#unethicallybrilliant

“A stark contrast to the dry sandpaper of yours.”

Coffee was not what motivated Angela to return to this little shop day after day, though it was a perk. On the contrary, she needed to scope out the area. She needed to know the shop inside and out, the side streets surrounding it, the alleys, every variable before she made first contact. With this being a deviation from her usual practice she couldn’t let a single detail slip through her fingers. It would be more public, more risky--but given the nature of the target she thought she could stomach the danger.

After copious preparation Angela at last was ready to tailor her visit to match Dr. O’Deorain’s schedule. This didn’t mean she’d make contact today, she reminded herself as she stood in line to order. Continued patience would serve her well. Nervous excitement buzzed underneath her skin nonetheless; and when she stepped away to find a table, her order for a latte with an extra espresso shot placed, she smoothly glanced over the tall, lean red-haired woman at the back of the line. There she was.

Blue eyes darted back as though captivated and her pace faltered. Controlled, measured--one breath, no more--before flitting down in a show of demure self-consciousness. Without looking back to see if she’d been noticed she selected a table near the window, her back to the counter. This wasn’t about approaching her target; it was about drawing her in. The soft cream fabric of her sweater draped off of one shoulder in a quietly suggestive fashion, its hem drawing the eye to crossed legs kept modest by chocolate-toned tights. Contact may not happen today, but Angela’s heart raced to think it might.

"It's not like she asked me outright what happened."

    “Your tie is crooked,” said Angela, reaching to correct it for the other doctor. Once it was set she stepped back and tilted her head. “There, much better.”

moira’s tattoo isn’t anything new. she’s carried them with her ever since she was cleared for release from the hell the fiery-headed doctor forced her into. all of her tattoos carry meaning, of course, and they serve a purpose. they cover the scars, the little marks left behind by the geneticist’s cruel hand. her entire body was inked against the doctor’s wishes; she knows that moira most likely despises them. that she’d love nothing more than to take them from her, like she’s taken everything else away. 

the spider on her back, to cover the incisions made. the web spinning around her arm, to conceal electricity scars. each drop of ink sewn into her skin is both a silent rebellion and an unforgiving reminder of who she truly belongs to.  

‘     ANGELA   ZIEGLER   .     how insulting of you to assume i would choose otherwise   .     ’

Send me a fruit! - Dirty asks

🍎- What’s the best way to tease your muse?