#viollen

[kandyrezi]

(a bunch of rpg-maker doodles, numero #... uhhh i dunno... i’ve done so many at this point i’ve lost count tbh ;; )

now back to our regularly scheduled programming. 

[kandyrezi]

When Male! Ellen turns his back on Viola, watching her die. I reckon he smirks and leaves her to pass on.

What would Ellen & Viola’s male names be though? The story is set somewhere in western Europe, so I’m personally leaning towards Eliant (dutch variant of names beginning with ‘Eli’) & Virgilo/Virgilio (latin for ‘young and budding’).

but back to your ask, I think it’d be kind of awkward for Eliant to adjust to Viola’s body at first, since he’s not actually a girl and his personality is so different from Viola and his facade might eventually at one point or another slip in front of his newfound, beloved ‘father’, even if he has her memories, it’s going take time having to adjust his manners and attitude accordingly.

I had a thought about this; the original story has Ellen at some point falling in love with a boy who visited her house, but killed him after he was repelled by her sickly appearance. Imagine something similar happening with Eliant - Viola comes across him in the house and she instantaneously reminds him of the girl he was in love with, with the gentility and kindness she shows towards him. He doesn’t ruin everything by showing his rotting, bandaged body this time, but instead starts putting his plan into motion, no longer interested in keeping anymore ‘friends’ and feeding souls to the black cat is inessential at this point. 

Even if the thought of using a girl as a host body is not his favored choice, he’s not going to let go of the potential change when she’s willing to swap places with him after being friends for so long.

So, in Viola’s last fleeting moments, Eliant would be less mocking, but still cruel nonetheless, feeling no remorse for what he’s done. The girl only had her own stupidity to blame for trusting a strange boy living in a mansion deep in the woods on his lonesome so easily - even if he wasn’t complaining about the fact it worked out in his favor.

[kandyrezi]

Viollen headcanons?

[ ♡ / ♢ ] Viola x Ellen headcanons.

viola likes to tell ellen stories of her home and the little farmhouse she lives in with her father. the young witch listens with intent, imagining what it would be like to be in her place, to have been born with a healthy, strong body and no sickness to keep her bedridden, to have a father who wasn’t ashamed of looking at her and loved her unconditionally.

ellen’s simple curiosity starts to wear off and eventually grows more and more jealous the longer her pain resists through the whole body, bitterly so. she desperately wants what viola has.

viola invites ellen to come and visit her, but the other refuses, not comfortable with leaving the castle,not yet at least, because of her appearance and she’s physically too weak to move much anyway.

viola likes when she can make ellen break out of her usual sullen demeanor and actually laugh in earnest. she aims to do it whenever possible. ellen realizes how it almost makes her feel like a normal young girl who’s just having fun with a friend, as if all the bad things aren’t there at all.

they often like to have small tea-parties together. viola mentions her favorite ones being chamomile and peppermint, explaining the positive effects they have on one’s body and mood. they don’t really do anything for ellen, but she just likes the taste of some of them. ellen tends to put a lot of honey in hers, in contrast to viola, who doesn’t like overly-sweet things too much.

viola offers teaching ellen to cook some decent meals, when the former notices how she mostly lives off of sugary pastries, but ellen doesn’t appear to have much interest in it, so viola lets the idea go.

ellen likes it when viola reads for her, most of them being either old folktales or children’s tales with happy endings. even if she detests every memory associated with her old home, it reminds her of when she was stuck in bed with her illness and only had books, old dolls, and occasionally her mother for company.

ellen also likes reading stories to viola, but the witch’s taste in books is usually more grim, often ending in the death of at least one character in the story, to which ellen always finds some kind of amusement in. viola isn’t very fond of them and suggests making up different outcomes or writing their own, more happier ending to ellen’s books.

the two of them like to play all kinds of other games together as well, like hide-and-seek or ‘i spy’.

ellen is initially surprised at viola being so kind and gentle with her. she tried to pry into her mind and see through her, but nothing suggested she wasn’t being genuine, not unlike all the other whom she brought or found their way into the castle and had them killed. those who only looked at her with fear, disgust, and contempt.

and she almost didn’t want to go through with her plan of killing her, but she remembered all the pain she went through as a child and a monster it made her from killing her parents and so many other people, losing just about any morality she had left in her - she just couldn’t bring herself to care, no matter how much she wanted to.

when ellen is alone in her new home she now shares with her ‘father’, she swears to sometimes hearing viola’s voice in a whisper nearby, despite the fact she should have been long dead and her spirit left lingering around the castle.

when the strange concurrences of wind blowing inside the house or feeling the ghosting of someone on her skin, ellen will try to appease the vengeful spirit by saying remorseful words of deceit, how ellen really did love viola, but it had been simply been something she had to do, and perhaps they could play together again in another life, not have the curse of her ancestors befallen to her be a barrier that had to have them eventually separated.

a piercing shrill against glass is momentarily heard throughout the room and ellen almost feels the urge to cover her ears at the horrific sound. when she looks around and finds the word ‘liar’ spelled out on the mirror, she comes to the realization perhaps she never was fated to find happiness and love of others no matter the measures she took for them. but she isn’t about to let viola take what she currently had away from her. 

the blonde-haired girl would never be getting it back.

[kandyrezi]

vengeful spirit;

fandom: the witch’s house

characters/pairings: ellen/viola (implied)

summary: “it was just when ellen thought things would finally go the way she wanted. yet fate had never allowed for her happiness.” | word count: 1.2k

warnings: mild blood

a/n: this is a rewrite of an old fic of mine.

///

a girl in golden twin braids sat in front of a gray platinum mirror attached on a desk, gazing at her reflection, green orbs on golden ones, that she’s come to adore the liveliness of her newfound appearance. but she could never look in a mirror expecting it go along with her big lie; sometimes the eyes would be different, at times it was the violet strands of hair, and seeing the former witch entirely staring back at her with just as a malicious smile was not rare either.

she was slowly forgetting her old identity and forming a new, fresh life she was absolutely enthralled to get used to.

her “father” had gone out hunting late afternoon, while she stayed in her room, writing an entry for her diary. her old one was long lost and forgotten in the castle rotting away alongside the old self, so a new one was needed, no longer needing to fill it with formidable memories of the past or any of the kids that unknowingly found their way to her who would be fated to die gruesome deaths.

her new diary then consisted solely of all the fun things she could do with a healthy, strong body, how the wind truly felt on her skin for the first time as she rolled down a grassy hill in great thrill, having the strength to climb trees high and far, how the pavement no longer scratched frail skin off of her body.

she decided to make some tea for herself whilst she waited and “father” for when he would arrive. she closed and put away her diary underneath the mirror with a smile, making her way out of her room and to the kitchen, finding the kettle and prepared to heat up the water. but as she took her eyes away from it, she found the window of their cottage to be wide open, gloomy skies of gray peering in showing signs of rain, the wind howling so harshly and the gray-patterned curtains blowing against it. she sensed how cold it was with a shiver, scurrying over to close it with a loud slam, and then it was quiet again.

(she wondered for a brief moment why would it be open in the first place and if it was her father who did.)

reluctantly, she set two mugs on the table, trying to shake off the irrational feeling of agitation building within her.

a series of light footsteps hurriedly walked by in another room. not towards her, rather just across and away from her, then slowly fading the further they went. certainly not from “father”, his were much heavier nor was there even a slam of the front door to indicate his return. perhaps she wasn’t alone in this house at all. she let her hand slowly slip off the table, turning to try and locate whatever there might’ve been.

nothing out of the ordinary be seen at all, only the stove sat in the corner of the kitchen. she was merely ‘deceived’ by noise. or perhaps not. this did not scare her, however. then a sudden realization hit in the back of her head, so she made her thoughts known - with not a loud - but still clear voice that was above a whisper.

“viola… is… that you?”

she’d be damned if her vengeful spirit actually had the nerve to follow her here from all the way. surely she must’ve just been imagining it. and no way could she do it. she was destined to be stuck in the castle even after her skin dried and bones turned to dust. unless…

she tried following any signs of a presence, but once again, it was quiet. she decided to stroll back into her room (making a mental note of coming back for the tea later), if she was not going to find the spirit of whoever it might’ve been.

another noise startled and interrupted her, abruptly stopping on her tracks; keeping her feet firmly stuck to the ground and listening closely.

something like… glass loudly shattering. and it came from the way she was on the way back to. her room.

hurrying back there in an instant, she couldn’t find anything at first glance once she stepped through the wooden doorway. until her eyes followed towards a trail of a dark red liquid in small, uneven puddles, merging slightly with the oak-colored floor.

the glass of the mirror she admiringly gazed at earlier was broken, cracked into a hundred small pieces. something besides that was different, however, a photo of herself - her old, rotten self - was hanging on the base of the mirror, with a dagger stabbed directly in the spot of her heart. her eyes have been scribbled on with black then crossed out with crimson.

she immediately backed off in fear of something unexpected, a presence that ghosted over her and forced her eyes open to look. this caused her not to notice another fresh smear, making her slip and fall against the floor. she winced slightly and she looked at her hand, seeing it was damply stained with it now. turning her head a bit, another sight shocked her as she crawled away from it, stumbling back on her feet, accidentally smearing the sides of her blue dress with crimson when gripping it.

across the floor, lay something resembling a message, consisting of a fairly cleanly written single word, using the same material that now grotesquely smudged her room in uneven splotches.

MURDERER

hatred was an understandable emotion that she felt, even now, she understood it even in others. yet something overpowered that feeling, she felt something, something she swore she would never truly explore the meaning of enough to actually feel it.

guilt.

she did not even know if this was all in her head, or actually felt the other girl’s presence. the kind-hearted girl never showed any kind of aggression or malice for the time they’d known eachother, this whole ordeal was very surprising; or perhaps not anymore.

“i’m sorry, viola…” she finally admitted, uncertain if she even was capable of telling the truth anymore, “i had to do it, i would’ve died otherwise.”

sorry did not cut it.

“i did love you, viola… i hope you can forgive me, someday…” in distress, she sunk to her knees as she kept her gaze on all the blood.

even then, fate would never allow her to find happiness. running away from the grim past filled with pain had been fruitless, the curse was stuck to her and would cling to her like a parasite. anger filled her veins at the plan she had conceived for so long, only for it to foil at the expense of the dead girl simply not letting go of a grudge already.

this was not love.

the sound of something splattering was heard from behind her. her foot shifted slightly against the glass on the floor as it clinked against one another while she turned her body towards the noise. she did not expect an answer, but she expected that kind of answer.

NEVER

ellen knew she could never be the definition of a ‘good person’, no matter how many honeyed lies and innocent fronts in order to deceive she put forth; fate would always see through the vile emptiness resting in her soul.

[kandyrezi]

to stay alive you’ve gotta kill your mind.

[demaslou]

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[cookiekurimu]

“Just for a day?

...Heehee. I guess I did say that.”