#exilae

[thefixeraa]

s. @exilae , liked for a starter . ( feat . selina )

ambrose bierce was once quoted to say : BELLADONNA , ( n ) : in itaian a beautiful lady , in english a deadly poison . a striking example of essential identity of the two tongues .

if there was a way to describe her , THIS WOULD BE IT . as it encompasses her and tells you all that you need to know about one , mia di salvo . it is also true that belladonna is the name of her most favored weapon , the remmington r1 enhanced . the very same that is in parts on a table in front of her . finger's work diligently to clean out the barrel , wiping out the grime and carbon build up with a old torn up t - shirt . these are the moments mia get's lost in memories , as her years of using her gun brings so many of them . BOTH GOOD AND BAD ... remembering one of the moments when she had last fired this gun .

the fixer never wasted a bullet and she always made sure to use it when absolutely necessary . in times when her back is up against the wall - enemies after her ... guns a blazin' . this very pistol has saved her life more than once . a gradual smile appears on her features then , eyes flicker up and stare ahead of her . " put it down , " the words hit the air suddenly , with a firm but non - aggressive tone . selena who was just as curious as a cat would be , thought mia was too distracted to notice she was in the room . even as she inched her way to pick up one of her knives off the table to her left , SILENTLY , it was obviously not subtle enough for mia to feel her presence in the room . mia's head turns over her shoulder , locking the teen in her eyesight . " you home early ? "

[batfall-a]

JACKET soaked crimson , it covers hands , splatters upon cheekbones , as blonde tresses have hardened. BLOOD , it's everywhere , and mouth has gone dry as he realizes just what this life is doing to him.

for so long he told himself that because he doesn't carry , he's somehow a cut above the rest. truth is ? he's far from. he's still involved in a world that leaves nothing but destruction in it's wake.

steps staggering - feet weighed down by the knowledge that someone was dead on HIS watch. THIS SCENE IS ALL TOO FAMILIAR. he wants to run , and so he had. doesn't remember her opening door but now he's in some opulent bathroom. a CLAWFOOT tub as she makes sense of what next steps are.

there’s a change of clothing and a bath for you to freshen up. / @exilae

' th-tha . . . thank you ' the words difficult to formulate as trembling fingertips go to pull off jacket , and lands upon marble floor - creating a crimson brush stroke. ' sorry ' he mumbles though he's a million miles away as he tries to center himself - REMEMBERING THAT HE CANNOT BREAK.

i want to scream , my heart beats so fast that i swear a heart attack is not far off. i can see my trembling hands ; the hesitancy of me wanting to actually face this situation. i feel eleven and vulnerable all over again. i don't know what set it off , maybe it was the fact that i went into the situation so sure of an outcome , PEACE. we were so fucking close. . . . [ BREATHE ... BREATHE ... BREATHE ] i have to remind myself , there i can feel it starting to subside , my heart beat slows as i swallow down that scream , and then look at satine.

' we'll have to burn them . . . ' determination settles in , as he regains some semblance of control. ' satine , who's here tonight , anyone important ? "

[lunaccult]

— @exilae as ERICA: i know you don't care , but can you listen ? // ❝    Who  says  I  don’t  care?    ❞  Time  has  aged  them,    as  time  is  wont  to  do,    but  it  has  also  matured.    Allison  does  not  see  an  adversary  when  she  looks  at  Erica  now.    The  potential  for  threat  has  simmered  in  the  wake  of  a  newfound  confidence  she  had  not  possessed  as  a  girl  afraid  of  the  world.    They  are  changed  things;    death  made  sure  to  do  that  to  them  both.    ❝    I’m  listening.    I’m  listening  to  you.    I’m  not  sorry  that  he’s  dead.    But  I’m  sorry  that  you’re  conflicted.    It  sucks.    I  hear  you.    ❞

[saintvampe]

—   𝐌.   |  THE WOMAN HAS ALREADY LIVED FOR FAR TOO LONG, her body broken down and repaired too many times to count. she is old, even in this assumption of youth; these years have not yet caught up with her and filled her cheeks with wrinkles, though one would think primordial existence would show itself better by now. she has become accustomed to this young age, has become accustomed to the life it has granted her. this wilderness keeps itself quiet and still –– and that is what she prefers. this wilderness is hers and hers alone, and that is how she enjoys it, its existence a welcome warmth, a reminder of all she has built, ( a repaired body; this woods that hides; a harboring hunger... ) and all that she has lost. this world is made of dual - sided coins, she has come to learn. this world will give, but it is all too ready to take. the other seems to understand that well, in her own ways.

the woman of this woods is not one to turn away similar company, as evident by the girl's constant reappearance in her dining space. the dining table is full of steaming plates, meat smothered with herbs and spices, greenery missing from this table - spread. it is a feast of flesh, elbows cracked at the knobs, feathers and feet plucked. the two sit in a conversation's aftermath: silence like an oncoming storm, the fragments of words still settling in the air. the guest ( @exilae ) breaks the silence with a follow - up to the air: " life is unfair. life has no obligation to be fair. " ...and the woman finds herself unable to disagree.

UNDERNEATH THE WOOD OF HER TABLE, her legs shift their position. one knee over the other, her skirt running tight against flesh, reminding herself of is existence –– of her own presence. ❝  no, it's not. ❞ the beast of a woman begins, her mouth forming into a tight frown. against the backdrop of wilderness does she remember a distant violence: a body lifeless and warm on her floor, too much red to put back, to spill over. a heavy sigh comes from her mouth as she straightens her posture. ❝  but, we make our own way, do we not ? we are quite good at tipping the scales into our favor, at times... are you still hungry ? ❞

[exghul]

@exilae    &   ♥ !

boots knock together, boy seated perfectly still & crisscrossed. he watches suki closely, careful to pay close attention to her footwork. head titled to the side as hungry eyes attempt to soak as much technique as he can simply from WATCHING. as her movements slow & turn to present herself triumphant to the boy, he offers an enthusiastic nod --- one rare from a boy rarer so excited. ❝ my turn: walk me through it. ❞

[queenwooooof]

☾      @exilae​ as CLINT BARTON:   it’s nothing. it’s just a bruise.

❝    oh,    shut  up.    ❞  if  she  snaps,    it  is  sharp  and  biting  and  all  wild  animal.    not  at  all  teasing  as  she  had  intended.    instead,    for  a  moment,    she  thinks  her  hands  are  shaking.    in  an  effort  to  stop  them,    she  takes  a  grip  of  his  chin  and  tilts  it  to  reveal  the  fresh  welting  beneath  his  right  eye.    like  this,    she  is  sharing  breath  with  him,    sharing  space,    and  she  ignores  the  proximity.    she  ignores  the  tremble.    she  ignores  even  him  except  the  hurt  across  his  face.    ❝    you’re  an  idiot.    ❞  still  she  is  wolf  more  than  woman.    but  her  hands  are  finally  steady  where  she  cups  his  jaw.    allison  meets  his  gaze  and  finally  steps  away,    cutting  contact  between  skin  and  between  whatever  else  is  thrumming  between  them.    ❝    you  need  ice.    and  probably  a  nap.    don’t  argue  with  me,    i’m  not  in  the  mood.    you  fucking  idiot.    ❞

[halothief]

it doesn’t feel like you belong here — but that’s a feeling that always spreads you thin these days, haunted by real or not real, haunted by the living and the dead. there’s comfort in the familiarity of a crater, of district twelve’s still-burning lifeless husk on the horizon. comfortably a crater like you, a hollowed out mannequin masquerading as a person. 

but she is a bright spot, and you don’t remember what you did in your past life, not really, but whatever it was, it clearly earned her soft smiles and kind eyes for a lifetime and beyond. you wonder about that — about the man you used to be.

    ‘ what’s your favourite kind of flower? ’

@exilae​​​ ♡’d 

[batfall-moved]

                                *     )     𝚑𝚒𝚜    𝚋𝚘𝚍𝚢    𝚋𝚛𝚘𝚔𝚎𝚗   𝚊𝚜    𝚑𝚎   𝙷𝙴𝙰𝙻𝚂   𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖     𝚝𝚑𝚎   𝚠𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚍𝚜   𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝   𝚑𝚊𝚍   𝚋𝚎𝚎𝚗   𝚜𝚘   𝙺𝙸𝙽𝙳𝙻𝚈   𝚒𝚗𝚏𝚕𝚒𝚌𝚝𝚎𝚍    𝚋𝚢    𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚜𝚎   𝚠𝚑𝚘   𝙵𝙾𝙻𝙻𝙾𝚆𝙴𝙳   𝚝𝚑𝚎   𝚛𝚒𝚍𝚍𝚕𝚎𝚛𝚜    𝚝𝚢𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚗𝚒𝚌𝚊𝚕   𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚊𝚌𝚑   𝚝𝚘  𝚛𝚒𝚍𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐   𝙶𝙾𝚃𝙷𝙰𝙼   𝚘𝚏     𝙲𝙾𝚁𝚁𝚄𝙿𝚃𝙸𝙾𝙽.    DEATH   ,     it   seemed   was   the   only   way   out                      SELFISH   in   nature    as    the   FLOOD    cascaded   upon   city   ,   and   DROWNED   the   boroughs   that   had   a   certain   rank    about   them.    the    RICH   unscathed   as    they   watched   from   their   PENTHOUSES   and   shoulders   were   shrugged.   ‘better  them   than  us...’    tone   flippant    as    curtains   were   slowly   drawn  ,   and   they   turned   their   backs   on   the   innocents  of   gotham.   

 *  )    𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚓𝚘𝚋 𝚒𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚞𝚛𝚟𝚒𝚟𝚎, 𝚏𝚒𝚛𝚜𝚝.   /  @exilae​

                                       WAYNE   ENTERPRISES   safe   from    the   floods   as    he   remained   in  the   office    that   his   father   ONCE   resided   in.   it’s   a  MATTER   of   convenience   ,   his   father’s   MEDICAL   supplies   always   stocked   (thanks   to   alfred).    ‘   i   thought   that’s   what   was   needed  . . .  ’    PAUSES   words   ,   𝚊𝚗𝚍   𝙷𝙾𝙻𝙳𝚂   𝚞𝚙   𝚊   𝚖𝚎𝚍𝚒𝚌𝚊𝚕   𝚗𝚎𝚎𝚍𝚕𝚎.  𝚝𝚑𝚎  𝚗𝚎𝚎𝚍𝚕𝚎   𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚊𝚒𝚗𝚜   𝚍𝚘𝚡𝚢𝚌𝚢𝚌𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚎                           𝚝𝚑𝚎  𝚙𝚘𝚠𝚍𝚎𝚛  𝚖𝚒𝚡𝚎𝚍   𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑   𝚠𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚛.   ‘   i   don’t   know   if   our  job   is   to   survive   first  ,   maybe   it’s   more   jules  ’    shirt   PULLED   up   as   torse   is   a  beautiful   coloring   of   lilac   and   forest   green  ,    YELLOW  has   also   accent   skin.   the   wounds   PAINFUL   yet  ?   it   kept   him  going. 

                                ‘   only   now   am   i   truly   opening   my   eyes   ,   i’m    responsible   for   the   people  ,   and   in   that  ?  i   have   to   be   unselfish  . . .  ’   brow  creases   as   he   looks   at    her  ,   PAUSES   his  work.   ‘  our   FAMILIES   were   built   upon   blood   . . .  lies   ,   and   the  idea   that   we   DESERVED   better.   surviving   is   only   half   of   it   jules  ’  then   going   to  offer   her   needle  ,   ‘  do   you   mind  ?  ,   each   time   i   go  to  stick  myself   i   flinch   and   miss   the   vein  ’    TRUSTING  her   with   this   act  ,   ‘   too  many   needles   ,   it   would   be   nice   to   just   survive   the   pain  ’   words   gentle   as   he   then   DEEPLY   inhales.   ‘   i   don’t   know   what   will   happen   ,   change   is   a  long   way   off   -   the  nights   and   injuries  are   going   to   get   worse  ’