Lana Lang

You Are a Witch

Like a witch, you are often misunderstood and unfairly judged. You are not as sinister as you seem. You are intelligent and spiritual. You feel very connected to the world - both the dark and light sides of things. You tend to keep to yourself, and because of this people tend to think things about you that aren't true. You would just like to be left alone to do your own thing. You have no intention of harming anyone, even though you could if you wanted to!

I think it's rather fitting, don't you?

[ooc: Isobel is posting this, not Lana.]

"When the designs are chosen with care, tattoos have a power and magic all their own. They decorate the body but they also enhance the soul."

Exactly twenty years ago, Lewis and Laura Lang died in Smallville's first meteor shower, and like every year she could remember, Lana had trouble getting to sleep. This year, however, it seemed harder. No matter how she tried to relax, her mind just didn't want to wind down. When it was almost four, she gave up and rolled out of bed, heading straight for the shower.

As the water soaked her hair, she considering staying home from work, but quickly dismissed it. She'd already spent nearly a full two weeks away in the past month. Skipping out at the first sign of trouble had become a bad habit of hers. Though she was sure she had needed her impromptu vacation, her yearly case of insomnia wasn't an excuse to call in.

( *** )

"People have scars in all sorts of unexpected places. Like secret roadmaps of their personal histories, diagrams of all their old wounds."

[ooc: Please remember that this is history from a previous pan-fandom RP I participated in, and the Bart Allen in this, though of Smallville canon, is several years older than Lana.]

She sat on the edge of lavish sheets, arms limp and shoulders slumped, eyes staring bleakly at nothing. She'd been avoidant in the past few days, barely leaving the room let alone the mansion. Even with Bart she was distant. She flinched at his touch, had to force herself to even look at him. Part of her felt dead. If it weren't for the emotional sting, she would have thought maybe she was.

She thought she'd escaped Isobel Thoreaux forever, that her ancestor was part of her past that was far behind her, but nothing was ever really over in this God forsaken city. Whatever beings were in charge here decided what would and wouldn't be. They brought her here from her own world, and others from theirs, past, present and future. She was grateful to know and love Bart rather than Lex in any form, glad to use the resources left behind by the latter to help rather than harm, more than happy to have known a version of Lois Lane who could be her best friend instead of an annoying pain in the ass. Then there were Kara and Jack. Kara wasn't from her world and Jack was a Power Ranger from 2025, but the both of them were like her children, even if neither was much younger than she was.

For all of this, she wanted to stay. The rest of it was killing her, slowly but surely.

( *** )

"Anima Remitto!"

With a spatter of blood and a phrase, the dark enchantress sealed herself with a mark that ensured her return and laughed in amusement as her persecutors dragged her toward the pyre. They believed they had claimed a great victory in the eyes of their Lord, but oh how very foolish they were.

"Madelyn Hibbins. Brianna Withridge. Countess Marguerite Isobel Thoreaux. You have been found guilty of committing the darkest art -- witchcraft. For this affront against God, I hereby condemn you to burn in the fires of Hell in which you so eagerly seek communion."

Isobel stood tall and proud as she and her friends were sentenced, giggling quietly to herself, even as she felt the heat rising. How very foolish indeed.

"You think this ends with a lick of flame? I sleep but a while. And when the time is appointed, my heir will awaken me. And I will have vengeance!"

Her laughter rose like the smoke that surrounded her, a cackle that brought a murmur through the crowd and parents to pull their children closer. She would return to claim the Stones of Power and take her place as ruler of this world, and then they would pay. All of them would pay.


Lana sat straight up in her bed, eyes wide open and heart pounding. After only a second to catch her breath, she was practically sprinting to the full length mirror on the other side of the room and lifting her shirt to examine her back.

Nothing.

"Oh thank God!"

Those words had never been so sincere.

She crumbled to her knees and stayed there for a few minutes. She knew why she was dreaming about Isobel after all these years. Now that she knew there was more out there, more of the supernatural than she'd seen, of course it would bring everything back to the surface. That was the nature of dreams.

She touched a hand to her shoulder. Maybe she should get that tattoo, the one Sam had. At least then she could remove possession from her list of worries.