Would they know? You'd be surprised: These people have a way of making it seem like they're the way. A bit of cynicism that Emilia kept to herself. Calista was right, anyway.

"Yeah. Emilia Morasanu. Good day to you both." In the absence of a character to portray, and not entirely used to mingling with others outside of The Coterie as herself, still, Emilia would default to the formal manners she was taught, carried over from Romanian to English. A good day and a handshake to the both of them. A small touch awkward. A little stiff, but not so much to convey any real discomfort with socializing.

"Maria Esteves Caballero." Maria began, using her head to gesture towards Emilia. "What she said." It would take her a few seconds to catch Calista's meaning on promos. "And I need a lot of time to prepare." She almost said something about that having been what she was afraid her valedictorian speech was going to be, but she thought better of it. She didn't want them to see her as some kid.

"That's fine. You're just getting started. To build off of what Calista said, what you should do to start with is just be you: When you've got some time in front of a camera, you want to come from a place you can see yourself in. You want to believe the words you're saying. You weren't actually feeling any of that back there, were you?"

"Well..." It was a resounding "no", for sure. "Well, no, but..." But it wasn't quite that simple: Emilia was right in that it wasn't really her. But...She didn't know who she was. Not in the world of professional wrestling. "I don't know what I wanna be."

"What do you wanna do? Aside from winning gold, what would you say your goal is in LAW?"

"Uh..." Make a living stepping into the ring with absolute gods and goddesses and getting subjugated by them? For all of the world to see, at that, raising the biggest middle finger possible right in the face of her puritanical parents? She does want to kick some butt too, but she'd be lying if she said that she wasn't looking forward to all of the..."bumps in the road" she'd have to contend with on the way to being able to. The truth flushed her cheeks and averted her eyes. "It's pretty dumb." And likely to cost her their sympathy. These two are real performers. Real wrestlers. She's just a pervert and a runaway who got lucky.

[RockRye]

Calista took Emilia’s hand as it was offered, shaking it firmly and repeating her name with a warm smile. “Emilia.” Her tone was breezy, but her sharp eyes flicked to Maria, who was clearly carrying the weight of her stumble.

Calista folded her arms casually, leaning against the wall as she listened to the back-and-forth between the two women. She didn’t say anything, keeping her smile light and easy, but her focus was on Maria. The slender young woman seemed lost, her words fumbling around the question of what she wanted to be in wrestling. Calista tilted her head slightly, taking in Maria’s features. She was pretty, no doubt about it, with a certain unassuming charm. Nothing about her screamed a ready-made gimmick, but Calista saw that as a blank slate, a canvas full of possibilities. She would have had a blast preparing her for a theater production.

When Maria finally spoke up, admitting with a sheepish tone that what she wanted to be in wrestling was “pretty dumb,” Calista straightened and let out a quick laugh. “Oh, uh huh,” she said, her voice cutting through the tension like a ray of sunlight. “You know what I do in the ring?” She gestured to herself, her grin teasing but genuine. “I flounce around acting like some kind of fey creature. I twirl my hair, give big, dramatic monologues about chairs of all things, and make people wonder if I’m gonna fight them or curse them.”

Her expression softened as she looked directly at Maria. “A lot of people probably think that’s dumb. But you know what? It works. It works because I make it work.” She gave a small shrug, still smiling. “Nothing is dumb if you can sell it and believe in it."

[DSX93]

A fey creature, huh? Emilia's creative mind began to swirl with ideas for a potential movie match. Maybe a battle for influence on the shoulders of a hero(ine)? Calista playing the force of good, with her being the corrupter. Now who would be the lead they'd fight over?

A question to save for if she even accepts your offer, brain.

It would run away from her sometimes, if she lets it. This, however, would not be one of those times. Emilia nodded her head as Calista made her point. "And me..." She was hesitant about spreading the truth of her kayfabe even further than she already has: Three others already knew, and she intends to keep some distance between herself, the characters she plays in the ring, and the outside world. But...

Ah, fuck it. If it'll help..."I'm LARPing a vampire with a supernatural form of Dissociative Identity Disorder. One week, I could be a clown, the next, I could be a dude in a woman's body who dresses like The Crow, then I could be a Greek noble who's been alive for few centuries. The list goes on."

Maria...understood enough, she believed. But she'd ask anyway, just to be sure. "You see yourself in all of that?"

"Sort of; I put bits and pieces of myself into every character, then do some other things to get into the role. But that's getting into some more advanced territory. You wanna go with something that you can feel in your heart..." Emilia balled a hand and thumped it into her chest for emphasis. "Whether you're being you or you're creating a character. Like, name one aspect." She held up the pointer finger. "One characteristic of Maria Esteves Caballero. Could be from an experience, something you wanna try playing up to eleven, or something you've got deep down inside of you that you hardly ever get to bring out, but you want to. Anything at all."

Maria couldn't go with the obvious thing. And that...That didn't leave much else. All she's ever known was the role of the good, obedient, daughter. Straight A's in school, goes to church every Sunday, never dates...A role she despises now.

That's when it clicked.

"Living." She nodded. She had it. There was a spark in her blue eyes now. "I never had the chance to really get out there until I came to LAW." She wanted to get into the details. She wanted to tell somebody, and she could feel that she could trust them. But would that be trauma dumping?

Yeah, that would be trauma dumping.

"That's what really brought me here. Getting to see the world and do some adventuring, and figure that out; figure out who I wanna be."

"That's a start right there. You can use that. Get the fans involved in the journey. You don't know what you are, the fans don't know what you are, but most importantly, your opponent doesn't know what you are. Let them fill in the blanks on their own in the meantime, and when you get in that ring, let them try you and find out. 'Bitches don't know", right?" Emilia was kicking herself for not having thought of that line as a catchphrase for Renee. "You should keep that line. I like it. But anyway, there's a lot of people who like an underdog story; the up-and-comer, and those are some of the best fans to have on your side. Being honest with that is a good way to endear yourself with them."

Maria responded with a nod. The praise boosted her spirits, forming a pretty smile across her face. "Alright!"

[RockRye]

Calista tilted her head slightly, her expression caught somewhere between admiration and mild bewilderment as Emilia described the intricacies of the roles she embodied. While she didn’t say anything aloud, her thoughts swirled. Balancing so many layers in a performance? It sounded fascinating but exhausting, definitely not Calista's own style. She had always been more of a "pick the one role and nail it" type, focused and precise. More Judi Dench than Audrey Hepburn, as one of her acting instructors had told her.

As Maria spoke up and began to express her own thoughts, Calista’s attention shifted fully. Hearing Maria arrive at "living" as her answer, Calista’s lips curved in thought. She lightly tapped her index finger against them, processing the simplicity of the word and how much depth it could actually carry.

"Living..." she repeated to herself, the word rolling around in her mind as her gaze briefly drifted upward. Her eyes sparked with clarity as the concept began to take form in her imagination.

“That makes sense,” she said, lifting the same finger and gesturing as if outlining ideas in the air. “I mean, I could even see someone who wants to ‘live’ being a daredevil, a globetrotter with no fear, or someone just trying to sample every new experience they can find. Really, anything that involves putting your whole self into it! You should find it and go for it. People believe in something, even if it’s totally crazy, as long as you’re not hesitating about it yourself.”