Vanishing Act [Violet/Vanyel]

When Violet left the hospital, she did not go straight home. There were certain resources that she knew how to find that led her wandering around the city until she found what she was looking for. It was the City of Light, so it was not surprising that her search was difficult. By the time she got what she wanted, and Violet was able to make her way home, it was nighttime and she was feeling exhausted.

As Violet tried entering her home, she couldn’t keep her hand up for long enough to get the damn key in the hole. When she finally succeeded, she leaned into the door and used her bodyweight to push it into the house and open. Stumbling inside, Violet dropped her cellphone somewhere at the front door and made her way to the bedroom. Her hair was a mess, her shirt might have had blood on it, her shorts were unbuttoned, her face was flushed, and there were scratch marks on both arms and on her neck. She looked pale and weak, and she could barely walk…

Vanyel sat in the common area, taking notes as he analyzed a martial arts demonstration on his phone. He had spent the morning and afternoon practicing and honing himself, now, he was focused on getting a lesson plan set up for the following day with Violet. Normally, they would have done this together, with him pointing out areas of improvement, as well as figuring out what discipline she could fall into. But, today, she had left in a hurry, not giving him any kind of explanation.

He didn't take issue with it, really -- they weren't the closest, and he wasn't going to try and pry on what seemed to be personal matters. But, a gnawing anxiety ached at his chest as the sun slowly arched across the sky, with day eventually turning to afternoon, and afternoon to night. Something didn't feel right -- this kind of situation felt eerily similar, and he didn't like it.

Then, he heard the scraping of something dragging upward, causing him to set everything aside and get to his feet, instinctively taking a stance as he paid close attention to the sounds. The harsh sound of a key sliding into the lock, the lock turning, and something slumping against the doorframe, before it finally opened.

It was hard to scare someone like him. He had been through too much for most things to faze him in life -- but, seeing his roommate stumble in the state she was in forced him to take pause. The image was familiar, and that familiarity terrified him. Trembling, the master martial artist's stance faltered as his eyes widened. His voice was hushed as he quickly darted toward her, swearing quietly.

"Oh, fuck..."

He was quick to close the door and lock it again, before immediately turning his attention to Violet, moving in front of her. To say that concern was plastered on his face could not be anything less than an understatement.

"Oi, Violet, what the hell happened?"

Violet’s stumbling through the house could be compared to a zombie. The movements were jerky, like she didn’t have the muscle to pick up and move her own legs. She kept her head low and hanging, so when he stepped in front of her, she kept moving forward until her head hit his chest and it stopped her. Violet looked up, stared at Vanyel as if she did not recognize him, and then suddenly smiled.

“Ah-haa… Hi,” Violet said and giggled, her face still red. She looked around, expressionless, and then moved her mouth like she was thirsty before turning her attention back to... Vanyel, yeah... Him. “What were we talking about?”

His eyes flicked up and down as he looked over her, making note of everything that he saw. He lifted her head, looking at the scratches on her neck, his head lightly shaking as he racked his brain of what to do first.

She was acting like a zombie, stumbling like an amateur puppeteer was controlling each limb individually, rather than letting it all blend together into natural movement. Even if he didn't get an answer, he guided her over to the couch, gently pushing down on her shoulders so that she'd sit down.

"What. The hell. Happened? Answer me. Now."

Despite the firm tone, he couldn't stop his trembling hands, his widened, dread-drenched eyes, or even the fact that he was hyperventilating. He had thought situations like this were beyond him, something he had left behind when he burned that letter, but, even now, it was a sight that still continued to haunt him.

Violet just looked confused as she was being guided away from her room. She pointed back toward the door, trying to say she wanted to go that way, but was instead sat down on the couch. She pulled the purse off her shoulder and sat it down on the table. It was still like she didn’t hear his question. She looked around the room, and it was almost impossible to tell if she even knew exactly where she was. Somehow making it home was likely muscle memory, not understanding.

“I’m thirsty,” Violet said, swallowing. Violet reached up to her neck and scratched along the wounds that were already there, the three nails she mostly used matching the markings. From there, she did the same to her arm, scratching her skin hard. She turned back to Vanyel and did a double take. She stared at him, looked away, and stared again. “Are you alright? You don’t look so good.” She said, giggling…

At first, he thought that she was ignoring him -- but, as he took a moment to more closely analyze her body language, it felt more accurate to say that...she wasn't hearing him. In realizing that, Vanyel tried to take a deep breath and calm himself down. His hands still trembled, but, his eyes seemed to cease the frantic analysis of her injuries.

Nodding in response, he was just about to stand up and get her some water, before quickly swatting at her hands just before she started scratching herself.

"Stay put. No scratching, either, or I'll tie your hands up."

He was quick to make his way to the kitchen, grabbing a cup from the cabinet and filling it with cold water from the tap. His fingers gripped the item tightly as it filled -- the simple process seemingly like it took an eternity. As it finished and he turned the tap off, Vanyel started back over to where Violet was sitting. Unconsciously, however, Vanyel's energy quietly began to seep into the cup, the internal well of power responding to his heart, answering the desperate call to help her.

As he sat down next to her again, handing her the cup, as she drank, the injuries she had would, albeit very, very slowly, begin to mend themselves. It was something he would have to do further testing on, but, right now, he was barely even aware of it. Right now, however, all he wanted was answers.

"No shit, Violet...you come in, walkin' like and lookin' a zombie, what did you expect? What the hell happened to you? You're the one who doesn't look good."

When Vanyel threatened to tie Violet up, she giggled at him again. “So? Been there, done that. I’m not scared of you,” Violet said and then put her arms behind her back and pushed herself into the corner of the couch. She was hiding her arms from him, so he couldn’t tie her up like he threatened too. Of course, that didn’t last long since he walked away and Violet’s object permanence seemed to be off. Once he was out of sight, she forgot he existed and began scratching at her arms again.

Upon his return, all Violet saw was the drink. She smiled and took it, cupping her hands around both sides and drinking it like a child holding a cup that was too large. Gulp, gulp, gulp… The water was gone, but Violet didn’t notice the healing injuries. “What happened to me?” Violet asked and then stared off at a wall. “I… went to work and Solomon,… I think I went to visit him. Yeah, I did, and then I left and then… I lost my job and then… I spent, like, all of my money, and now I’m home.”

Of course, there were things that were not explained by all of this, like why she looked pale and her brain was clearly malfunctioning, but this was a good enough answer, right? Violet had a saddened look on her face before she decided to try and lean into Vanyel. If allowed, she laid her head in his lap and wrapped her arms around his waist, nuzzling her face into his stomach. “I’m so… tired…”

He didn't care if she said that. She wasn't in any state that could be considered rational. But, given how she was acting, it didn't seem like she was drunk -- he'd dealt with drunk folks before, even his boss herself from time to time. So, that couldn't be it. But, even with his mind racing, he still kept a keen ear out, listening carefully to what she was saying.

However, listening made his heart sink, only to swell back up again with an entirely new fear and panic. She was tired, spent all her money, the symptoms, the scratching...oh god. He didn't want to remember something like this -- and, a part of him deep down never wanted to go through this again.

He remembered Isamu, his spiral, and the countless others he witnessed from his time in the yakuza -- something part of him desperately wished he could forget.

As she laid into his lap, Vanyel quickly turned her head to face him, looking at her eyes, confirming his fears. He looked up, covering his mouth as he started to hyperventilate again, but, eventually, steeled himself, and took a long, deep, but shaky breath, before looking back at her.

Given her state, and what he knew from seeing, he could at least be a tiny bit relieved -- it didn't seem like she was in a bad enough state to overdose. A small blessing, but, he'd take every last one he could get.

His eyes then went to her purse. She said she spent all her money -- and if she wasn't bad enough to overdose...

Very carefully, he reached over to the bag, bringing it over and opening it. Sure enough, there was more in there. He shuddered and quickly shut it, keeping it behind him on the couch. He'd dispose of it in the morning -- somehow. At the very least, she wouldn't be able to reach it easily right now, and even if she tried, he wouldn't let her. Letting out a quiet, shaky breath, he kept a close eye on her, making sure that she stayed on her side as she buried her face into his stomach.

Ever so gentle, a hand stroked her hair as Vanyel sat there, his lip quivering, eyes welling up, and a suffocating melancholy hanging in the night air. He didn't know what else to do besides keep an eye on her. He had seen this too many times, more than anyone should ever see in one, five, or even a thousand lifetimes. Even if they weren't the closest, all he wanted in this moment, was for her to be okay.

Hours went by, and Violet was so still. She kept breathing, but was like a rock. When morning came, Violet slowly stirred and opened her eyes. The night before was fuzzy, so when she looked up, she wasn’t expecting to see Vanyel sleeping there. She tried to be careful and let him sleep, but the moment she moved he woke up , so she gave up on that and sat up. Violet looked around the room, confused.

Then it all came rushing back. She breathed quickly through her nose a few times, like the moments before someone was going to break down and cry, and then looked to the table. ‘Where is it…’ she thought. Her purse wasn’t there. She stood up and looked to the kitchen. When she didn’t find it, she hurried over. “Where is it?”

Feeling and hearing her shift around, Vanyel's eyes slowly opened, reaching up to rub them as he looked around for Violet. He could hear her get up and start running around, so, there was a mild relief in that she didn't try to leave. As she rummaged through the kitchen, Vanyel quickly reached behind him and into the purse, taking the narcotics carefully in hand, and, out of sight, disposing of them in his Chasm Point, one of the few remaining traits of the Seal of Eris he had.

It wasn't used for much else, and it was the safest place to get rid of them, where it wouldn't hurt anyone else. More importantly, though, it meant that Violet couldn't get it back. If she went through all of her money to get this, then she wouldn't have enough to get more. Then again, there was another potential solution to that problem, one he did not want to think about, and one that he certainly wasn't going to let happen, if he had any say in the matter.

"Purse is here. Wallet, ID, everything important is there."

He carefully stood up, bringing the object out from behind his back, holding it out to her. Based on everything he had seen last night, he hoped that this was her first time using -- and, if he had any say, it would be the last time, too.