Violet wrote this by the way. That's canon now, I've decided that.
It actually fits her too well, I can't even begin to describe. Like yes, these things did happen to her, and yes, this is how she feels about those memories, and yes, she did write a song about it, and yes, this was the song she wrote. This is exactly her, it fits in perfectly with my headcanons
God okay so Violet did make this really special friend at her time in Lavender Cabin (did I mention that at summer camp she was a part of the cabin called Lavender Cabin? If I didn't then I did now) and the two of them shared that sort of wordless bond. They understood eachother in a way that you only could just by understanding.
The two of them were like shadows. Blaise - that was the friend's name - felt see-through, like there was nothing there for people to look at. Sometimes they wondered if it was true. Violet wanted to be see-through. She wanted to disappear, blending in, fading out, nothing to see. She wished that there was nothing to see in her, because it hurt less to be invisible when there was nothing to look at. Others saw only her skin, and not the heart she kept chained under it - so she only locked it up further, secretly hoping that somebody would come to break the chains, or that they would eventually crush it under their weight.
She found solace in the outdoors. There was peace and quiet out there; nothing to see her, only things to see. To hear and experience. Able to seperate oneself from the idea of being only one - to become one with everything. The babbling stream she crossed over each day. The logs she balanced along. The old rotted branches laying amongst the leaf litter. The stones that the toes of her winged shoes hopped along with ease, graceful and lively, as if she were flying.
This is the path she took almost every summer day, as summer days were the ones that most often allowed her to. Often she would arrive with her guitar on her back. This is where she wrote. And it was the only place she ever played. Music was something personal to her, something she was only willing to share with her friends; the birds and the shade, the wind rustling through their leaves - her cowriters. She played alone, and she played beautifully, as her fingers rolled along her guitar strings, resonating deep within her core to shake and losen her chains.
She didn't play for anyone else. She didn't want to lose what was special about it.
One day, she took Blaise into the woods. They followed one of her familiar paths: a seldom-used hiking trail on the outskirts of the campgrounds. Her guitar was in her cabin still - she didn't come to play, just to walk, to live, and to talk with her friend on the way. Blaise's guitar, though, was in their bag, even if they didn't plan to play either. On their way, they talked about nature, about themselves, and about each other. Most of all, they talked about their place in the world.
They decided to stop when they came across an open grove. The grass was a healthy yellow-green, and the sun shone through the opening in the sky. They sat down and watched the world happen.
Then, suddenly, Blaise stood up and reached for their bag. They decided, (as they had told Violet), that this seemed like a wonderful open space to play.
They were a little rough. The guitar strings produced a sharp sound as they flicked their fingers across, and their voice rung out loud and harsh. But they didn't seem to notice. There was something unique about their performance. It was raw, unveiled, and true. They took something from deep inside their soul and projected it outward unsugarcoated to the world. They yelled, they screamed, they showed that they needed to be heard.
They wanted their voice to reach.
And it did. The leaves shook as birds took off, the breeze whipping at their jacket, and Violet. Violet sat there, listening, noticing their errs, how their voice broke and their strings slid out of tune. And hearing them. All of them. Everything that was Blaise.
They let out a deep breath before clearing and massaging their throat. They sat down and sighed a great sigh - that was their first performance, they said, that had been in front of a real person, rather than their family through their bedroom walls or the empty audience of chairs in an unused music classroom. It felt good, it felt wonderful, in fact. Freeing. They thanked Violet for listening and Violet thanked them for playing for her, explaining how she enjoyed the performance.
Blaise explained then how they wished to be a musician. They wanted to play music for a career, performing in front of hundreds, thousands of people. They saw the blinding lights, felt the beat of their own music, amlified across a room of thousands cheering, travel up their legs from the stage and reverberate throughout their body. Their heart, syncing with their own music, with the cheers of all those they had managed to reach. It was their greatest dream.
Blaise didn't want to be a shadow at all. They wanted to shine.
Violet thought about themself. She couldn't be more different - music was something to hide, to keep locked up. Music for her was special. It couldn't be shared. It was too much of... her. The chains wrapped around her heart squeezed tighter.
And yet, something was wriggling inside them. Like a bug, nibbling, if ever so little, at the chains. She empathized with Blaise's dream. She saw them, onstage, her own heart beating in tandem with theirs, as their feelings resonated inside it. She wanted to see that sight, that crowd of thousands. She smiled along with them, gazing across the packed concert floor.
The next thing she knew Violet had a guitar in her lap. Blaise had seen her case in the cabin next to her bunk, and that it was only ever absent when she was - even if there were planned camp activities, occasionally she was nowhere to be found, and her guitar often dissapeared on these occasions too. Not that Blaise mentioned any of this. They simply handed her theirs and offered up a space to play, only if she wished.
Violet's chest squeezed. She didn't wish to. She hoped that she wouldn't. Her chains anchored themselves to her ribcage, daring her to try, to even consider escape. She didn't want to. She didn't want to.
And yet, as she moved her hand toward its neck with great reverence, she did not push it away, pick it up only to set down, to tell her friend that she could not play. She found her fingers wrapping gently around it's curve, placing the thumb of the other hand on a string and plucking it softly as she turned the knob, tightening or losening accordingly. She took a breath that sounded more calm than it felt, and found her palm resting against its lightly tattered surface.
A soft, brilliant chord flowed throughout the grove. There was a soft feeling within Violet's anxiously beating heart. It came natrually, and without second thought, as did the ones that came after. Her music did not resonate to her core, shaking her chains. No, it came from inside. It warmed, and the links that bound her began softening. With each strum, something relaxed inside of her, and she was able to sing more beautifully, more clearly; her throat, when not so tight, released vibrant notes that carried across the grove and reached into the soul of the one next to her. They, who seemed so unlike her, found something in the very depths of them that glowed like a light. A flamelet that her song had passed on, shining on their soul, a blinding light peeking out ever brighter from between bundles of chain. Her very feelings could be heard from inside
Violet sighed a deep breath and relaxed her arms into her lap, setting the instrument carefully down on her. She stared at the grass in front of her. If any signals were traveling to her brain, she would have thought, they must have been silent. She hadn't a clue what to think. She just was.
Blblblblblblblblblblblb so I got carried away if you couldn't tell and oops it's nearing midnight I didn't mean to do this. And its so close to the end I want to finish it. But unfortunately the plot progression I had in mind is actually not accurate to canon (my canon that is). Violet actually only plays a few chords - she's not ready to share a whole song of hers yet. She will some later time, but not now. Blaise thanks her and says that her playing was lovely, and they spend some more time together out connecting before wandering back to the campsite. (Now I think about it, I don't know what time it would be. I think it's probably a slightly overcast late afternoon as they wander into the woods, and just light enough to not be considered dark when they head back). There's a lot of details that I need to add (or don't, a lot don't actually matter that much), plus the rest of the plot progression that I cut (all that stuff does actually happen, it just happens on a later date, not quite now).
So uhhhh yeah. Hopefully I'll be back for more of this. I'll tag, and then I'll sleep (hopefully) cuz i need it...
