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bakerstreet2016-10-20 03:45 pm
socketeer) wrote in bakerstreet2016-10-20 03:45 pm( picture prompt meme )
 the picture prompt meme I — Comment with your character.
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socketeer) wrote in bakerstreet2016-10-20 03:45 pm
the picture prompt meme I — Comment with your character.
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look, i know this is late, but.
no subject
He thinks about that sometimes, while they're growing up. He knows they're not related by blood, knows the fact that she bears his family name stems from the efforts of his mother and father to dispel any rumors of narcissism in the society gossip columns, to promote their own image as philanthropists, but—
—she loves him unconditionally, for a long while, the way people do when they really are family. And that's worth something, even if he isn't sure how to quantify it. It stings (loathe as he is to admit it), when he sees that dashed as he's sentenced to three decades behind bars. But he can't blame her for that. It's not her fault she hadn't been able to see through the veil, especially not when he'd taken such care in maintaining it. The whole world had thought of him as something untouchable; a paragon. She'd been no different.
At any rate, that's a digression. They look alike, in more than just a physical sense. She possesses the same kind of canniness, a certain sharp variety of ambition, and it comes to the fore the minute he's no longer in complete control of his own ship. He thinks, briefly, that he ought to have seen it coming, that he should have expected this kind of Judas play, but he's never been one to languish. He's out of the regular news cycle by the time he gets out of prison. (He doesn't have the same influence he'd used to, but he has money. The Luthor name is practically synonymous with it.) There are conditions, terms, limits, but he isn't in a jumpsuit and chains, and he knows things can only become more flexible from there. Granted, that doesn't play particularly well when it hits the news, but he's good at playing penitent, and he knows how to disappear, too.
All of this to say, a part of him thinks he ought to have been expecting it, when she shows up to his new apartment in the middle of the night. (More to the point: he ought to have been expecting the gun.) She's there when he comes in — god only knows how long she's been waiting. ]
Long time, no see.
[ He's smiling. (There's no sneer in his voice, though it comes close.) There's a single light on above the kitchen table, illuminating her features and the pistol she holds over the middle of the table.
There's no bodyguard, no retinue; Mercy's dead, after all, and it's best for him to keep a low profile. She'll know he doesn't have anyone to call, he's sure. The only question that begs is why he doesn't look more worried.
He moves slowly, dropping his keys and his wallet on the small table by the door, shrugging off his jacket and draping it over the back of the chair he sits in, directly across from her. For a long moment, he doesn't say anything else — he just looks at her, like he could read everything she's thinking from the way the light plays across her face.
At length (wry): ] Did you miss me?
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[ your brother tried to take your life, lena — how does that make you feel?
she tells herself it's a mistake. ( even after all this time, there are excuses to be made for her brother. ) that surely lex would never wish to harm her. someone wanted her out of the way, someone wished to frame him for the gesture. ( it takes several weeks for her to come to terms with the truth: her brother's every move is intentional — lex luthor would never make a mistake. even, despite what lies she tells herself, when it comes to ending her own life. )
lena? her own name falls on deaf ears. she smiles, pointedly, and says that it was to be expected. perhaps what her brother feared was her own rise to power. that this meant she had, indeed, succeeded in pulling ahead of the luthor family name. it's progress, and she takes it, for the sake of game. ( not long after, he changes the state of play. lena smashes a vase against the wall — it's replaced within the hour. )
the gun came as a precaution upon his initial incarceration. ( a measure of personal safety ) never fired, kept on her person. find him, she says, now. the apartment is modest, kept quiet. money can buy a man everything, but privacy arrives at a higher cost.
she waits, because patience, their father insisted often, is a virtue. her legs are crossed at the knee, her finger is settled on the trigger. maybe it's minutes that pass, maybe hours — it's worth it to hear him turn the key in the lock, to witness him walk through the door.
when he takes his seat, lena smiles a sharp-edged thing. ]
You wanted my attention? [ she pulls back the hammer. ] Here I am.
no subject
[ He doesn't look down at the gun. (He acts as if she isn't holding it at all, as if this conversation weren't loaded with years and years and years of history and lies.) There's a smile that sits on his features, the kind the press cameras never see because it speaks too closely to the bitterness and meanness that he's capable of — it's practically a sneer. And that'd never sell, would it? ]
It's just a pity Corben didn't know what he was doing. Can't rely on anyone these days — you want a job done, you have to do it yourself.
[ His teeth bare when he laughs, still holding her gaze across the table. She's right on one count — Lex Luthor would never make a mistake, at least not when it comes to the travails of human life. When it comes to the supernatural, it's a different kettle, but he's learned his lesson, there. Men have to take care if they intend to fight with gods. His little sister is nothing so lofty. ]
Alright, I'll admit— it was an overreaction. But you always did know how to get under my skin. [ His hand rises and falls, fingers drumming over the tabletop. ] Family, right?
[ Then, silence, again. His head cocks as he looks at her. (He wonders if he's jealous of what she's done with the family company. If he wishes he'd taken in the direction she had, or if it's some rage to do with the ins and outs of inheritance, of family, of blood.) Finally, his gaze drops, and he gestures at the pistol. ]
If you're going to use that, go ahead. If not, put that shit away. [ The curse drops sharply from his tongue, an abrupt cut through the veneer he always wears. ] You shouldn't be playing with toys like that.
no subject
[ lena's tongue is sharp, as quick as her brother's. he speaks, she responds. for years, they had only one another. what they shared was something beyond blood, beyond words. the attack on her life was more than personal; she felt his betrayal in every part of her body. ( how does that make you feel? ) ]
There's no reason to be so crude, Alexander.
[ her chin cocks, loaded like the gun in her hand. despite the unnerving twist of her insides, she keeps her fingers steady. slowly, but surely, she puts the gun back into neutrality, the safety in its place. ]
After all, it is only fair, isn't it?
[ lena settles the gun in the bag at her ankle. she links her fingers, sitting upright again in her seat. a brow is quirked and her painted lips are pulled into a tightly-wound grin of her own. ] If you wanted me dead, you wouldn't have waited.
[ he'd been given ample opportunities to try again. at her home, in her office, somewhere free from the watchful eye of national city's own girl of steel. like lena, lex was anticipating this. sometime or another. ]
However, on the off chance you do decide to go and do something foolish, you should know that countermeasures will be taken accordingly. [ she blinks for what feels like the first time since he's taken his seat. at this, she moves, lounging in her chair with one elbow propped against the headrest. ]
You look like hell, brother dearest.