A Moment Of Thought

Inspired somewhat by a cohort in AFW whom very publicly opted to air their thoughts, rare-to-think and often overly vicious friction superstar Lea found herself in a rare moment of thought, albeit knew she'd be keeping it somewhat more contained.

The blonde found herself in a odd position resembling that of one experiencing an existential crisis. Not so much wholly existential mind; she wasn't considering the meaning of life, nor what happens upon death. But more of a simple focus of said crisis. And the question of should she go elsewhere.

The cause of which was something in a question itself to Lea. A part of her suspected it stemmed from a lack of interest her way, but she wasn't exactly out and around seeking fresh faces these days herself.

A greater part seemed to stem upon the lack of higher merit. Next to no-one in any business remained purposefully for reward or accolades, at-least publicly, but it was the principle alone of giving merit where it was arguably deserved that often resulted in a greater delivery of merit, quality or general effort.

A moment of thought focused itself upon Lea's pacing in the ring itself. She despised defeat personally, but there was more to the way she did things than a simple victory. An irony not lost on the darkly grinning blonde, who had yet to officially lose in the ring, mind. But then again, plenty had made a living from just winning. Plenty were right now. Whether such was due to overly clever planning, careful selection of opponents, or simply cheap tricks, was a thought Lea quickly passed over for lack of care. It was more the quality, or so she thought, of her events in the ring. That, and the fact she'd, as one would say 'been around;' she was hardly shy in meeting the new nor old.

The briefest of moments focused upon her tenure itself; the length of it, and simply if it was even lengthy enough for her to be rightfully considering such thoughts. That idea quickly faded however, as the names of those who had been here for the same tenure, often less, where already mountain-peaks ahead of her.

Perhaps the blame was on not her actions in the ring, but outside. Perhaps she had not played handsie enough with the right people. Or person. Or perhaps, the fault laid in her style; her appearance; her way of doing things. No-one impressed everyone, but even then, calibres of her level with a much greater niche had netted themselves atop a mountain she herself had even yet to be invited to.

A loud, room filling sigh slithered its way from the blondes lips, as she stood from her dressing room chair. Looking at herself in the mirror, the blonde quickly switched her hesitant, perhaps weak facial posture into that of her usually dark demeanour. Inside though, the thoughts remained, as did the questions. Only one gained an answer.

She wasn't leaving. Likely never was.

But questions abound such as this, certainly lost a lot of her love for the place.