WHO: Violet & Wanda OT Anybody (specifically D) WHEN: Night May 29th [backdated] WHERE: Blue Block; Violet's Cell WHAT: Violet's been allowed to return to the island, but only for a short period to grab some things and make amends if she can. NOTES: Since she's not going to be staying and open for interaction much, I'm kinda squashing things into a single thread. Hope that's okay.
Violet was not in the best of moods, but she'd been allowed back to the island for a very short period of time in order for her to find some things in her room and speak with a couple of people she cared about. For this, she'd been brought back and released, or one could easily say unleashed, on the island she called her prison. She wasn't the only one who saw it that way, but in her current state, she was more willing to voice it as such.
She'd told his staff that Wyngarde had made her promise not to hurt anyone. That was the only way they'd let her come back. So she was going to keep that promise as if she'd actually made it. Absolutely no one, down to the lowest guard, was to be put in danger by her presence. If she reached a point where she couldn't seem to help herself, she was going to retreat immediately. No fighting. None.
The prohibition grated on her nerves, but she was recovered enough to not only understand the logic of his words but to want to regain control of her own reactions. So she stalked through the throng, keeping her eyes on those who were moving along around her. It might be seen as paranoia, but she was doing it for their benefit.
Her broken right hand was taped into a fist since she couldn't grasp anything correctly with it and she wore it in a sling to remind her not to smash it into things. Just because she couldn't feel pain didn't mean she should keep rebreaking her fragile bones. Eventually she was going to need to use that hand again. After all, Violet was right handed.
Returning to the block took some nerve, mostly because what she really wanted to do was go looking for the man in charge, put her hand down his throat, and pull out his heart. However, she went back to the block like a good girl. Her room was undisturbed, still the mess she'd left it as before she'd been hauled out of it by Ethan. Cold eyes flicked over the mess and then she took a deep breath. Being forced to be lefthanded was annoying her, but she started picking up things just the same. It would be easier to find what she was looking for if she just put things away.
She was going to have to go find D at some point, but was she really ready to look at him? To be reminded of the mess at the beach? Not right this second, maybe in a few minutes. Right now, she just needed to work on keeping her head clear. -- Wanda happened by Violet's cell not long after Violet arrived there and for some reason Wanda found herself pausing. She'd been eavesdropping and had heard the guards mention this woman and so of course she was curious. She stood near the door to Violet's cell and peeked around it to look inside. The mess was a little surprising- she still had trouble fathoming how much stuff inmates had. Keeping possessions made life here seem a little too permanent. Though a small part of her mind advised her that it was probably best to move on, she continued to peer around the corner, distractedly marveling at Violet's belongings without noticing the woman herself.
--
Violet had only been there since January. She was just one of those people who automatically collected stuff. Wherever she went, she collected things and people for the most part. Violet took care of those around them, mothered them, and occasionally pushed their buttons to make them do something which in her opinion was for their own good.
Like now.
"Either come in and speak or go away, I'm not into being stared at like some fucking side show."
Violet was normally nicer than that. Normally, she would have greeted the person she hadn't even turned around to look at with a much more cordial tone. However, normal was simply not happening for her. Instead, there was this extremely angry person who wanted nothing more than to rip the head off of the nearest authority figure she could reach. She knew there was someone in her general vicinity who was giving off a lot of curiosity. That was really all she knew. As far as she was concerned, she was the only thing worth being remotely curious about.
Per the usual, she wore a pair of shorts that covered modesty and that was all. Her shirt went from her shoulders to the end of her ribs and left her torso bare. That was normal for her. Outside of her clothes was the brown skin, the cascade of white hair, and the off shade of purple tattoos whorling and vining along her skin.
-- "Oh! No, I'm so sorry, I wasn't staring at you," Wanda stammered, feeling both afraid at Violet's anger and ashamed that she'd been caught looking into the room. "I was looking at all of your things. You've just, got a lot in here." It sounded stupid, even to herself. Of course it didn't make sense, but then, she was too caught off guard to be particularly coherent. "I mean, I don't have anything myself at all," she began again by way of explanation, motioning to her Revolve-issue prisoner outfit as proof.
Wanda shut her mouth then, afraid to keep rambling. She knew she probably should have left then, perhaps with another apology, but she finally took a good look at Violet and was immediately fascinated by the woman's tattoos. She wasn't sure if it was just a trick of the light or her own eyes deceiving her, but they almost appeared to be moving. She took a hesitant step into the room, her eyes sweeping over the floor again.
-- Violet turned her head enough to look at the person who presented themselves. Their fear and confusion was enough to knock a person over. She forced herself to take a deep breath and not immediately snap at them again. They were not the object of her anger. It took a second to remind herself of that. Then she closed her eyes, obviously taking a second to pull herself together.
"Keep living, eventually you get stuff," Violet was not in the mood to be particularly nice to new people. The harsh reality of the world had scrubbed a lot of the happy off of her. "What's your name?"
It had started out as looking for her playing cards. She also needed to find some kind of music player because the staff at that haunted house Jason had put her in didn't seem to have much. Something she would probably have to talk to him about at some point. Now, she really just wanted a cigarette. Like to the point of her fingertips trembling needed a cigarette.
Maybe she wasn't quite ready for the steady pressure of having to keep herself under control. Getting up, she turned all the way around. Her cigarettes were usually on or in her desk. It made finding them easier when she wanted to smoke.
Her right hand was bandaged and held in front of her in a sling. Considering she'd broken it three separate times now, it needed to stay out of harm's way. Moving to the desk, which was decidedly closer to the door, she started rooting through looking for her cigarettes. She had been clean for the better part of a month. Fuck detox. She wanted a cancer stick.
-- Keep fighting, you mean she thought wryly, but had the good sense not to say this aloud. "Wanda," she answered quickly and watched Violet undertaking her search. She seemed to be having some difficulty with the sling. Wanda continued to watch, uncertain whether or not she should offer to help. On the one hand, it was obviously a nice thing to do but on the other, judging by the woman's tangible anger, any offer of help could be taken as an affront. Her conscience finally pushed her to the less safe option and she took a few more steps into the room. "Er, do you need help?" she asked hesitantly.
-- Violet didn't say keep fighting because as far as she was concerned the act of living was already a fight. It had been for her for over twenty years, so she didn't see the need to differentiate the concepts.
"No," she said in a semi-distracted fashion. At the very least the fact that she was looking for her cigarettes seemed to make her forget about Wanda as a specific threat for the moment. So long as she wasn't concentrating on her, she was less likely to lash out at her.
She finally put her hands down on a pack of Marlboros. "Thank fucking God," now she needed a lighter. Thankfully that was shoved into the pack. It was mildly awkward doing things completely left handed, but she managed it.
The woman took one long drag from the cigarette and settled a little it seemed. Leaning back against the desk, she seemed to size Wanda up with her eyes.
-- "Okay..." she murmured and watched as Violet seemed to find what she was searching for. She looked on in mild disapproval but gave a mental shrug- even if she didn't smoke herself what other people did wasn't any of her business.
An awkward silence began to set in and Wanda wondered what she ought to do next. She was just about to excuse herself and leave when Violet finally looked at her. Wanda took an involuntary step backwards. It wasn't exactly the friendliest look she'd ever received. Wanda mentally scrambled for something to say but all that came out was an idiotic verbal pause. "Er..." She shifted uncomfortably and took another step back towards the door.
-- It wasn't the friendliest look she'd ever gotten because right now, Violet couldn't do friendly. And she could smell the feaer rising off this woman like perfume. It was stronger than the cigarette smoke in her nose. Far, far stronger really because it was a part of who she was in a way that cigarettes were not. Intrinsic. Inescapable. And it made her want to make it worse. She wanted to feed that terror until this girl ran screaming out of the room and didn't stop until she bloody well collapsed somewhere. That was not an acceptable way to behave. She knew it.
Knew it logically, but emotionally she still wanted to do it. Make it as bad as it could get. Would the girl's heart stop? Was there someone who would miss her if she died out here? Violet didn't see herself as having anyone left who would miss her. Kyle had abandoned her. D couldn't stand those who looked like freaks. There was Remy, but Remy was the kind of person who would move on regardless. He was a survivor. He didn't need someone there to hold his hand.
She took another slow drag off her cigarette. "Get out of here," it could effort to say, to battle down her first reaction and make herself tell this girl, Wanda, to leave. "Just get out." It wasn't said with any particular vehemence. Just a tired awareness that something was going on behind her eyes that didn't belong there. -- Wanda felt genuinely relieved to make her escape- though what exactly she was escaping from she still wasn't sure. As soon as the woman spoke she was making her way to the door. She tried to think of something to say but nothing came to mind. To be perfectly honest, she didn't think there was necessarily anything she could say. Even trying to be polite and say 'goodbye' seemed too much. At the doorway she paused, gave one last look at Violet, and then fled.