Post by Deleted on Apr 26, 2021 16:45:45 GMT
Caera's footsteps can be heard, as she slowly maneuvers her way around a pile of broken concrete that had just been laying around, outside of her house. A by-product of construction work the city is doing on the sidewalk as well as the road in front of the house. She is returning from a rare trip to the convenience store, in order to pick up some more milk, on top of some other items that both her and Alvera will need when they set off on their vacation to England, where the IIW are located. Even more unusually, she is out while the sun is in the sky, instead of at either sunset or during the nighttime. Her usual shopping hours. However, she is dressed in her usual black t-shirt, black denim jeans and black leather boots, as well as wearing both eyeliner and black lipstick.
Sighing, she hears the sound of a jackhammer penetrating the asphalt road and swivels into her own walkway. Sauntering, she exhales as she remembers why she doesn't usually make these daytime ventures into the open world. It's not just the people that irritate her, but also the constant sounds of people hammering nails, or driving their cars, or even doing construction work in the area. Which is something she would much rather not occur, but understands that it is an important component of the city's infrastructure. At least in the case of construction work, it is.
To her, the night is more tranquil, with only the sounds of nature reverberating in the air. Sounds that she enjoys; even holds discussions with. Even if most of the time it is simply her venting about whatever may be plaguing her mind. Discourse that her parents use to be privy to; only them. For Alvera is too innocent, too kind-hearted to wear the burdens upon her shoulders; Caera would much rather wear them than her. Her scars; her burdens are the crosses she has to bear. Rapidly walking up the porch steps, she reaches the door, using her right hand to turn it.
Two plastic bags on her forearm as she calls out: "I'm home, sweetie," to Alvera. Who she had left seated at the kitchen table when she went out; is still there when she wanders through the door. Gently pushing it closed behind her.
"Hi mommy. Did you get the candy?" Alvera asks excitedly, her back still turned to Caera, who lets out a soft sigh.
"Have you been a good girl, sweetheart?" she rhetorically asks in Return, assuming her daughter will be able to understand that implicitly states the answer is 'yes' to the Question posed. She then smiles as she walks over to the kitchen table; slides the bags off her forearm. Relieved to be home, as she feels a slight throbbing sensation in her feet. "It's in the first bag," she remarks, walking over to Alvera so that he daughter can obtain the requested candy.
"Yay, thanks mom," she states as Caera carries her over to the bag, using Alvera's short arms to open the bag, with Caera extracting the candy out for her; softly placing her hand on top of its sangria colored wrapping. A grateful smile upon the doll's face. Conversely, Caera's face gradually returns to a stoic, emotionless expression as she carries her daughter back to the chair.
She senses something is amiss within the home, but cannot place her finger on what. It's not a person, as she would have heard rummaging sounds or another set of footprints if someone had dared roam around their haven. None of those are prevalent presently. The only footsteps that can be heard are her own.
No, this is deeper than that. It feels like a mystical aura of sorts, being emitted by the house itself. Sending a message to her. Informing her of something, but not telling her precisely what it is. Hoping that she can use her heightened sense of perception in order to obtain the answer.
"Mommy, are you okay?" she hears Alvera softly ask, tilting her head over. Noticing her staring right through her body.
"Yes," she remarks gently, unsure of how else to answer that Question without raising the suspicion of her beloved daughter. Glancing into her beady eyes. Attempting to re-assure her that she is just fine. Despite the change from jovial to devoid on the emotion scale. Even if she does that often, she usually ensures it is when Alvera is either in bed or playing; not when she is sitting there. Even if slightly distracted by the candy in front of her.
Beginning to walk down the hallway, she feels a small tingle in her brain. An indication that her thought about it being an aura belonging to the house itself rather than a singular item is correct, softly laughing to herself. It's an aura she has felt ever since she informed Alvera that they would be taking their vacation soon. As if this was the house's way of attempting to keep them locked within its walls.
"What is it?" she whispers, in the hopes that her internal senses will answer her. Yet they do not. Instead the only answer she receives is her own voice, echoing the Question back at her. "Is this because of what I did? Because that was to protect us. That was to protect Alvera," she continues. Her mind churns as it attempts to conjure up the solution to this puzzle. One that is both simple and complex at the same time. In fact, she has already solved one third of the test. Yes, the aura is being emitted by the house. Where is its point of origin? Why is it emitting this aura? Those are the questions that are still yet to be answered. Questions that eat away at her, with each passing second. Each step she takes.
She glances around, noticing a duller than normal glow from one of the lights at the end of the hall. Another tingle manifesting within her brain, although this one is more of a cautionary one. For it could very well all be a hallucination. This could all be just a trick she is playing on herself; not even an aura. Continuing her survey of the hallway, she notices a small tear hiding within one of her pictures. It's the one on the right hand side of the wall, three feet from the back door.
One of a corn snake, wrapped around a slate grey cross. Painted with watercolor paints on a snow white piece of A1 size paper.. Simply popping out at her, the tear about an inch about the top of the cross. Or tombstone, as it is meant to resemble. A tear she distinctly remembers not being there when she last checked the picture two hours ago. She briefly ponders if Alvera could have accidently torn it, before almost instantly shaking her head. No.
She knows Alvera would never vandalize one of her paintings, though a small pit begins to form within her stomach. Has she accidently torn it while putting it up? Usually, she is extremely cautious when it comes to hanging pictures on the wall, but had she misjudged the height of the nail on the wall? Or picked it up the wrong way? Attempting to cast her mind back to when she had placed the picture on the wall, she shakes her head once more.
She vividly remembers the paper being tearless; without any blemishes when she surveyed it, and she has a photographic memory. Which leaves just one solution left, as outlandish as it may appear to most people. Those who would be considered neurotypical. That is, this is the origin point for the aura. That this is the house, attempting to send some sort of message that only Caera can truly understand. That her sense of perception would lead her to this very picture.
Softly peering at the plaster behind the hole, she taps it with the tips of her left fingers. Attempting to see if there is anything behind the plaster that could have caused such a tear without being noticed. Or possibly even a piece of surveillance equipment so that she can possibly kill that bird while she is at it.
"I know you're in there," she chillingly hisses, having heard a thudding sound with her taps. Indicating that there is something, if not someone, concealed within the wall. How did it or they get there, is another Question altogether; one that not even Caera truly knows the answer to. At least, not yet. "Don't worry, I won't hurt you... I have no desire to make you suffer," she proceeds by saying, her eyes searching around the room for a tool that can pull the plaster away; reveal precisely what it is she is dealing with. Yet not finding anything of use.
What she does find, however, is how the piece of equipment was stationed behind the plaster, without as much as damaging it. Whoever had inserted it, had done so by removing the loose balsa wood that separates the wall from the floor; sliding it behind the wall. Ensuring that it remained nestled away, yet functional. Which leads to the Question of who could have done this? It's not like Caera has all too many guests.
They have been as reclusive; isolated as they come ever since the disappearance of her parents. She felt as if she had lost the last shard of herself. Stripped away; turned into smoldering ash at her feet. A loss that managed to pierce through her icy veneer; connect with the gentle, caring girl that resides underneath. A girl that not even Caera remembers anymore. A girl that is imprisoned within the tundra that has become her soul.
So, if there had been no guests that had arrived, or ventured down this hall, could Caera have secretly recorded herself; convinced herself that it was somebody else, in order to try and subconsciously pry herself away from these surroundings; remind herself of the vacation she promised her daughter? After all, how else could she have perceived something was there within that particular wall, even with heightened senses, unless she was the one who installed it? It might just be the most likely answer to her own Question, as a coy smile crosses her lips.
As if she knows who installed it; what the piece of equipment is. Pulling the balsa wood aside, she drops down to the floor. Her eye line level with the gap; tugs calmly at a jet black cord. Reeling it in; revealing an old video camera. One that had to have been made between the years of 2005 and 2009. Though the camera itself isn't what Caera is focused on. Even as she lifts it up whilst rising to her own feet. No.
What does catch her attention is the name engraved onto the right hand side of the camera. Halfway up; halfway between the lens and back of the camera. The name being Pierre. A long time friend of her fathers, who had lent him this very camera three weeks before he vanished. If it was her dad who had placed the camera here; why? And how had it been able to record at all? The answer to that, would be a scuff mark in the plaster that amazingly, Caera hadn't even noticed prior to figuring out the balsa wood solution; shown by her raising her right hand; pie facing herself. She follows it up with a gentle laugh, continuing to glance at the camera.
Fascinated by what it may have captured without her, or anyone else, noticing. Yet also being unable to answer exactly when it had been installed, so as to truly be able to attribute the camera to any singular person. Sighing gently, she swivels her body so that she is facing the direction she came from. Cradling the camera in her arms as she saunters.
"Why?" she softly inquires to herself. Not knowing how to even justify secreted; discreetly recording this house, or the residents within. Even if it was her father who had committed the act. Especially if it was this video that had leaked. If this was the source material for the outside world; IIW to learn about her. Pry her away from the sanctuary she has created for herself and her daughter. Yet she is also impressed.
It had remained functional in the four years since she assumed it had been placed there; was able to record through a small hole. One that had been masked by makeshift plaster; painted so that nobody would suspect it was there. She stares forward, her expression stoic as she wonders internally if there are other cameras that were implanted. Whether they were done so by her father or another; where they may have elected to hide them.
Shaking her head softly, she wanders over to the coffee table, past Alvera; toward the window. Placing the video camera down. She'll unlock its secrets later, when Alvera is in bed; all that keeps her company is the sounds of the night. For it's for her eyes; her eyes only. She does not wish for Alvera to feel scared. To feel as if she has been violated... To hold the scars. The turmoil that knowing this would cause her.
"Is... Is this why dad wouldn't let us into the back room?" she ponders, unable to break free from her fixation. Her obsessive yearning to at least have some inclination of the truth. As if she was intended to find this cameral the house wished for it. Why else would it have led her directly to this camera? Her mind continues racing through possibilities. Through various passages; portions of her life that might be able to shed at least a shred of light onto the tale that might be told.
Her fixation is broken up by the sound of Alvera stating "Mommy?" from her seat. A small hint of nervousness, if not worry, hidden within the statement. Yet Caera simply stares up, devoid of any emotion. Cold. Almost as if she had seen a mouth move, but not heard even a single word. "Mommy?" Alvera states again, this time louder; more anxiety behind it. Her eyes, although unwavering in their steely stare, mask the fear. The apprehension that something may have happened to the only girl she has known. The only girl who has cared for her.
"Yes, darling," Caera finally responds, though Alvera senses something is amiss. Simply by how flat; cold the word is when it leaves her lips. A manner that Alvera has associated with peril, due to how infrequently she uses this particular pitch. "I'm okay," she remarks softly, having sensed the nervous aura emitting itself from the doll. An attempt to reassure her; ensure she doesn't begin to needlessly fret or panic.
"Okay," Alvera replies gently, as Caera steps back; glances across into her eyes. Exhaling as she attempts to lock away the thoughts. The paranoia running through her mind and into ensuring that everything is organized; prepared for when they set off on their vacation. When they venture into fields unknown, acclimatize with a world they know next to nothing about.
Which, as much as she will obscure it behind a stoic, bitterly cold veil, excites her. It warms her inside, to know that she is able to say she, at least to an extent, escaped from the chains. The misery that has lingered within these chambers; explored new horizons. Alongside her daughter, something she could never lay claim to have done with her own mother. For her, this is just as much about her reliving a childhood she never truly received, as it is about ensuring Alvera gets as fulfilling a childhood as possible.
Turning her body toward the left, facing the front of the room; more specifically, the Television screen, which is currently switched off, Caera exhales. Softly quipping "Soon, our lives shall be reborn," in reference to this vacation. This means emotional rebirth for the pair of them. For she knows deep down, that she needs this escape. This fresh start is as much as Alvera. That no matter how much she attempts to deny it. As much as she attempts to lock it away inside of her mind... she had accepted the IIW proposal for herself, as much as she did for Alvera; their vacation.
The sky is pitch black, as Caera's footsteps softly touch the dewy, crisp grass on her family's farm in North Spearfish. Having needed to take some time away for herself. To attempt to find some clarity. Answer the questions that have been lingering inside of her. Not the ones about her parents, which has previously been her primary motivation for visiting this farm. Instead, these are questions about herself. Predominantly the queries about why she elected to say 'yes' to IIW, despite having limited knowledge about them. About the sport they operate within. Or even how they managed to find out about her, save for a few videos they may or may not have been able to access.
Exhaling, she surveys the vast; open farmland, attempting to make out any auras that don't fit in. Auras that may indicate something amiss, yet she doesn't find any. It is deathly quiet aside from the sounds of her footsteps; chirping of crickets residing in nearby trees. A gentle smile crossing her face as she listens to their serenading song.
"Just listen to them," she states, laughing softly as she reaches up with her right hand; pulls down her hood. "Aren't they just fascinating?" she poses this Question to an audience of herself; the surrounding trees. Giggling to herself, in a similar vein to how Alvera has always giggled at the song of the crickets. Even though she is back in her cot, fast asleep. Yet deep down, their emotional connection makes it so that, at least within Caera's mind, she is cradled within her arms. Experiencing this alongside her.
Curling her lips upward, she continues her walk, pondering exactly what she wishes to say next. To her, this is completely new. Not just in terms of the travelling, but also in terms of the purpose for the travelling. Much like people outside of her circle of two know about her, she knows nothing about their circle either. She has a very limited knowledge of wrestling or how to approach speaking about it. Even in a secluded private setting like this. It wasn't the only reason she made this visit, but it is the primary one lingering on her mind currently.
After all, she is uprooting herself; Alvera and traversing the Atlantic Ocean in order to arrive at IIW, when prior, the furthest they had traveled was to Montana; that was three years ago, when they visited her grandpa. Since then, they have only ventured outside of the state once. Last year, when Caera spent two nights in Sundance. Admiring its beauty, much as she is doing now.
"Will you play with me?" she remarks, softly giggling as she glances around. Envisioning an audience converging upon her as she stands atop a podium. Surveying the area; scouring around to see if anyone can hear her. Aside from the crickets and the farm itself. "I promise I won't hurt you." she sweetly remarks, the grass underneath her feet squelching with every step as she stares forward. Her eyes hiding an icy, cold stare. "Whatever you want to play, we can. I don't mind," she comments, hoping the combination of the offer; her sweet, serenading voice will be enough to conjure up interest. To ensure that her words are known, that to her... the IIW is just a new playground.
A new dollhouse, much like the one she shares with Alvera. Though it won't be coming with them to England, for she alone doesn't have the ability to move it. "We'll have so much fun," her statement higher pitched, she continued making her way through the farmland. Allowing the air surrounding her to fill her lungs before she tilts her head to the right; glares coldly at the barbed wiIe fencing.
Designed to prevent the animals of the farm from escaping and keep invading animals or people from being able to enter. Especially considering the issues there have been on this farm over the past few years. Cows escaping and wandering onto the streets and Coyotes attacking farmland. She tilts her head forward, stating:
"I can't wait to play with you." in a cute voice, flashing a loving smile. As if she was a schoolgirl. "Let you peek behind the curtains of the dollhouse; see what goes on when it is just us," She softly giggles, inhaling as she begins to slowly skip. "You and I, playing together. The toys all in our hand, as we reveal our true auras to one another." her inflection becoming more sadistic, she continues skipping. Humming a slow, gothic oriented waltz. The gentle breeze brushing against her skin.
"As we begin to discover who we truly are..." she exhales, before following up with: "And the secrets we hide within ourselves," as she reaches the fencing at the end of the farm. Halting her skipping in front of it, she whispers "I'm sure we'll get along just fine," before reaching up with her right hand; placing it under her jaw, and blowing a kiss out to the sky. Directed at IIW. The location where she will commence her playing. Her induction into wrestling and the paths it shall lead her, and Alvera, down as they continue to unlock their truths.
Sighing, she hears the sound of a jackhammer penetrating the asphalt road and swivels into her own walkway. Sauntering, she exhales as she remembers why she doesn't usually make these daytime ventures into the open world. It's not just the people that irritate her, but also the constant sounds of people hammering nails, or driving their cars, or even doing construction work in the area. Which is something she would much rather not occur, but understands that it is an important component of the city's infrastructure. At least in the case of construction work, it is.
To her, the night is more tranquil, with only the sounds of nature reverberating in the air. Sounds that she enjoys; even holds discussions with. Even if most of the time it is simply her venting about whatever may be plaguing her mind. Discourse that her parents use to be privy to; only them. For Alvera is too innocent, too kind-hearted to wear the burdens upon her shoulders; Caera would much rather wear them than her. Her scars; her burdens are the crosses she has to bear. Rapidly walking up the porch steps, she reaches the door, using her right hand to turn it.
Two plastic bags on her forearm as she calls out: "I'm home, sweetie," to Alvera. Who she had left seated at the kitchen table when she went out; is still there when she wanders through the door. Gently pushing it closed behind her.
"Hi mommy. Did you get the candy?" Alvera asks excitedly, her back still turned to Caera, who lets out a soft sigh.
"Have you been a good girl, sweetheart?" she rhetorically asks in Return, assuming her daughter will be able to understand that implicitly states the answer is 'yes' to the Question posed. She then smiles as she walks over to the kitchen table; slides the bags off her forearm. Relieved to be home, as she feels a slight throbbing sensation in her feet. "It's in the first bag," she remarks, walking over to Alvera so that he daughter can obtain the requested candy.
"Yay, thanks mom," she states as Caera carries her over to the bag, using Alvera's short arms to open the bag, with Caera extracting the candy out for her; softly placing her hand on top of its sangria colored wrapping. A grateful smile upon the doll's face. Conversely, Caera's face gradually returns to a stoic, emotionless expression as she carries her daughter back to the chair.
She senses something is amiss within the home, but cannot place her finger on what. It's not a person, as she would have heard rummaging sounds or another set of footprints if someone had dared roam around their haven. None of those are prevalent presently. The only footsteps that can be heard are her own.
No, this is deeper than that. It feels like a mystical aura of sorts, being emitted by the house itself. Sending a message to her. Informing her of something, but not telling her precisely what it is. Hoping that she can use her heightened sense of perception in order to obtain the answer.
"Mommy, are you okay?" she hears Alvera softly ask, tilting her head over. Noticing her staring right through her body.
"Yes," she remarks gently, unsure of how else to answer that Question without raising the suspicion of her beloved daughter. Glancing into her beady eyes. Attempting to re-assure her that she is just fine. Despite the change from jovial to devoid on the emotion scale. Even if she does that often, she usually ensures it is when Alvera is either in bed or playing; not when she is sitting there. Even if slightly distracted by the candy in front of her.
Beginning to walk down the hallway, she feels a small tingle in her brain. An indication that her thought about it being an aura belonging to the house itself rather than a singular item is correct, softly laughing to herself. It's an aura she has felt ever since she informed Alvera that they would be taking their vacation soon. As if this was the house's way of attempting to keep them locked within its walls.
"What is it?" she whispers, in the hopes that her internal senses will answer her. Yet they do not. Instead the only answer she receives is her own voice, echoing the Question back at her. "Is this because of what I did? Because that was to protect us. That was to protect Alvera," she continues. Her mind churns as it attempts to conjure up the solution to this puzzle. One that is both simple and complex at the same time. In fact, she has already solved one third of the test. Yes, the aura is being emitted by the house. Where is its point of origin? Why is it emitting this aura? Those are the questions that are still yet to be answered. Questions that eat away at her, with each passing second. Each step she takes.
She glances around, noticing a duller than normal glow from one of the lights at the end of the hall. Another tingle manifesting within her brain, although this one is more of a cautionary one. For it could very well all be a hallucination. This could all be just a trick she is playing on herself; not even an aura. Continuing her survey of the hallway, she notices a small tear hiding within one of her pictures. It's the one on the right hand side of the wall, three feet from the back door.
One of a corn snake, wrapped around a slate grey cross. Painted with watercolor paints on a snow white piece of A1 size paper.. Simply popping out at her, the tear about an inch about the top of the cross. Or tombstone, as it is meant to resemble. A tear she distinctly remembers not being there when she last checked the picture two hours ago. She briefly ponders if Alvera could have accidently torn it, before almost instantly shaking her head. No.
She knows Alvera would never vandalize one of her paintings, though a small pit begins to form within her stomach. Has she accidently torn it while putting it up? Usually, she is extremely cautious when it comes to hanging pictures on the wall, but had she misjudged the height of the nail on the wall? Or picked it up the wrong way? Attempting to cast her mind back to when she had placed the picture on the wall, she shakes her head once more.
She vividly remembers the paper being tearless; without any blemishes when she surveyed it, and she has a photographic memory. Which leaves just one solution left, as outlandish as it may appear to most people. Those who would be considered neurotypical. That is, this is the origin point for the aura. That this is the house, attempting to send some sort of message that only Caera can truly understand. That her sense of perception would lead her to this very picture.
Softly peering at the plaster behind the hole, she taps it with the tips of her left fingers. Attempting to see if there is anything behind the plaster that could have caused such a tear without being noticed. Or possibly even a piece of surveillance equipment so that she can possibly kill that bird while she is at it.
"I know you're in there," she chillingly hisses, having heard a thudding sound with her taps. Indicating that there is something, if not someone, concealed within the wall. How did it or they get there, is another Question altogether; one that not even Caera truly knows the answer to. At least, not yet. "Don't worry, I won't hurt you... I have no desire to make you suffer," she proceeds by saying, her eyes searching around the room for a tool that can pull the plaster away; reveal precisely what it is she is dealing with. Yet not finding anything of use.
What she does find, however, is how the piece of equipment was stationed behind the plaster, without as much as damaging it. Whoever had inserted it, had done so by removing the loose balsa wood that separates the wall from the floor; sliding it behind the wall. Ensuring that it remained nestled away, yet functional. Which leads to the Question of who could have done this? It's not like Caera has all too many guests.
They have been as reclusive; isolated as they come ever since the disappearance of her parents. She felt as if she had lost the last shard of herself. Stripped away; turned into smoldering ash at her feet. A loss that managed to pierce through her icy veneer; connect with the gentle, caring girl that resides underneath. A girl that not even Caera remembers anymore. A girl that is imprisoned within the tundra that has become her soul.
So, if there had been no guests that had arrived, or ventured down this hall, could Caera have secretly recorded herself; convinced herself that it was somebody else, in order to try and subconsciously pry herself away from these surroundings; remind herself of the vacation she promised her daughter? After all, how else could she have perceived something was there within that particular wall, even with heightened senses, unless she was the one who installed it? It might just be the most likely answer to her own Question, as a coy smile crosses her lips.
As if she knows who installed it; what the piece of equipment is. Pulling the balsa wood aside, she drops down to the floor. Her eye line level with the gap; tugs calmly at a jet black cord. Reeling it in; revealing an old video camera. One that had to have been made between the years of 2005 and 2009. Though the camera itself isn't what Caera is focused on. Even as she lifts it up whilst rising to her own feet. No.
What does catch her attention is the name engraved onto the right hand side of the camera. Halfway up; halfway between the lens and back of the camera. The name being Pierre. A long time friend of her fathers, who had lent him this very camera three weeks before he vanished. If it was her dad who had placed the camera here; why? And how had it been able to record at all? The answer to that, would be a scuff mark in the plaster that amazingly, Caera hadn't even noticed prior to figuring out the balsa wood solution; shown by her raising her right hand; pie facing herself. She follows it up with a gentle laugh, continuing to glance at the camera.
Fascinated by what it may have captured without her, or anyone else, noticing. Yet also being unable to answer exactly when it had been installed, so as to truly be able to attribute the camera to any singular person. Sighing gently, she swivels her body so that she is facing the direction she came from. Cradling the camera in her arms as she saunters.
"Why?" she softly inquires to herself. Not knowing how to even justify secreted; discreetly recording this house, or the residents within. Even if it was her father who had committed the act. Especially if it was this video that had leaked. If this was the source material for the outside world; IIW to learn about her. Pry her away from the sanctuary she has created for herself and her daughter. Yet she is also impressed.
It had remained functional in the four years since she assumed it had been placed there; was able to record through a small hole. One that had been masked by makeshift plaster; painted so that nobody would suspect it was there. She stares forward, her expression stoic as she wonders internally if there are other cameras that were implanted. Whether they were done so by her father or another; where they may have elected to hide them.
Shaking her head softly, she wanders over to the coffee table, past Alvera; toward the window. Placing the video camera down. She'll unlock its secrets later, when Alvera is in bed; all that keeps her company is the sounds of the night. For it's for her eyes; her eyes only. She does not wish for Alvera to feel scared. To feel as if she has been violated... To hold the scars. The turmoil that knowing this would cause her.
"Is... Is this why dad wouldn't let us into the back room?" she ponders, unable to break free from her fixation. Her obsessive yearning to at least have some inclination of the truth. As if she was intended to find this cameral the house wished for it. Why else would it have led her directly to this camera? Her mind continues racing through possibilities. Through various passages; portions of her life that might be able to shed at least a shred of light onto the tale that might be told.
Her fixation is broken up by the sound of Alvera stating "Mommy?" from her seat. A small hint of nervousness, if not worry, hidden within the statement. Yet Caera simply stares up, devoid of any emotion. Cold. Almost as if she had seen a mouth move, but not heard even a single word. "Mommy?" Alvera states again, this time louder; more anxiety behind it. Her eyes, although unwavering in their steely stare, mask the fear. The apprehension that something may have happened to the only girl she has known. The only girl who has cared for her.
"Yes, darling," Caera finally responds, though Alvera senses something is amiss. Simply by how flat; cold the word is when it leaves her lips. A manner that Alvera has associated with peril, due to how infrequently she uses this particular pitch. "I'm okay," she remarks softly, having sensed the nervous aura emitting itself from the doll. An attempt to reassure her; ensure she doesn't begin to needlessly fret or panic.
"Okay," Alvera replies gently, as Caera steps back; glances across into her eyes. Exhaling as she attempts to lock away the thoughts. The paranoia running through her mind and into ensuring that everything is organized; prepared for when they set off on their vacation. When they venture into fields unknown, acclimatize with a world they know next to nothing about.
Which, as much as she will obscure it behind a stoic, bitterly cold veil, excites her. It warms her inside, to know that she is able to say she, at least to an extent, escaped from the chains. The misery that has lingered within these chambers; explored new horizons. Alongside her daughter, something she could never lay claim to have done with her own mother. For her, this is just as much about her reliving a childhood she never truly received, as it is about ensuring Alvera gets as fulfilling a childhood as possible.
Turning her body toward the left, facing the front of the room; more specifically, the Television screen, which is currently switched off, Caera exhales. Softly quipping "Soon, our lives shall be reborn," in reference to this vacation. This means emotional rebirth for the pair of them. For she knows deep down, that she needs this escape. This fresh start is as much as Alvera. That no matter how much she attempts to deny it. As much as she attempts to lock it away inside of her mind... she had accepted the IIW proposal for herself, as much as she did for Alvera; their vacation.
The sky is pitch black, as Caera's footsteps softly touch the dewy, crisp grass on her family's farm in North Spearfish. Having needed to take some time away for herself. To attempt to find some clarity. Answer the questions that have been lingering inside of her. Not the ones about her parents, which has previously been her primary motivation for visiting this farm. Instead, these are questions about herself. Predominantly the queries about why she elected to say 'yes' to IIW, despite having limited knowledge about them. About the sport they operate within. Or even how they managed to find out about her, save for a few videos they may or may not have been able to access.
Exhaling, she surveys the vast; open farmland, attempting to make out any auras that don't fit in. Auras that may indicate something amiss, yet she doesn't find any. It is deathly quiet aside from the sounds of her footsteps; chirping of crickets residing in nearby trees. A gentle smile crossing her face as she listens to their serenading song.
"Just listen to them," she states, laughing softly as she reaches up with her right hand; pulls down her hood. "Aren't they just fascinating?" she poses this Question to an audience of herself; the surrounding trees. Giggling to herself, in a similar vein to how Alvera has always giggled at the song of the crickets. Even though she is back in her cot, fast asleep. Yet deep down, their emotional connection makes it so that, at least within Caera's mind, she is cradled within her arms. Experiencing this alongside her.
Curling her lips upward, she continues her walk, pondering exactly what she wishes to say next. To her, this is completely new. Not just in terms of the travelling, but also in terms of the purpose for the travelling. Much like people outside of her circle of two know about her, she knows nothing about their circle either. She has a very limited knowledge of wrestling or how to approach speaking about it. Even in a secluded private setting like this. It wasn't the only reason she made this visit, but it is the primary one lingering on her mind currently.
After all, she is uprooting herself; Alvera and traversing the Atlantic Ocean in order to arrive at IIW, when prior, the furthest they had traveled was to Montana; that was three years ago, when they visited her grandpa. Since then, they have only ventured outside of the state once. Last year, when Caera spent two nights in Sundance. Admiring its beauty, much as she is doing now.
"Will you play with me?" she remarks, softly giggling as she glances around. Envisioning an audience converging upon her as she stands atop a podium. Surveying the area; scouring around to see if anyone can hear her. Aside from the crickets and the farm itself. "I promise I won't hurt you." she sweetly remarks, the grass underneath her feet squelching with every step as she stares forward. Her eyes hiding an icy, cold stare. "Whatever you want to play, we can. I don't mind," she comments, hoping the combination of the offer; her sweet, serenading voice will be enough to conjure up interest. To ensure that her words are known, that to her... the IIW is just a new playground.
A new dollhouse, much like the one she shares with Alvera. Though it won't be coming with them to England, for she alone doesn't have the ability to move it. "We'll have so much fun," her statement higher pitched, she continued making her way through the farmland. Allowing the air surrounding her to fill her lungs before she tilts her head to the right; glares coldly at the barbed wiIe fencing.
Designed to prevent the animals of the farm from escaping and keep invading animals or people from being able to enter. Especially considering the issues there have been on this farm over the past few years. Cows escaping and wandering onto the streets and Coyotes attacking farmland. She tilts her head forward, stating:
"I can't wait to play with you." in a cute voice, flashing a loving smile. As if she was a schoolgirl. "Let you peek behind the curtains of the dollhouse; see what goes on when it is just us," She softly giggles, inhaling as she begins to slowly skip. "You and I, playing together. The toys all in our hand, as we reveal our true auras to one another." her inflection becoming more sadistic, she continues skipping. Humming a slow, gothic oriented waltz. The gentle breeze brushing against her skin.
"As we begin to discover who we truly are..." she exhales, before following up with: "And the secrets we hide within ourselves," as she reaches the fencing at the end of the farm. Halting her skipping in front of it, she whispers "I'm sure we'll get along just fine," before reaching up with her right hand; placing it under her jaw, and blowing a kiss out to the sky. Directed at IIW. The location where she will commence her playing. Her induction into wrestling and the paths it shall lead her, and Alvera, down as they continue to unlock their truths.