Syntra
Baba Yaga
Well... Inna had never really thought of it that way, but now that she summarized Liora's characteristics in her head? Sol's doubts actually made a lot of fucking sense. Like, how the hell had the person who habitually googled updates to traffic laws ended up in the mafia??? ...and, no, don't ask how Inna knew her colleague's internet history. It was an educated fucking guess, okay? An educated guess based on hours on research, and also some spyware conveniently planted on the other woman's device. Just, sheesh! You couldn't live in These TimesTM and not keep tabs on your fucking competition. In Inna's humble opinion, anyone who didn't take precautions against this sort of thing was practically begging to have their info stolen! Like, it was the equivalent of wearing your diamond earrings in that suspicious back alley in which the local losers dealt crack, and Inna, ever the people pleaser, would hate not to deliver. Haha! ...and, and, and, besides, spying on Liora was actually a matter of international security. Who knew what dastardly, alien-y plans she might have hatched? Aside from, like, buying clothes online. (Some, uh, inspiring clothes, too. The blonde may or may not have taken mental screenshots of the items Liora had bought at Victoria's Secret-- solely to map her then-enemy's preferences, of course. Knowledge was power, and you never knew when these things might come in handy! ...but also, hnnng.)
"It does sound kinda weird now that you mention it," Inna said, deciding to ignore that whole mental detour, "but nah, actually. Maybe it's character development! I mean, they do say some cliche shit about good girls always going bad, don't they? And since it has entered the cultural fucking hivemind, there needs to be some truth to it. Repression, and yadda, yadda, yadda. Plus, fundamentally, isn't authoritarianism about hurting people? Like, about hurting their fucking souls. You just..." Inna took the bong and inhaled the smoke eagerly, as if it was water and she hadn't drunk anything for days, "...say 'no and no and no, bitch', to every request they might have, and like, you build a wall out of those rejections, you feel me? Between them and yourself and the rest of the fucking world. Even between them and their own wishes! Tell me that isn't violence, man. You fucking tear them away from themselves. No way that doesn't hurt. So, uh, maybe Li here saw it and decided she'd upgrade to causing physical pain?" Inna turned to Liora, a big, dumb smile on her face. (Why did people say weed made them dumb, again? 'Cause, dude, the blonde saw everything with such goddamn clarity now! The universe itself stood naked in front of her, like the day it had been born, and whispered secrets into her ear-- such as, you know, the confirmation that she indeed was awesome. That, and all those deep, deep thoughts! Like, you know how dogs saw different colors than people, right? And that there were creatures whose color spectrum was so wide it made the human eye seem like a fucking knockoff of something much greater? Inna now saw all of those spectra all at once, and man oh man, why the fuck were there any wars at all? Instead of pointing guns at one another and going all: "ratatatatatata!!!!" people could just... get high. Like, it objectively seemed to be the superior option here. Did anyone even enjoy bullets in their chest? One of those Mr. McSmart SmartyPants university types should publish some fucking research on the topic, or something.)
So, yeah, Inna's mind was wandering away and away and away, carried by the scent of weed-- except that it quickly returned to the fucking Earth when Sol presented her stories. "What!" the blonde howled and laughed, so much that her belly started to hurt. "Dude, that's just... fuck, even Liora's spurned lovers are such fucking overachievers. Trail of rose petals? In the goddamn sixth grade?" Then, as if she forgot the other woman was even there, Inna leaned closer to Sol and, uh, winked. "You think that would actually work on her? Like, in the theoretical situation in which a hot blonde would do it, not some greasy-ass middle school fucker. Asking for a friend." Haha! Ah, Inna, Inna. Always so fucking smooth, truly, that she couldn't help but wonder how it was even possible that she hadn't just... slid off the edge of the planet. Now, wouldn't that be a fun way to go?
Entirely content, Inna inhaled more of the blessed, blessed smoke, and handed the bong back to Sol. "Jesus fucking Christ," she laughed some more and, once again, it looked like she might choke. "A spitfire, ain't you? Maybe that was her villain origin story. Like, Li beat a bitch up and was like: 'Wow, what a great feeling, actually. Fuck all those years I spent memorizing pointless bullshit! This is what I wanna do for the rest of my life." And then, boom! Mafia. Makes sense, I think. It really, really makes sense." The theory was sound, just like everything Inna had ever produced, but Liora, of course, had very little understanding for her academic pursuits. Just, what? Leave? Now, when they'd barely started?
With her lips pursed, Inna rose from the bed-- still only half-clothed, mind you, because obviously, smoking weed took precedence over such shallow, shallow concerns like not attacking someone's delicate sensibilities. And, the thing that happened next? The blonde fucking collapsed in Liora's lap, putting her arm over her neck. "C'mooon, Liora," she whined. "Don't be such a fucking spoilsport. Please, Liora, Liora, Liora. Or, hehe, more like Comfyora? 'Cause you are comfy. Has anyone ever said that to you, huh?" Inna giggled, way too close to her ear. "Your name is funny, you know. What does it mean? Inna means 'river', and I do think I'm kinda like river. As in, right now, specifically. I'm fucking flowing!"
"It does sound kinda weird now that you mention it," Inna said, deciding to ignore that whole mental detour, "but nah, actually. Maybe it's character development! I mean, they do say some cliche shit about good girls always going bad, don't they? And since it has entered the cultural fucking hivemind, there needs to be some truth to it. Repression, and yadda, yadda, yadda. Plus, fundamentally, isn't authoritarianism about hurting people? Like, about hurting their fucking souls. You just..." Inna took the bong and inhaled the smoke eagerly, as if it was water and she hadn't drunk anything for days, "...say 'no and no and no, bitch', to every request they might have, and like, you build a wall out of those rejections, you feel me? Between them and yourself and the rest of the fucking world. Even between them and their own wishes! Tell me that isn't violence, man. You fucking tear them away from themselves. No way that doesn't hurt. So, uh, maybe Li here saw it and decided she'd upgrade to causing physical pain?" Inna turned to Liora, a big, dumb smile on her face. (Why did people say weed made them dumb, again? 'Cause, dude, the blonde saw everything with such goddamn clarity now! The universe itself stood naked in front of her, like the day it had been born, and whispered secrets into her ear-- such as, you know, the confirmation that she indeed was awesome. That, and all those deep, deep thoughts! Like, you know how dogs saw different colors than people, right? And that there were creatures whose color spectrum was so wide it made the human eye seem like a fucking knockoff of something much greater? Inna now saw all of those spectra all at once, and man oh man, why the fuck were there any wars at all? Instead of pointing guns at one another and going all: "ratatatatatata!!!!" people could just... get high. Like, it objectively seemed to be the superior option here. Did anyone even enjoy bullets in their chest? One of those Mr. McSmart SmartyPants university types should publish some fucking research on the topic, or something.)
So, yeah, Inna's mind was wandering away and away and away, carried by the scent of weed-- except that it quickly returned to the fucking Earth when Sol presented her stories. "What!" the blonde howled and laughed, so much that her belly started to hurt. "Dude, that's just... fuck, even Liora's spurned lovers are such fucking overachievers. Trail of rose petals? In the goddamn sixth grade?" Then, as if she forgot the other woman was even there, Inna leaned closer to Sol and, uh, winked. "You think that would actually work on her? Like, in the theoretical situation in which a hot blonde would do it, not some greasy-ass middle school fucker. Asking for a friend." Haha! Ah, Inna, Inna. Always so fucking smooth, truly, that she couldn't help but wonder how it was even possible that she hadn't just... slid off the edge of the planet. Now, wouldn't that be a fun way to go?
Entirely content, Inna inhaled more of the blessed, blessed smoke, and handed the bong back to Sol. "Jesus fucking Christ," she laughed some more and, once again, it looked like she might choke. "A spitfire, ain't you? Maybe that was her villain origin story. Like, Li beat a bitch up and was like: 'Wow, what a great feeling, actually. Fuck all those years I spent memorizing pointless bullshit! This is what I wanna do for the rest of my life." And then, boom! Mafia. Makes sense, I think. It really, really makes sense." The theory was sound, just like everything Inna had ever produced, but Liora, of course, had very little understanding for her academic pursuits. Just, what? Leave? Now, when they'd barely started?
With her lips pursed, Inna rose from the bed-- still only half-clothed, mind you, because obviously, smoking weed took precedence over such shallow, shallow concerns like not attacking someone's delicate sensibilities. And, the thing that happened next? The blonde fucking collapsed in Liora's lap, putting her arm over her neck. "C'mooon, Liora," she whined. "Don't be such a fucking spoilsport. Please, Liora, Liora, Liora. Or, hehe, more like Comfyora? 'Cause you are comfy. Has anyone ever said that to you, huh?" Inna giggled, way too close to her ear. "Your name is funny, you know. What does it mean? Inna means 'river', and I do think I'm kinda like river. As in, right now, specifically. I'm fucking flowing!"