#f1sts

    Larissa finds herself laughing a little. It's more surprised than anything, but Vi's always had a way of bringing it out of her: a bit of recklessness, a bit of levity. She ducks her head, shaking it.

    "I wasn't sure if it would be welcome." She can be honest, can't she? Haven't they reached that point, where, even if things aren't the same, they can be honest? "I thought..." That you'd moved on. Not on, with someone else, but at least away, into whatever future awaits her--back at the fighting pit, a painful thought; or perhaps, with her newfound experience, to another school, somewhere she can help other lost, lonely children. In either future, Larissa features not at all.

TAP       .        TAP       .     TAP        .        TAP        .             METAL   CLAD   CLAWS   ROLLED   IN   RHYTHMIC   PATTERING   AGAINST   THE   METAL   OF   STOLEN   HEXTECH   GAUNTLET     —       coy   smile   settled   near   permanently   ‘pon   the   demoness’   lips   as   she   leered   at   the   other   .   it's   a   little   game   she's   playing   ,   something   very   much   akin   to   how   an   orca   might   run   circles   around   a   seal   .   or   how   a   shark   might   corner   a   fish   .            CALL   IT   PLAYING   WITH   HER   FOOD   IF   YOU   LIKE   ,   SHE   ALWAYS   DID   LOVE   THAT   EXPRESSION   . 

you'll   never   get   what   you   want   . 

the   words   ALMOST   prompt   her   to   laugh   ,   but   instead   evelynn's   smile   only   grew   —   lashers   whipping   around   excitedly   behind   her   back   …   almost   as   if   they   were   begging   to   stab   .   to   slice   .   to   rend   .                   (            no   ,   no   .   not   now   ,   darlings   …   not   just   yet            )

the   widowmaker   let   out   a   brief   &   quiet   chuckle   —   viscera   gaze   meeting   @f1sts  as   their   stalemate   continued   .   evelynn   caressed   the   single   gauntlet   she   held   in   her   arms   ,   the   softness   of   her   fingertips   trailing   a   line   from   it's   finger   to   metallic   hem   .                         “                   that's   where   you're   wrong   ,   darling   .         i   always   get   what   i   want   .                ”        

he watches the ring's most notorious star take hits that would knock out most supes. an eyebrow raises at the sheer speed of her punch, something close to a challenge for evasion faster than light. both her @f1sts are coated with blood rusted by shimmer, from a fighter's futile attempts to gain the upper hand. the bell rings & the crowd roars in satisfaction, cries of victory mixed with anguish from lost bets. it's all unrecognizable from his own races: down to the evident lack of satisfaction from the winner. reggie slips a card with only his logo onto her corner & the wallflower waits under faded graffiti of the seven. just to talk about making a dent in things, he said.

' what did you have in mind?

recruitment means seeking out people like her who knew that it would never stop with a gaudy, flagged suit being drenched in blood. it was marie's idea: a kindred spirit from red river. and reggie knew was it was to be a child at the mercy of the system & choosing your own path in the aftermath. "a mom came up to me, tellin' me her son wanted to join the seven like i did. his powers flared in a panic attack & all people saw was a threat, so he got sent to red river. that was two years ago."

“ tiff’s not in at the moment . . . ” he is prone to dramatics such as sitting in the dark for a grand reveal, but this is more calculated, more predatory, an animal stalking from the shadows, he gives himself away only when figure enters doorway, @f1sts silhouetted by streetlights.

there’s another smell, something off putting, burnt wire and rot hidden under tobacco and amber.

“ might be awhile before she gets back, ” eyes snap to the standing water in the tub, what was once a bubble bath has melted into grey foam, suds atop chilled water circling a crown of blonde hair. it’s purposeful, meant to draw her attention.

“ want me to take a message ? ” you could call it a mutual interest, a morbid curiosity brought on by attention pulled in a different direction. he doesn’t like to share, not a fan of till death do us part. it’s never been a permanent sort of divorce for them.

FLICKERING  EMBER  ILLUMINATES  A  WEARY  VISAGE.  blood  stands  out  stark  against  pale  skin  ,  a  violent  slash  across  his  collar  before  fading  to  flecks  small  enough  to  be  mistaken  for  freckles  across  high  cheekbones  .  it's  not  his  own  ,  the  liquid  too  dark  for  a  human  .  no  ,  it  stands  out  as  reminder  of  remnants  of  their  battle  ,  nicotine  his  reward  for  the  ache  in  his  ribs  and  the  bruises  forming  across  knuckles  .

HERE COMES A NEW CHALLENGER ! ft. @f1sts