[elek7ra]

                                  𝙽 𝙾 𝚃 𝙴 𝚅 𝙴 𝙽 𝚃 𝙷 𝙴 𝚂 𝚃 𝙰 𝚁 𝚂 𝙰 𝚁 𝙴 𝚂 𝙰 𝙵 𝙴 𝙸 𝙽 𝚃 𝙷 𝙴 𝚂 𝙺 𝚈

ELEKTRA NATCHIOS OF MARVEL COMICS. A CULMINATION OF VARIOUS RUNS ⅋ HEADCANON HEAVY. PRIVATE, 21 + ONLY. GENERALLY REMOVED FROM THE RPC / NOT MCU COMPLIANT. ICONLESS, WITH MINIMAL FORMATTING. I AM HERE TO VIBE ⅋ WORLDBUILD. EXTREMELY SELECTIVE! I LIKE TO KEEP MY DASHBOARD COZY :)

⤻ AFFILIATED WITH . . . LOGAN HOWLETT, LAURA KINNEY, GWEN POOLE, JEAN GREY ⅋ EMMA FROST, WADE WILSON ⅋ ELEANOR CAMACHO.

[elek7ra]

hi soooo i’m coming back. i miss writing. but my work schedule is too crazy for me to commit to multiple blogs, and i wanna pick at a few different characters 🥲 so my small roster multi will be making a return, featuring elektra. for those of you that are cool with multis, i’ll be posting that link within the next couple of days.

[elek7ra]

hi 😔

[elek7ra]

🤠

[libertadr]

" somethin' tells me this isn't a chance encounter, is it? no offense, but you don't seem the type to be a regular at a watering hole in the middle of brooklyn. "

@elek7ra › assemble!

[elek7ra]

❛❛ you wound me —— i'll have you know, this was one of my favorite spots when i was still in college ... ❜❜ a quick glance over his shoulder, then back. your attention's split in two, though it'd appear seamless to the untrained eye. he's right about one thing: you aren't here for the taps, and certainly not to mingle. you've been tailing this mark for longer than you're willing to admit —— waiting for the right moment, alone, and now ... you smile, albeit mostly to yourself, a bit baffled by the timing of it all. absolutely rotten luck tonight. ❛❛ undefeated in cricket to this day, in fact. i have a knack for hitting the bullseye. ❜❜

[elek7ra]

[wolvify-a]

the sound of her voice  —– that half-teasing lilt wrapped around your name like a blade hidden in velvet, hits you harder than you'd like to admit. you've almost forgotten what it feels like to hear your name fall from lips that aren't full of fear or disdain. but it doesn't soften the blow. if anything, it makes it worse —– peeling away another layer of that bastard exterior you've been clinging to like a lifetime. you grit your teeth, a growl rumbling low in your chest as you take her in, standing there like she hasn't aged a day. like the world hasn't bled out all the good, leaving nothing but rot and misery in its place. you're a man without a future, without a past that matters anymore. just a hollow shell filled with regrets and memories that gnaw at your insides like a hungry wolf. and now, here is she, sauntering back into life like some twisted angel of death. "friend?" you spit the word out like it's poison —– something foreign you can't quite wrap your head around. the bitter laugh that follows is more like a bark, harsh and jagged as your insides. "i don't got friends. not anymore." all your friends are six feet under, rotting corpses —– just as you will be soon enough. just as you would like. you take a step closer, the pain in your joints a dull throb you shove to the back of your mind. (the scorching southern heat doesn't help your troubles either, sweat beginning to line across your forehead.) none of this matters, though —– not now. not with her here, looking at you like she's trying to decipher through the years of scars, blood, and turmoil that've piled up between you. "so unless you came here to put me out of my misery, or settle some old score —– turn around and walk away."

[elek7ra]

TURN AROUND AND WALK AWAY. your instincts echo his warning. the words stiffen your posture, and the ever so slight upward tilt of your chin speaks to the defiance you reek of. something else that hasn't changed: your relationship with logan has always been a bloodied - knuckle fight against the current of reason. tooth and claw, push and shove. juxtaposition in its purest form ——  he was born immortal, yet something's stripped that from him now; you were born something that death could touch, yet it swallowed you up and spat you back out like some kind of bad seed —— something too tainted even for the afterlife —— and it's as if the reaper himself has forgotten about you ever since. [all that's left to rot are the fragmented parts of your soul that made it back with you].

RIGHT HAND RAISES TO COVER YOUR HEART, feigning pain. [how much of a charade is it really, though?] doesn't matter —— he can swing for the fences, you won't give him the satisfaction of knowing when he's made contact with something that can bruise. ❛❛ that hurts. ❜❜ but you're grinning; maybe you're lying, maybe you're not —— you've always been a bit of a masochist anyway. leather boots cross the threshold uninvited and you take the briefest of moments to look around, venturing further inside as you drink in the state of the place. conclusion: it's not much better than the state of him —— he cares for it with as much effort as he cares for himself; that much can be taken at face value. regardless, you make yourself at home. two palms on the surface of a dust laden countertop are used to lift yourself up and take a seat. ❛❛ not a contract i'd take, darling. you know that. i don't mix business with pleasure. ❜❜ silk words, sharp tongue. your smile blossoms further, even more coy than before. ❛❛ speaking of pleasure —— i don't think i've ever seen you in a suit before. you've had a shift in style since i saw you last, hm? ❜❜

[deweaponize-arc]

𝒇𝒓𝒐𝒎 @elek7ra :

          ❝ 𝚗𝚘 ... 𝚒 𝚌𝚊𝚗𝚗𝚘𝚝. ❞ violence is the only answer. it is the only one you have been taught to answer with. chaos and destruction are your second nature —– black and white morality mixed into a shade of grey. the battle between action vs reaction. when the scent overtakes your nostrils, you revert back to a primal being —– no control. you see nothing but the void, actions unbeknownst to you. laura ceases to exist, weapon x-23 rises to the surface. [will you forever be subjected to the life of a living weapon? when will you finally be free? what is free?] how does a weapon stop being a weapon? the only option is dismantling it. all weapons must be destroyed one day.

the assassin pries —– her question is like a blade, cutting and lifting the layers of your skin to see what lies beneath. you want to snarl. grit your teeth, lock your jaw, and bite back until nothing remains but bones. like the dog you are. like you will always be. but, logan wouldn't like that. certainly not towards her. and, you are not a weapon anymore. you're a part of the x-men. [ ᴷᴵᴸᴸ / ᴷᴵᴸᴸ / ᴷᴵᴸᴸ  —– you still hear the word echoing throughout your head.] a chance had been granted for a new beginning / a second chance at life —– how is a new beginning supposed to be taken when you still are not entirely in control? how are you meant to trust if you cannot trust yourself? teeth biting the inner lining of your cheeks, your expression remains unreadable —– stone-faced. ❝ nobody can fix it. everyone has tried. ❞

[elek7ra]

THE TENSENESS IN LAURA'S SHOULDERS DOESN'T GO UNNOTICED; nor the way her jaw clenches, or her gaze evading your own. [she really is the spitting image, isn't she?] the air is thick with tension, swirling with a stifling kind of fervor now that you've exchanged words. an attempt at quelling it is made: ❛❛ i'm no stranger to rage, laura. ❜❜ on the contrary; it wasn't what orphaned you, but it is what's left you alone in the years since. you wield it like a weapon no different than the ones that don your waist —— sharp, unforgiving, its victims not always deserving of the cuts you make with it.

YOUR FEET CARRY YOU A SHORT DISTANCE, and you don't bother with asking permission before pulling out the chair across from where she sits; truthfully, you aren't certain she'd give it. it remains silent for longer than you're comfortable with, but you've never exactly been good at this ——  knowing what to say other than the brutal truth, or a carefully orchestrated lie ——  how to console someone is an art you've yet to master. your violent hands weren't made for tenderness, but you try anyway. ❛❛ i'm also not convinced it's something that needs fixing. ❜❜ that would underline something inside of you that you aren't prepared to face. what would you be without your rage? ❛❛ channeling —— might be a better word. but, i guess i'm not exactly fit to give you advice on that either. ❜❜ [bang up job you're doing here.] ❛❛ unless ... you think you can get some sort of hall pass from the x-men gig to become a contract killer. ❜❜ dark brows lift slightly, gentle grin following in close pursuit, but with a sort of timidness that begs the question: will a little bit of humor dig you out of this hole you've found yourself buried in?

[elek7ra]

i'm here (threatening)

[wolvify-a]

a smirk pulls at the corner of your mouth, although it doesn't quite reach your eyes. there's a chill in the air surrounding the two of you —– an electric tension that only seemingly amps up with every word she tosses your way. every word is like a bone, trying to catch the attention of the unexcited dog. ❝ yeah —— it is. ❞ the words grind out like gravel in your throat, silence hanging after the fact. giving her a second to chew on that before speaking again. her red-tipped fingers rest on the bar's counter; a contrast to the dull, beaten wood surface. a contrast to you. she knows how to wield silence, just as well as those blades of hers. but so do you. fingers snapping once again, you motion for the bartender to retrieve the bottle you'd requested —– this time, a brief flash of adamantium is produced from your knuckles. not long enough to create a scene / quick enough to get your way.

as soon as the bartender's back is turned, the metal sinks back into flesh —– a brief reminder that you're more beast than man. or maybe that's just how you've always seen yourself. a low growl hums in your chest, barely audible, but you know she hears it. she hears everything. your eyes drop to her hand, then back to meet her gaze. it's dark and probing, too damn familiar with the shadows that cling to you both. ❝ lemme make somethin' clear. i'm keepin' the fight right where it fuckin' belongs. ❞ a rough chuckle rumbles from your chest, tasting more bitter than anything else. the thunder outside crashes in sync with it.

the whiskey bottle lands in front of you with a satisfying thud —– you don't even need to look, your hand already knows the weight of it, the promise of its burn. you hastily pour another glass, the amber liquid swirling like the storm outside. ❝ you should be thankin' me, darlin'. ❞ the glass tips, and you down the whiskey in one go, the burn another welcome distraction. your gaze never strays, even as the heat slides down your throat, settling into the pit where every single demon lies coiled and waiting.

[elek7ra]

CAUGHT BETWEEN A SLIGHT GLARE AND AN UPWARD ROLL, her eyes undergo a bit of an uncontrollable flutter, accompanied by a hefty exhale through flared nostrils that's accented quite clearly by the rise and fall of her chest. it's followed by a slight, near unnoticeable shake of her head before she tosses a glance over her right shoulder, between and behind them. no one noticed. no one but her and the bartender, that is: just as he intended. elektra feels for the boy, watching as he scrambles, sweating, to acquiesce what logan has demanded of him —— another thing they have in common: they both know how to get their way. a personality trait that's been the rotten root of more than just a few of their arguments. ❛❛ no need for a show. ❜❜ she makes a mental note to leave a nice tip. palms fall from where they laid on the bar to rest in her lap, and she's studying him again —— their shared gaze something like a standoff —— all brood, difficult to read. she could push further ... but she's smart enough to know when to fold.

❛❛ you don't want to talk? that's fine —— ❜❜ leaning back in her seat, frustration slips to reveal something softer, yet somehow more sinister in nature. ❛❛ after all, dialogue's never been your strong suit, darling. much better with your hands. ❜❜ like pieces on a chess board. and, check. she'd be lying if she said she didn't find pleasure in this game they play: even catches herself giving the line slack on purpose, if only to watch him tug a little harder. ❛❛ as far as thanks goes, ❜❜ scarlet lips pursed, coy grin to mirror his curling the corners. ❛❛ how could i? you haven't even offered me a drink yet. though —— ❜❜

SHE LEANS FORWARD NOW, ever so closer to him, holding his gaze with her own while digits slowly migrate, crossing over into hostile territory. for a moment, it's as though they'll venture somewhere onto his person —— instead, straight past him. she finds the neck of the bottle he's chosen, twisting it around on the countertop to get a better look at the label. ❛❛ might have to venture a few shelves up to suit my taste. ❜❜

[elek7ra]

she’ll look like this and then eight hours later take on a high profile contract kill ——

[ilterzouomo]

[elek7ra]

WORKING ALONE IS SOMETHING HABITUAL. sacred, even, her usual process. this was new, and the jury is still out on whether she likes it or not —— though the latter held the lead by at least a mile. another hand in the pot meant another back to watch. they'd been separated for more than just a few minutes, and when she finally finds her way back around to him after the dust of a chaotic and deadly confrontation has settled, her apprehension is validated. the sight of him pulls her features up into a twist of something that resembles concern, but could probably be construed as annoyance just as easily.

@ciclopz: you should see the other guy.

THE QUIP FALLS ON NEAR - DEAF EARS, focus drawn instead to the injury adorning his rib cage —— four inches below the heart, not quite deep enough to puncture a lung, but a bleeder for sure. lucky, she thinks. a word elektra doesn't find tasteful. luck leaves too much to chance. ❛❛ dead, i hope. ❜❜ oceanic gaze flicks up toward a ruby lens, just for a moment, fleeting in nature: he must be in pain, yet —— she can't see his eyes, to really be certain. now back to the wound. sai are sheathed with an audible metallic swipe to free her hands and she closes in on him, palms raised, though she doesn't touch without permission. if it were her, that'd be the surest way to lose a limb. ❛❛ you should let me take a look at that. ❜❜ a beat, brow raised —— once again, she's searching his expression, this time wearing a small smirk that proves to be a little out of place, given the circumstance. ❛❛ unless of course you didn't kill him, and you need me to finish the job —— ❜❜

[wolvify-a]

You never thought you’d see @elek7ra again. Certainly not like this — not when the years have crawled across your skin like barbed wire, leaving you a husk of what you used to be. But there she is, cutting through the shadows with the same lethal grace all those years ago. Time has had no claim on her — not like it has you. An attempt is made to hide the limp in your step, but there’s no disguising the truth: the lines etched into your face, the way your breath hitches like a rusty engine, or the fucking ache that’s settled in your bones like an old friend who’s outstayed his welcome. You’re dying, every part of you knows it— from the sluggish beat of your heart to the way your hand trembles as you reach for a cigar you don’t even want anymore. The great Wolverine, dying in El Paso— you’ve heard of worst endings. Though, that doesn’t mean it’s necessarily the ideal way. (Or, the way you had always anticipated.)

“Aw, Jesus—” Your rasp out, voice more gravel than man. Features scrunching in irritation (eyes squinting from newly-blurred vision), your right index finger is pointed in her direction. “Fuck off. Whatever you’re here for: fuck right off, Elektra.”

[elek7ra]

THERE'D BEEN WHISPERS —— of a legend left to rot somewhere out in the desert. elektra didn't believe them; not at first. but if you hear something enough times, spoken with enough conviction, it starts to ring true. even something like this. still —— she had to see it for herself. her own end didn't cross her mind often; not since the first time she'd brushed fingertips with death's frigid hand, only to be brought back thrashing wildly into the land of the living, albeit a little different than before. not quite a ghost, not quite a woman either. if given the chance to go gracefully ——  though ripped open once more, left to bleed out somewhere in the dark on cold asphalt seems more likely —— she'd like to think she'd retire back home. on the cusp of cerulean waters, in the salt air, under a greek sun. she'd given logan's death even less thought. but here? somewhere lush and green seemed more fitting. he looks so out of place in this wasteland; out of place in his own body. but it is him, she could make no mistake about that. both slender palms raise to lower the black fabric that clings to her face from the nose down, to a resting point around her neck; no point in trying to conceal her identity now that he's laid eyes on her. ❛❛ logan —— ❜❜ sickeningly saccharine drawl is accompanied by a 'tsk' and the slow roll of lazurite colored irises: it wasn't exactly a warm welcome, not that she'd expected one. some things don't change. ❛❛ now, that's not any way to greet an old friend, is it? ❜❜

[elek7ra]

friendly reminder that elektra is an extremely!! skilled!! marksman!! she can literally hit a target eons away with a SR and never have to bother with getting up close and personal, she just prefers to use her sai. or any type of blade, really. a "when you kill a man, you should be right here: at his throat" truther.

[deweaponize-arc]

@elek7ra, 𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒄𝒂𝒍𝒍.

          𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚛𝚊𝚒𝚗 𝚜𝚙𝚎𝚠𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚍 𝚖𝚞𝚏𝚏𝚕𝚎𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚑𝚎𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚎𝚍 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐. with a vexed groan (near growl), your neck cranes in the assassin's direction. expression unreadable under the cowl, a canvas doesn't need to be painted to display your dislike of this scenario. the tone of your voice is readable enough. ❝ i can't get a clear number of how many are inside. MAYBE FIFTEEN, TWENTY? i'm not sure. ❞ a sniff in the air, you're met with at least sixteen different types of cologne, gasoline, the scent of pine, and elektra's perfume. your head could spin if the severity didn't rest on your shoulders. gaze reverting ahead to the warehouse, YOU INCH CLOSER TO THE EDGE OF THE ROOFTOP. ❝ i know you and logan did things a certain way. i have my own way of doing things. no killing ... and i mean it. ❞ knockouts only.

[elek7ra]

THE WOLVERINE IS OUT OF VIEW, a few paces behind elektra as she stands on the edge of the rooftop they've scaled together under the guise of darkness; the pattering of raindrops on concrete and sheet metal doing their own part to conceal their conversation from those who would try to do them harm. ❛❛ big difference between fifteen and twenty, laura. ❜❜ no matter the number, she was certain they could handle it. though, not the way she was proposing. what exactly is the point of denying a tool its purpose? a shovel is for digging. a blade is for cutting. an assassin is for killing. the mention of him alone is enough to make her wince, but her expression remains stoic. ❛❛ i can think of a few people you could've called if you wanted this job done without bloodshed. ❜❜ only now does she turn to meet her gaze. you know what i am. ❛❛ —— my name isn't on that list. ❜❜

[elek7ra]

we should be pinterest buddies 🥺👉👈