Deanna Frost vs. Sarah Wolf

[Konrad Raab]

2 RP Limit

3500 word max per RP

Deadline: 11:59:59 pm ET FRIDAY, October 7, 2022

[SnowQueenSCW]

OOC: With this being written across the last few days, I had to take certain “safe assumptions” regarding the Pay-Per-View to keep the story going forward. I apologize if there are any ‘inaccuracies’ or ‘inconsistencies’ because of that.

The Witches of Alden

”Challenge”

Black Arrow Neighbourhood 
Manhattan, New York
October 2nd, 2022
3:10pm

Deanna closed her eyes for a moment as she walked, hearing the music of the notes fall gently and sweetly into her ear, a content smile gracing her lips as her steps began to sway a little. The fall, her favorite season along with spring (Spring had its brightness and warmth and her maiden name was in it, but nothing could replace the bright colors of autumn), could be felt in every step of her white running shoes (with black shoestrings) against the hard dirt path they walked, the music growing louder as her group approached the source. To keep her balance as she swayed, the redhead gently tightened her hold on the arm she had been wrapped around affectionately throughout the walk, that of her beloved wife.

She was grateful that the weather report had been correct and that the day was so beautiful for the neighbourhood-festival. Well, ‘festival’ wasn’t the right word. This wasn’t like some big ‘TA-DAH’ like the city of Manhattan could put on like Gay-Pride or Thanksgiving with their parades and fireworks and whatnot. Rather, this was one of the ‘small’ little things that their neighbourhood did, like how small towns had ‘market-place days’ or something like that. This was the Black Arrow Neighbourhood’s “thing”. Every few months, usually with the changing seasons, they would hold some kind of ‘event’. The next one would be Halloween in a few weeks, which wasn’t as ‘out of the ordinary’, but everyone did try to go a little more ‘out there’. For example, the Grays would always build a haunted house for the little ones and the Sandersons always went for the ‘best decorated house’ – yes, there were awards voted by the neighbourhood (Deanna grinned as she remembered the year she and Selena had won for ‘best house’ – Leslie had been pissed!). Some families even held small gatherings and such in their own backyards that one could see if they walked the trail: witches’ covens or something like that. That would be over the next few weeks and, following that, was Christmas, which, despite not being the biggest fan of winter (Deanna almost laughed at the irony of that statement every time), the redhead could not wait for that next ‘event’ either. 

She heard the ‘scatting’ of the trumpet and forced herself to come back to the present, her eyes opening to take in the trail people were walking, scattered pairs and groups of people making their way through the dirt trail that moved around the small pond that linked every house of the Black Arrow Neighbourhood, as well as lead to several of their gated backyards (or in the case of the Frost family, exited up onto the roads and along several house ‘fronts’ before diving back into the woods). The jazz music continued to play and, now, the redhead could, quite clearly, make out the notes of a secondary instrument, that of a bass cello, the strumming notes adding a layer of richness to the low-side of whatever song the duo was playing. Several people were gathered around nearby the small space of forest and yard where the duo played, others – having their fill of such wonderful music – continuing on their way along the trail. Again, Deanna remarked to herself, it wasn’t exactly an ‘event’ that was taking place, that would be at the end of the month, but every weekend, many members of the neighbourhood took time to entertain or sell homemade items or play with the other members. 

It was… homely? Was that the right word? Deanna wasn’t sure but it was a stark contrast to the up and down life of SCW and being an SCW superstar – which she was still getting used to – and she was grateful for the contrast. The difference of ‘peace and quiet’ that she could share with Selena and the children before running headlong into the craziness of the wrestling world.

And given recent events, she wasn’t as ‘excited’ to return to it, evermore grateful for the calm beauty that was this weekend event. Once more, she had lost the championship she had held – once more unable to hold it beyond a single title defence. She had wanted to make a statement at Apocalypse. To show that, despite practically every person declaring she didn’t belong in such a division or as a champion, that they were wrong. That not only did she belong, but her particular style of ‘grit over violence’ could survive. That she didn’t need some demented bloodlust, some crazy Germanic weapon, or obsession to break bones to hold the Underground title and make it a highlight in SCW. 

But things hadn’t gone that way and, much as when she found herself losing the Television title, Deanna was rather at a loss in terms of direction. Would she be getting rematch like Kimberly had? Would she be labelled as ‘cursed’ or something because of her lack of ‘successful title-defences’? 

Stealing a glance upwards, the young Frost spied her wife, Selena, standing beside her, the platinum-blonde’s focus on the man and wife couple, the Evermonts, playing their jazz music together, the old couple all smiles as they shared such a moment together. In regards to her wife, Deanna had been proud that Selena had managed to not only survive, but win, her encounter with the diabolical Ravyn and the monstrous Luna – Deanna had never liked the idea of her beloved facing such a woman as Luna, especially after the redhead had witnessed Luna’s chaos at Rise to Greatness months ago. Still, the Snow Queen had emerged without too much ‘damage’, a relief to the redhead. However, much like her, Selena had no idea in regards of where to go from there. And as the two had walked back home from Madison Square Gardens via 8th Avenue and Central Park West that night, their conversation had reached such a discussion/revelation.

They were both unsure. Would Deanna get her rematch? What about Selena? She hadn’t gotten a rematch for the World title, but the platinum-blonde seemed less concerned with that, knowing ‘my time will come again’ – that’s what she had said, Deanna recalled. Inevitably, as their conversations of such things often did, one of them brought up the ever-present goal of the ‘tag-team titles’, but that was… not unreachable, but with them constantly pulled in singles directions, it seemed unlikely, no matter how much they hoped. 

Again, this was why Deanna felt she needed such a weekend as this. To put those worries aside, those disappointments in herself and her loss aside. To just focus on the things that were the most important to her. Her children, her friends, the family dog and, most of all, the woman that had not released her arm this entire walk.

Without thinking, Deanna let her head drop onto the shoulder of the taller Selena, feeling the familiar comfort that supported her head. It took only a second for her to feel the weight of Selena’s head as the platinum-blonde rested her head on top of Deanna’s.

“Maybe I love you.” Selena whispered, squeezing Deanna’s arm with her own.
“Maybe I love you.” Deanna replied in a breathy sigh of contentment, reaching her hand down to take her wife’s hand into hers.

Before them, just a few yards of way, the Evermonts continued to play their instruments, Horice smiling – no, beaming – at his wife, Patricia. The couple had been one of the first residents of the Black Arrow neighbourhood, moving in when most of this place was just forest and a pond. Now in their 70s and 80s, they were still so vibrant; Deanna couldn’t stop gazing at their smiling faces and shining eyes as they beheld one another.

“I want to look like that when I’m their age.”

She felt Selena’s facial muscles tighten a little and her jaw clench a little as her ears picked up Deanna’s words. “I’m hoping you mean Patricia…” her voice trailed off in its whisper. “Because Horice is black, hunny. And no matter how hard you try…I’m sorry but…”

“No…” Deanna rolled her eyes, playfully swatting her hand against Selena’s shoulder as she moved her head off it. “I mean I want to look at you the way they look at each other.” She turned her gaze back over to Selena, emerald eyes boring into sapphire ones. “With that much love and devotion, even after so many years.”

For a moment, Selena turned her head towards the Evermonts, her eyes taking in the details Deanna had already witnessed. She took a slow breath before turning her head back towards Deanna. “We’re gonna be at our seven-year anniversary in a few months.” She remarked. “Think you can last another fifty or so with me?”

“Pfft…” came the crude sound Deanna made from her thrumming lips. “I could do sixty. Maybe even seventy.”
“Really? 100-year-old me do it for you?”
“Oh yeah!” teased the redhead. “Old. Wrinkled.”
“Probably suffering from dementia.”
“Just means I don’t have to try hard to be creative on our dates.” Deanna teased back, pushing herself on her tiptoes to kiss her wife’s cheek affectionately. “And least you’ll still have white hair.”

Without thinking, Selena’s free hand reached up to twirl her fingers around the long braid that hung over her right shoulder. “It is sweet…but it’s partially scary.”
“Growing old?”
“No…” she shook her head. “Forgetting who you are. That’s…” she took a deep breath as she returned her gaze to Deanna. “That’s actually REALLY terrifying. It’s upsetting me to think about.”

For a moment, Deanna considered refuting it, denying it as even possible. However, Selena was not an ordinary woman. The former world champion had strikes to the head with monitors, chairs, cages, the redhead had lost track at how many times her wife had suffered from a concussion. Was it so impossible? Fueling that thought on, the redhead imagined what it would be like if, one day, she didn’t recognize Selena. If she just turned on her side while sleeping, woke up and saw a stranger in bed with her.

Selena was right. The very thought of not remembering the platinum-blonde, not remembering all they had been through together, all the good times and bad… or not remembering their children… it was terrifying. Beyond terrifying. Prison was nowhere near as scary as that.

“I don’t want to talk about that again.” She shook her head. “You’re right. It is terrifying.”

A loud series of cheers broke the Frost wives’ concentration, the pair looking up as the Evermonts finished what song they had been playing to the small ‘field’ of people. Sadly, it was the loudest ‘cheerer’ that had gotten the couple’s attention, both redhead and platinum-blonde looking up towards the other side of the small clearing to see the woman in a white and orange fall-dress with a large, matching hat, clapping so loudly, as if to get everyone’s attention.

“SO PRETTY!” Leslie Sanderson called out, even adding that high-pitched, shrilly laugh that made Deanna cringe, the redhead drawing close to her wife on reflex to hearing that horrid sound. “BRA-VAH-O! BRA-VAH-O!” she declared, the addition of an unneeded syllable about as ‘wanted’ as she was, yet still she continued. “For those of you that haven’t heard, I am so excited to be entering my house for the ‘Halloween decoration contest’ this year. And I am so excited to be trying to win it for an eighth straight time!” she declared with another full laugh, which was more than Deanna’s ears could tolerate.

“Last I checked, you lost it last year.” The younger Frost challenged. “So I think ‘the streak’ is back at ‘zero’, Leslie.” A small series of chuckles came from certain members of the ‘audience’ who heard her.

Hearing the voice, and the attached truth to it, Leslie’s head twisted around to glare at Deanna, the motion reminding the former Underground champion of ‘The Exorcist’. The look, there was no other word for it to Deanna other than: pure evil and terrifying. But just as quickly as it came, it was gone, and Leslie was laughing again, though it sounded so forced and fake to Deanna, the dark-haired, tall woman sauntering over to the Frosts.

“Deanna…” Leslie started, her tone almost pitying. “Not that I wish to take anything away from all your ‘acheeevements’, but you know you only won that competition last year because the committee wanted to officially welcome you back from prison. I’m actually surprised they let you back in to live here, considering your ‘criminal past’, but that’s just my opinion.”

“Well, first off.” Selena’s voice rang in, catching Leslie off-guard. “Deanna was found innocent of all charges. Second, while we like the committee…most of them…” her eyes narrowed at Leslie. “I’m afraid they can’t do anything for someone that owns the property. Otherwise, I can’t imagine you’d even be here for as long as you have.”

Despite the fact that the Snow Queen could easily kick Leslie’s head right off her body with one swift Glass Shard, the long-faced, beaked woman gave no mind to the former world champion, which only further irritated Deanna. “Yes, well, it’s a shame that your ‘busy schedules’ are keeping you from participating again this year.” Sanderson remarked with an overexaggerated sigh. “I would love to resolve such a…” again, that damn dramatic pause almost made Deanna roll her eyes. “Misunderstanding.”

“Schedules, Schmedules.” Deanna shot back. “We beat you last year and we can do it again this year!”

“Oh, sweetie…” Leslie drawled before laughing a little, that same pitch. “You say such funny things.”
“I wasn’t trying to be funny.” Deanna stated back, crossing her arms over her chest.
“See?! Just like that!” laughed Leslie, flinging out a hand to swat Deanna’s arm in mock-playfulness. “So funny!”

“Okay, Leslie.” Came the cold voice of Selena. “You’ve let everyone else know about this thing and now you know we intend to enter. I think it’s best you be on your way or let us be on ours.”

“Okay, okay…” Leslie held up her hands. “I’ve got other people to inform of the big news. So good luck, ladies.” She added with an ending chuckle before skipping away. Deanna wanted to fire back the last word, but her current array of ‘choices’ in her head regarding a comeback were not so ‘G-rated’ for the neighbourhood, forcing her to clench her jaw shut and watch the woman head down the path she and Selena had travelled.

“I thought…” the voice came out as a whisper from beside, gaining Deanna’s attention as she turned her head towards her wife, who had lowered her head down and closed her eyes. “I thought we had decided to take it easy with Halloween this year. With Under Attack less than a week after and Odin knows what’s headed out way, focusing on just being ready for anything was the best idea for us to ‘reset’ after both losing titles over the last two pay-per-views.” Opening her eyes, the experienced wrestler cast them towards Deanna. “Pretty sure that sounds familiar.”

Biting her lower lip, Deanna felt the guilt creep up her spine because she knew the platinum-blonde was right. It had been one of the many decisions they had made on their post-PPV walk (thank goodness it had been in their hometown). That, whatever happened next for them, they were going to make strong statements as “The House of Frost”. With Selena being the ‘plaything’ of Ravyn’s mind games the last few weeks or Deanna being discredited as a champion and SCW superstar left, right and center, something had to change in order for things to get better for them. 

And Deanna had just crapped on that entire forty-minute walk of decisions last week because she had let Leslie get to her.

“I…” she tried. “But you agreed to it too…” she tried lamely.
“I supported my wife.” Selena explained, crossing her arms over her chest. “I wasn’t going to let Leslie think there was some miscommunication between us. That would only have fed her ego.”

Emerald eyes widened at that realization. Instead of reeling Deanna back in to reality, Selena had switched gears to support her wife, despite knowing that this was against their ‘plans’. But the Snow Queen was right. What if they both were thrown into a chamber match or something, which was somewhat common at the Under Attack pay-per-view? Or what if one, or both, DID get some kind of title match and were too exhausted from decorating the house in-between episodes of Breakdown to train or prepare? 

“I…” the redhead took a deep breath, running her hands against her face and then through her mane of hair. “I’ll back out tomorrow then.” She decided. “I’ll go and tell her that we got some call from SCW and we can’t afford-“

“OH MY GAWD WITH AN A-W-D!” came the shrill voice, not of Leslie, but of Selena imitating the woman, even waving her hands in a similar form of expression. “I knew you couldn’t do it! Too much pressure, I understhanddd. Well… since I am a generous soul, I will accept your admitting defeat graciously. I do hope, though, that you will be there when I am announced as the winner and you will say a few good words for how nice I am being, ha ha ha ha!” her laugh, even faked and imitating, wasn’t the right pitch but dammit if it didn’t match the character and cause a slight flinch in Deanna.

“Why are you doing this?” Deanna asked, biting her lower lip. 

“Because I’m being realistic.” Selena replied in her normal voice. “Fact is, we’re in this now.”
“But…”
“Frosts don’t back down.” Selena’s eyes glared into her wife’s, causing the redhead to go silent. “You know that.”
“I do…Integrity, honor, our kids… I know, I know, but…”
“And you’re a Frost, right?” 

For a moment, Deanna’s eyes fluttered down to her hand, seeing the wedding ring and band that encircled the one finger, the ruby stone in the middle. “Yes, I am.” She whispered.

A pale hand reached out to take hers and she immediately squeezed it as she felt the familiar warmth and, strange in existence but not to her, coolness at the same time. Her wife was the Snow Queen after all. “Fifty years.” She heard her wife whisper. “Remember?”

“What? You want to win this contest for fifty years?” Deanna laughed, looking up at Selena and shaking her head.
“No…but you do…or at least you want to win it this year again.”

A huff escaped Deanna, partially from irritation that her wife knew her so well. “I just can’t stand her. Everything she does – and how she treats us and…”

Gods, she sounded so petty right now and she knew it. Leslie probably wanted her to enter this stupid contest because her ego had been so hurt from last year. For a moment, Deanna recalled that moment. It had been the first real holiday she had been able to share with her family after her release from Frankfurt, with her and Selena needing to focus the first few months on Selena being the world champion for the first time in 4 years and the Rise to Greatness main-event (Selena’s first). And she and Selena had gone all out, searching Manhattan and NYC for ornaments at every store, piecing together some kind of incredible display…

And maybe it was just the fact that the house was decorated for the first time in 2 years that had put them over, but Deanna wanted to believe it was because she and Selena could do anything together. She needed to believe that. And for Leslie to say such a thing was fake…or rigged…

“Last year, I needed to do this with you.” She whispered. “I needed us to win. Because I needed to feel I could still be useful to you and we were still strong together and I was so proud when we did…but what she just said, about it being ‘rigged’ and…”

She felt those cool and warm fingertips touch her lips once more. “Darling…” whispered Selena. “I won the world title because of you. I headlined Rise to Greatness because of you. I became the longest reigning world champion because of you. And you won two titles in less than a year.”

“And lost them on my first defence.”
“The point is…you don’t need some contest to prove your worth to me or anyone.
“I know but…” Deanna shook her head. “I just want this. I want us to prove last year wasn’t a fluke. That we… we’re better than what she says.”

Her lips forming a long line, Selena nodded her head. “We better find the kids before they wander to far off. I trust Elsianna but David likes to explore a bit too much and he’s much faster than Gerda.”

“Right…” Deanna nodded, immediately growing quiet as the two made their way along the trail once more.
“And…” Selena sighed. “While we’re walking… we can discuss idea how to beat that tone-deaf gremlin.”

It was the sweetest thing her wife could ever say to the redhead…

[SnowQueenSCW]

The Guard Tower

So, I’ve got to head into another Breakdown fresh off a title loss. And you know, this one kind of stings a little more than the last one. I mean, losing the Television title after being told I wasn’t ‘good enough’ by the future world champion was hard enough, and to lose it because it took a stable and a woman with a chair and my opponent using the tights to keep me down… yeah, that all sucked.

But to lose at my first title defence again, in my hometown of Manhattan – first time I ever really wrestled there on a pay-per-view stage because last time I was just a manager to my wife winning the world title… and then to be the one that wasn’t pinned.

I can’t really think of other words for it: it sucks. Sucks bad. 

And I know, I really have no one else to blame for this but myself. I let myself get knocked out of that ring by Autumn. I let myself lose focus from the rest of the action in the ring. I let myself miss the other combatants fighting. And I knew the rules, the champion’s disadvantage – and it was an Underground Championship match! A match where there was no rules so my opponents did nothing wrong. The only person I can hold accountable is me. I lost the Underground title and I am no longer the Underground Champion.

So where does that leave me? Do I just sulk away? Do I throw a tantrum and demand a rematch like Kimberly did? Do I cry about people being right that I don’t belong here or there or in this match or that match or this division or that division?

Or do I say ‘to hell with that!’ and start acting like a damn SCW superstar?!

Yeah, I lost, but let me tell you what else I did! I’m the one that had superstar after superstar down and out to the point that someone else had to run in and break up my pins to keep the match going! Seriously, nobody else had so many falls that ended by interference when the opponent stayed down! Nobody else came close as many times as I did to winning that match. You know what else? I’m the one that took a fork to the head, Legos to the back, chairs all over me and yet, aside from the winner, was the ONLY person to walk out of that match on my own volition! Autumn? Out cold. The One? Out like a light! And Wolf? Yeah, huffed and puffed and blew herself down!

No, I’m not taking solace in any of that over losing the championship, but if you think I didn’t prove something at Apocalypse, Sarah, then you are sorely mistaken. I proved that, much as you and The One and whomever else tells me otherwise, I DO belong here. No, screw that, I belong in all of SCW! Any division, any match, against any opponent, I belong here! For almost a year, I’ve been trying to prove that I do. That I am as much of a wrestler as my beloved wife is and I have been trying to prove that I can hold my own and be my own woman here rather than just “Selena Frost’s wife”.

And you know what, Sarah? The fact that I defended the title against four of the most dangerous women in SCW? And I managed to walk out on my own while you were helped by officials? That says something.

No, it doesn’t say you are weak or overhyped. Far from it. The fact that I am facing you this Breakdown, with all the vivid memories I have of you stabbing me in the forehead with a fork?! Part of me is terrified. Cause you know what? You proved something too. Cause, yeah, Kimberly Williams won the match and the announce team went on about her brand of ‘chaos’, but you know who they were talking about when it came to violence? Mayhem? Blood and gore?

You, Wolf. You were the one they were talking about. Not Kim, not One, not Autumn, sure as hell not me. You. They were stunned at how violent and dangerous you were being. How dangerous and violent you are. For goodness sake with Odin watching, you used a damn fork as a weapon! You sought to maul and maim with a dull utensil. The title, I knew with you, was secondary to the damage, and it was all as you promised – you were the weapon of destruction… And the fact that I am facing that tonight certainly feels like a deathly chill running up and down my spine. Holy cats, that’s cold…

But don’t you see? Facing people like you has been my thing for weeks now. Kimberly and her chaos? Konrad Raab and his mace of ‘turnbuckle slicing’? Everyone at Apocalypse? None of them have been able to keep me down. Cause no matter how much it hurt every time I got slammed or kicked or hit with something or stabbed with something… the more it hurt… the more it scared me, the more that voice in my head kept screaming “Get up! Get up! Keep going! Keep fighting!”

You really don’t get it, do you, Wolf? I’ve never said I was the most dangerous or bloodthirsty or ruthless or any of that! I won’t lie like that. That’s not who I am. I’m not some violent crazed wrestler. I’m me. I like going for walks during the fall. I love my wife and kids. I love wrestling and how it pushes me.

That’s who I am, Sarah. 

And maybe I didn’t keep another SCW title but you know what? I found something maybe as important that night in Manhattan. I kept finding my grit. My drive. My refusal to back down and to keep going. And you? For all of your damage and all you can do and all of your strength and terror… you showed you have limits. That you, a beyond dangerous woman, still has that threshold that…if I can push you to it? You will not get back up, just like you couldn’t get back up at Apocalypse.

So, maybe this is crazy and maybe Selena will chew my ear off…in an unpleasant way… but Breakdown, yeah, I’m going to be coming for you ready to push you to that same threshold and beyond it. Maybe it won’t be Underground and will play more to my strengths of wrestling, sure, but if you think I haven’t learned anything from watching you and how many times you’ve thrown away your chances at victory in favor of doing more damage or ‘sending a message’…

But I don’t want to be your message of revenge or whatever, Sarah. I don’t want to be some other ‘victim’ in your rampage because you couldn’t get revenge on Kim or more pain on Autumn or whatever. I want to be more. I want to keep trying to understand my grit, to make myself better and to harness even more of it against people like you and Konrad. People that promise my destruction and yet… here I am. 

Because I survived, Wolf. I keep surviving. I keep taking everything you and SCW can throw at me and I keep surviving and I will KEEP surviving until I know how to thrive. And when I say ‘thrive’, I mean everywhere in this federation. To the point I, like my wife, I can enter whatever division I want or whatever division fate places me in, and just make it my own. Redefine it. Work it. Find my place within it but NEVER… NEVER again have a soul truly believe that I don’t belong here.

Breakdown is the start of all of that, Wolf. The start of not one place or one division needing to ‘define me’ but rather, all of SCW being my place, my place of ‘defining myself’. Every division: The Adrenaline, the United States, the World tag-team, the Underground, the Wo….

I will not settle to be pigeon-holed. I will rely on my grit – my heart – to keep me standing up to every challenge, every different opponent and opportunity. So if you want to come to me with the same promises you did at Apocalypse – if you’ve come to try and finish what you started with at least one of those combatants… go ahead.

Hurt me, Wolf. Come at me and try and drip that black stuff into my mouth or face. Try and force your fingers down my throat. Try and stab me with a fork again! And you can watch me keep getting back up, keep watching me stay alive in the match, no matter how much you punish or hurt me or make me scream!

Because no matter how much you make me scream, you can’t drown out that voice I hear in my mind. The voice of my wife and my voice and the True Believers and little Gritters – yeah, you heard me – the voice that tells me to keep going. Dangerous as you are, strong as you are, deadly as you are, Wolf, I don’t think you can silence them. 

And come Breakdown, you won’t be able to silence me or tell me I don’t belong. Tonight, I put all of SCW on notice. There is no place I can go, no place I won’t try to be part of. No place I won’t find joy in being part of! Whatever happens, wherever I go here, whomever I face, I will show I belong there and prove I deserve to be there and give the Gritters the best damn show I can! Tonight, I take you on, Wolf, at your angriest, most dangerous, and I will outlast you again! I will leave you unconscious one way or another. More than that… I’m going to continue to show my grit. Because I’ve come so far already…and I won’t back down now just because a monster stands before me now!

Checkmate, bitches!