I don't own these characters.
A/N: this was a writing exercise I did upon suggestion and got some help on; thanks for the help, Lex. So, it's just a little scene, peeking on the lives of Vivian F. Porter and Betty Director, but I thought I'd share because there should be more Vivian/Betty stuff. Don't ask about the title; I don't know where I got it from either.
The large, chic apartment was quiet except for the exceptionally loud grinding noise coming from Vivian's perfect, ivory teeth gnashing against each other. The place was engulfed in onyx shadows like a piece of outer space, except for the dining room. The dining room was bathed in dull orange light, as that was where the blonde scientist was currently located, silently seething with the exclusion of the sound from her teeth. Her whole being, which was covered in a sexy lilac-colored dress, was drawn tighter than a bow flexed to the maximum extent.
She sat at the dinner table with her elbows on the cloth-covered, glass platform with her chin resting on her tightly folded hands. Her fingernails but into the tops of her hands like thirsty mosquitoes. She failed to notice that minor issue.
The look on her face was more intense than a powerful solar flare. Her eyes burned with the fires of Hell in them. Her piercing blue eyes focused on the seeming infinite distance of the vacant chair that was just beyond her; it seemed like her gaze could set the wood ablaze.
She was so taut that it did not even register to her mind that she lost feeling in the lower regions of her legs from being seated and still for so long in the polished ebony chair. The once-fluffy white cushion underneath her was now totally flat from the constant pressure. If a brick wall were to fall on her right now, it would have probably crumbled against her back because she would not be moved. Her spine was as straight and as strong as a steel rod at the moment. Her shoulders were squared to the point that an on-looker might assume she was ready to brawl.
Dying flames flickered on the melted candles at the center of the table. They were now half their original size and shrinking with every passing second. There was a beautifully prepared meal in front of the elegantly dressed blonde female that had grown as cold as her heart some time ago. Opposite her plate was an equally chilly meal with no person in front of the plate for the food to reflect any mood. It seemed like an eternity ago when the apartment smelled strongly of the delicious dinner that had been prepared with loving hands, but now the air seemed stale, spiteful, and just as stiff as the apartment's sole occupant, who seemed ready to explode. She merely required a spark and she would set the place off worse than a misplaced candle could.
The thick, heavy air and absolute dead silence of the apartment would have probably driven Vivian mad if only she was not so focused on what was boiling and raging inside of her. The outside was for the most part was irrelevant, except for the unattended meal and empty seat at the other end of the table. It was not abnormal for that chair to be on its own or for a meal to have frosted over from neglect, which only made matters worse. They served as reminders and replenished the ire burrowed deeply within of the blonde in case it decided to falter due to foolish intruders like forgiveness or understanding, if they dared to trespass where they were not welcomed.
The room grew darker, as was her mood, as the candles continued to fade. The light illuminated the room and Vivian's lovely features in an almost demonic way, reflecting the murderous intent flaring inside of her. As the flames danced, shifting the light, her expression seemed to become more malevolent as the eerie shadows crept across her visage like ghosts haunting the area.
Time was just fuel for the displeasure mounting in her tense form. She would snap like stressed twig any moment. She could feel it, which only served to make things worse. How dare that chair be empty for so long? How dare the food be cold and uneaten? How dare the candles almost be gone and she was still at the table alone?
Her mouth was bent, almost broken, in a furious scowl. Her eyebrows were drawn close together to the point that she looked absolutely wicked. Archangels and devils alike would have fled from the sight of her as rapidly as possible. Every nerve and muscle in her body felt like they would pop as each second ticked away.
She required action soon or she would simply splinter and shatter from her own emotions. She heard the front door ease open, which only made her nerves twitch in anticipation, reveling in the fact that movement was about to take place. The wick had been lit. The explosion was imminent.
"Sorry… I'm… late," Betty sincerely apologized as she entered the dining room. Her words were slowed from seeing the short candles and a slight flicker of the flame that showed her Vivian's non-too-pleased look as the blonde locked onto her from across the room.
The one-eyed woman actually felt rather guilty over her lateness, as she often did. It was a bit of a habit of hers, one that would probably be the death of her very soon. She held a bouquet of red roses in hand to add to her earnest apology. She knew they would be worthless once she caught her girlfriend's look, which was very near demented. Vivian's expression was purely creepy and utterly devilish.
Nothing would save her. Betty knew she needed to start running. Now.
Hope you liked it. If you did like it, please check out my other works. Also, please check out my books. There are links on my profile. Thanks for the support. Hasta…