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“My father molded me to assist him; to be the one who helped shoulder the load. He was the lynchpin that held our family’s world together, but I was the one who supported him. I could always bear the burden because he told me I was strong. Because he told me I was the only one who could.”

— Kristen Arnett, Mostly Dead Things

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lest eamon and otto’s antics with buchanan’s precious twins become discovered, the two have made their separate ways for the time being. or perhaps the night, depending on a variety of factors for both of them. and whilst he’s confident eamon is somewhere behaving himself - seeking a promotion that’ll come with more headaches and paper pushing and less hands on work -, otto doubts he’ll find himself following in those monochromatic footsteps. he’s perfectly capable of keeping his nose clean when necessary. his definition of clean, however, differs from everyone else. if the worst he does tonight is pickpocket and cause a minute amount of terror, he’ll consider himself well-behaved.

fate wants to tempt him. otto’s issues with paragon - or one particular member - notwithstanding, he’s come to the conclusion in three short months that sentinel deserves a great deal of his ire. the entitlement of paragon simply cannot be compared to the endless neediness of sentinel. otto leans against the archway, unbothered with mietta’s open appraisal. “you’re one to talk. what poor shepherd did you rob so you could feign being a ringmaster?” he lifts his chin, gaze indiscernible behind the red lenses of his glasses, and the chandelier dims - shadows moving to cover the blazing bulbs until it’s dim enough for his tastes. but he leaves his glasses in place as he strolls into the gallery. “don’t tell me - it’s one of kind. crafted with only the finest of italian materials by only the purest and most genius of italian minds.” otto pinches his fingers together and kisses them as he says genius. whether he’s unable to or simply chooses not to smother the giggle that follows is unknown. extracting his vape pen, he takes a hit. “you don’t want to network with me? i’m wounded.”

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Gasps emit from the crowd as glass shatters and flames rise, glittering shards scattering and fire dissipating as swiftly as it sparked. The twins look at each other with mirrored surprise: Did we do that? 

Like she said, cheap knock-offs.

“Oh,” Suzu feigns innocence, head tilted slightly to the right, “looks like they’re not so in control of their new powers, after all.” She has the grace not to laugh, but amusement flickers in her eyes at Mietta’s stunt. If she expects a lecture, she won’t be getting one from Suzu—the vigilante’s not some kind of handler, nor does she care for the pressure to be perfect. She meets Mietta’s grin with an expression of nonchalance instead, gaze flitting briefly to the twins before landing back on the other once more. “Worried? No.” It’s less bravado and more resignation that something will go wrong. To what spectacular end, she doesn’t know, but she won't be the one screaming if the chandeliers come crashing down. “Concerned? Immensely. I don’t think I need to tell you why.” It’s almost like a challenge: Has Mietta thought two, three steps ahead beyond her spike of fury? About the spiderweb this serum will weave, catching everyone in its threads? The headlines say the weight of the world rests on heroes’ shoulders. Suzu’s always thought that was bullshit, but when the world changes, will they change with it?

“But who knows? Maybe you’ll have more problems to get rid of soon. Some new supervillains to fight.” She shrugs. “Besides that, though, this gala is just as boring as last year’s.” But she comes anyway, because it pays to. A front row seat to whatever beacon of innovation Buchanan’s cooked up next isn’t to be missed ( seeing is believing and all that ), and the information gleaned from all the networking and posturing isn’t bad, either. It's a coin toss on if it's actually useful or not, but at least it's entertaining. “Unless you know of something more exciting going on?”

[liqhtbearer]

Anne Hathaway in The Hustle (2019) dir. Chris Addison

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"Stronger might be more palatable, I have to admit," Emerald responds with the type of practiced aloofness the NSA can afford her. Truthfully, having the ability to re-set the clock so she could promptly avoid the gala tonight would be more than useful. In fact, any power that goes beyond what she is capable would be better. Instead she feels, like a white noise in the back of her head lulling her to a manageable level of angry. Bewildered. Fearful.

Mietta speak plainly while Emmy holds her tongue. Assesses. The officer looks over the Sentinel with consideration before wiggling her fingers to the passing waiter -- gin and tonic -- in solidarity of something more fitting for the evening. "It won't negate what our heroes do." Her brows raise. "What you do. This is a gimmick in order to put the spotlight on an otherwise... average billionaire. Announcing for a media show is one thing, but in practice? Regulations exist for a reason." The swell of distaste dances on the tip of her tongue. "And he'll answer to them. I may not be the head of my department, but I don't play favorites."

[liqhtbearer]

saturday , january  7th , 2040. 11.10pm   ─  buchanan’s gala , with  otto dietrich.

Mietta has since left the crowded main area of the gala to roam the quiet hallways and rooms of the museum full of paintings and sculptures. Despite having the appetite for conversations and banters, even Mietta needs a moment away. As the night went on, the more the super had started to go about the unique occation as an intercommunication event in order to survive the rest of the boring night. She's able to admit that there were at least a few interesting individuals who have attended the gala. There were people here that she would be able to make connections with ─ people who if they scratched her back, she’d scratch theirs, if she got what she wanted first ; which was her image to be expanded.  Making her way deeper inside a random exhibition room, suddenly, Mimi notices that she is faced by large sculptures. Each are space equally to one another, perfectly lined up. Getting closer the story of the sculptures reveal more details. Truthfully, Mimi has never had the mind or the eye for art, but that doesn’t mean she’s unable to respect the story telling and the details that go into the structures. Head bows backward at the sound of footsteps on the tiled floor. Her gaze is dragged to the extravagant, crystal chandelier above her ;  a rippled groan of annoyance echos softly against marble walls. ❛ Can’t a girl get a moment to herself?❜ Looking to one side, her gaze falls on Otto. One dark brow arches, genuinely surprised to see him. She looks him up and down, evaluating without much shame. Then, she spots the broken handfuls and Mietta rolls her eyes. ❛ Can you get anymore gaudy? ❜  

[liqhtbearer]

THE WHITE LOTUS Season 2 | Episode 1

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their   tendency   for   freudian   slips   under   the   guise   of   an   introxicated   mind   has   always,      always   bested   them   in   the   worst   possible   time.      of   course,      out   of   all   the   people   that   could   have   overheard   their   mouth   running      :      it   has   to   be   one   of   the   nsa’s   chosen   few.      the   chosen   few   who   get   to   bear   the   title   of   their   prized   heroes      …      or,      as   they   would   rather   much   lovingly   call   it,      dancing   puppets.      the   feigned   smile   stretched   across   the   brims   is   mocking,      head   tilted   as   emerald   hues   trickle   up   and   down   the   sentinel   hero.      “      at   least   i   know   for   sure   that   we   don’t   have   a   rather   impressive   track   record   of   picking   the   most   self-absorbed   assholes   to   become   the   ‘   faces   of   justice   ’.      when   was   the   last   time   the   nsa’s   heroes   had   rescue   missions   without   casualties,      again      ?      ”      serpentine   tongue   never   once   holding   back   even   when   their   judgement   wasn’t   clouded      …      let   alone   when   it’s   under   the   influence   of   toxins.      spiting   someone   so   much   more   powerful   than   them   could   be   grounds   for   a   bad   idea      …      but,      then   again,      how   often   will   they   get   to   say   this   right   to   a   hero’s   face      ?      “      maybe   you’ll   be   the   one   who   gets   to   take   them   down.      god   knows   sentinel   can   use   the   extra   publicity.      what’s   it   called      …      second   best   and   forgotten   by   the   rest      ?      ”      

[liqhtbearer]

MIETTA’S TOP SONGS !

ʻ𝘪 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘺𝘰𝘶'𝘳𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘺 , 𝘪 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘺𝘰𝘶'𝘳𝘦 𝘧𝘳𝘦𝘦. 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘪'𝘷𝘦 𝘨𝘰𝘵 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘩 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘢𝘣𝘪𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘺 ... ʼ

template created by 𝚍𝚒𝚟𝚒𝚗𝚎𝚏𝚎𝚖.

[liqhtbearer]

[text ID: Gold foil has tricked many people. Think: religious paintings. Often, people with halos get listened to. /end ID]

[liqhtbearer]

saturday , january  7th , 2040. 10.08pm   ─  buchanan’s gala , with  rosario larin.

The room is filled with romantic frilled hems, bosom ─ boasting silhouettes and dapper suiting in a blur of colors and fabrics. A handful of guests have had enough drinks to find themselves on the dance floor. People were now mingling and moving from their designated seating to sit with friends and known collegues. This was Mietta's favourite part of evenings like this. This is the tipping line between professionalism and letting your guard down enough to allow some interesting information slide.

Because despite being someone who strived for attention during events such as a gala like this, Mietta was constantly in her head. She can hear her mother’s voice even though Beatrice has been gone for fifteen years. straighten your back, wear a smile like you’re wearing a secret and remember: you’re a guest. they’re lucky to have you, not the other way around. act like it. Mietta has been exposed and exploited ever since her abilities came to the surface and while she flutters around small groups with a bright and sugary smile, making small-talk and pretending she’s enjoying herself while making her way back to her friend from the open bar, Mietta feels as if she has eggshells in the pit of her stomach. 

The shock and awe about the super serum has since died down. It seemed it was now going to be a problem for another day. At least for Mietta she wasn’t going to give another thought. The super was now fully committed to having some fun. Passing Rosie a fresh gin and tonic, Mietta sets her sights on the crowd and tips her staff towards an old man with stark white hair, an odd limp, and an obvious wandering eye. ❛ I just overheard from table four that Darren Anderson, that old guy just over there, went out for dinner with someone who's not his wife. Apparently yhey looked awfully cozy. That doesn't sound like much, I know, but get this ... ❜ Mietta leans into Rosie now, forgetting about personal space, as she continues to dish the dirt with her eyes still strained on the old man and his gross habits. ❛ Mrs. Anderson finds out ─ or should I say former Mrs. Anderson ─ So, what she does, is that she rinses every pair of his tightie whities in a heaping helping of bleach. ❜ Shoulders shake with light laughter, ❛ Safe to say that he and his side piece weren't having fun anymore. ❜

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Malice courses through Mietta's veins, causing her to wind up tightly like a cobra ready to strike. There is a separate crowd around either Wonder Twin, and Mietta watches through a bitter gaze while the crowd is overcome with astonishment and delight for the shiny new toys that have made their debut. Suzu’s voice startles Mietta slightly, the grip on her staff tightens for a moment. ❛ They are cheap knock-offs and there's nothing flash about them, ❜ The brunette scoffs, an ugly grimace etching deeper into usually alluring features. As she watches the Super's From a Bottle, she wonders how long have they been creating and testing, creating and testing serums for them to confidently display this one. ❛ They're more like science experiment doomed to go wrong, if anything. ❜

She takes a moment to mull Suzu’s question. Mietta typically doesn't get worried. The fire has already started by the time she arrives to the scene, all that's needed from her is action and containment. This time she can see the problem before is becomes a disaster. ❛ ... Not overly. ❜ She would be lying if she said she wasn’t worried, and as much as she wanted to look unshakable and in control, it’s clear by the flickering lights above that Mietta is more in a rage than anything. ❛ It’ll cause problems, obviously. But problems keep me employed. ❜ Her voice in monotone due to being slightly distracted in an internal debate: cause a scene or let it be? With the lifting of her staff, barely notable to those who aren’t paying attention, Mietta hits the bottom of her medium to the gala floor twice. A spark of white light is dragged from the chandelier toward the top of the golden staff before beign redirected toward the show of lightning and levetation. The few flutes that had been suspended mid air shatter, the display of lightning causes another small combustion of fire. It's dangerous, sure, and not very hero-like, but as of right now no one is in any real danger and it's nothing anyone will lose an eye over.

Then, like a switch, the super pushes away the malevolence she feels, and a grin replaces the daggers in her dark eyes while fixing her sights upon the vigilante she can't help but want to impress. ❛ Are you worried? ❜

with : @liqhtbearer location : buchanan’s gala, main room date : january 7, 2040

halo. one needs to look no further than the moniker echoing divinity to know exactly what mietta thinks of herself. suzu has to give the woman credit for her surety, for the way she believes herself to be a cut above the rest and how she wants to prove it. but kronos’ new serum has the potential to shake the foundation of her confidence—if it doesn’t go haywire first. “flashy, isn’t it? like making a cheap knock-off,” she says idly, gaze cutting from one of the twins creating a lightshow between his hands to mietta. “are you worried about it?” 

[liqhtbearer]

a lot of my buddies are playthings for the gods. not me though

[liqhtbearer]

The announcement of the super serum has left Mietta, and most supers, in a sour mood. What was the point? What was the end goal? Mietta knows that whatever is being created being Kronos and it's closed doors will never amount to what a real super can accomplish. This will back fire. Mietta hopes this creation back fires, because although this is a disater waiting to happen, it means that she'll be right and the public will need her. There's not a combination Mietta loves to think about more. Wandering outside to the balcony, there are a few people already outside, which is to be expected. Paired with the music and many conversations, it's loud inside the gala, even for Mietta.

Sipping on her drink, the super stops behind someone who's muttering how they really feel. Really, it's nothing she hasn't heard before. It's not being indriedcly called an asshole that bother's her thought. It's the ‘ i didn’t have anything to do with it ’ or ‘ i didn’t know this was being made ’ or ‘ i don’t have the clearance for that information ’ sort of comments she's been hearing since the demonstration … None of this was sitting well with Mietta. Goes to to the balcony for some fresh air and before she combusts a handful of light bulbs. 

Each comment that comes out of the person’s mouth causes the sentinel hero to heavily roll her eyes. ❛ You think that the Circus Twins inside won’t become assholes because they got their power from a bottle? Because Kronos is going to raise them to not be assholes? ❜ It's laughable, really. One of the two bodies slips away away, leaving just the super and this loudmouth. A challenging smile eases onto her lips while leaning her hip against the balcony. ❛ I bet you I'll have to take down those rugrats by the time they're eighteen and allowed to leave the lab without supervision. ❜

𝐓𝐇𝐄   𝐁𝐀𝐋𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐘      @      𝐁𝐔𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐍'𝐒   𝐆𝐀𝐋𝐀      —      𝗢𝗣𝗘𝗡

breath   hinting   vaguely   at   one   drink   too   many,      slurred   movements   and   voice   has   become   a   victim   of   the   night   of   celebrations.      the   old   man's   gala   where   he   unveiled   the   supposed   super   serum   that   will      ‘      change   the   lives   of   many      ’      ...      to   them,      the   levelling   of   the   omnipresent   playfield   looming   over   novus'   head   ever   since   the   very   first   super   was   born.      the   birth   of   a   new   era   where   disparity   won't   run   rampant   between   the   supers   and   the   non-supers.      ‘      don't   ask   me,      i   had   nothing   to   do   with   that.      knew   nothing   of   it,      ’      dismissive,      dishonest      :      all   too   eager   to   avoid   the   topic   as   much   as   possible.      pushing   away   at   curious   minds   and   finding   solace   at   the   cut   of   a   winter's   wind.      “      if   y'ask   me      ...      maybe   it's   a   good   thing   that   now   some   people   can   have   the   power   to   stand   up   to   those   assholes,      y'know      ?         ”      back   turned   to   the   crowd,      words   spoken   through   a   mumble.

[liqhtbearer]

Gold staff is being held tightly, white — knuckled in one hand, champagne flute in the other, Mietta watches the crowd as the atmosphere thickens. ❛ I was, but, ❜ Mietta clicks her tongue against the roof of her mouth, ❛ the novelty has worn off. ❜ Dark hues land upon the circus twins Buchanan continues to show off to anyone willing. No anyone can be a Super, and the statement left a bitter taste on the tip of Mietta’s tongue. Anyone can be a Super. Ugh, as if. This was a disaster waiting to happen. In fact, it look as if it was already in motion. The silver lining? The potential this has to keep Mietta employed. She can only see how this is going to fail ( she wants it to fail. gloriously & spectacularly for the world to see so she can laugh in their faces. you can trust what's made in a lab. not something like this, and not something from kronos ).

Her sights are brought to the woman in red, not bothering to change the scowl on her features due to the news. ❛ Champagne, ❜ She answers, swirling the golden liquid in its affluent flute before tossing it back and placing the empty glass on a passing server’s tray. ❛ Though, I think getting something stronger is in order, don't you think? ❜ Giving an order for a lemon drop martini to another server, Mietta turns her attention back to the other woman once more ; head held a little higher with the rolling of tense shoulders — her demeanor changes slightly after processing what she's witnessed. The warmth of the champagne helps Mietta relax. ❛ ... The balls on Buchanan. They must be made out of steel and are indestructible for him to pull something so ... asinine. ❜

open to: anyone! event: buchanan's gala

"Are you enjoying yourself?" Despite the announcement leaving a familiar chill in her bones, Emerald keeps the façade lifted with feigned optimism. She'd spent enough time on herself to mingle with the crowd, to control the very thing they've placed in a commercial vial, but she could feel the anger bubbling in the middle of her throat.

"I have to say they outdid themselves this year. I never think champagne is good, but tonight... might have changed my mind." Flashing an earnest smile at the other person, she flutters her free hand towards the flute in her other. "What about you? What are you drinking?"

[liqhtbearer]

✨ 𝐌𝐈𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐀 𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐎 aka 𝐇𝐀𝐋𝐎 at the 𝟐𝟎𝟒𝟎 𝐁𝐔𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐍’𝐒 𝐆𝐀𝐋𝐀 ‚ on january 7th.

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SIMONA TABASCO.