My Star Lit Recollections
xxxxxxxSolo
xxxxxxxxx{ The Light in the Darkness }
xxxxxxxxx{ Date :: 4 Nov. 2015 }
xxxxxxxxx{ Word Count :: 1,790 }
November was a crisp leaf under her boot, crackled and splintering. It was the warm pumpkin spice latte cradled between her conductive hands. Not a penny was spared for the drink that ran, warmer than whiskey, across her tongue and down her throat. Her body hummed from the energy she'd collected however. The adrenaline from the thrill of the chase, of appearing from the awning above the cafe as the woman left with her drink in hand. Carnotite had been more than happy to relieve her of her purchase, and her energy. Now she enjoyed the fruit of her labor, boots smothering the leaves as she stepped oh so merrily along one of the rooftops not far from the scene of her crime. Thick, pulsating power lines hung near her, and she hummed in time with the electrical energy she felt coursing through her systems at the proximity. Lights meant to focus on the display behind her did not blind her, but accented her gold and brass attire--and self. A fairy's laughter, a tinkle of bells, trickled from between her warmed lips as she basked in the glow. "I always wanted to live in my own spotlight," she purred, eyes aglow.
She could laugh about it now of course. One of her metal glazed hands wrapped around the power lines, stroking it as if it were an affectionate pet, glowing eyes surveying her newfound kingdom. A crown sat upon her glistening locks, each perfect curl accented by the golden glow. A crown of lights, even if they were just bulbs. They were her crown. How'd that song go? Hell yeah I'm a ******** princess.
Accurate was accurate.
She was no rags to riches. Lucretia Fiore never knew the concept of hunger, or thirst, or loneliness. The cold never bothered her anyways because it never existed. She snapped her fingers, and people would bend over backwards to fulfill her every whim. Helped that her parents had so much money, so much push and pull in their multimillion companies, world wide attention. Her father's clothing lines were always featured in the top magazines, while her mother's record company was herald for enlisting some of the best up and coming artists in numerous countries. And dear, sweet young Lucretia was the heir to it all. It was so tragic how her mother couldn't have other children. Lucretia herself had been the product of numerous attempts at fertility treatments.
She was a miracle baby, and oh did she know it.
Growing up with the best of the best, she always strove to be the best. Of course she wanted to prove she was her parents' darling daughter, the perfect union of both their powerful worlds. Her mother's poise and precision, her father's tenacity and eye for beauty. It was the name Fiore that caught eyes and made her friends. It was her parents' influence and opulence that gained her flattering attention and kisses behind the bleachers. And Lucretia knew it.
And she never was above abusing it.
She watched as her friends from Crystal struck out on their own, intent on making their own names away from their parents', earning their own keep. Lucretia just scoffed at the idea, laughing merrily at their stupidity. It was a fool who threw away silver platters after all. She'd used her father's name and business contacts to begin wedging her way into the fashion industry. When her mother was away for work, it wasn't uncommon for the young Lucretia to join her father as his partner for business dinners even as young as fourteen. Dressed impeccably, sweet tempered and bell-like laughter, it didn't take her long to begin collecting names and spreading word she was interested in the industry. Of course, she wasn't just a pretty face, gorgeous as it was. On the advice of a ghost of a woman, still carrying the airs of an era long passed yet nonetheless breathtaking for her beauty and grace despite the wrinkles and feeble bones, Lucretia began to bring with her gold leaf engraved leather sketchbooks. The pages were filled with designs and concepts for anything from accessories to match collections from other designers, to collection concepts of her own.
She giggled at the complements, blushed and batted the air bashfully where necessary. And she made her waves. Used her father's coattails to hook herself on her family's name.
College was less a time for learning, and more a time for showing off. The cutest eye candy boys on her arm back in high school were quickly replaced with the hottest models her father's company worked with. Tabloids raved about the young heiress and her partying, and she always made sure to have her hair, makeup, and outfits perfect for their snapshots. The gossip swirled when she dropped out of college to become the newest, and youngest, personal assistant of the editor of one of the top fashion magazines. Her father certainly didn't ask any questions, and at parties Lucretia was always coyly pointing out she'd met the editor first at some of her father's business dinners. The news went crazy when she was making plans to get married to one of the top rising modeling stars, their passion plastered on magazines across the nation and more racy photos scattered across social networks. Her name became all the bigger when she dropped him at the altar when a source gave her proof of behavior she found inexcusable.
It wasn't the Brazilian model on the side that irked her, in fact she expected it. Her father's top earners were frequent visitors to his penthouse apartment she'd sometimes crash at when she didn't feel like going back home, and she knew most of her mother's trips were to see her boyfriend. It was the bad investments Lucretia's husband-to-be had made that was the source of their falling out. She'd made it clear her minimum requirement for his bank account and portfolio numbers.
In diamonds and vintage lace, Lucretia walked from the high end church to a penthouse suit her father owned. The man she met between the sheets gave her an offer she couldn't refuse. A little pain, a little poison, and she could have the stars. He knew her well. It wasn't the idea of defeating alien invaders that would do anything for her, wasn't the idea of being a hero or finding some missing family. Belonging didn't mean a dime to her. A little sacrifice, and she could have power. Real power. More than just money and sway, she could turn her ambitions into a monopoly if she played her cards right. Aligned herself with the right people. Did what she did best--use the right people for her own gain.
He knew her so perfectly well. It was a shame he wasn't looking for something longer term.
Lucretia let him slide his hand into her chest, let him fill her soul--her starseed, he called it--full of pain, and poison, and agony. A little loss, a little disruption to her perfect world, and when she opened her eyes, she was a better her. Miracle though that was, she stood as Carnotite, perfectly tailored uniform and beautiful accent yellow. She was the light in the darkness, she felt. The glistening gem. There was no rough for her. She was a gem that existed out of spite for the natural world.
It was her ex-fiance's starseed that was the first she'd taken, followed by the idiot advisor that convinced him to invest in those horrific stocks. Ruined her happy wedding into economic bliss, her plans for a beautiful family and a fat alimony and child support check if he turned out to be a failure as her devoted husband.
A week was all it took for her to find a new rhythm, and Lucretia was happy with her balance between work and her new enterprise. She was the apple of her boss' eye, and her time spent among the Negaverse was spent learning, problem solving, and making such perfect use of how easily a pretty face could get past people's guards. Now and then she'd take a few trophies from around her kills, wearing the pilfered jewelry or garments from their wardrobe with gleaming pride. This was her place, she was so happy to say. Rule the earth, take out anyone in her way... it was easy, no?
But she was frustrated. That promotion wasn't coming her way. Two weeks wasn't enough time, she was told. Yet that didn't change her mind. Of all whom were deserving, surely she was the most profound. Surely, she had the most to offer. She pouted, she complained, she whined, and oh did she b***h. Yet nothing worked. Nothing got her her way. Carnotite was stuck, a lieutenant. Following orders for someone else's game. And it ate at her like acid.
Perhaps that's what lead the apple of her eye to her?
That gleaming light.
That golden girl.
Oh the promises on her glistening lips, the future reflected in her neon lights and burning gaze. Carnotite wanted that beauty, that perfection. She was growing older. She had the money to fight it, but images of that withered woman, once an angel of the photographs, haunted her. Made her blood run cold, wake up in a cold sweat and cry about the eventuality of life. Yet this angel, this true divinity, offered her a beautiful answer. Her solution. Lucretia couldn't have begged a better fate from the stars. She held open her arms, bared her soul, and welcomed the electrical wonder into her.
The pain, the poison. It hurt. God did it hurt. Worse than when she'd awakened as Carnotite, worse than the night terrors of reality. She was burning, melting, blown apart and reforming into something else. Someone else. Perfection, beauty, passion and fashion and fun and everything she'd ever labeled herself as. Personified.
She wore her crown of lights and her eyes glistened with the lights of a beautiful future. Carnotite had lost a great deal, oh yes. But she'd gained. Oh, oh did she gain in its wake. She closed her eyes in rapture as she felt the electricity flow through her from the exposed power lines, smiling to the starlit heavens. She was brighter than any star. She was more precious than any soul. They could all be extinguished for her kingdom.
She was the ******** princess, after all. Carnotite snapped her fingers, and the lights of the display flicked off at her command, the broken power lines sparking at her feet, the applause of a crowd and her public. Only her crown of lights, her a shining star, remained to illuminate the crushing darkness.
