Lana Lang

"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.

( *** )