Creed: Isn't It Weird How We Pay Money To See Other People?

So I had decided to rewrite bb!Lyme/Adessa interaction. The previous one I wrote is here if you're interested.

Nero won’t get away with this, she had promised to herself. There was no way to forgive her mentor who had decided to make her meet with a woman who probably would skin her out and eat her corpse with absolute satisfaction, not to mention even she wouldn't be a breakfast for Adessa.

Maybe it’s Lyme who is thinking so much -who is impulsively angry over everything and everyone, oh well- but standing there on the probably the most expensive oak possible, proved that she definitely was right about to freak out and prefer to have a second Arena rather than facing this.

She actually doesn’t because new Victors simply doesn’t wish that but that’s beside the point and surely waste of time because the door knob slowly moved with the weight pressured by the other side like stabbing a corpse in the guts  and finally the door opened and revealed a cool-faced-but–annoyed-in-the-details older woman which even the bravest people wouldn’t want to face because who wants to die as a scientific experiment?

(Though Snow knows there are actual people who want to experience that.)

“You’re late.” says Adessa, so neutral that it might have killed a Capitollian paparazzi who probably drinks gossip blood instead of wine.

Funny thing is Lyme could answer anything about how to murder a tribute, or how to clench your jaw so hard that it breaks another person’s bone but not any kind of decent quetion about one’s horrible timing.

The elite etiquette in a pantsuit clears her throat and it clear as a day Lyme failed her village manner test which Adessa probably, no, unquestionably, taking charge of; what would you expect from a woman who dissected a tribute but didn’t even drink a single drop of blood. And after all of this chaos of thoughts there was only a word one could say: “Sorry.”

Adessa nods, not what she expected but a Victor’s life wouldn’t be a Victor’s life if everything went as predicted. “No worries, child, come inside.” Lyme is everything but a child but try telling that to a woman who still is remarkably terrifying to this day.

Inside of the house was surprisingly clean from the scent of, well, everything which is relieving since memory of Artificial Hell -the Arena- carved its mark to her brain and threatened to burst whatever sanity she had left.

Adessa gestured to her cloak and said it’s better to take it off and yes, the real world.

“I, erm, didn’t bring any gifts to you.” Lyme said out of the blue, surely people would bring something small to the host, especially if they are twenty six Arenas older than you.

“It’s the thought that it counts,” Adessa says and Lyme tries so hard not to look at her rudely because of their height difference -if Lyme was a mountain, Adessa would be a meadow-  and, honestly, her neck hurts. The feeling must be mutual. “Though, I do not think you would find something my taste before meeting me either.”

Right.

 “Okay…” the silence between them was awkward -how do you even talk to other murderers if you don’t have your mentor with you?- and if it was not Adessa’s smoothness about leading her to a presumably a dining room, then Lyme would spend the rest of her afternoon there instead of taking a pretend nap. 

It did not take long for her to see a neatly designed table with a bunch of porcelain cups and bright looking napkins tucked under a pair of saucers.  “I doubt you know how important it is to maintain your aura while you eat something.”

“I believe I don’t.” 

“Well, everybody learns at their own pace, my dear and obviously I shall help you.”

~~~

An hour or so later, Lyme had a realization of the century that she does not have a single fucking talent about the fucking table manners and such, or she does but to her, it feels as weird as bows, like, why do that when you can do whatever the flying thing you want? 

She tripped when she was carrying a tray and remembered the damn balance but forgot the focus; tea splashed across the floor like a lake with a really wrong colour and the cup’s core is rocks for it which is as metaphorical as she can get about the situation.

“Ah, careful. Someone will clean it, but you’re almost there.”

Lyme almost didn’t hear Adessa, who apparently didn’t catch the younger Victor’s very interested gaze at the sharpness of the glass shards, so sparkly and white that the blood would look marvelous on it. Her blood is strangely dark, as dark as the lipstick Callista usually wears in her interviews, and it’s a shame that it will be stuck in Lyme’s body forever and no one else would see it like the enraged monster inside her.

Adessa snaps her fingers in front of her. “Now, be a dear and pour me tea without spilling a drop.” She misses Nero and his Neroness.

(But he won’t know about that.)

Nero: *teaching Lyme how to drive* Alright, let me give you a scenerio; you see Enobaria and Brutus crossing the street. What do you hit?

Lyme: Enobaria. I'd never hurt a himbo.

Nero: The brakes! You hit the- *face palms*

Nero: *shining a flashlight under a dark bed* Are you ready to come out yet and socialize, darling?

Enobaria: *screeching*

Nero: Understandable, have a good day.

since five and luther are twins in the comics. i present to you:

luther : adorable, sweet, himbo twin

five : the agressive, explosive, sarcastic twin.

aka chaotic good with chaotic evil.

My attempts at Misha

I’ve got two of her since I couldn’t settle on one image!

*Everyone is standing around the broken coffee maker*

Adessa: So. Who broke it? I'm not mad I just wanna know.

Everyone:

Emory: ...I did. I broke it.

Adessa: No. No you didn't. Callista?

Callista: Don't look at me. Look at Nero.

Nero: What? I didn't break it either.

Callista: Huh, that's weird. How did you know it was broken?

Nero: Because it's infront of us and it's broken.

Callista: Suspicious.

Nero: No it's not!

Brutus: If it matters, probably not, but Misha was the last one who use it.

Misha: Liar! I don't even drink that crap!

Brutus: Oh really? Then what were you doing by the coffee cart earlier?

Misha: I use the wooden stirrers to push back my cuticles. Everyone knows that, Brutus!

Emory: Okay, let's not fight. I broke it. Let me pay for it, Adessa.

Adessa: No! Who actually broke it?

Everyone:

Devon:...Odin's been awfully quiet.

Odin: Really?!

*Everyone starts arguing*

Adessa, being interviewed: I broke it. I burned my hand so I accidentally punched it.

Adessa: I predict 10 minutes from now they will be at each other's throats with warpaints on their faces and a pig head on a stick.

Adessa:

Adessa: Good. It was getting a little chummy around here.

Odin: I accidentally ate Adessa's leftovers, how long do you think I have to lie?

Hera: Ten.

Odin: Ten? Ten what?

Hera: Nine.

Nero: Are you okay?

Adessa: Yes, I am; I just have a headache that comes at times.

Nero: Oh.

Odin: *walks by*

Adessa: Ah, here it is again.

Luther: What is your biggest weakness?

Five: I can be uncooperative.

Luther: Okay, can you give me an example?

Five: No.