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yay! she's finally done!

๐ŸŽ๐Ÿ : ๐•ธ๐–Ž๐–“๐–Š.
The Luncheon
Iโ€™ll stab a bitch, haha jkโ€ฆ unless?

interactions: Anteros, Hera @smarty0114

mentions: Apollo @smarty0114, Melinoรซ @KZOMBI3

โ ษขแดสŸแด… แด‡สแด‡s,
สแดแดœ แดกแด‡แด€แด แด‡ ษขแดสŸแด…แด‡ษด สŸษชแด‡s
แด˜ส€แด‡ss สแดแดœส€ สŸษชแด˜s แด›แด แดษชษดแด‡
แด€ษดแด… ษช แด€สŸแดแดsแด› า“แด€สŸสŸ แด‡แด แด‡ส€ส แด›ษชแดแด‡
ษขแดแด›แด›แด€ แด‹แด‡แด‡แด˜ ษชษด แดษชษดแด…
แด›แด sแด›แด€ส ษขส€แดแดœษดแด…แด‡แด…
สแดแดœ แด€ส€แด‡ษดโ€™แด› แดษชษดแด‡
สแดแดœ แด€ส€แด‡ษดโ€™แด› แดษชษดแด‡
สแดแดœ แด€ส€แด‡ษดโ€™แด› แดษชษดแด‡ โž

The air in the studio was charged, the uptempo thrum of an electric guitar and beat of a drum set echoed in Callaiaโ€™s ears. There were more words to be recorded, a fun guitar solo to crescendo up to, a sultry outro to hype up her fans for the following song on the tracklist, and yet all that played was the instrumental.

โ€œCal?โ€ The worried voice of Warren Blake, CEO of the Seattle-based recording studio, buzzed in through the speakers.

โ€œLetโ€™s do it again, that was-โ€œ

โ€œGo home, we can come back on Monday rejuvenated and refreshed,โ€ he sighed and powered down the recording equipment. Callaia exited the studio briskly, her brows knitted together in confusion and annoyance, ready to proclaim how she was ready now, but the Kim Possible text tone dedicated to her brother stopped her sentence from forming. โ€œDonโ€™t you have a brunch to get to?โ€

โ€œItโ€™s a luncheon-โ€œ her deadpan earned her a chuckle and an affectionate ruffle of her perfectly pressed hair, Hey-!โ€

โ€œGet outta here kid, Iโ€™ll see you Monday.โ€

Pothosโ€™ cheeks puffed out in annoyance, had anyone else referred to her in such a manner she might have lost her shit, but Warren had gotten away with it since their first meeting. There was something about this mortal that made her feel.. human, and contrary to popular belief, it was a very welcomed feeling to Pothos.

โ€œFine. See you Monday, old man.โ€ Desire grumbled at the warm affection that rumbled in the notes of a short laugh that followed her out of the recording studio and into the backseat of a black town car. A reminder chimed on her phone for todayโ€™s Luncheon and she let out a sigh, thumbing through the guest list, โ€ Alive, alive, well thatโ€™s surprising, alive, alive, fuck.โ€ Pothos groaned and leaned her head back against the plush leather seat, โ€œYouโ€™ve ever been to a Luncheon that hasnโ€™t devolved into a cluster fuck?โ€

The driver met her eyes through the rearview and shook his head, Pothos hoped that he hadnโ€™t ever attended a Luncheon, but knowing her community, gatherings and shit shows were synonymous. Desire tapped impatiently on her phone screen checking social media, reading her emails, and finally getting around to responding to her better half.

To: Loverboy
I heard they were doing classes at Apple on how to use phones for the Elderly, maybe you should take her for โœจbondingโœจ one of these days! sent

To: Loverboy

But also, stop looking because your favorite superstar is here ๐Ÿ˜Ž sent

โ€œWell, I hope youโ€™re ready to become the worldโ€™s best getaway driver, Max!โ€ Pothos coos as she exits the car in a practiced manner, ready to greet the paparazzi she knows arenโ€™t there, as if any of the wait staff or venue owners would leak information when The Marilyn Montgomery was in charge.

โ€œMiss?โ€ The driver peers out of the cracked passenger window worry painted on his features and it makes Pothos laugh as she dismissively waved her hand.

โ€œIโ€™m just kidding Max, I break hearts, not bones~โ€


โ€œWell, on second thought, I donโ€™t think Iโ€™d be much of a disappointment if I broke a face or two.โ€ Pothos grumbles under her breath, her hands squeezing around her phone as she was greeted by the audacious mingling of Radiance and Madness in some sketchy corner of the opulent venue hall.

Pothos hated how her eyes seemed to snap to Apolloโ€™s stupid face no matter the size of the crowd or expanse of the space they occupied. For he was the Sun, and she a lonely planet that couldnโ€™t spin fast enough to break out of orbit, and so she was caught up in the seasons of love with a fair-weather god. Now it was winter, the blossoms had shriveled and died weeks ago but the yearning to sprout again weaved into the lyrics she penned and echoed in the tenor she crooned.

Flicking her, still perfectly pressed, hair over her shoulder, she washed away the emotions with a class of expensive bubbly and continued her rudely interrupted entrance. Pothos sent a wink toward her favorite huntress, blew a kiss towards her brother, and effortlessly linked her arm through her grandmotherโ€™s, โ€œWord on the street is youโ€™ll be able to put away your smoke signals kit soon thanks to your second favorite grandchild, love that for you!โ€

@Wolf Mother@Akayaofthemoon@TGM My First one! :)

@Wolf Mother@Akayaofthemoon@TGM My First one! :)

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