don't stop til your heart goes numb.

After the stories she’s heard and half-believed, Ianthe half-expects it Gideon the First behind the slowly opening door—she’s always thought him a maniac, why wouldn’t he go after her now?—but it’s only a painted face that emerges from the shadows, into the shadows.

“Back to torment me more already?” Ianthe drawls, deeming it not worthy to move. Arms thrown to her sides, she faintly resembles a faithful of a past long gone that prays before an altar of a god gone much longer. Face up instead face down, however, bored instead of filled with holy communion and soft bedding underneath her back instead of stone floor. “And without knocking too, Harry?”

close the door and i’ll call you nonagesimus, she’d said once, and the promise had made something deep inside you ache with longing. a year ago, becoming a lyctor had been your greatest ambition, yet now you would give anything just to be called reverend daughter again.

you arch a dark eyebrow at the accusation of tormenting her. pinning her to the mithraeum floor, sweating blood as you gazed down at your foul osseous creation, was the first time you had felt like yourself since you had knelt before the emperor of the nine houses and he had dubbed you harrow the first, and you didn’t know whether to love her or hate her for that.

“ and here i thought i did you a favor,” she says coolly. “ if you’re unsatisfied, i could always undo it and try again. ”

🌷 @herosfoil (lex); continued.

❝ honestly, given the current circumstances? yes, i would. but don't worry, lex: in case you'd forgotten, my first week as a waitress you ordered a capuccino and i brought you a frappé, no less. so, if you're feeling embarrased, just remember that. i'm sure you'll feel a little better. ❞ miss lana lang, homecoming queen, top of her class, and waitress with most plates broken in a day. what a stellar track record.

lana damps the cloth in cold water again before pressing it onto the burn, delicately, and a chuckle escapes her at lex's suggestion, ❝ deal. although you do know there's still a hot oven involved in that task, right? ❞ lana playfully remarks, a smile tugging at her lips as she reached for a band-aid, ❝ maybe i should give you a preemptive crash-course next time. but, for the record, you're not a clutz, lex: you're just...treading on uncharted territory. you must've had a pretty good reason to step out of your nespresso comfort zone. ❞ lana gives him a complicit smile, before carefully drying the area and slapping on the band-aid: he was all set, but first, there was something she wanted to bring up. ❝ i always wondered why you didn't send it back, the frappé: luthors don't usually strike people as the settling kind. ❞

he still isn’t entirely sure what possessed him to agree when she asked to him to finance the talon. maybe it was because she was one of the few people in smallville who had seen him for more than his last name, or because he thought that investing in a local coffee shop of all things would irritate his father. or maybe it was just because she had the audacity to ask, and something about that had intrigued him.

the question of why he hadn’t said anything about her bringing him the wrong order, however, has a far simpler answer.

“ you were having a hard day, ”     he says. if he feels any disappointment when she’s finished bandaging him up, he doesn’t let it show — though he doesn’t step away, either.     “ it seemed like you could use a win. ”