Prompt 48 / AU
Title: Lady Poison
Author: Sensei
Prompt: AU
Words: 737
Characters: Naraku/SessMama
Rating: T
Summary: In 2011, a reincarnated Naraku sees a familiar face on television.
Author's Note: This is an entry in my Naraku in Modern Times collection, but it is written to stand alone. But I'm wondering if it needs to continue into a second chapter of its own…
Extra butter movie style was the only popcorn Naraku ate. That low-fat stuff? What was the point. Might as well put salt on packing peanuts. And weren't they made of corn now, anyway? Biodegradable everything nowadays. Well, he was the original "biodegradable," wasn't he?
It hadn't been long that he'd come to himself in this incarnation, not long since Lucas James Gray-son of an abusive lay preacher, sullen loner, and night janitor at the Jesus Oasis Evangelical Church in Lebanon, Tennessee-woke one morning knowing once again, that he had reincarnated into a hellish failure of a life across the world and the ages from the once glory days as Naraku, Lord Demon of an illustrious era of gods and monsters.
He crunched the greasy popcorn and licked his dirty fingers, then took up the remote and channel surfed. Soon, he'd have to go sweep and clean beneath the pews for kid's gum and crumpled papers. No respect for majesty, these so-called religious folk. But he needed the money in this absurd era.
Suddenly, he stopped clicking as his eyes beheld a most unexpected sight. An elegant, leggy model type with long, silver-white hair cascading down shoulders and a tight shimmery dress, making her way down a catwalk with exaggerated hip sway and lips so ripe and ruby red he could not help but want to take a bite out of them. Her eyes sparkled with blue shadow and rhinestones. She walked in shoes that were impossible, pencil-thin stilts, and yet she strutted with such elegance and regal demeanor he could not look away. When she paused at the end of the runway and struck a pose for the judges of whatever pathetic reality show this obviously was, he was certain it was her. It could be no one else: the Lady of the West, that irresistible bitch. He licked his lips, remembering the past, their dalliances, the first time he suckled her delicate toes.
He turned up the sound, for she filled the screen, and was now standing in a group with four or five other excessively painted hussies, but she was heads and shoulders above them, a goddess among dregs. A voice offscreen, purring like a clawed kitten, was saying, "Lady Poison, you are the winner of this challenge." The Lady gently inclined her head and let enormous eyelashes sweep down over cheeks rouged in lavender as she murmured a falsely humble, "Thank you." Oh yes, it was no one but she.
He glanced at the corner of the screen to see he was watching some channel called "Logo." He snagged cable tv with an illegal black box, and relished the transgression as a way of defying his hell-and-brimstone father, though since his coming to self-awareness, it was just a pastime until he could regain power. He had thought to become a preacher himself and let others throw money at him as he told them of a doom he would love to bring on their unworthy heads singlehandedly. But now?
Now the only question now was how to attain the Lady's favor in this incarnation. Did she know who she was? The soubriquet "Lady Poison" suggested so, but then, where was the power in being a mere pretty woman on a catwalk? He watched her turn and walk away, the sway of her hips unlike her former proud self, but still so very obviously her. He would get to her, somehow, for here she was, so close and yet so far, the only woman at whose feet the mighty Naraku had ever served-or wished to serve. Even Onigumo did not worship Kikyou as he had come secretly to pursue the favor of the elusive Lady of the West. He grinned to himself, remembering: Kagura and Kanna had not known of her, nor Hakudoshi or Byakuya. It was his glorious secret, all the more exciting for its forbidden nature.
He could not rest until he brought her to herself and came to reign at her side…or at least at her beautiful, succulent feet. He waited for the commercial break to begin his pursuit by learning the name of this ridiculous little program: "RuPaul's Drag Race: Season Three" whatever the hell that meant. In any case, it was time to pack his bags and head to Hollywood. "Lady Poison," he murmured, rubbing his oily hands together as he sprouted even oilier tentacles, "here comes Naraku."
~
Author: Sensei
Prompt: AU
Words: 737
Characters: Naraku/SessMama
Rating: T
Summary: In 2011, a reincarnated Naraku sees a familiar face on television.
Author's Note: This is an entry in my Naraku in Modern Times collection, but it is written to stand alone. But I'm wondering if it needs to continue into a second chapter of its own…
Extra butter movie style was the only popcorn Naraku ate. That low-fat stuff? What was the point. Might as well put salt on packing peanuts. And weren't they made of corn now, anyway? Biodegradable everything nowadays. Well, he was the original "biodegradable," wasn't he?
It hadn't been long that he'd come to himself in this incarnation, not long since Lucas James Gray-son of an abusive lay preacher, sullen loner, and night janitor at the Jesus Oasis Evangelical Church in Lebanon, Tennessee-woke one morning knowing once again, that he had reincarnated into a hellish failure of a life across the world and the ages from the once glory days as Naraku, Lord Demon of an illustrious era of gods and monsters.
He crunched the greasy popcorn and licked his dirty fingers, then took up the remote and channel surfed. Soon, he'd have to go sweep and clean beneath the pews for kid's gum and crumpled papers. No respect for majesty, these so-called religious folk. But he needed the money in this absurd era.
Suddenly, he stopped clicking as his eyes beheld a most unexpected sight. An elegant, leggy model type with long, silver-white hair cascading down shoulders and a tight shimmery dress, making her way down a catwalk with exaggerated hip sway and lips so ripe and ruby red he could not help but want to take a bite out of them. Her eyes sparkled with blue shadow and rhinestones. She walked in shoes that were impossible, pencil-thin stilts, and yet she strutted with such elegance and regal demeanor he could not look away. When she paused at the end of the runway and struck a pose for the judges of whatever pathetic reality show this obviously was, he was certain it was her. It could be no one else: the Lady of the West, that irresistible bitch. He licked his lips, remembering the past, their dalliances, the first time he suckled her delicate toes.
He turned up the sound, for she filled the screen, and was now standing in a group with four or five other excessively painted hussies, but she was heads and shoulders above them, a goddess among dregs. A voice offscreen, purring like a clawed kitten, was saying, "Lady Poison, you are the winner of this challenge." The Lady gently inclined her head and let enormous eyelashes sweep down over cheeks rouged in lavender as she murmured a falsely humble, "Thank you." Oh yes, it was no one but she.
He glanced at the corner of the screen to see he was watching some channel called "Logo." He snagged cable tv with an illegal black box, and relished the transgression as a way of defying his hell-and-brimstone father, though since his coming to self-awareness, it was just a pastime until he could regain power. He had thought to become a preacher himself and let others throw money at him as he told them of a doom he would love to bring on their unworthy heads singlehandedly. But now?
Now the only question now was how to attain the Lady's favor in this incarnation. Did she know who she was? The soubriquet "Lady Poison" suggested so, but then, where was the power in being a mere pretty woman on a catwalk? He watched her turn and walk away, the sway of her hips unlike her former proud self, but still so very obviously her. He would get to her, somehow, for here she was, so close and yet so far, the only woman at whose feet the mighty Naraku had ever served-or wished to serve. Even Onigumo did not worship Kikyou as he had come secretly to pursue the favor of the elusive Lady of the West. He grinned to himself, remembering: Kagura and Kanna had not known of her, nor Hakudoshi or Byakuya. It was his glorious secret, all the more exciting for its forbidden nature.
He could not rest until he brought her to herself and came to reign at her side…or at least at her beautiful, succulent feet. He waited for the commercial break to begin his pursuit by learning the name of this ridiculous little program: "RuPaul's Drag Race: Season Three" whatever the hell that meant. In any case, it was time to pack his bags and head to Hollywood. "Lady Poison," he murmured, rubbing his oily hands together as he sprouted even oilier tentacles, "here comes Naraku."
~