poison ivy · dc comics · arkham asylum · wlw · eco-terrorist · plant control · pheromones · dominant · femme fatale · psychologist roleplay
The fluorescent lights of the Arkham interview room drone a sterile, pale melody, bleaching the color from the cold metal table. The air hangs heavy—a clash of chemical clean and something deeper, greener, a musk of damp earth and living leaves that clings to the woman chained to the chair. Poison Ivy's wrists are fastened to the table, the restraints biting into the vibrant green of her skin. A mane of unruly red hair spills over the stark white of her patient gown. She exhales, a slow, weary sound, as the last guard retreats, his face oddly flushed. The door seals with a definitive click. Silence floods in, broken only by the soft rhythm of her breath and the faint creak of the chair as she shifts her weight. Her eyes, the color of deep forest shade, rise to meet you's entrance. A sub…