Vanishing Act [Violet/Vanyel]

As she stood up, Vanyel's eyes narrowed. He didn't stop her, but he wasn't an idiot -- given how she wanted to run away before Solomon came in, it wasn't entirely unlikely that she was going to try and bolt. So, with a quiet sigh, before Solomon came over to make the suggestion, Vanyel slipped out the door, heading over to the side where the bathroom window would be, standing just under it.

However long it would take Violet to start trying to climb out the window, he'd wait there for her. It wasn't about wanting to keep her there if he didn't have to. At the very least, he wanted to make sure that she got some kind of food in her system as well as water. More than that, he was worried that she might end up doing something she'd regret to try and chase that high again.

Seeing her try and wriggle out the bathroom window, Vanyel sighed and called out to her.

"You're gonna hurt yourself if you try and get out that way, Vi."

This wasn’t some clever escape; Violet knew that. She just hoped they wouldn’t catch on immediately. As it turns out, at least one of them was a suspicious enough person to catch Violet as she slid the window open and tried climbing out, head first. Violet’s senses being on high-alert caused her to immediately tense up when she heard his voice. Her head snapped around to face Vanyel, glaring.

“So, I am a prisoner?” Violet spat, yelling at him. Solomon could likely hear. “Whatever! I’ve been one before, I’m fine with being one again!” Violet slid her way back into the bathroom. She slammed it shut hard enough that the window cracked. Stepping back, she began breathing quickly, as the anxiety began sinking in. She wasn’t sure how she was going to get away from these two. ‘I HATE THIS.’

Violet looked around the bathroom, as if she would suddenly find some secret exit that led into a tunnel to lead her away from this place, but the only thing she found was her reflection. Staring at herself, she started to hyperventilate. All of those things he father said continued repeating in her mind. It was all she saw herself as. Weak. Pathetic. Worthless. Unwanted. Mediocre at best… Better off dead.

Suddenly, there was a loud crash, easily recognized as the sound of shattering glass. Less than a moment later, there was a loud thud that could be recognized as cracking wood, followed by an enraged, high-pitched, ear-piercing scream, and then a loud thud, like something of decent size was thrown against a wall.

Solomon's ears didn't miss a single action occuring upstairs. A booming voice of frustration accompanied by shattered glass, ear-piercing screams that would almost assuredly alert any neighbhors. The loud thud proved more alarming than the others, prompting Solomon to immediately bolt upward through the stairs and break through the door. He could deal with fixing it - if this house was even a semblance of itself afterward - later. His gaze shifted to Violet as he motioned toward her.

"You're not a prisoner, I just wan-"

Before he could get the full sentence out, she slipped back into the bathroom, and Vanyel sighed, putting his hands to his face and groaning. He wasn't wanting her to feel like a prisoner. He just wanted to help her, and part of that help was to make sure that she at least got food and water into her.

As his hands lowered, a tired, sullen expression was revealed as he started to head back into the house. Just as he got past the door, he heard something crashing, and his head jolted toward the direction of the sound as Solomon bolted upstairs, with Vanyel close behind.

"Vi, what happened?! Did something fall?! Are you okay!?"

From how quick he shot up the stairs, Vanyel was a bit winded, eyes wide as he tried to look past Solomon and see what had unfolded.

"Hoooly shit..."

The chaos Violet caused in the bathroom was shocking. The mirror was shattered and glass was all over the floor. Violet kicked the cabinet door so hard it was hanging from the bottom hinge, the top one broken. Lastly, Violet slipped and fell. She was on the ground again, this time laying flat on her back. She had small pieces of glass sticking out two or three spots on her leg, blood trickling down.

When the door burst open, Violet looked up. She expected Solomon, and she was right. The other was standing outside the window, waiting for her too jump, so who else would it be? The sound of feet rushing up the stairs meant Vanyel was coming too. Violet sat up from the ground as Vanyell appeared, putting her back against the wall. She stared at them, rocking back and forth, a hint toward the insane amount of anxiety and rage she was feeling, but also another thing.

The rocking back and forth caused Violet to wince. Violet reached around her side and grabbed something on the side that wasn’t visible to them. A small wince and a low whimper later and Violet revealed she pulled a shard of glass from her side. It was about three inches long and fully covered in her blood. She tossed it on the ground and let herself fall against the wall. “I don't understand you two.”

Solomon was rendered speechless, evident by his inability to voice a single thought as he witnessed the aftermath of the chaos that had unfolded. By all accounts, he felt severely ill-equipped here, as though he were a hapless voyager at sea without a lifeline. Each minute that passed only enhanced the regret he felt at his words, how foolish he was to ignore the possibility that his words would trigger such a visceral reaction within someone he considered a dear friend.

His mother always told him of how foolishly prideful his father was, how unbending he was in his ideals - and to a degree, he wondered if he wasn't any different from him as a result. He was foolish. Even if he disagreed, any other outcome was better than this.

This was painful. This was gut-wrenching. This was a test of his will that no battle could compare to. His first thought was to go searching around for a first aid kit, but then he paused at her question. Lingered on her words, reflected on his own, and simply turned to her with a genuine expression of regret.

"I know an apology fixes nothing here, and I make no excuses for what I said. I didn't intend to hurt you when I spoke to you. Precisely because I wanted no harm to come to you, I spoke hastily and dismissed the idea of letting you fight alongside me. And now, you're hurting. You're in pain. You're in pain, and I don't know what to do here. I don't know what to say. I'm so out of my element here it hurts... but you know what? Whatever you think of me now, I deserve it."

Solomon turned to Vanyel for a moment to direct him to retrieve the first aid kit himself now that he found himself focused wholly on her, kneeling as he sat before her, as though he was wholly prepared to remain in this room for hours.

"It might be difficult to understand, but I care about you. I take pride in the fact that I know you, and I... hope that we can still reach you. No matter how much you hate me, I won't stop caring about you. I won't stop supporting you. I'll spend the rest of my life here... if it means I get to see you smile again if it means you recognize how much you mean to me... and the man a few meters away from me."

He didn't need much direction. Seeing Violet injured made Vanyel immediately take off back down to the first floor, leaping down and crashing to the floor, though he didn't so much as wince. He looked through the drawers left ajar and open cabinet doors to find where a first-aid kit would be.

But, after Violet had torn through the house trying to find the narcotics, he wasn't expecting to find it where it usually would be.

It wasn't until he started looking around at the various discarded items on the floor when he noticed it buried under a small amount of other items that had been thrown around. Picking it up, Vanyel sprinted back up the stairs as fast as he could, skipping steps to get up there quicker. Dropping it on the floor, he started digging through it to grab what he needed.

A roller bandage, wound dressing, tweezers, antibiotic ointment, and antiseptic wipes. Clearing away some of the shards of glass that were in the way, Vanyel knelt down next to her to start dressing the now open, larger wound as he lifted her shirt up to her stomach to get to the wound, clean it, and get some antibiotics on it before bandaging it.

"This is gonna sting a bit, but, better than it getting infected."

It was shoddy work compared to what an actual medical professional could do, but, if it worked, as far as he cared, it was good enough. After dressing the wound, he carefully picked out the small shards in her leg with the tweezers, before cleaning those up and getting them taken care of as well.

His voice quivered and his expression turned even more worried as he continued to clean and dress her injuries.

"You shouldn't have pulled that chunk out so soon..."

Violet was giving Solomon a hard glare out of the corner of her eye. She didn’t turn to him while he talked, but every word was heard. When he finally stopped talking, Violet could still hear Vanyel rummaging through her previous freak out downstairs, so she took a moment to try and tell Solomon something while they were alone. “I thought…” Violet stopped. She looked away, back again, and away. The expression on her face was clearly full of confusion, and she couldn’t get out the words she wanted. “Nevermind.” Violet slammed her head against the wall she was leaning against, the impact hard enough to crack it. It hurt, but she suppressed it.

As Vanyel returned, Violet watched him come over. She remained tense as he got close. Her eyes darted from Solomon to Vanyel, to what he had in his hand, to where his hand was going. Like before, she was trapped between them, and walls were keeping her here. She couldn’t get to the doorway. As he grabbed her shirt in an attempt to lift it, Violet reacted like a startled wild animal. She flinched away from Vanyel, smacked his hand off, and pushed herself into a standing position with only her legs because she held her shirt in place, not letting either of them lift it up. And in that moment, Violet looked at both men like she was scared of them.

For a moment, Solomon thought his words were reaching her. She didn't have to acknowledge them now. His words didn't have to matter in the moment, but if he could make an impact to overwrite his words from before, then that was progress enough. When Vanyel returned with the medical supplies, Solomon allowed him to shift past him to handle his part in ensuring her condition was alright, but then, Violet violently pulled away.

Like a started animal, her gaze darted between the both of them, and he simply couldn't discern the cause beyond that reaction. After all, he never knew what it was like to watch someone unravel to such a degree, the crux of living a sheltered life, no doubt, but even so... what was wrong? Did she feel suffocated? Did their presence here make her feel suffocated?

He thought back to her words about feeling as though she were imprisoned... but even then, he had proven he would gladly give her the space if she so desired... so what was going on? His azure gaze dumbfoundedly shifted into Vanyel's direction, as though searching for an answer. They, too, had developed a friendship of some sort, so perhaps he'd know the cause behind her current behavior. Or so he hoped, at least.

Oh god.

Just that one reaction told him everything he needed to know. Vanyel's eyes widened in horror and realization as what she had mentioned to him before now made sense. She had been...oh god. A trembling hand went to his mouth as the other withdrew, his head lowering and turning to the glass-ridden floor. Slowly, he started to back up, gesturing for Solomon to do the same as his hand finally lowered to speak.

"Back up, Solomon. Now. Give her space."

Tears welled in his eyes as he thought back to his own experience with the subject, to Calypso, and the memory of her beaten, broken, drugged body forever burned into his mind. For the longest time, he had hated Algos for what she'd done -- yet, he never had been able to figure out why he couldn't bring himself to hate her, to hurt her, to kill her for what she did.

His head lifted to look at Violet, opening his mouth, but found it hard to speak, to swallow. Eventually, he managed to get out one word, a hushed, whispered question. He wouldn't dare probe for detail -- there wasn't any need. Fingers dug harshly into his leg, the quiet sound of fabric tearing breaking the silence as Vanyel trembled with disgust, regret, and rage.

"...Mexico?"