Misc RH OC Scraps

[ADONIS] Mommy Issues

Adonis walked confidently across the red carpet, his form being lit up by dozens of camera flashes, his ears assaulted with just as many shouts to turn this way or wink at their camera or answer a simple question that any reporter already ought to know the answer to. Adonis drank in every second of it. they loved this attention. They loved their image in the media. He smiled brilliantly to the wall of journalists, pausing to pose. 

He had only stopped for a second, but suddenly, as if she had teleported, a woman was on the red carpet right beside him, shoving a microphone in his face. It all happened so fast.

"Adonis Larson," she exclaimed, "Do you know your mother's name?"

Adonis held back a scowl. They didn't like pushy reporters. But he gave the answer he always did. "Yes, I do, but I'm not at liberty to say it. She deserves her privacy."

"It's Vivienne Nightshade."

"Wha-- How did you--?"

The woman was hugging him. He felt sick. She practically wailed, so everyone could hear, "I'm Vivienne Nightshade! Oh, Adonis, my son! I've finally found you!" Cameras had never seemed to flash so fast.

He pushed the woman off of him, holding her an arm's length away. She kept talking, but they weren't listening; they were really looking at her. She had dark red, curly hair, obviously dyed. If she thought it looked flattering she was sorely mistaken. Her skin had a healthy glow to it. She hardly had any wrinkles. If she was truly the same age as Adonis's father, she had taken good care of herself. Her chest and hips were threatening to break the seams on the velvet bodycon dress she was wearing. 

She made a clicking noise, and Adonis took the hint and finally looked into her eyes.

"I simply must see how you're living now, my darling," she crooned. The situation made it impossible to reject her; cameras everywhere, and Adonis knew that this event was being shown live across several channels, not to mention the hundreds of journalists who had witnessed her little performance. But worst of all were her eyes. Pitch black, drawing him in like black holes. Adonis's eyes. Down to the beauty mark beneath them. 

She truly was Vivienne, the woman who had birthed them twenty-four years ago. 

Adonis barely processed the rest of the event. They were dragged around to a few individual reporters by Vivienne, who gave some phony sob story about losing the contact information for their family and a lame excuse for having to go back to Brazil immediately after recovering from childbirth. The entire time, she had a grip on Adonis's arm like a steel claw. Her nails dug into his skin. He only answered basic questions. Confirming that she matched his mother's description. She didn't seem to need anything else. She went on and on about her broadcast-friendly version of the past and how happy she was to be reunited with her son. Adonis had to use all of his acting prowess to not show his rage. To smile in front of the very woman who had made their father's life so difficult. The media would be sympathetic to her. He couldn't give them a reason to vilify him. 

As soon as they were away from cameras; as Adonis was walking to his car, and Vivienne tried to get in the passenger side; he finally snapped. They blocked her from entering, putting their own body between the woman and the car.

"You are not coming into my car or my home."

Vivienne opened her eyes wide and began to tear up. "What... I have nowhere to stay in this country, don't you feel any sympathy for your own mother?"

"Don't try that with me." They had to smirk. "Your hair is salon-done, your skin has obviously been taken care of with luxury products and a few facelifts, and I would eat my suit coat before I would believe that your body is all-natural. You've got money. Get a taxi and a hotel room."