Vic Mulciber (fromdefeat) wrote in disorderic, @ 2018-04-28 12:41:00 |
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Entry tags: | evelyn mulciber, victoria mulciber |
WHO: Evelyn and Victoria Mulciber
WHAT: Vic just needs a little encouragement
WHEN: Saturday afternoon
WHERE: Vic’s flat
WARNINGS: violence, curses
"Victoria!" Evelyn called as she let herself into her daughter's flat. She waited for a moment for her daughter to shove the trite romance "novel" she was reading between the couch cushions, or finish her glass of wine, or run a quick cleaning spell around, or whatever it was her grown daughter felt she needed to hide from her own mother. "It's just me, dear." Vic was not, shockingly, doing any of those things, though she was in an undignified pair of sweats, her hair a ratty mess on top of her head. She stared, unopened bottle of Birthday wine (one of Keats’ favourites) in one hand, an equally undignified expression of shock on her face. Evelyn Mulciber never came here. Evelyn Mulciber had never come here, period. Vic visibly struggled, words finally clawing their way out. “What - what are you doing here?” Evelyn's eyes searched over the flat. Her daughter's choices in decor were … interesting, but not as bad as she was perhaps expecting. When Victoria finally came back into her line of vision, she gave a tight, controlled smile. "I thought I ought to check on you, Victoria." “Oh,” the younger Mulciber seemed to digest that, hand immediately flying to her hair as if to push it into more presentable shape. As the initial feelings of hopeful yearning at her mother’s attentions flared to life, bitterness followed just as quickly. Her mother wasn’t here to wish her a happy birthday. Vic’s expression slipped back into despondency and she resumed her task of opening her wine bottle. “That’s a first,” she muttered. “I’m fine.” "You've never been very good at lying to me, dear," Evelyn said. "And I don't think anyone believes you're fine." “Well,” Vic cleared her throat, angry as always. “Well I don’t really give a shit what everyone thinks. I wasted enough of my time caring and it’s not like any of them care if I’m losing my damn mind or dead, as long as it’s in service of ‘the Dark Lord.’ Don’t worry mother, I have it handled.” Unapologetically Vic began pouring a very large glass of wine for herself. "Did you or did you not fail at a simple Imperius because you let your emotions get in the way?" Evelyn asked sharply. "You don't have it handled, and this isn't about what everyone thinks." It was staggering how disappointing her mother still cut her off at the knees. Emotional. weak, she could hear Rose hiss, like she should have approached murdering Byron and torturing Lakshmi like a minor inconvenience. “Then what’s it about exactly mother? "I'm here to help you. It seems I've been neglectful in that arena," Evelyn said. She pulled out her wand and gestured for Victoria to do the same. "Let's get to work." Vic’s glass of wine spilled over as she set it down abruptly. “What? You mean,” she made an aborted gesture. “You want me to use the Imperius on you?” Evelyn gave a calculated, condescending smile. Nothing quite motivated Victoria like proving herself capable to her mother, and nothing egged the young woman on like the idea that Evelyn didn't believe she could do it. "Well. I'm inviting you to try, anyway. We'll just see how it goes." Vic glared, predictably, but even as she moved to retrieve the wand from her pocket, there was hesitation there. Having her mother under the Imperius should be motivating, but Vic’s stomach was cramping. As she cleared her throat and ordered a passable but feeble "Imperio," she could hear Lakshmi’s screams. But Evelyn, skilled as she was at the curse, was not an easy target even when she wasn’t actively resisting. “You’ll have to do better than that, Victoria.” Vic’s glare deepened, anger building. "Imperio" "You're not even trying," Evelyn sighed. "And I know you can do this. You can be a rather talented witch when you allow yourself to be. You shouldn't even need the extra motivation, but here we are." With a flourish, her own curse hit her daughter. It was nothing dramatic or permanent, but soon, Victoria would feel the pins and needles of her limbs falling asleep; the longer Evelyn held it, the further the curse would spread, and the worse the pain would grow. "It will stop the moment you make me stop it." Vic gasped, the pain subtle, insistent but building until she stumbled back into the counter, legs screaming but practically useless. It was nothing like the pain any of them had been requested to perform under Voldemort’s “I—“ she grimaced. “I am trying, I’m always try—stop. Imp—" her wand dropped. “I can’t.” "Stop feeling sorry for yourself," Evelyn snapped. She drew out the curse; she meant it when she said she wouldn't quit. "Keep pushing." Vic’s teeth were grit so tightly she felt as though her jaw might snap. She collapsed onto her knees, a scream fighting its way up from her chest. She stared up at her mother, cool, unimpressed and always fucking pushing with the expectation that she’d be disappointed anyway. The scream of pain turned into a cry of rage as Vic brought her wand up. "Imperio" A calm, serene expression came across Evelyn's features. She blinked a few times. Her curse petered out as she looked at her daughter expectantly. If Vic hadn’t already been weak-kneed from the curse, the shock of her mother’s docile expression would have sent her to the ground. She slumped back on her haunches, rage momentarily stunted. The first bubble of laughter was unintentional, the second was hysterical, the sound ugly and wet. “You’ve never looked at me like that.” Evelyn's expression didn't change. She only kept watching, waiting for instruction. Vic reached up, fingers finding enough purchase on the corner of her counter to lift herself up onto her still shaking legs. She didn’t break eye contact with her mother, as eerie and devoid of Evelyn Mulciber as the expression was. Artificial or not this was perhaps the first time she had her mother’s attention like this. “You’ve never looked at me like that. Like you want to hear what I have to say and it’s not even bloody real. It’s my fucking birthday. I didn’t want to do this,” she brandished her wand. “But it’s never about me, it’s always been about you and I push, I kill myself for you. And it’s never good enough. You’ve never listened.” Voice thick, Vic could feel the telling burn behind her eyes. “I’ve done everything you asked, I became a Death Eater for you. And you tor— I’m your daughter. Why can’t you just—“ she swallowed and raised her wand. “Be a good, loving mother. Be proud of me. Tell me you love me.” "I love you, Victoria," Evelyn said. There was no hesitation in her voice, but no depth of meaning, either. The words were as hollow as Evelyn's expression. Vic stared at her mother, hungrily scanning her face for a trace of sincerity there. It was all Vic ever wanted to hear and clearly this was the only way she would ever hear it. Evelyn blinked back. Vic squeezed her eyes shut. “Leave,” she said hoarsely. “I don’t w—“ she waved her wand impatiently, breaking the spell. “Go.” Evelyn started to obey the command and turned toward the door. As the spell broke, she straightened her shoulders. A moment passed between them and Evelyn, who was so rarely at a loss for words, did not know what to say. So, she said nothing. She walked straight to the door, but her hand stopped just above the handle to leave. After another beat, she half-turned back to her daughter to say, "I knew you could do it, Victoria." And with that, she was gone. In the vacuum of silence that followed, Vic stared at the door. As though on autopilot, she grabbed her unfinished drink and in an explosion of glass, hurled it into the sink. Grabbing the open bottle of wine she went to her room and slammed the door shut behind her. |