i don't remember where the meme came from lmfao i got 2 brain cells left !
" as i am reminded, every single day. " she throws back another shot and kicks her feet up on the table. she has the television, radio and computer playing some sort of show or song but even the constant background chatter isn't enough to drown him out. she hated silence--- she was always raring to jump to the next ' thing ', no matter what it was. being idle drove her up the fucking wall, but this is proving to be a little bit too much, even for her. drinking is probably not going to help. " must be nice, huh? just sitting back and relaxing? letting someone else do the driving? "
how does one describe the feeling of sharing your god damn consciousness? like you're wearing a sweater that's a bit too tight? or maybe like you've got a leak in your brain and you're dripping brain juice all over the grimy bathroom tile. even before this whole getting-shot-then-being-dumped-in-a-landfill thing, violet's head was always a little scrambled; but being a little off kilter was kind of her brand back then. being the 'insane arasaka corpo cunt' went a long way once upon a time.
violet isn't made for sybiosis, that much is clear. these days, she has to wade through thick webs of memories that might not even be hers. she sees faces of people she's never met but their images make her feel something; like her skin's fucking crawling, like someone's plucking at her nerves. a stupid thing, memory.
but what's more terrifying, still, is the idea of johnny having to deal with the exact same thing. wading through her bullshit labyrinth of a brain was probably far from a cakewalk, but his comfort is the last of her concern. v isn't a particularly private person but she never wanted to have her entire being laid out like some fucking all you can eat buffet. that's the shit that keeps her up at night. " might not be able to kill you but at the very least, i can get blackout drunk and try to ignore you. "
@silverehand sent: “can you follow my lead for once?”
“ what’s the magic word? “ sardonic. words spat through bloodied teeth, metallic tang sour on her tongue. this isn’t the time or place to be hostile and yet, by nature, she hisses like a fucking snake. the relic malfunctions again and her vision shears. she swears she can hear her brain sizzling in her head like an egg on hot concrete.
trust has never come easy. violet can count the number of people she fully trusted on one hand— and one of those people had just fucking died. on a granular level, violet has never felt the need to trust in anyone or anything aside from her own competence. it’s hard for her to remember a time in her life when she wasn’t looking over her shoulder. whether it be walking down the halls at arasaka hq or just taking the elevator to her own apartment, violet has always had a reason to be wary of others. it’s a survival instinct.
should it be any different when it comes to johnny? just because he’s in her fucking head doesn’t mean he always has her best interests in mind. it could be jesus christ himself in that biochip and she still would have snubbed him at every turn. what does johnny silverhand get out of helping out someone like her? for over a decade, violet lived, breathed, slept, and ate all things arasaka. her self-worth and will to live were directly tied to the same corporation that he’d dedicated his life to destroying. by nature, they should be enemies.
therefore, if the issue at hand is trust, that just begs the question again: why should it be any different when it comes to johnny? and in the same vein, why should it be any different when it comes to her? maybe he is an exception. maybe she is an exception. maybe they are an exception. to think of them as a singular entity makes her shudder— or is that her nervous system shutting down?
back pressed against brick, violet slides down until she’s sitting on the dusty pavement. coughs up something awful, blood sticky between her fingers. some higher power cackles and crushes her psyche like a ball of clay. johnny glitches into her line of sight, existing in a pocket of reality that’s shared only between them. she wonders if he’s enjoying this— but then wonders why he’d give her an out in the first place? the pain can stop— she knows this. all she has to do is give him the reins. all she has to do is trust. it’s a lot easier said than done.
“ why even ask? didn’t you say you’d find a way to take control? this is it. preem opportunity. corpo cunt’s finally getting what’s coming to her. “ she feels like she’s being run through a blender but she somehow finds the energy to snap. she’s writhing like a worm, trying to muster the strength to just get up and go home.
she had read something once, in the margins of a magazine, about the concept of twin flames. it was like something from one of misty’s old tomes. the meeting of two souls. flowery language about mirroring each other and finding a higher purpose; the expansion of consciousness and awakenings. something about introducing great change into your life, a catalyst to growth and self-discovery. yin and yang— light and dark. like a soulmate minus the rose-tinted vision. twisted. tumultuous. disastrous.
it’s almost fitting— but there is nothing serendipitous about this. their situation, their predicament— is more like a cosmic joke than a beautiful twist of fate. she is dying. there is an insidious parasite gnawing at her synapses, dismantling her very being like a fucking termite chewing through old floorboards. twin flames or not, it doesn’t change the fact that the walls of her memories crumble more and more each day. lines blur and it’s hard to tell where violet ends and johnny begins.
she just needs to survive this.
it’s just a matter of going back to basics. survive the day and then do it all again. they’ll find a way to fix things and she’ll eventually be able to put all of this behind her.
she just needs to survive this.
for as long as she can remember, it’d always been just her. in school, she’d made it clear from the start that she was a solo cat; brash and arrogant, spiteful and unforgiving. it was easier that way. she was responsible for herself and herself alone. violet hated sharing. her mistakes were hers just as her victories were hers. there was little difference in the workplace. violet was brutally efficient, oftentimes terrifyingly adept at her job. she worked best on her own where she wasn’t weighed down others. but now it seemed like she had no choice but change the way she operated.
“ can you follow my lead for once? ” his voice seems to echo now.
in a battle of the egos, hers starts to fall apart at the seams. it pains her greatly to have to admit that she needs help and pains her even more knowing that the only person who can help her is a dead terrorist. johnny silverhand may or may not be her only hope and that is completely and utterly mortifying.
violet heaves a breath, then. she rifles through her pockets for her little stash of pills and can barely get the stupid baggie open. if they’re going to make it through this, then one of them has to start playing nice. mentally, she decides to bury the hatchet. she wonders if johnny can extrapolate that as he swims around in her thoughts. she is trusting him— and feels incredibly incompetent because of it. violet trusts him to get them the help they need and trusts that he will relinquish control once he’s done what he’s had to do.
“ you know what, fuck it. “ a laugh escapes her now, as if she can barely believe the words that are about to leave her lips. violet tips her head back, pseudoentotrizine pinched between her teeth. “ the ball’s in your court. “
she’s been tuned into the ncpd scanner for the better part of the afternoon, ferrying herself from location to location like she’s on their fucking payroll or something. she’s not really the vigilante type but the ncpd’s incompetence is her catharsis in that sometimes you just want to kick a guy in the nuts and not have to feel bad about it! anyway, this is like, totally just charity work, right? yadda, yadda, civic duty and all that jazz! in night city, there’s no shortage of jackasses whose faces need to be ground into the pavement. still, her mood remains inexplicably dismal, even after thoroughly dispatching an entire hovel of scavs. she supposes it’s a lot better and more productive than just pacing a hole into her floor back at her apartment but something’s got her wound up tight and she’s clearly going through her rolodex of coping mechanisms.
violet dumps herself on the nearest set of dirty steps she can find, fishes a pack of cigarettes from her back pocket and dangles one between her lips with all the nonchalance of a girl going on her fifteen minute break at work. she’s anticipating commentary from the peanut gallery at any moment while her brain crackles like it’s covered in static. a shared consciousness means thinking, thinking, thinking about everything all at once but at the same time, nothing at all. the sound of a tv commercial echoes down the empty corridor and another ncpd alert comes through the wire. she fights the temptation to follow it, trigger finger itching as she combs a free hand through her hair and takes a long, long drag. she bounces her leg, restless even when the cigarette head rush liquifies her nerves.
“ you know what, fuck it, “ violet mutters with an air of finality. “ what do you think about a quick lil trip to charter hill? “ she asks as if she cares and as if his opinion even matters. she’s the driver, she chooses the destination. violet is unsure how much prodding johnny’s done since taking up permanent residence in her head but she knows that he knows that there’s nothing good for them in that end of town. “ got some loose ends, or something like that. “
funny how the world works. she's rolling a joint in the front seat of her car while someone on the radio drones on about the weather in europe. last time she was over on that side of the pond, she had bought several ounces of pot in amsterdam--- the good shit grown in some guy's greenhouse, bred to be potent; none of that badlands bush weed that she'd been reduced to smoking since getting booted from arasaka. she was saving the last couple of grams for a special occasion but those seem to be in short supply these days.
" sh... don't try and suck all the fun out of it now, " she chides as silverhand materializes at the edges of her vision. her brain feels fuzzy. she wants to puke. it's not entirely his fault but he makes a good cushion for her ire regardless. v wets the paper with her tongue, rolling it gently into a fully realized joint, ( figures smoking might settle her stomach ) while the guy on the radio says something about acid rain.
" it's gonna end how it usually does. " she lights up and takes a long drag. " with my boot on someone's neck. nothing to worry about. "
the joint smolders between her fingers as she shoots johnny a glance. her guise of nonchalance is riddled with cracks but if there's anyone who can see through them, it's probably him and she can't stand it. smoke is slowly filling up the car but violet just puts her seat back and sighs. " man, dying is one hell of an inconvenience, huh. "
