by: pixie paramount (2/14/06)
A Series of Unfortunate Events, Violet/Olaf; they feed off one another like parasites
They play awful, horrid games.
Her home is in ash and he wants the cash (she isn't amused when this rhymes, not at all). She lives on the end of the world and he follows on her Achilles heel. She is the same, strong and beautiful and hasn't broken yet; he is still the imitation Prometheus lurking behind, the failed chameleon he is.
To her, he is the devil (an ill-plausible Hades).
To him, she is Persephone in many unspeakable ways. They agree on one thing: without the other they could never survive (she, needs a purpose after everything, her home her parents, is all gone - all because of him; he is too old to let life just slip by and the game, with all its spoils, is delightful nonetheless).
She has something, what is left of her family; he has nothing.
"What is the matter?" The actor had sneered jubilantly, though she could not hear the undertones of "the devil in disguise". He has crystal eyes and an old, booming voice that demands authority, like the priests in the churches they snuck in for shelter not long before...and is eerily familiar.
But he can't be the Count. Can't be.
"Nothing." she answers, trying to be earnest, while carrying a bouquet of roses and their pretty-sharp thorns. Violet is older and her eyes are brighter, sadder and she, with her pale skin and dress that barely fits anymore, as it sticks to every inch of her, is beautiful, like her mother, and holds herself in rapture. Violet, being kind, gives the old, broken man a rose with a smile, "Here. To brighten your day."
With it comes a chuckle,"Thank you." it is forced and so obvious to who it is, but Violet is too caught up in time to notice. Olaf nearly wants to laugh as she walks away. Doom, surely, shall follow.
Violet was always a kind, resourceful girl.
Olaf knows this, sees it every time a plan fails and as she fumbles with the keys he watches, devising - crooked knives and deceitful lies could never rob the bounty of this game: the orphans, they are just a cruel joke in making his life far from easier.
He'll die anyway, the thought should always be in mind and the orphans do wish this. He killed their hope after all, it is understandable to want some devil dead.
Violet twirls and from the corner of her eye she sees terror.
In a flash she has hurried her steps and locked herself safely in, running up the stairs and finding her purpose alive. Sunny snores loudly in her big-girl bed and Klaus with his glasses, crooked and old, still on as he sleeps, hunched over his books. Violet curls her fingers over the imitation silk and can feel the rapid beat of her big, big heart; she falls to the floor and the tears just want to come.
Life was never fair but this seems almost cruel.
It is weeks until Violet can go outside and not feel the bile burning a path up her throat, when she doesn't usher Sunny or Klaus to come along with her for the brief feeling of safety that is their presence.
Violet begins to forget the encounter; Olaf hasn't.
Olaf always had a sick mind, marrying Violet in the beginning of this only proved it.
Violet always had a good head on her shoulders, that's why she burns the dress and is glad there never was a kiss.
(Olaf plans to change that.)
The next time they meet Violet looks at him twice before she drops her bags and runs. (Which was bad because the bags contained their dinner.)
Olaf grinned and headed the chase, choosing to blend within the shadows and stalk, rather then waste time running, his bones would begin to ache and it wouldn't be a pretty picture for Violet.
So he waits until the time is right.
"Violet, what's wrong?"
Klaus was never to call his sister a liar but, with her flushed cheeks and broken glass eyes he thinks she is one (and a bad one at that). "You can tell me, you know. Anything."
Violet glances at him and back to the broken window she is trying to repair - some boys that were so un-Klaus hit a home run through the glass and neglected to inform them of damage, that is, until Sunny woke up and pitched a fit about dieing horribly with all the blood gushing from her toes, which Violet laughs at now but then she was stricken with panic -, she turns to him and smiles, brushing back a stray strand of hair from her eyes and asks, "Are you hungry?"
"That isn't what I meant and you know it." But his stomachs growl is enough to prove the statement false. "..."
Violet laughs and it sounds like heaven.
"We are the same." he says to her upon a back ally with his bone-like fingers curled in her disheveled hair and her glaring, defiant.
He never does answer.
When he kisses her, rough and more a tangle of bites and teeth scraping against her lips, she feels dirty and wonders, bemusedly, if burning her lips would eradicate the taste of him. She estimates the pain involved and thinks no further of the thought.
When she kisses back, involuntarily, she thinks of anyone but him.
Author's Note: This was originally going to be a longer, more connected, body of work but that idea failed when I grew tired of the style; I have since ignored the exsistance of this fic.
EDIT - 3/5/2007 (4:22 PM) - Format fixed. Is much prettier now.