Ready4u @r-eady-4-u - Tumblr Blog

r-eady-4-u

Jul 29

arbredelamort

Silence

Pair: Velvette/Carmilla Carmine

Warnings: Hurt/no comfort, unhealthy coping mechanisms, grief, dead Valentino, Clara and Odette

Summary:

No one can prepare for loss.

It doesn't matter how above you think you are from it, or how frequent one has managed to evade it in the past. It doesn't care if you've already died before. How fragile or fortified your mind is. How special someone was and what they meant to you.

It takes without mercy and leave ruins in it's wake.

No one can prepare for loss.

a/n: Inspired by

this artwork by @r-eady-4-u. I hope my interpretation does it justice.

Velvette's eyes stung.

A warm, sharp pain that hadn't left her alone in... She couldn't remember if it had since it started— not even in her attempts to escape reality in dreaming.

She rubbed her eyes. Another try at satisfying it for at least a second.

It only made it worse.

Just like it had before. But she continued. Maybe she was a masochist for doing so. Maybe she was stubborn for thinking it would fix anything.

Why did this have to happen in the fucking first place?

Sniffling, she readjusted the jacket that dwarfed her in length, tying the lower sleeves around her waist just to try and be closer— to mimic that Valentino was holding her again.

She could hear him so clearly even though Velvette couldn't quite pinpoint where his voice was coming from. Not actually by her side but still not entirely in her head.

Asking her when she last ate. Whether she'd been ignoring it again. Saying he'd make her favourite if that would help to convince her.

With aching limbs, she pushed herself up, joints clicking from a lack of movement, finally leaving the bed that wasn't hers.

Velvette knew where Vox would be. In the same pitiful place he'd been in for days just like herself.

Screens surrounded him, his jacker crumpled next to him on the sofa. "What are you doing Velvette?" He asked, turning halfway to look her up and down, "You look awful. Better finally get your shit together or else someone will take your spot."

Barely having the will to roll her eyes, she ignored the jab, "Can say the same to you"

She knew how this would go. They'd had the same conversation tenfold— just with different words and none of them ever kind.

"Getting shit back after that fucker—"

Every time this happened, Velvette could never tell who he was referring to. His blame shifted between their friend and that damn deer, who, if Vox had just talked to them and never struck a fucking deal with or ever payed attention to in the first place, wouldn't have landed them in this mess without Va—

Velvette decided she didn't want to finish that thought.

"—But you seem perfectly content lazing around while I do all the fucking work" gesturing between the two of them, "As per usual" he added.

"Lazing around? Lazing around!?" She laughed, almost hysteric from disbelief, only causing the hallow ache that still hadn't been satisfied to tear at her insides with each breath, "I'm the one who's always kept this fucking team together—"

"And look at where that got us, Vel! Getting too attached, making friends—" the word Vox had come to despise so much laced with a mocking disgust, "—with our ex-business partner so he gets stupid enough to make a decision that got him killed to save your life!" Vox inhaled, tired, dull, anger filled eyes narrowing as he finally stood to address her fully, "There are no friends in hell Velvette. Even if there were, I'm sure Valentino would consider you the worst possible candidate."

Since the... incident, Velvette had quickly learned to prepare for comments of his. For arguments they never previously had. Every other time, she had held it together— shut off the part of her brain that gave a shit about Vox and his words so she couldn't allow herself to fully hear the malice.

Despite knowing it wasn't true, that Valentino considered her family, loved her in their strange, confusing, not-entirely-platonic-but-any-other-word-doesn't-quite-get-it-right relationship neither of them could ever really put a label on, was the very reason this one of all of Vox's sneers of rage and grief induced comments stuck. Piercing through her carefully constructed defenses to a place she had never previously needed a reason to defend as danger had never existed within it. Striking her with a weapon far more painful than angelic steel, twisting the blade before removing it only to repeat it all over again. Wrecking her, leaving her bleeding and ruined beyond repair without a second glance. Without the look of regret that used to always appear the moment Vox realised he took it too far.

She hadn't entirely realised how long it had been since Vox last showed regret.

God, Satan, even Lucifer and his far too upbeat, failure of a fucking leader self— whoever she could target the complexities going on inside her at —she fucking hated Vox's suicidal, obsessive, maniac mind that was the entire bloody cause of all this.

"Now if you'll excuse me from your little whiny cry session, I have some real business to do."

The door slammed as Vox left, leaving his jacket and half drunk cold mug alone with her.

Suddenly Velvette couldn't feel the aching hunger that had brought her here in the first place anymore.

Instead, a horrid, uncomfortable swirl of fatigue and like she was unwanted in what should be her own home as tears fell down her cheeks that only resumed the stinging in her eyes from being unconsciously held back for so long.

----------------

"Clara?" Carmilla didn't look up from her drawings surrouded by annotations as she called out for her daughter.

A minute longer than normal passed without the signs of her daughter's relaxed but energetic presence.

"Odette, could you find your—"

By now one of them would already be through the door. Interrupting her mid sentence, asking what she needed accompanied a complaint about Clara 'borrowing' a schematic without permission to tweak, or the girl in question vehemently denying such an accusation.

A second passed.

Then another.

A third dragged on too long to hold back the panic settling in.

"Girls?" She creeped around the desk, tracing a finger along the edge of the meeting table as a means to an end of stabilising her heartbeat so she could think, plan, notice anything out of the ordinary to explain—

And then it stopped.

The light touch she had trembled into an iron fist grip that didn't care for or consider the scratches it would leave in the wood.

"Not here anymore."

Because of me.

This was the third time she'd forgotten.

It would happen again. Carmilla knew that. She'd become engrossed in something. Busy work. A conversation with Zestial that he wouldn't allow her to drift too far from. If she got lucky, perhaps even sleeping.

The last option wouldn't happen. Lady luck had ceased her blessings long ago and whatever residule karma she had previously collected had run dry, but Carmilla still had a flicker of badly beaten hope.

She tried to step back, to retreat so she could at least sit down while she cursed herself.

Her feet didn't move. Waist didn't turn. Grip didn't loosen to allow movement.

She could deal with this. This was just whatever higher power that had true control over her decisions deciding it didn't want to move.

It would only be a minute.

A singular minute before she'd be released to go back to what had become her baseline of discomfort before she had escaped it with accidental blissful ignorance.

A minute was a long time.

More than enough for a parasite already present in her mind to feed on her inability to fight it.

They would hate her, if they knew. Rightfully blame her for the choices she made. Clara had always possessed a talent to hold a grudge while keeping a playful smile and a layered comment you didn't realise was until you were in too deep. Odette would compare all the evidence she could gather, decide on a ruling and stick to it without question. If they knew what she had done, they would hate her.

Very few things had managed to scare Carmilla in life and death, but the one that had forever been able to do so was disappointment. A look, a collection of words, a simple dismissal without a glance toward her that told her she had failed and had no chance of redemption.

A sharp, sour pain trickled down her arm into her fingertips, lingering for barely a second before disappearing to resurface at a later date.

The paralytic hold on her released, buckling her knees and chocked out a sob when she hit the floor.

----------------

Velvette's room wasn't truly hers anymore. A captured moment of time where she and Valentino had no idea, not even an inkling, at how wrong the night would go. They'd expected some damage control, at the very worst that their takeover would have to begin with their own abilities at the front line if angels got too close.

Remembering how she had been then made a pit in her stomach grow. Punishing her. Ruining one of the last times she had with Val that had been so free and normal. Abreak from the all shit they'd been dealing with before celebrating because they didn't expect Vox to break and lose the remaining grip he had on his mind.

She didn't want to remember how they'd been— without an inkling of what would happen —just hours before losing one of the two people she'd let so close to her.

Since only her and Vox had returned she'd been staying in Val's room. Surrounded by everything that made Valentino Valentino.

Everything that made it so easy for Velvette to feel like her friend wasn't gone.

Sometimes she wished it was Vox who had died in the explosion. At least then it would've prevented this— stopped him from becoming even more of the psychotic maniac, and put simply, the arsehole he'd been for the past few months. But then she'd regret the thought. Take it back, wish she'd never had it in the first place and unconsciously punish herself for it by remembering it would've meant losing any chance of the Vox she and Val loved coming back to them.

She just wanted relief. The comfort Val had always provided even when she was too stubborn to admit she needed it.

Sitting up, she crawled over to the side Val kept a few extra packets of his favourite cigarettes. The strawberry ones she could never tell were genuinely flavoured or if Val's spit added the extra taste to it.

Either they, the flavour reminded her of him. Brought him back for at least a few minutes like he'd never even left.

She didn't want either of her friends gone— she needed them back and didn't know how much longer she could go without them. She just didn't want the man who'd taken Vox's place to be here.

Velvette felt a sick taste emerge in her throat when the thought appeared.

The Vox she and Valentino had— still —loved and cared for died the very same moment Valentino had. And maybe a part of Velvette herself had too.

----------------

Zestial had stopped by.

Unannounced, unprompted. Dramatically emerging from one of his webs scattered across the estate with a topic he said required her immediate attention and hours of discussion only Carmilla could provide.

She knew what he was doing. He knew that she knew. Neither of them said anything.

The moment the comfort of her friend had left, a crack appeared.

It was happening again.

Carmilla stopped counting after the fifth time.

Knowing only gave the guilt another way to feed on her.

This time, it had taken the form of a question both at the back and forefront of her mind that had found a way to finally to shout in unison and confront her head on.

What kind of mother was she?

How, in good conscience, could she have put herself first in the split second there was before blinding brightness and scorching heat egulfed pride? How did she not ask where Clara and Odette were?

It was the one time she hadn't checked up on them when they had gone off alone.

Why, for the first time, was she unable to save them? Unable to protect them from harm. Do the most important job she had as a mother.

Why had she folded, given into the pressure and the threats to build a weapon powerful enough to cripple heaven's gates and strip the realm all it's worth?

She had failed to keep her family safe and now they weren't with her. Her daughters were gone. Out of reach and unable to ever come back to her no matter how hard she pleaded. In another place Carmilla desperately hoped would be kind to them.

Carmilla's head pulsed. Low, blunt streaks of pain making tears blur the edges of her vision.

What kind of a mother was she?

Her gaze dropped to meet the crystalline glass she kept at hand specifically for when she needed a moment to relax after meetings, mostly overlord ones. To ease her stress or entertain a fellow overlord she considered friendly who wanted a private moment to talk.

Without thinking, she drifted to the small collection of bottles lining the wall, picked one and poured a glass. Bringing it to her lips to try and wash away guilt.

The first glass hadn't worked.

Nor the second.

And the final drops of the bottle had only morphed the ringing question into the voices of the two people she hadn't been able to hear since the conversation none of them knew would be their last.

What kind of mother was she?

----------------

Home had begun to suffocate Carmilla. Walls closing in. An unpleasant, bitter taste constantly lurking at the back of her throat. Photos that had previously been decorations, sacred memories which were now taunting her over who was missing. Reminding her of every time she had managed to step in between her daughters and whatever danger opposed them and the one time she hadn't.

She wanted an escape, and preferably one that didn't cause her drinks to regurgitate when she downed one too many of them.

Something that wasn't her home or factory. Where it would maybe grace her with the allowance of picturing her daughters before the guilt could settle in again. Disrupt the now ever present ache that was becoming too heavy to ignore.

And, as it turned out, she wasn't alone. At least in her choice of location.

Velvette, without any sign of her compatriots in the visible vicinity, stood half slouched over a rail. Either unaware or simply ignoring the sound of Carmilla's approaching footsteps.

It was uncharacteristic. Slightly unnerving. But somehow not enough to urge Carmilla to retreat or call pre-emptive ceasefire.

Gently, with a careful, intricate balance reminiscent of trying to avoid disturbing a cat— too fast, and she'd run, too covert, the sudden realisation would only make her more defensive then the younger overlord already was —Carmilla approached her.

Velvette looked up— eyes puffy, a mix of surprise and watchfulness in them —just enough to acknowledge her presence without starting anything. No jab Velvette normally played off as a greeting that would always uproot her calm attitude. Just silence. An unspoken statement that she knew Carmilla was there and wouldn't leave purely because of it.

A beat passed like that. Carmilla adjusting to this side she hadn't seen before, with Velvette seemingly doing the same. Maybe it was a truce from their banter. And arguments. Any general distaste of the other.

It made the feeling in her throat shift, not necessarily changing the taste— simply easing it enough for the invisible block on her voice to loosen.

"My daughters loved it here," Carmilla took in their surroundings. At how the lines blurred between their districts that rarely slept for different reasons. Where hell managed perfectly blend the fluorescent coloured lights into a softer version that didn't require squinting or younger eyes to see clearly. That diffused the smokey, but mostly non toxic fumes alongside dampening the music and shouts from their respective domains.

Velvette lazily peered around, trying to find the two who seemed to never leave their mother's side like a pair of leeches,

"If they like it so much then—"

It took a moment before the answer interrupted her question. And for a rare moment, one that had happened at most a couple of times in her life and death, Velvette didn't feel like she should continue talking.

A few seconds went by, the bridge between discomfort and a solace she didn't think she could feel towards the other woman becoming more and more prominent as Velvette kept her gaze trained on the ground.

"What about you?" Carmilla asked, voice steady, "It's rare to see you alone."

"What's it matter? Still in my territory, I can do what I want,"

"You're... absent."

A deep, bitter pit formed in Velvette's throat she hoped wasn't showing anything more than what Carmilla had already noted. "Fight with V." She answered, short and simple with just enough crafted emotion to cover that she hadn't actually been feeling much of the genuine kind recently. At most a mask of it that slipped the second she was alone and was only hastily reconstructed to face what should be her home.

Velvette heard Carmilla hum in response before the other woman spoke, "How are your associates? Aside from tonight then."

Summing the shell of her former self was far easier than acknowledging that some people simply didn't know.

"Very fucking funny, Carmine. They're doing fantastic, bloody brilliant, better than ever." Velvette barked back, the dreadful fucking sting in her eyes coming back to remind her to hold back her tears as she reached for the small packet in her pocket, lighter than it had been the day prior, the opening worn from fidgeting. Pulling one out before effortlessly summoning a purple flame to finally light the familiar scent and warmth she'd craved since her first one alone.

"I'm sorry, Velvette," Carmilla apologised softly.

The doll inhaled; a faint, artificial strawberry flavour filling her taste before finally needing to let it go. "Sure you are."

It didn't take long for the effect she wanted to settle in. For the light, steady presence to drape across her back in the exact way she remembered Valentino did.

Carmilla watched the younger overlord, and for once, Carmilla thought she and Velvette were on similar standings— well, only partially since Velvette hadn't made a table her personal runway in meet her height.

It unnerved her. Comforted her. Made the foundations of her typically needed walls still receive orders to form but wanting to extend some form of care to the woman she previously had little reason or want to. They had something in common now, and Carmilla needed someone to hold to remind her people were still there.

And so, she did. Reaching out a hand with the same caution she had when she first approached Velvette minutes ago.

Velvette felt the pressure on her back change. Sturdier. Supporting. Real. Like Val had readjusted himself from the gentle weight where he judged what they both needed, to the full body one he used whenever either of them wanted the other to be as close as possible.

Velvette relaxed, her being loosening a touch more than she'd ever been able to since the incident. In a silence that felt almost calm. Almost like a break she hadn't realised she needed or been able to have. A moment where Velvette didn't notice the other small memories her mind had conjured quietly dissapearing while the weight on her back remained. The only force keeping her upright without complaint. Without any thought or memory that Carmilla was mere steps away from her.

Then part of the weight shifted less than a fraction. Stilled. And then retracted without the gentle fade that had always given her a second to prepare to return to a world without it.

Velvette blinked, eyes readjusting, mind remembering who was next to her.

standing awkwardly, a hand times larger than Velvette's own just a millimetre too far from her hip to be a normal position.

Velvette subconsciously chose to avoid acknowledging it.

"Why you still just standing there?— Watching me like some kind of stalker? Weirdo," she dropped the used cigarette, waving her hand to dismiss the flame.

Carmilla rolled her eyes, "It's still my territory, I can do what I want."

"Can't come up with a comeback on your own? How uninspired," Velvette retorted.

A second passed before Carmilla spoke again, "You're not the only one who lost someone, you know."

"No shit, I ain't daft," Velvette turned to face her fully, "And don't try and make me feel guilty for something my fr— for something Vox did. Don't wanna think about it, don't wanna talk about it."

"It was actually an attempt to not make you feel alone," Carmilla half whispered, "It's a haunting reassurance. To know when someone else experienced loss."

Velvette leaned down, chin resting on her arms folded against the railing.

"Speak for yourself."

"I'm sorry for what happened to you and the other Vees." Carmilla took a few steps back, returning the space Velvette previously had but not the understanding air it had with it.

Staring at Carmilla's retreating form, only blinking to ease the strain in her eyes, Velvette stilled until Carmilla was a safe distance ahead, enough for the other woman to not hear whether she stayed or left.

She took the second option, and without thinking, clung to Carmilla's parting words like a lifeline, trailing behind her with short, uneven steps Velvette didn't notice to bother scrounging up the energy to hide.

Maybe Carmilla was right. That she wouldn't be as alone as she was with the shell of her friend in the room nexto ver and the memories of the other always surrounding her.

----------------

It was different for Carmilla, to say the least. Having another presence in her home after finding herself alone in it. Notably one she didn't invite, who had followed her inside like a stray cat who liked to bite and hiss but gave her no urge to kick out.

What made it more so was the kind of presence she was. Velvette wasn't a friend like Zestial, or family like Clara and Odette were. She didn't appear as the disrespectful, loud, egotistical woman Carmilla had always encountered and viewed her as.

Instead, the extra, unfamiliar but known presence was just another woman who'd lost someone with a bond that couldn't be replicated or replaced. Who also didn't remember how existing felt before they were in your life.

Neither of them had talked for the first few days. Only discovering each other at random times in different states of ruin.

Carmilla had found Velvette nestled in a dim corner hidden mostly out of sight, glaring at her illuminated phone laying opposite her, knees pulled up to her chin, streaks of dried tears and make-up down her cheeks.

Velvette had found Carmilla leaning against the kitchen counter, empty glass that looked like it had been filled too many times for one night. Murmuring softly in spanish with a grip on her thigh sharp enough to split skin. A look in her eyes somewhere between emptiness and regret that had spilled into faint bags beneath them.

Conversation or questions didn't strike— or any kind of interaction beside their accidental meetings. They continued to exist without it all.

Carmilla returned to her attempts of work. Continued to taste the guilt in the back of her throat Zestial would say had no place anywhere. Tried to enjoy the times her friend was able to appear and drown out the taste with tea instead.

She didn't know what Velvette did, only that she'd found a guest room and decided she'd stay there.

The younger overlord's presence didn't bring life to the house. But it did at least bring signs of an occupant wandering the halls who wasn't Carmilla herself.

----------------

Velvette hadn't sent anything saying she was out, or that she didn't know when— or if —she'd come back. Vox hadn't asked where she was, or left traces of his stalking the old him never noticed weren't covered. It had been days. Maybe a week or two. She didn't know. Time hadn't been a concept she had the energy or will to pay attention to recently.

It all meant one of two things: he either didn't notice, or simply didn't care anymore.

Velvette couldn't tell which hurt more. Just that feeling the edge of an angelic blade against her throat that would cause irreversible damage would've been an easier sentence.

Abandoning her phone on the bed, she left the room she'd claimed as hers. It reminded her too much of Vox. Too much of who'd replaced him. Not enough to distract her from it anymore.

She wandered the half familiar halls, repeating patterns and matching doors allowing her to lose her sense of position without feeling like it, slowing to a stop when she heard laughter. Muffled, but still audibly fatigued, and everything that told her it was genuine didn't require a degree in reading Carmine to deduce.

The tall, dark, imposing door hid what the actual scene was while giving her enough to imagine it: The pair sitting across each other, Camrilla's legs crossed from fatigue and Zestial sat with perfect posture. A shared pot of tea between them, maybe biscuits, maybe not. Reminiscing on all the times before this with stories that wouldn't cause Carmilla more pain than Velvette had seen in their brief meetings.

The scene brought a slight upward curl to an edge of her lips. A contrasting emptiness to her eyes.

Her mind did the work for her before she could spend too long wondering what she was feeling.

It eplaced the scene in her head with a different one. At V tower instead of the Carmine residence. A collection of drinks that were never shared because of such differing tastes. Bourbon. Wine. Fruit flavoured cocktails. Music they fought over and then never failed to end the same list of songs playing in the background instead of silence. A moth, a doll, and a TV-head curled together without any thought behind the closeness. Laughter from the day's gossip than reminiscing times long gone.

The memory played out, simultaneously giving her the joy and pleasure she hadn't experienced in so long but also tortured her with it. Every second of the blurred time spent chasing more of it but only seemed to get further from her to more she tried.

Her body, mind, whichever part controlled whether she could or couldn't move, only allowed her to leave when the final farewell was bid.

----------------

She didn't care where she ended up, so long as she was away from Carmilla and that ancient relic she has as a friend. Anywhere that didn't have their laughter. Or the tone Carmilla had found in place of the strained, exhausted, almost fragile one Velvette had exclusively overheard during her stay.

She'd found a corner. Dim from the light being blocked by thick curtains with only a crack of it under the door from the hallway. Cramped enough to make herself small. Unnoticeable. To act the exact opposite of who she was.

Arms folded so her head could rest of them, staring into oblivion.

Carmilla had a friend.

Velvette didn't.

The friend cared.

Hers didn't.

The scene she had imagined earlier resurfaced.

Her throat went dry quickly.

She didn't realise her consciousness had slipped until a voice returned it to her.

"Velvette?"

Her gaze drifted to meet matching red eyes. She ignored the shades of purple developing just beneath them.

"Why do you get someone...?" Velvette whispered, tone small, uncharacteristic even in her state.

"What do you—"

"Why do you get someone who cares? Genuinely gives a shit?" Velvette blinked. "Who doesn't berate and argue even bloody time you move because he can't handle his own fucked up grief? 'Cus he doesn't wanna understand he's part of the reason my best friend, his boyfriend died?" Her voice shifted to an unstable whisper, "Why do you get that? Why do you still have that but not me...?"

Hated that she'd clung to Carmilla the moment she provided the potential of some kind of feasible escape and still continued to.

A hand rested on her shoulder, giving a firm, gentle squeeze Velvette reflexively leaned into.

"It does get better"

Velvette looked up at her, eyes a less vibrant red from crying, a desperation in them without any sign of trying to hide it. Faint eyebags beneath them that Carmilla never thought a doll could get but knew mirrored her own.

"Promise?"

She'd experienced loss before. Felt the unbridled pain that occurred when a part of her vanished and would never be hers again. Had someone unjustly taken from her. And while it had been impossible for her to return to existing like she had before, she had tried to heal herself. Coped with it until she finally accepted the new normal. Believed the grief had subsided and gotten better because of it.

"Promise."

Carmilla internally pushed down how her words sounded less like reassurance and more of a plea to the world. A thinly veiled attempt to convince herself it would be true more than to Velvette. Even if the relief it gave was only temporary.

----------------

They hadn't necessarily been on speaking terms since then, but the distance had closened. No longer carrying the air of two people under the same roof barely managing to exist. Or maybe it was simply a more breathable version.

Carmilla had learned Velvette's preference for tea, and Velvette Carmilla's taste in coffee. No longer meeting purely on accident. When there was a pull, whether it be to eat or just have someone nearby, the other would follow instinctually, even while in opposite ends of the house.

It had made Carmilla begin to believe there might have been some truth to her own words.

And it was exactly how Velvette's form quietly emerged from the hallway door to join her. Head popping through, almost hesitant for a second of potentially interrupting her, before taking the seat lowered for her comfort and ease that opposed Carmilla's stance behind the counter island.

She still wasn't the Velvette Carmilla had known before their worlds had been torn apart at the seems, but she could tell there were signs of the woman coming back. Slowly. Differently. Broken and hopefully being repaired.

Carmilla couldn't comment on whether she herself was the same.

But she held hope she was similar, at least.

She turned to fetch the mug Velvette had wordlessly claimed as her own— simple, almost plain in it's gray hatched pattern —her favoured tea, and flicked the kettle to boil.

A gentle clink of ceramic against marble alerted her to Velvette not so subtlety reaching over the island to swipe at the biscuits she'd laid out prior to the young overlord's arrival.

Carmilla rolled her eyes, "You could have just asked. There's no need to wait until my back is turned."

She watched Velvette's mouth twist into a half grin before moving to form a response that didn't fall on Carmilla's ears.

A sound. Somewhere in the back of her head— But also in the room with her. Beside her. Opposite her. Nowhere she could point to. Slightly foreign. Amused. One she couldn't put a name to despite her heartstrings pulling at her, pleading, begging for her to recognise the melody. A faint upturn at the corners of her lips that released just a fraction of the tension throughout her body in an unusual deviation from the past few months.

She knew this. Had heard it before— So, so many times before. Before her world was uprooted without warning. When she still had her daughters—

And then it was gone.

And she couldn't recall what she'd heard.

Carmilla stilled, brows furrowing as she tried to force her mind to conjure it again only to come up empty.

Instead, her efforts only replayed the night it all went wrong. But not the visuals that haunted her each time she closed her eyes. The deep, lingering distaste she thought had finally faded into the background. Her fear as blinding light and harsh ringing conquered her senses. Panic when she turned and had no sign of her daughters. Guilt, when her searches had led to nothing she ever wished to see again.

A shrill ringing in Carmilla's grew louder in volume each time she pushed.

"I know you're old and withered, but making tea doesn't require that much brain power," Velvette interrupted, startling Carmilla to drop the teabag she was holding.

"I'm not—" Carmilla sighed, reaching for the teabag, placing it in the mug intended for Velvette.

Velvette didn't continue her previous comment. Instead giving Carmilla a look she couldn't decipher, biscuit abandoned mod bite.

Carmilla had always considered herself of sound mind. Had never once listened to Velvette's previously incessant comments and jabs on whether she truly was or not.

Now she started to question— not openly or consciously, but in the same part of her mind where the sounds echoed just out of reach and guilt lay steady until it found the perfect vulnerability to strike on —whether Velvette knew something she didn't.

After all, hearing sounds you can't even recall that no one else can hear had never been a good thing, even by Hell's fucked up, corrupted, drug addict driven standards.

----------------

It'd been nice. Having someone there. To drink tea with and reminded her to eat. Velvette had forgotten how much she liked it, even if there were moments where it stung to remember why she had forgotten.

It made her glad that her habit of incessantly tracking the time, knowing exactly what was happening, where and when, had died when the days started blending together.

Velvette was far too aware that she knew if it had persisted, if she did know how much time— how many days, hours, minutes down to the exact second —had passed, that she'd begin questioning whether the statement from... him that had caused her so much pain had been true.

There'd been points where she would.

After a day where her mind would lower it's volume, take a step back to lessen the discomfort she had since grown used to.

Then she'd relapse. Or remember this wasn't what her afterlife was supposed to be like.

She couldn't tell which option was more accurate.

She also didn't know which one made her feel less guilty.

Velvette's ears started to ring.

She needed air.

The balcony, thankfully, faced away from the glowing orb of arrogance and power heaven refused to admit to take part in. Away from the glowing colours that still included her signature purple standing side by side red and blue.

The ringing pressured a dull ache in her skull to rise as she pushed her thoughts aside, reaching for the near empty packet containing her artificially flavoured strawberry lifelines that never left her side.

She'd been needing a few more of them for his voice to appear recently— just like whenever he had been in a stroppy mood and had to be coaxed out from wherever he was hiding by either her or Vo— Their friend.

Velvette unconsciously blinked back tears threatening to streak her makeup with salted tracks down her cheeks when his name came to mind.

She didn't went to think about him. Doing so never failed to come with the reminder of who he had become and why.

Lifting the cigarette to her lips, flame already flickering to light it without needing to consciously summon it, Velvette inhaled.

She didn't like being alone.

Being alone meant her head goes too quiet.

Maybe she needed to find Carmilla. The older overlord replicated some sense of normality that made it easier to bear whenever Valentino was being stubborn.

The thought spiralled a revelation appear to Velvette.

It hadn't been subtle. Or kind. Nothing that could have made her feel anything but hollow dread. Another dose of grief. A drop of something that exactly couldn't be labeled hatred. Maybe betrayal.

Carmilla had lied to her.

And she'd done it without hesitation. Without any reason for Velvette to not cling to her promise, and now her person, as a lifeline.

Velvette took another shaky inhale as a silent prayer that it'd prove everything wrong.

Artificial strawberry coated her tastebuds, dousing her in sweet nicotine while she waited for the hit she actually wanted to strike.

It didn't.

And that only confirmed everything she dreaded with a side terror as her heartbeat thumped in her ears and drowned out the indicental sounds of the industrial district to leave her stranded alone with nothing but her internal panic.

Part of her wanted Carmilla to experience this.

To taste the vomit-like sensation on her tongue that she couldn't tell was a conjuration or because she really had. To feel her legs threatening to give out if she even dared to loosen her grip of the railing. To watch memories that weren't quite right— Valentino's voice cutting out, morphing to a tone he had never possessed despite her desperate, futile attempts to correct it. Everything being wrong and yet she had no idea, no memory as to what any of them would be if they were right —rolling without break like some fucked up broadcast playing through headphones and a screen she couldn't look away from.

Another lesser, more human and broken side didn't want to mean the vengeance but knew it'd inevitably come true if they hadn't already.

Velvette choked back a sob, forced her eyes shut in hope that the progress she thought she'd made wasn't just a faulty imitation of it that had decided to torture her with revealing it's true intention with the degradation of what little she had left of one of the two people she considered family.

Valentino wasn't there anymore.

Not in person. Not in her memories. Not as a comforting phantom who'd hold her close and whisper in her ear the moment he could tell she was about to fall apart.

What truly unnerved her was the haunting knowledge that another part of him would leave without a goodbye and she would have no idea.

r-eady-4-u

Yo ,guys, check this out, this is so good !