heretical women

@hcretics

Lena had known going in that it would be a terrible idea to show up. Veronica Sinclair never offered Lena any assurances that she might be trustworthy even when they were young. Why would that have changed now? Why should Lena believe that, after all this time, Veronica had mended her ways and decided to run a legitimate business? Well, perhaps legitimate wasn’t the proper word but… a business that employed willing and consenting employees. As for the technical legality of it… Lena hadn’t decided how to handle that as of yet. First, she wanted to see it. 

She wore one of her racier dresses, black with a plunging v-neck and a tight skirt. Her long hair was up in a bun, away from the mask that obscured half of her face. She fit right in with everyone else and watched, silent, as things unfolded in the ring. It was brutal and bloody and… Lena couldn’t watch it for long. Violence had never been something she was interested in and, besides, there was so much more to be learned by watching the viewers instead. 

They all appeared to be Human and all of them were well-dressed. She noted expensive watches and jewelry, marking off an estimate of how much each person was worth. Everyone seemed focused on the match and people kept shifting to get better looks as the fighters moved around the ring. Which meant that Lena was able to surreptitiously capture pictures through the tiny camera she had installed in her mask, making note of everything she could see. 

The crowd all gasped in horror as a loud crunch echoed in the abandoned warehouse that was shortly followed by a mixture of delight and disappointment as those who had placed bets saw the final results. Lena caught a glimpse of the downed fighter, her heart clenching in her chest at the sight of long, bloody hair and a too-pale face. Was she Human? Or was she simply a Human who looked alien? 

On an impulse, Lena headed the direction as the injured fighter, following her trail at a distance. She had no idea what she expected to find but she just had to help. She had no idea why she was so compelled to do it but she had to. She was startled when the men carried her outside and then, a few moments later, returned empty handed. 

“She’s fine. You know Roulette is going to have someone pick her up,” one of them said as he pulled a cigarette from his pocket. “She’ll be fine in a few days. We have to go clean up the ring.” 

Lena let the men pass, waiting for their footsteps to disappear before heading out the back door. The blonde was laid on the side of a loading dock, clearly waiting for someone. But she was still unconscious and there was so much blood all over her. Up close, there was something strikingly familiar about this woman but she had no idea why. 

She gently put her hand on the woman’s shoulder and shook her, hoping to rouse her. She waited a few more moments before doing it again to no avail. She glanced over her shoulder and then back at the collection of cars parked nearby, one of hers among them. What if… She chewed on her lip as she considered her options. If things were fine, Lena would just let the fighter go back when she woke up. If not, Lena would be rescuing her. So, win-win, right? Regardless of her choice, she would be helping this woman. 

With that settled, she nodded to herself and got her car and, with great difficulty, managed to get the fighter into the back seat of her car before driving home with her. Lena was never more grateful for her private elevator than she was now because dragging a bloody, limp body through the halls of one’s apartment building was never a good way to make friends. As for the mess in the car… Lena would just have to take it in to be serviced tomorrow. It would be fine. 

By the time Lena got both of them inside and the blonde settled on the guest bed, she was exhausted but she knew she wasn’t done yet. She headed to the kitchen and grabbed a hand towel and a bowl of warm water to clean as much blood off of the fighter as she could because, honestly, she had no idea what the range of her injuries were. For all she knew, most of the blood wasn’t hers. 

She got to work slowly, carefully blotting away the blood lest she irritate an injury as she tried to figure out who this woman reminded her of. Was it a movie character? Something out of a book? A picture she had once seen? 

Luna hated the nights where she had to throw the match. It paid well, which was one of the only reasons why she did it – the other being that Roulette asked, and it wasn’t a good idea to say no if she wanted to keep her position – but it always hurt. That was the whole point, of course, it wasn’t entertaining for the spectators unless there was at least a little blood and broken bones. She also knew that Roulette valued her as a fighter, because she could always guarantee that she’d win, unless specifically asked not to, which meant that she always knew how much money she’d get from the matches. It meant that she knew she wouldn’t actually be harmed, after she’d taken a fall for her. 

Still, it always hurt. Once she was awake and rested, she could heal herself, but until then it was awful. 

She groaned, lifting a trembling hand to her head, and winced faintly at the lump she found on the back of her skull. That would take a little more energy than she had, right now. 

For a few moments ( possibly more than a few but Carlos is never going to openly admit that to anyone ) he panicked. Had he picked the wrong option? Did she want him to not go with her? Honestly that wouldn’t surprise him, but he also didn’t want to be homeless, anything she offered would be better than that. But, he had never considered if she actually wanted him to go with her, sure she asked, but he could easily be a burden if he wasn’t careful. He’d be careful though.

He understood that, her things had been taken, and he had even less, though the FBI seemed to steer clear of the few things that he did consider his. Either they were worthless, or whatever agents were going through his meager belongings decided to have a heart and not take things from a child, because he was watching them, eerily silent as they did their job.

He nodded, and smiled a bit as she mentioned his cat. His companion more or less. He knew she knew about him, but he hadn’t expected her to remember him. But she did, and Carlos couldn’t help that warm feeling creep up. He felt happiness and hope. Maybe this would be good for both of them. “I’ll be right back,” he assured. He quickly left, grabbing his back pack, it had a book or two in it, and a full change of clothes, that was it, that was all he dared bring. He put it on, and grabbed Beelzebub, and headed back towards where he last saw his mom.

“I’m ready,” he called out, louder than perhaps he had ever been inside of the large house, his voice didn’t quite echo in the halls ( even if they were emptier now than he had ever seen them ).

Cruella waited outside, ignoring the looks she got from Ursula and Gold, leaning against the side of her car. She took a long drag on her cigarette, and as she exhaled, she wondered if it really was a good idea to bring Carlos. Whatever Gold’s plan was, it clearly wasn’t going to involve tea and biscuits and reminiscing over gin. He wanted war, and he’d made that clear even if he’d never said the words aloud. 

What place did she have, bringing a boy into a war? She knew she hadn’t been a good mother, but she’d tried to protect her son as best she could, even if it meant having to spend ghastly amounts of time with her husband. Bringing him into a conflict was hardly the best way to continue doing that. 

And yet, he was her son. He belonged in her world as much as she did, and she didn’t want to leave him behind. Maybe he could have a better life there. Maybe he’d make friends. Maybe it was the right decision. 

She’d never doubted herself so much, and she hated doubting herself. 

Starter for @hcretics

Footsteps against the ground below caught Mal’s attention. She had been laying on one of the tree branches, but peering downwards she caught a glimpse of a familiar woman wandering around. Sitting up, a small grin crossed Mal’s face, and bringing her hands to her mouth, she let out a shrill caw to get the woman’s attention. 

“Not as fun when someone else does it to you, huh?” She snickered, lowering her hands and grinning. 

Diaval laughed, tilting her head up and propping her hands on her hips. ‘Well I’m a bird when I do that’, she said, ‘you can hardly blame me. It’s not as if I can help it’. 

He had figured that they couldn’t stay. The FBI seemed to be taking everything. If he was honest he was surprised he wasn’t being taken, not by the FBI, he wasn’t an asset. But by CPS, but then again he still had a parent, who wasn’t going to jail, so that saved him from life of foster care. Well temporarily because it seemed like he was getting a choice, and he honestly had no idea what to make of it. It was nice to be able to choose, he wouldn’t lie. And considering he wasn’t really wanting to go into the system, he had made up his mind.

They would be moving, he could handle that. Moving scared him, but it was necessary. He liked New York enough, but sometimes there were things he didn’t like about it. But moving to a new place, that was nerve wracking. At the mention though of a new start— that well, that really sold him on his decision. A new start meant so many things. A new start meant maybe, just maybe he could forget about his childhood, it was a long shot, but he was allowing himself to be hopeful, which also meant he was trying to combat his nerves.

He had so many questions to ask her, but now wasn’t the time— maybe, He’d ask them eventually he was curious. “When do we leave?” he asked, phrasing the question to answer her own. He was coming with her.

Cruella blinked, surprise flittering across her face for a moment before she managed to school her expression. In truth, she’d expected him to jump at the chance to leave. His life had hardly been good with her. 

“Of course. I’m sure everyone will be happy to have you,” she says with a wave of her hand. Dismissing Lucy’s concerns. “Unless… you don’t want to come? If you don’t want to, then it’s ok. We can just hang out. You and me. But I promise it won’t be awkward,” she adds.

He froze when he first heard his mom ask for him. The gentle knocks on the door seemed to go in time with his pounding heart. There was no reason for that, after all, but Carlos was mostly anxiety these days, so he could hardly be blamed for having such a pounding heart. After all he could be next, right, he saw his— well not his father, he didn’t know his father— be taken away, he could easily be next. In reality he couldn’t be next, but his mind was full of worst case scenarios, which obviously didn’t aid in any anxiety he felt.

So much had been going on, so many people that he didn’t know. It was just easier to hide. It was always easier to hide and be out of the way. He caused the least amount of trouble then. And he did not want to cause anymore trouble for his mom. She was already dealing with alot. He was trying to make it easier for her, in the only ways he really could. It wasn’t much though, he couldn’t do much unfortunately. But he’d deal with that later.

He made his way to the door, and opened it after she said they needed to talk. He figured this was coming, a talk. He had no idea what it would entail, but he figured a talk would be coming. Another thing to add to his nerves because he had no idea what she would want to talk to him about. He swallowed, “What about?” He exited his room, allowing her to be in charge of every aspect of the conversation. It was the little things, and Carlos focused on the little things.

Sometimes Cruella wondered how Carlos could have come from her. He was nothing like her, despite the physical resemblance she could see sometimes. He looked more like his father, and perhaps his temperament was the same, too, but she’d always believed in nurture more than nature. And yet still, no matter which one she put it down to, he’d some how ended up nothing like her. He was a sweet, caring boy, and so far from what she was that half the time she didn’t know what to make of it. 

She knew he’d watched the arrest, but he’d vanished when the FBI began to seize their assets, and for all she knows he’s made a run for it. She wouldn’t exactly blame him if he has, and she has no idea how he’ll react to this new development. It’s possible he won’t want to come with her, and if he doesn’t... she won’t exactly blame him. Maybe the best thing for the boy would be to start again without her. ‘Darling, we need to talk’. 

Lucy’s hand is soft against her cheek, almost surprisingly so with what she knows of her background, and Alura smiles even wider, relieved, exhilarated. This is happening, and it’s dawning on her as fast as their lips approach, making her heart pound as quick as a bird’s. If Lucy’s hand was soft, her lips are even softer, so unlike what she’s experienced before. Her senses get overwhelmed with Lucy’s touch, Lucy’s taste, Lucy’s smell, Lucy’s heartbeat. She doesn’t want it to stop any time soon.