layla 'double betrayla' fairbourne (boundless) wrote in disorderic, @ 2018-03-19 09:42:00 |
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Entry tags: | layla fairbourne, victoria mulciber |
WHO: Layla Fairbourne & Vic Mulciber.
WHAT: Layla’s not happy about the WWW attack. She’s not subtle.
WHEN: Backdated to the day of the WWW bombing bc Michelle is slow.
WHERE: Vic’s flat!
WARNINGS: Mentions of the attack, vaguely.
Vic wasn’t an idiot. The silent treatment Layla had given her since Vic had come home could only be related to the Weasley Wizards’ Wheezes bonfire that was currently burning. Which, ok fine, her friends had been hurt in the process of Graham’s success, but Vic didn’t see how she was deserving of the cold shoulder when she was just a facilitator in the whole thing. Vic made an unnecessary racket as she set the two mugs down on the counter, her glare demanding Layla’s sullen attention. “Hot cocoa?” No answer. Vic waved her wand over the kettle, the water bubbling into a boil instantly. “One marshmallow or two?” Nothing. “Oh, can you not hear me? One marshmallow or two?” Why wouldn’t Layla be upset with Vic for allowing Graham to succeed would be her question. It wasn’t like this was Montague’s success, it was Vic’s — it wouldn’t have happened if Vic wasn’t good at what she did and desperate for her mum’s approval. So yes, Layla was in a petulant mood that wasn’t helped in the slightest by Gerald fucking Avery prodding her on… her petulant mood. Hrmph. “Sorry,” Layla snarked, eventually giving in since Vic was only getting louder to prove her point. “How about five?” Vic gaped at the vitriol and made a derisive noise. Was that supposed to be some snide reference to her ‘friends’? “Oh shoot,” she lamented sarcastically and stuffed the 5 extra marshmallows unnecessarily into her own mug. It would be impossible to drink out of it. “Waited too long. None for you I guess.” There was further silence that was louder than any angry accusation could have been. “Okay,” Vic said, bracing herself against the countertop. “Let’s hear it Layla, what is your deal?” Layla eyed the overfull mug in Vic’s hand with an arched eyebrow. It wasn’t about the marshmallows anyway, the five being a reference to the number of people she still cared about trapped in WWW when it went up. “Congratulations,” she said, bitterness escaping despite her best efforts, “on helping Montague put five people in Mungo’s.” Well, so she surmised anyway, she wasn’t quite sure. “For the record I’m trying not to make an issue of it.” So it was about the Weasleys. “Well you’re not doing a very good job of it,” Vic shot back, though the ire at being ignored receded. She sighed. “I didn’t know he’d actually hurt them, to be clear. But what do you expect Layla? They’re vigilantes,” she blew through the pause that might have invited a weak protest that alleged was the proper term. “Graham despises them, has been humiliated by them, did you not think that he was eventually going to do something about it? I mean statistically speaking with how many times he’s tried, it was going to happen. You were supposed to kill them.” “I know I’m not,” Layla said, still bitterly although softening. Nonetheless she moved from her sulking spot and went to fix herself a mug anyway. “I don’t expect anything different,” she answered honestly while pouring into the mug. “I’m not going to pretend I’m happy about it. If I was expecting something different I’d be screaming at everyone right now instead of sulking.” At least she could admit that to some degree. “Well, looks like I failed in killing them,” she added flippantly before taking a sip from her mug. Vic said nothing for a moment, trying to de-escalate the outrage she’d felt over Layla’s anger towards her, even though she’d known it wasn’t entirely misplaced. But as much as Vic tried to understand, Layla had made a choice. She was only making things worse for herself, and over a bunch of hotheads no less. Worrying her lip, she considered her words carefully. “If I killed them Layla, what would you do?” The question settled in the air between two friends as Layla mulled over the answer. The problem was she didn’t have one. What would she do? “I’d be really upset,” she settled on, because it was the truth. The real question should have been something along the lines of ‘would you stop me’ because that answer was always a resounding yes, and had become more and more obvious to her by the day, the more she talked to Percy, Oliver and Katie. “I mean I get why you’re asking this. You can’t tell me you wouldn’t be at least a little upset if I, what, killed Cadwallader or Patil or Kettleburn or Boot?” Because Layla was finding it really difficult to understand how Vic couldn’t understand why she was upset. But maybe she was simply the odd one out among Death Eaters — that was also obvious, in fact. Vic’s brow furrowed at the mention of some of her yearmates, an annoying unconscious knee jerk reaction that made her grip her mug of coca tightly. They were hers, as much as she could easily cut them out of her life (it wasn’t like she was really one of them anyways, right?). The uncomfortable (inexplicable) flare of possessiveness was made more troubling as she considered if she would even kill them. Yes, obviously. If necessary. They weren’t her friends. She sipped her to cocoa and ignored the voice that said they could be. “I think I see what you mean,” she allowed finally, slowly. “Not that I’m admitting I’d be upset.” It was not convincing. “But I’m going to choose myself Layla, every time. If any of them get in the way of what I’m trying to do, I’ll do what’s necessary. What I don’t understand is why you don’t seem to see it that way. Because there will come a time when it’s literally you or them, and I’m starting to wonder if you would choose them.” “I get it, logically,” Layla answered, slowly, tentatively, noting Vic’s reaction despite her words. “And so do you. It’s that there’s also a huge part of me that literally screams to high hell that—” this shouldn’t happen “— I care about them, and it isn’t something that just goes away.” She looked down. Vic was right, but there was no way at admit that, and she needed to clamp down on the thoughts of leaving before they became a problem in this chat. “I’ve managed thus far, which isn’t the same thing, but.” She looked back up, biting her lip. “It’s not that I think you’re wrong.” Except, it was. Vic considered that, obviously unhappy but unable to begrudge Layla this. Vic knew all too well the futility of trying to pretend like certain emotions didn’t exist. She always cared too much, wanted too much and made herself too vulnerable for it. Rose had long identified it as what would always prevent Vic from succeeding. She sipped her hot chocolate defiantly. “I’m sorry,” she said finally, an apology for her part in the Weasley bonfire, though apologetic only for how it affected Layla. “I just care about you, Layla and I can’t help but see them being the reason for you getting hurt.” “I know you do, and I appreciate that.” That was earnest, and Layla took another gulp from her steaming mug. “There’s not much I can do about it,” Layla lied. “Unfortunately I may just have to be moody every now and then, right?” Vic, who was wanted to be reassured by Layla, allowed herself to be, looking no further into the comments. “Ugh,” she said distastefully. “If I’d known that I wouldn’t have let you stay. I think I fill the moody quota of this flat just fine already.” There was a brief silence and Vic used that uncertainty to fidget with her mug. “So,” she said casually, “are we good?” “You don’t get to have a monopoly on moodiness, you knew how I was when you first let me stay,” Layla retorted, although it was certainly more of a joke than any sort of actual barb. She sighed, took a sip from her mug, and looked up. Nothing changed how she felt about wanting to alter her situation or how unhappy she was with her former friends still being hurt, but she nodded earnestly. “We’re good.” Vic smiled. “Good, now let’s see about getting you some marshmallows.” |