OIL AND WATER
Excerpts from incomplete fanfiction based on characters from Arcane.
It doesn’t take long for her to find Cait. She doesn’t have the resilience that Vi does, never was forged into a machine like Vi was by Stillwater. Pain is still new for her; it’s something that doesn’t sit well in Violet’s gut. Yeah, she kind of hates her. She hates all that she stands for and the fact that she was able to waltz in after so many years and bail Vi out with just the bat of her lashes.
But still, she was the one to break her out, to snarl at the guard and demand that Vi never be “dealt with” again. It made her want to preen, to shove her chin up and look down at the men who had been spouting shit about her for years-- only if it would make the raven-haired girl falter.
She crawls through the alleys, combing through the Lanes invalids. They groan at her, coming forward in swarms that are much larger than she remembers. Still, she keeps to it, keeps her ears sharp to find something, to notice some detail that will lead her to the Topside girl. It should be shameful to have Vi reduced to a hunting dog, running around to find some girl who will probably leave her high and dry in a week, but god. She’s been alone for so long and the idea of caring for someone, of having someone rely on you...it’s enough to keep her knuckles pummeling into the face of the skeevy bastard that definitely knows more than he lets on.
Vi hears it before she sees it. The sound of flesh on flesh is a familiar one, but she can see--no, feel-- the way that a fist hurts unblemished skin. There’s a hollow sound to it, like the inside has rotted out, but it's the opposite. It takes years for the inside to grow cold, to grow indifferent to the malice. The newfound reaction to violence, now that’s something that has Vi’s ears perking up.
…
To be honest, Vi doesn’t have that much experience. Yes, she can talk the talk, knows how to angle her chin high and quirk her lips in a way that is most appealing. She knows
She’s kissed Mylo. And Claggor. It was a stupid, juvenile thing, just to get it out of the way. She remembers the hard press of Mylo’s lips, how she immediately wiped the back of her hand against her mouth. Then she turned to Claggor. Rinse and repeat. There wasn’t many options for Vander’s gang of misfit kids, but it was enough for her to know, even if she didn’t have a name for it at the time. She came to know what it was, that there were vile terms for what she was. The taunts and names were thrown at her through her many years at Stillwater, but she didn’t say anything back, didn’t confirm nor deny. She only ever answered with her fists.
Vi’s cocky. She’s kind of got to be. It’s a dog-eat-dog world out there, so she learned how to fake it all, to pretend that she’s oozing with experience when the mere idea of kissing a pretty girl is enough to strike her stupid.
…
