; glory and gore [1]

E I G H T ; SUN

______There's a bad moon on the rise...

❝  I knew you were a fucking drone.❞  The Canadian mumbles under his breath whilst amusingly making snow angels, mistaking Sasha's hotel room sheets with the large flakes surprisingly perceivable through the windows.

Kevin throws a brief glance in Sasha's direction, disappointedly catching her to the side of the bed, stringing together push-ups. He comprehended a long time ago that Banks was a workhorse, never resting, esteeming that workouts and trainings were the absolute priority.

Obviously she looked right through Owens, letting out a deep sigh expressing she never welcomed in as he casually sidled in her war zone. Just like a bored child whose parents are unvailable to play with, he did what any other kid would have done: he called a friend of his.

Footsteps make themselves louder and louder as they walk through the hallway and light a playful spark in Owens' eyes, barely distinguishing a male figure on the entrance. Unfortunately the enthusiasm is quick to vanish once he realizes who flew into his arms, a goofy smile glued to his beaming face.

❝  Oh God get off me! You standing near me makes me sick to my stomach.❞  The so-called Murder Bear rolls his eyes as he understands the wrestler isn't going anywear, his features extending in an even bigger smile which irritates Kevin more.

❝  What are you talking about ? You called me three times.❞ The tall figure explains, finally releasing Owens from his grip, gently patting his friend's shoulder. ❝ You were the last option.❞  Owens assures, a scornful tone in his husky voice. In place of being offended by that statement, the ginger guy slightly chuckles, apparently pleased by that exchange.

❝ Can't you two go take a room ?❞  Banks declares, seemingfully pissed at all the racket these two always make once reunited. As she manages to stand up, her muscles still sore from her last match and the exercices she obstinately does on a daily basis, she barely dodges a slipper flying at her.  ❝ I'm going to throw up right on your head.❞ 

Banks natural reflexes almost bring her to instinctively jump at the Canadian's throat until another organ takes over: heart.

Because every single monster fights against an undying weakness.

Because as much as she prides herself in being that cold blooded and lethal beauty, her old feelings are prompted to awake every once in a while as she encounters former acquaintances.

Sami Zayn being one of those she avoids as much as she possibly can, the man having the ability to revive every single agreeable moment out of Mercedes' memory.

The issue is simple: Mercedes isn't championship material, Sasha Banks is.

The vicious, merciless, calculating side of her is capable of dealing with both success or pressure single-handedly. On the other hand the kind, loveable, full of principles little girl is destined to be carelessly torn apart.