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 ⠀ ⠀ contrary to popular belief, DEATH WAS KIND. she reaped souls in the form of what would bring the souls more comfort, though it was not always so easy— the woman in front of her was the perfect example. LENA KIERAN LUTHOR WAS A HARD WOMAN TO COMFORT, A HARD WOMAN TO GAUGE FOR THE ENTITY. then again, she had never truly paid a lot of attention to lena. SHE ONLY WAITED TO COLLECT HER.
             ⠀ ⠀ the entity took a moment to examine the surroundings she found herself in— the pills decorating the glass of a beautiful table, the woman who looked as though she’d been crying non-stop for weeks, the bottle she held so tightly like her life depended on it. THE WOMAN WAS SUFFERING, AND FOR ONCE, DEATH KNEW WHY THIS TIME. she was not a mind reader, but this was all because of her— BECAUSE OF HER JOB, BECAUSE OF WHAT SHE WAS CREATED TO DO.
             ⠀ ⠀ rio moved to sit across from the other woman, her ankles tucked beneath her knees as she rested her hands against her thighs. the cloak she donned covered her, though it was not enough to shroud her in the darkness she usually found comfort in. SHE WAS EXPOSED TO THE WOMAN, IN A WAY SHE NEVER TRULY LET HERSELF BE. while alcohol would not do anything to her, the whole point of this was to bring the woman any sort of comfort.
             ⠀ ⠀ “of course, lena.” anything she desired, death would be willing to accommodate JUST THIS ONCE.

@immortaIshe ACT I: DON’T FEAR THE REAPER 
            
            SHES SEEN THAT FACE BEFORE though it APPEARS YOUNGER—KINDER NOW—STILL HAUNTS HER DREAMS.  those damned dark eyes watching from afar. HOW HAUNTING IT MUST BE, to lurk around every corner, just out of sight and STILL BE KNOWN. It took awhile to piece the puzzle together, took a lifetimes worth of gleaning upon the woman to understand the OMEN SHE WAS. DEATH FOLLOWED LENA FOR QUITE SOME TIME NOW, BUT ONLY NOW DID THE LUTHOR KNOW THE EXTENT OF HER SHADOW. 
            
            
            [ ENTER SCENE: METROPOLIS, KANSAS, LUTHORS PENTHOUSE: 12:52 AM. } 
            
            LUTHOR FINDS HERSELF DROWNING MOST NIGHTS, STUCK IN THE ENDLESS MAELSTROMS OF HER OWN FAILURES. BUT THIS IMPOSSIBLE NIGHT, SHE FELT HERSELF PULLED DEEPER INTO THE PIT OF DARKNESS. PERHAPS IT WAS THE RAGING STORM KNOCKING AGAINST THE WINDOWS, OR MAYBE IT WAS THE BOTTLE OF THE DEEPEST RED SHE NURSED TO HER LIPS—CRADLING THE BOTTLE LIKE THE BABE SHE’D NEVER HOLD. THIS NIGHT, felt different from the others, SOMETHING ELECTRIC IN THE AIR, something rotten from deep within. THE ARRAY OF PILLS LITTERED THE GLASS COFFEE TABLE LIKE TINY STARS THAT WOULD SWIN THE SEA OF VAN HORNE. 
            
            THE VOICE RINGS IN HER EARS, A PAINFUL ECHO POUNDING HER HEAD. SHE DARES NOT MOVE FROM HER SPON ON THE CARPET, DARES NOT BRING HER EYES TO MEET THOSE SO EYES SO DARK AND FAMILIAR.  ❝ YET, ❞ A PAUSE, accompanied by the bottle to her lips. She lets the words linger on her tongue before bringing herself to speak. ❝ here WE are. ❞ such a vapid girl, always walking on a double edged sword, LIVING HER LIFE ON BLEEDING FEET AND CLENCHED FISTS.  
            
            
            ❝ DRINK WITH ME, WILL YOU ? ❞

/   i hope this was okay, i was RUSHING to write this while i had a few moments of peace. (‘:

/     she   DOESN'T  deserve  nothing ?    so   you  agree   she   does   deserve   things  ?   so   glad   we   agree   babes   xxx

@RE2S8NED / couldn’t even survive a homoerotic friendship, she doesn’t deserve NOTHING 

/    STOP   THIS   MADNESS

/      HELP   I  FORGOT   ABOUT   BALD   LENA

@RE2S8NED / she doesn’t deserve Justice, she hardly deserves her hair be lucky I haven’t made her bald 

/     im   like   two  seconds   away   from   choking   you  myself.    justice   for   a  luthor...   deserved  !?!?!?!

@thirdwire / seven is my favorite number for a reason xoxox LET ME STOP

[2] LENAS CALCULATING, tiptoeing around words that could dampen the extent of this newfound COMPANY. ❝ Clark, personally I think that maybe she’s right in her feelings. ❞ it takes everything in the luthor to not BITE HIM with her canines, to tear into him for pushing off a side HE didn’t understand.  Instead, she readjusts on the sofa, curling bare feet beneath her.
            
            ❝ I think the best thing you could do is leave her alone.  ❞ A SHRUG IS ALL THAT FOLLOWS, ALL THAT SHE IS WILLING TO GIVE HIM.  it’s simple, SPITE FILLED, and edged on the tip of a RAZOR BLADED TONGUE.  maybe this will pop his bubble of COMFORT, slap him into reality with a HARAH CRASH. he deserves that, DESERVES TO TASTE THE BITTERNESS OF ANGER to share the cup of HATRED WITH THE REST OF THEM. 

@callaways [1] THERES A CERTAIN ALLURE TO THE STERILE PENTHOUSE. ITS PICTURE-LESS WALLS AND STRATEGICALLY ORGANIZED SHELVES APPEAR ALMOST UNLIVED, DESPITE A LIPSTICK STAINED WINE GLASS ATOP PRISTINE MARBLE TOP.  ITS A PICTURE STRAIGHT FROM A CATALOG, or maybe even a desperate cry for help.( CLEANLINESS, PURITY. I SHALL SURROUND MYSELF IN WHITE WALLS AND MAYBE THERE WILL BE NO GHOSTS HOLDING ON. I SAINT IN SOLITUDE. ) 
            
            [ LUTHOR PENTHOUSE, AFTER DARK, A DRINK BETWEEN FRIENDS ] 
            
            gone are the stilettos and dresses that kill—traded in plainly for a sweatshirt three times too big to a college she didn’t even attend.  fresh linen and distant plumeria fill the air, along with the soft laughter that comes and goes as new friends pass the line of ACQUAINTANCE AND A DEEPER SIDE IS EXPOSED.   THERES A BOTTLE BETWEEN THEM, OLDER THAN THE BOTH OF THEM COMBINED—SPARINGLY POURED FROM TIME TO TIME IN AWAITING GLASSES BEGGING TO BE SPILLED.  
            
            This moment is a rarity in all its sense , a side to herself that is often DISREGARDED FOR HER OWN GOOD. despite the pushing , she’s enjoying it none the less—the gossip, the POINTLESS comments and meaningless jokes. BUT SOMEWHERE IN THE MIDSTS THE CONVERSATION TURNS TO A POINT OF SENSITIVITY: FAMILY.  Somewhere in the idols ranting, he strikes a nerve with the luthor, and slowly enough she freezes in front of him—JAW CLENCHING, CHEEKS DRAINING.  SHES THE SISTER, THE UNGRATEFUL DAUGHTER, AND YET HE SITS IN FRONT OF HER AND COMPLAINS THROUGH HIS SILVER SPOON FED MOUTH TO A WOMAN HES DESCRIBING WITHOUT REALIZING. 

@dissoIution  /.  luthors first <3

@katvna / log out xoxo

/.   you'll never take me alive

[ @execkill ]
            THE POUR IS MUSCLE MEMORY: HEAVY AND UNKIND. ITS MESSAGE IS CLEAR WITHIN THE NAME ALONE. HER PERSONAL PRAYER , THE LATE NIGHT INJECTABLE HIGH IN A GLASS. SHE POURS A GLASS FOR HER SELF, DISREGARDING THE RED UPON HER DESK.  ❝  Do you get off on a power dynamic, or is this your way of being insufferably different?  ❞  BODY TILTS FORWARD, GLASS EXTENDED WITH SUCH DILIGENCE, SHE MIGHT AS WELL BE HOLDING A TICKING BOMB.  Lena waits, GAZE UNMOVING AS ICE MELTS WITHIN THE IRIS AND BOILS TO A NEW DEGREE. ❝ come on now, don’t make me WAIT. IM ENJOYING THIS GAME ALREADY.  ❞  
            
            Once taken, Luthor takes her place directly across from the woman, smirk plastered across rep lips UNTIL THERE IS THE TINEST CRACK IN THE CORNER. A QUIVER OF DISGUST AS IF INSTINCT ENOUGH. [ I AM MORE THAN WHATEVER VERSION OF ME SHES PLANTED. ] IT DOESN’T LAST LONG, NO, INSTEAD LUTHOR RECOILS, SPIRALING INWARD UNTIL MEET WITH THE GNASHING OF HER OWN TEETH, HER CANINES BARRING INTO HER OWN DELICATE FLESH. THE STING IS JUST ENOUGH TO SET HER ALIGHT. 
            
            ❝ MERCY . .   ❞   the name brings BITTER WARMTH to her tongue as if she’s recalling her OWN PLEASURE OF A NOT SO DISTANT MEMORY, HER OWN MISTAKES, HER OWN HIGH. SHE SMILES, FOR JUST A BRIEF MOMENT, AS IF SHE KNOWS THE WOLRDS SECRETS, AND IN DUE TIME SHE JUST MIGHT. ❝  is a snake charmer . . . a VERY skilled one that is.   ❞  THE WORDS HUM THROUGH A CLENCHED JAW, BUT HER UNNERVING REMAINS UNNOTICED, PLAYED OFF AS INTRIGUE. THE GLASS IS UPTURNED AND EMPTIED IN ONE SWIFT MOVEMENT, LANDING ON THE GLASS TABLE IN A SOFT ECHO. ❝ but I’m sure YOU know that.  ❞ brow is arched high over temple, and INGENUINE INTENTIONS RETURN. 
            
            ❝ But what do I know? IM NOT THE ADULT HERE.    ❞

II. I’LL TELL YOU THAT MINE IS WARM AND TASTES METALLIC ON THE TONGUE. IT IS A PLEASURE TO SINK MY TEETH IN AS DEEP AS THEY CAN GO AND WATCH THE BLOOD BEAD AT THE SURFACE, DRIPPING RED. YOU SHARE THIS DESIRE ALL THE SAME, I SEE IT ON YOUR LIPS AND I FELT IT ON HERS. YOU KNOW WHAT I AM AND I KNOW WHAT YOU ARE, WE ARE NO STRANGER TO THE ADDICTION WE ALLOW OURSELVES TO BE CONSUMED BY IN AN EFFORT TO SHOCK OUR DEAD SYSTEMS. WHICH WILL I CHOOSE? 
            
            WINE OR WHISKEY? 
            
            ❝ I PREFER A MARTINI. ❞ she speaks dryly, her words tainted with more than a splash of dismissal ❝ BUT WE CAN’T ALWAYS GET WHAT WE WANT CAN WE? ❞ a small glass is pushed by her fingers, sliding it across the white table where it stops near the edge in the direction of the whiskey bottle in hand, awaiting its fill. 
            
            ❝ SHE TOLD ME YOU WOULD BE ATTENTIVE. ALTHOUGH I DON’T HAVE MUCH OF AN IMAGINATION, I CAN SEE WHY SHE MENTIONED THAT DETAIL. ❞ her name remains unspoken in a purposeful effort to sink under the skin, to make one become intoxicated by anticipation without taking a sip of fluid. ❝ GRAVES HASN’T SPOKEN A LIE TO ME ONCE. SURELY YOU CAN SEE WHY I TRUST HER JUDGEMENT. ❞

I. ❝ BETWEEN THE TWO OF US THERE’S ONLY ONE ADULT IN THIS ROOM. ❞ if it were not for the trained tightness of her facial nerves she would have taken this time to smile as broadly as the familiar face they had both come to know, though it would not be one fit to grace billboards nor flashing monitors in times square, no, it would be deliciously terrible. this is the face of a killer that takes aim and finds thrill in the anticipation of wounding. ❝ YOU AND I BOTH KNOW WHO THAT IS AND IF YOU DON’T, CLEARLY, THE VALUE OF INTELLIGENCE IS LIMITED TO A THREE DIGIT SCORE. ❞ this mouth is a gun and in it lies a bullet, shot out from frigid lips with a quickness that is as natural as her gesture towards the luthor (done as if she is making a point during a meeting with a difficult client, a statement of brutal truth) 
            
            SHARPE EYES FOLLOW HER MOVEMENTS, EXAMINE THEIR SLOWNESS AND HOW SHE TAKES EVERY SECOND OF TIME TO TURN TOWARDS HER ONCE MORE. A CIRCLE SHE MAKES AND A CIRCLE IT IS THAT THEY DO SHARE, A PERSONAL ORBIT THAT SHE HAS INVADED— THROWING THE PLANETS OUT OF ALIGNMENT AND SNATCHING ITS STARS OUT OF THEIR GALAXIES. I’VE MADE A MESS OF YOUR LITTLE WORLD HAVEN’T I? AN ENORMOUS ONE. ANSWER ME THIS, LUTHOR: DO YOU UNDERSTAND THE ENORMITY OF /MY/ DESIRE? THIS VIOLENT URGE TO FUSE MYSELF WITH ANOTHER, STEAL A PULSE AND PRETEND IT IS MY OWN? CONSUME THE STARS INTO THE BLACK HOLE THAT HAS BECOME OF MY HEART WHERE THEY BURN ALL TOO QUICKLY. DO YOU PRETEND TO BE A STRANGER TO INDULGENCE?