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The girl your Momma warned you about, Lourdes (notsoshy) wrote in athinblackline, @ 2009-05-24 17:38:00

Who: Violet
When: Evening May 24
Where: One of Wyngarde's Houses
What: What do homicidal maniacs do on vacation?

It was nighttime again. Violet felt it creeping across her skin where she laid with a pillow gathered to her chest. She was lying on her stomach, the pillow supporting her head and neck while wrapper in her arms. White hair splayed across dark sheets, a counterpoint to the circles under her eyes. Jason's orders to the staff had been that they go about their business as usual, not necessarily bothering her unless she made herself known to them in some real way. Meals were prepared and left for a few hours in case she should decide to eat. Normally she picked through it, decided what she cared to have out of it, and left the rest to be picked up. Other than walking into a young woman and scaring her half to death, either because Violet could be physically imposing when she pleased or because the idea of fully dressed in Violet's book left a good deal of who and what she was uncovered was up for grabs. Either way, Violet had chosen to mostly move on the edges of things without interacting with the staff much.

It was easier on her nerves and undoubtedly easier for them as well. They treated her like a soap bubble, if they pressed her too hard, she'd pop. Popping would probably be considered a bad reaction at this point.

So she had lived quietly for the better part of a week without speaking to anyone. Then had been the morning when she found a young man sitting on one of the inside staircases with his Bible open in his lap. He'd been startled by her, moving to close the book and she put her hand out to stop him.

"Please," it was the first word she'd said in over a week, a real word. Violet hadn't seen a Bible in ages, probably because to open the word of God was to remember that God did not acknowledge her kind. So said the Pope. All true Catholics believed in the authority of the Pope. Violet had been brought up a true Catholic and still considered herself one despite having lapsed horribly.

"You want my Bible?" He seemed to find the idea somehow unbelievable. "Can you read?"

"Yes," her throat was still tight and rusty.

"Okay, just be careful with it," he offered her the book. "It belonged to my mother."

Violet held the book with the same reverential care she had always given such things. She found herself a seat a few steps below him and began to thumb through the tome.

"You know anything about God?" She didn't answer his question but only kept looking. What was she looking for? Did she really think that after all these years the Bible, the tome of the oppressors themselves would have an answer for her?

That had been the night before...now she laid in her bed and looked at the door as if expecting it to open and someone to enter.

What God could forgive her if it did not even acknowledge her existence? What heaven was there for creatures like her? The hatred was still there, she knew it for what it was. She hated the humans with their smug superiority and their controls and the simple fact that there was nothing she could do about it. Certainly she could kill a few of them, but what good would it really do?

Violet closed her eyes, trying to at least muffle the sensational memory of Ethan's life as it slowly snuffed out. The memory was pleasurable, moreso than any of the sort of memories she had of her fights though if she were truly honest those held an element of pleasure also.

Being honest about how much she liked aggression, both in herself and others wasn't something Violet was terribly into. As honest as she was about most things, she wasn't even remotely honest about that. Only freaks and monsters liked to give pain like that.

Rolling over, she sat up. She missed her family, her new family. Kyle, Dietre, Remy, Victor, hell even Mason....she missed them. Her boys. Wanted to be near them. To touch them. Reaffirm that they were all right. Violet truly needed for them to be all right or what fragile bit of sanity she had left would go south for the winter and a vacation wouldn't bring it back.

She balled her hands up, knowing one was injured only because of the feeling of gauze against her face. Ethan was dead. He was no longer a danger. However, that entire island was a danger. Violet brought her balled up hands to her face and held them there as if she were trying to squeeze the pain from behind them.

It won't hurt his voice was in her ears again. It had been there so much lately she was certain she'd somehow managed to absorb him. To make him a part of her. Her breath caught in her chest and she pressed harder, struggling to make it go away. It won't hurt.

BUT IT ALWAYS DOES. It was a scream inside her head and she snapped her teeth together on top of it to keep it inside. This was just part of the hate...part and parcel of it. Her slow but now seemingly unavoidable slip into insanity.

The need to lunge at every living person she came across had subsided, but did that mean she was no longer a danger, oh no...only that she was getting better at hiding it.