* sweet / LIFE.

the voice passes through her like ice. familiar, but not in the way a childhood blanket feels. rather the sound of raised voices through muffled plaster. it belonged to a woman she’d hoped to find and hide from in equal parts for years. and she knows this without even turning around. from the click of heels alone she could have guessed… no one on rafael’s faculty bothered with anything more than a two inch heel.

“it’s just cora now.” the redhead answers, eyeing the other warily from across the room. fingertips digging into the desk chair that she grips between them like a raft. or shield. 

blue eyes narrow on the other, fighting the urge to flee. she thinks of all the tricks that she’s gathered in her time here, ways to combat the consuming grief and anxiety, to stop them before they control her, lead her to lash out. even so, she can feel the crackle of power beneath the skin. sparks that jump as she fails to swallow a retort, “were you studying orienteering the rest of the time?”

cora blinks away, glancing round the room before offering a shrug. like it’s obvious. “school. charles always said boarding would sort me out.” she arches a brow, defensive, “why are you here, cynthia?”

just cora. the correction alone is enough to expose the chasm between them, and cynthia can nearly see the earth split in the classroom. not to mention the sea of objects between them, chairs and tables making layers of ramparts. cynthia wanted to believe that she was the defender — the innocent city to which cordelia had laid siege. yet both of them knew that wasn’t true. her appearance here was the true invasion. 

cynthia has to flex her hand gently to release the knotting in her veins. poorly-suppressed rage hung in the air, among whispers of revenge. this was not a place for happy people. not that cynthia’d ever been happy outside of it, either. 

but she smiles, somewhat cruelly — her little sister had grown a mouth. under better circumstances, she would’ve been so proud. “ that bloody headmaster does a good job of covering this place’s tracks. ” a flippant, useless excuse, but one nonetheless. she takes a seat at the farthest end of the room, brows rising in over-dramatised offence. “ you can take it up with charles. ” after all, he wasn’t the one to show up. 

speak of the devil. charles had the uncanny ability to bend the world to his will, even if he wasn’t a mutant. if he wanted cora out of sight, she would be. what could cynthia do about it ? she couldn’t break his bones without being shipped off herself. a fate worse than death, she decided, now that she was here. 

i wanted to see how you were getting on, is what she wanted to say. what she does instead, is ignore the question. “ how do you like it ? ”

crystal eyes scan the room, her frosted pink lips pursed in a lazy smirk as she picks through the cacophony of mental noise. honing in on one voice to the next in the vain hope that something useful crops up. mostly it’s the desperate thoughts of middle-aged men, fretting over wives, debts, their waning libido… nothing she can linger on for long without the urge to gag. as she flags a waiter down for a refill, however, she catches on a familiar thread of irritation mixed with an anxious impatience. her eyes flit up up over her fresh martini, a wry smile curving her lips.

noah. 

“just the one.” poppy lets out a melodramatic sigh, fingertips tapping a rhythm onto the table where her sizable winnings sit. “it’s just so hard to throw a game for the sake of an insignificant mind.”

with one clean sweep, she drops her chips into the bedazzled purse in her lap before patting the seat beside her. his lingering height would draw eyes soon. “how are the odds looking this evening, felix?” the blonde quirks a teasing brow, scanning the surrounding tables with a look of faux interest. “it would be nice to cash in big this evening…”

she drops her voice, “and security should fancy a break around nine.”

as he perches at her table, noah fails to conceal a sigh. the man opposite her has a terrible hand in this round — so terrible that even a ten high would be a stroke of luck. judging by the stack of chips on poppy’s end, it’s clear the night has been ill-fated for him indeed. 

“ you’ve robbed him, ” he murmurs, half admiring and half pitying as she collects her prize. without another word, he sits. he wasn’t an impatient man, but these jobs were unpleasant, if he were frank. he’d much rather be home in his nightrobes with a book than here, with so many prying eyes. 

the mention of his codename elicits the smallest of winces. really, did he look like a felix ? good that her question is interesting enough that he’s distracted by it. he takes in a deep breath, a final check of all the calculations. he had a plan down to the second, as was typical, and precision was necessary. though he had to be present, alert, chatting idly with the bartenders and hosts, his mind was far removed from the place he occupied. 

it always began with a question to himself: what’s the odds of security leaving the vault alone for ten minutes ? an answer would pop up, almost like a reminder. thirty percent. 

not good. the odds had to be affected. “ care to head to the private booths ? i think you could beat anyone down here. ” a signal of course — saying we have to move. 

REASONS THEY WOULD WORK OUT

anne vc: i know you ... i walked with you once upon a dream ...

franz is literally the project anne has been waiting for. parent issues, sibling issues, romance issues ... this looks like a job for her, where’s her toolbox.

franz wouldn’t necessarily lead her on just to break her heart ... so that’s a win ? feminist king ? 

they do have some things in common, sort of. franz likes philosophy rather than art but they’re all adjacent, wouldn’t you say ? they could probably have an interesting conversation, at the very least.

anne definitely thinks he’s cute judging by her taste, and franz doesn’t quite reciprocate but hey, he likes when people love him. 

REASONS THEY WOULDN’T WORK OUT

franz vc in response to anne vc: yo alina are you wearing pink LMAOOOOO

the way he treated jo is inexcusable to anne and she will— she will give him a STERN talking to about respecting people’s feelings !!! during which of course he will put on headphones instead of listening. 

anne is just so ... CONCERNED about everything, which franz cannot comprehend for the life of him. they’re a more sardonic version of this gifset. 

anne has been burned by far too many tech bros, i fear. and winnie and poppy would make sure franz doesn’t come within 10 kms of anne.

noah would say he couldn’t believe his luck — except he absolutely could. the casino heist was child’s play, bringing to their vaults a grand total of one million dollars in gold ingots. what a hoarder that proprietor was. coming back from a mission and pouring a glass of scotch felt especially good after such a success. 

but there was some explaining to do once he headed back to their hideout, between taking off his coat and getting himself a drink. 

“ what good would magnets have done, really ? ” he posed, with caution. “ trust me, it wasn’t even that big an operation. ”

come to think of it, maybe her portals would’ve been useful transporting their loot efficiently out of the casino, whittling down their time. the idea that he’d been a fool to leave her out enters his mind quickly, but leaves soon enough too. kamala’s story didn’t stand on solid enough ground to involve her too deeply — if at all — in their business. even her knowing they were on an assignment was a liability. right ?

... right. he owed himself the drink now. 

she should’ve waited. 

to act this fast was very unlike her, she’d admit at the first chance. all she’d been doing ‘til then was waiting in her car, watching for activity around the maldon hotel, suspected to be the centre of a mutant informant network. watching was the key word, in opposition to acting. if anything came up, she’d call for backup, and initiate a proper investigation, warrants and all. 

but a familiar blonde had slipped out of a sports car and headed right into a hotel lobby, and zaira was compelled by the forces of the devil to follow. she really had to get that quickness of hers under control — any day now, someone would mark it as out of character. 

not that night, thankfully. she nodded politely at the doorman and took an idle seat right opposite the blonde on the lobby sofas, somewhat pleased with her recognition from a hundred meters away.

“ how wonderful it is to see you, ms. bryant, ” she lilted, imagining gritting her teeth. “ indeed, the restaurants here really are fabulous, even if you’re not a guest. ”

the hallway stunk of bad memories. 

it was a bizarre change of scene for the winchester heir, rather used to golden cocoons of comfort and secrecy regarding her powers. here, the safe house, which cynthia had been assured was not a place of fear or judgement, felt like those things compounded together and multiplied by a factor of ten. it was looking a hideous reality in the eye after years of avoidance. 

but the confrontation was as necessary as the avoidance. 

“ cordelia, ” she called into the classroom, with confidence rather than as a question. there were plenty of young and careless mutants at this school, but she could sense where her own sister was. that was the leas expected of her, wasn’t it ?

“ it took me three weeks to find you, ” she whined, as if it were an exhausting affair. for years, she’d not bothered to reach out. “ what is this place ? ”

noah tucked the dainty business card into his pocket as he descended to the parlor, as it really was far too beautiful to throw away. the kairos casino spared no expense on its aesthetic, that was certain. pink and purple flowers, the scent of jasmine and the sound of running water followed you around. each part designed to keep you hooked. 

had he been younger, he’d have been the latest catch in the trap. now, his mind was focused on the mission. 

in many ways, it was simple. rob the proprietor blind. there was a 7% chance, exactly, of the man in question arriving at the casino that particular night, lower than any other that month. hence, it was chosen. he spotted his company for the evening at a lone table and suppressed a sigh. work began then, even if there was play everywhere else. 

“ have you played a round ? ” he inquired, light but nearly envious. there was no point to games of chance when you knew the odds before the deck was even shuffled. 

— @dcmeterwrites​ ! ( adam )

     teeth sliced harshly into the inside of evelyn’s cheek, repressing a wince as she took slow steps into the infirmary. she wasn’t just good ; she was the best there was. it came to no bigger frustration than to herself that one scum of a mutant had gotten a brief one-up on her. it only lasted for a moment but a moment had been long enough for the man’s claws to sink into her ribcage, the thick armored top now stained by pierce marks and her blood. 

     oh, well. she would live. the same couldn’t be said for other. his surprise attack had been exactly what the blonde needed to wrestle him to the ground, her blade eventually slicing into jugular like butter. mission complete.

      silently, she headed for the medicine cabinet, shoving it open to retrieve the bottle of antiseptic. not even glancing behind her, her fingers quickly wrapped around one of the neatly folded towels, chucking it behind her and in adam’s direction for him to use at his own discretion. they had never needed words to communicate. oddly enough, he was perhaps the one person on this planet that she felt in tune with. had been for the past decade. 

          she eyed the roll of gauze that laid on the counter, presently closer to adam than herself, but didn’t speak a word to ask for it. instead, she lifted the armored top carefully, not even hesitating before she poured the antiseptic onto the wound. her teeth deceptively gritted together to mask a grimace.

      sure, she couldn’t die but she sure as hell could still feel pain.

adam’s jacket was tainted on practically every square inch after that mission — by mud, blood and sweat. a shame, really, because it wasn’t the standard issue army jacket, but a gift from his father. it had hidden pockets, heat and cold resistance — anything an ordinary soldier couldn’t dream of, and frankly, didn’t deserve. it’d have to be trashed now. he tossed it carelessly in a corner of his quarters, making a mental note to burn it.

apart from that — the mission had succeeded. not without it’s costs, but claws to the rib were nothing e couldn’t handle. he’d been too far away, fending off the mutant’s screaming sibling, whose skin burned at the touch. once you broke through skin, however, mutants were all just human on the inside. twisting anyone’s guts with a ten-inch blade spelled their death. that was the first and only lesson he’d ever needed on the field. anyone can die. 

well. he smirked to himself out of the blue. anyone among them can die. 

“ want me to do it ? ” he threw her way idly. it didn’t come from a place of compassion, or belittling. just from a place of him having nothing to recuperate from. while she took her time to respond, he logged in the final details of the assignment. two targets, two dead, case closed. their next assignment would arrive before dawn. until dawn, however, they could rest. 

whatever rest meant anymore. 

@dcmeterwrites ( anne bryant )

“i swear if i eat one more brownie i’ll go into sugar shock.”

after her first round of overly baked goods ( it tastes like dust, she’d murmured to her sister ), she’d managed to plaster a fake smile on her face, nodding along at anne’s compliments. the second had proved a struggle but she suffered a few bites in suffering silence before discreetly spitting them into her napkin. now she had taken to claiming every intolerance in the book as another hockey puck cookie was passed her way. 

judging from the looks on her fellow faculties faces, the lie didn’t go down smooth.

“what’s all this for again?” she glances about for a crudely drawn poster, “instruments for deaf kids? anne…” her lips are pursed, knowing full well anne would not appreciate a joke. “come on.”

“ the whipped cream helps ! ” 

anne struggles for a bit with a plastic bag of paper plates, trying not to betray her inability to exert violent force on anything that made a squeak when it tore. all in all, the bake sale was — it was going. something to be said for that. money was in fact flowing into the dusty old cash register at the front of the hall. she’d contributed two dozen cookies, two cakes and a botched pie, a long saturday’s work. 

she tilts her head in confusion. “ like ... hearing aids, you mean ? no, no — just for the hospital in downtown. they could use some coolers and aircon units. ” she waves at a wandering customer just then, even if her palms are white with flour. 

ALTERNATE TIMELINE ; the timeline in which something important to them happened in a different stage of life.