vιoleт everɢαrdeɴ (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
shiritai) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
phantasmalrift2018-04-02 08:48 pm
shiritai) wrote in phantasmalrift2018-04-02 08:48 pm
♩ gentle and warm as the light
Who: Violet and you!
What: Violet decides to step up and take a shot at cooking. She has... decidedly mixed results.
When: March 26th, early afternoon and night
Where: The kitchen (afternoon) and the viewing deck (night)
Warnings: Terrible violence comitted upon the concept of a scrambled egg.
[ So if you go down tothe woods the kitchen today, you might be in for a bit of a surprise. You'll find one (1) Violet Evergarden hard at work at one of the counters with a recipe book cracked open and... just some eggs? Well, if she's starting simple, eggs are a good place to jump off from. How wrong can you go with eggs?
Very wrong, it turns out.
Maybe you'll find her utterly failing at cracking eggs into the bowl. It's a bit of a crapshoot whether she ends up with egg all over the counter or actually gets it into the bowl, but either way it ends with her having a mixture composed of roughly 60% egg and 40% shell. Or maybe you'll find her pouring that mixture into a bowl and... doesn't that look like way, way too much egg for one girl?
Or maybe you'll just see Violet examining the sorry results of her work once she's done. It looks sort of like a badly mutilated omlette but it's so huge she's had to spread it across two plates. One side is burned to a crisp, one looks slightly soggy and undercooked and the whole thing just looks like a slightly greyish yellow hunk of rubber. Violet stares down at it pensively for a long moment before carefully picking up both plates and making her way straight to the trashcan. Atta girl, Violet.
That night, if you happen to be the sort of weirdo who lurks around on the viewing deck after dark, you'll find you've got company. Violet's there, settled on one of the seats with the duvet from her bed wrapped around her nice and snug, to stave off the worst of the sea breeze. She's got her eyes up to the roof, where the night sky would be, if it wasn't for the absolutely torrential rain pouring down and obscuring much of anything. She looks a little bit disappointed (or as disappointed as Violet ever looks, anyway) but she's sat there gazing up diligently at the roof anyway. Very odd. ]
What: Violet decides to step up and take a shot at cooking. She has... decidedly mixed results.
When: March 26th, early afternoon and night
Where: The kitchen (afternoon) and the viewing deck (night)
Warnings: Terrible violence comitted upon the concept of a scrambled egg.
[ So if you go down to
Very wrong, it turns out.
Maybe you'll find her utterly failing at cracking eggs into the bowl. It's a bit of a crapshoot whether she ends up with egg all over the counter or actually gets it into the bowl, but either way it ends with her having a mixture composed of roughly 60% egg and 40% shell. Or maybe you'll find her pouring that mixture into a bowl and... doesn't that look like way, way too much egg for one girl?
Or maybe you'll just see Violet examining the sorry results of her work once she's done. It looks sort of like a badly mutilated omlette but it's so huge she's had to spread it across two plates. One side is burned to a crisp, one looks slightly soggy and undercooked and the whole thing just looks like a slightly greyish yellow hunk of rubber. Violet stares down at it pensively for a long moment before carefully picking up both plates and making her way straight to the trashcan. Atta girl, Violet.
That night, if you happen to be the sort of weirdo who lurks around on the viewing deck after dark, you'll find you've got company. Violet's there, settled on one of the seats with the duvet from her bed wrapped around her nice and snug, to stave off the worst of the sea breeze. She's got her eyes up to the roof, where the night sky would be, if it wasn't for the absolutely torrential rain pouring down and obscuring much of anything. She looks a little bit disappointed (or as disappointed as Violet ever looks, anyway) but she's sat there gazing up diligently at the roof anyway. Very odd. ]
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[ . . . ]
... very old.
[ NAILED IT. ]
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A few decades past two thousand, yes.
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Might I ask how something like that is possible? You appear very young for your age.
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[He gestures, loosely but dramatically, at himself from chest to knees.]
- is a fairly recent development.
[Kind of puts his comments about re-discovering old experiences in a new light, doesn't it?]
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It's very strange.
[ She's quiet for a moment, while she puzzles out how best to articulate the thought she's just had. ]
For all the similarities our worlds have, the more all of us talk, just as many differences make themselves known.
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When you've seen as much of time as I have, you being to realize that even a single world can look very different century to century. What's really a wonder is that we all get along as well as we do - a few bumps in the road, but no major incidents so far.
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[ She sounds troubled, which is unusual for little miss lineface Evergarden. For a moment, though, she's quiet instead of elaborating further. But then she shifts a little in her seat, sinking deeper into her nest of blankets and finally pipes up. ]
Would you be opposed to my asking a question?
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[ She says it rather matter-of-factly, but she's not looking at Izunia as she asks. ]
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He answers her straightforwardly and honestly.]
A small figure of a woman - a child's toy, usually. Sometimes a term of endearment, but one that's as likely to make someone uncomfortable as not.
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[ And maybe that's the question she really wants to ask. ]
In the world I come from, the title of an Auto Memoir Doll is something sought after by many women. It is difficult work, often taxing physically as well as emotionally for those unprepared to handle it. But it is wonderful work, I think, to be able to pen the words a person is unable to speak and to deliver their feelings for them.
[ She goes silent for a moment but the look on her face makes it clear she's struggling hard to articulate herself. ]
It was made to sound, by the others... as if being a "Doll" was something I should find shameful. But I do not. ... is it something I should be ashamed to call myself?
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I don't think so.
[A pause, and then he starts again - ]
Because... To be able to do the thing you love is a very special thing, no matter what it is your occupation is called. All the more so when it requires such skills.
[The look in his eyes is strangely distant.]
To be suited for the work that fills your heart with warmth... It is not something that many people have, and it is something to take pride in. Even if others may not think the same - you should walk with your head held high, and carry that pride for yourself, if no one else.
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Love.
Violet opens her mouth to say something in response but after a few stalled moments she finds that no words are coming out. That's the second time she's heard that word since coming here and she still doesn't have any better an understanding of what it really means. Prompto had tried to help, but surely love can't be the cold, horrible feeling she gets when she remembers the Major, can it? ]
Something that fills your heart with warmth...
[ She grips the brooch at her neck without even seeming to realize she's doing it. ]
Is that what "love" means? Is that the sort of feeling it is?
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Love is... A very complicated thing. It's a shame the language we speak now in Lucis has only the one word for it; other languages have more.
[He reaches up to tug at the blue scarf around his neck.]
Some loves are warm like the sunset upon your face. Others burn like a hot blade pressed into your flesh. Love is what is worth living for and what is worth dying for.
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[ How can you live for something, if it's just as worth dying for? But that had been the Major's final order to her, hadn't it? That she should live and be free. Live, he had implored before giving her that wounded, bloodstained smile, before saying I love you, and Violet had only been able to respond then as she does now. ]
I don't understand. I still... don't understand.
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[That, he knows all too well.]
And in that regard, I'm afraid love is among the worst offenders.
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[ Like Iris, proud and boisterous, but reduced to tears of pain and frustration by the wrong words. Like Luculia, who could smile and brighten any room with her kindness, except the dark and dingy one she and her brother shared.
And Violet thinks, that for as delicate as people's hearts might be, how much easier it seems for everyone else to be able to understand each other. Even through all the lies and contradictions. She feels a twist of something hot and poisonous in her chest that dissipates after a moment -- a feeling that Violet doesn't yet know to recognize as envy. ]
But there is still so, so much I've yet to learn. Perhaps... being here, with so many new people, will help me accomplish that.
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[He smiles, faintly.]
You're not alone on your journey. It is perhaps not the same for all people, but I think many of us are still searching for the meaning of love that fits best within our hearts.
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[ Her gaze might be on the sky above, but her eyes are distant, like she's seeing somewhere much, much further away.
"I love you."
The last words the Major had left her with, important enough to trump even his order to live. She didn't understand then and she doesn't understand now, but for so long, she'd thought she was the only one. But the way Izunia talks and the way he makes it sound... ]
Is everyone trying to understand what "I love you" means?
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[How to find forgiveness for hurting the people you love, and how to forgive them for hurting you.
Love, love, always love.]
I hope you can find the answer that suits you.