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  • Violet Ch. 01

Violet Ch. 01

123

//Anyone coming to this story who has read it previously (prior to May 2019) may find that some details have changed. I don't think the changes are storybreaking, but neither are they insignificant. I removed the Futa aspect because it didn't really add anything, and I think the story is stronger with one less confusing factor thrown in.//

Violet looked up again, committing her model's nose to memory. She'd had it wrong before; the bridge was less pronounced. She bent over her tablet and tinkered, shifting the curvature slightly and removing her earlier mistake. She looked up to confirm but the model was looking away. Violet summoned the last bits of her patience and waited.

The model was surrounded by friends of one kind or another. Sorority sisters, by the colors Violet was seeing, and some boys too. The others kept getting in the way, though, and Violet was once again reminded of why she kept so few friends of her own. It seemed like everyone that passed by knew them, and either stopped briefly or chatted as they passed. The volume of small talk discharged between them and the various passers-by made her head spin. Being near them, just on the edge of hearing, was almost enough to trigger an attack.

Violet would have preferred to be drawing just about anyone rather than a Greek life girl, but the commissioners always got what they paid for. A campus the size of hers in the middle of New York meant she had a functionally limitless supply of fresh faces to appropriate as she saw fit, but this commission was fairly specific. The model in front of her was the best Violet could find, so there she sat. Waiting.

She looked back up and tilted her head. Might've come in a bit small on the bust, she thought. The model was likely wearing a pushup bra, but Violet wasn't too far off either way. She always took more liberties with the bodies than with faces. Obviously, there was a ceiling of accuracy rendering them semi-cartoonishly, but she still liked to think that most of her models would be happy with the way she portrayed them should they ever find out she'd portrayed them at all. Or at least, that's what Violet told herself.

She snuck in a few surreptitious glances while packing up her tablet and bag, but she was pretty confident she had the measure of things.

She curled up in the back seat of the Crown Vic. The cabbie tried to engage her, but Violet just smiled and let it wash over her as she sorted through the notification emails she'd gotten while sketching. Like, like, like, positive comment, like, passive-aggressive compliment, Paypal notification confirming payment on a commission! She could already taste the pizza.

Like, like, comment, like, reblog, like, like, reblog.

She gripped the strap of her shoulder bag with both hands as she made her way through the lobby. The nylon pulled tight over her shoulder and in between her breasts. Her headphones, lowered brow, and quick pace kept her closed off. Ensured that no one confronted her, and that the very tiny bubble she lived in remained unpricked. She strode with extreme prejudice through a picturesque tableau of the next generation of America; collaboration, lively debate, hipsters determining that pool is in again, and a couple of boys in the corner who couldn't care less who saw. Violet was sure that, within their own little worlds, they were having the respective times of their lives enjoying youth in the company of others, but she couldn't imagine a scenario in which the time of hers happened in front of anyone else.

She got back to her room and sighed in bitter happiness that her roommate was still out. Wherever she was, Noreen was no doubt as enthralled in the never-ending saga of her life as the lobby loungers had been in theirs. Having all her drinks bought for her, a life-altering one night stand, or some other similarly-vapid chain of events that justified/reinforced her glass half-full outlook; it didn't matter. She'd tell Violet all about it later like Violet had both asked and cared, neither of which would be true.

She flopped down on her bed with her tablet. As the current piece loaded up, she ordered a medium pepperoni and cola from the dorm kitchen.

She only had to make a minor adjustment to the shading under the socket of the eye. Confident that she had the underlying structure, she switched layers and adjusted the hand caressing the girl's cheek. The delicate touch of a lover. She's straddling him, feet tucked against his thighs. Her toes, curled tight. Violet switched back to the coloring layer and widened her smile ever so slightly. Gave it a shade of darkness. She wasn't just on top, she was riding him. Had ridden him. Yes, that was the right smile. A satisfied smile. Her hair, tousled and messy, tangled and matted. She darkened the shade of the girls hair a few degrees... Damp with sweat, she thought. Yes. Needs more sweat. She ran her tongue over her lip and added a few more droplets along the girl's brow... sliding down her ribs... traversing the inside of the girls thigh... Sweat on him too. Sweat everywhere. Damp sheets. More fluid dripping down from her slit.

Hairs stood up on the back of her neck. Violet sat up with narrowed eyes. Something was blinking. It took a few more seconds for it to happen again; the light through peephole in the door was flickering. The clock said it hadn't been long enough for the pizza to be there, but terrified curiosity dragged Violet to her feet anyway. She tiptoed across the room, stealthily pressed herself against the door, and watched.

A pretty girl, long chestnut hair tightly framing her face, was staring at the door number just above Violet's vantage point. She raised her hand, knuckles tucked in tight for rapping, but hesitated and put it back down again. She was whispering something under her breath, but it was too muffled to make out through the door. It was repetitive, like a mantra. Her eyes darted down the hall, and she scurried off...

... only to walk right past Violet's door going the other way a few seconds later...

...only to walk right back to Violet's door. The next time she looked up though, Violet's eyes popped. She knew this girl. European History 1400. She sat behind Violet... except... she'd sat at the front of the class on the first day. She'd stared at Violet when Professor Stahl had called Violet's name for roll call. Violet had almost forgotten how weird that was. She'd stared for a while.

She gasped, arm raised, as Violet cracked open the door, and tried to cover her shock with a nervous laugh. "Violet, right?" She looked like she might vomit at any second.

"Yes," Violet said neutrally, as she peeked out from the darkened room.

She bit her lip and cringed. "Violet... Torrance?"

"...Yes."

"Hooo man," she whispered, and then roughly cleared her throat. "Can-can I come in?"

An awkward silence snuck in like a fog. Her knuckles were white on the door as she tried to think of a way to get away with saying no. She really wanted to say no. Desperately. "...Yes?"

"Is... is that a question?"

"No?"

She took a half-step forward, and then stopped with a confused look when Violet still hesitated to get out of the way. Grudgingly, Violet finally succumbed to direct eye contact and retreated. She would have given anything to prevent this. The girl was wide-eyed as she walked over to Violet's bed and sat down on the edge. Violet squeaked and scurried around her to turn off the screen on her tablet.

"I um... I'm sorry," the girl said. "I didn't mean to intrude."

She really wished the girl hadn't sat down. That was a bad sign. "It's ok. You're... um..." Violet stared off to the side, snapping her fingers like that would trigger the memory.

"Ariana," she finished. "Mantanera. We have—"

"Euro History. Yeah, yeah." Violet stayed on her feet, hoping she could keep this quick and painless. Or at least, not more painful than any other conversation she might have to suffer through. She had to force herself to stop bouncing from foot to foot; having someone besides Noreen in her space had her on edge. Even Noreen was often too much, but she didn't have any control over that.

"You're probably wondering why I'm... uh... "

Violet was, in fact, wondering. Ariana trailed off as she stared down at her loose flowing skirt. Her toes bunched, pale green nails sliding underneath the strap of her flip flops, and she muttered under her breath again.

"Dammit, Ari."

Violet rolled her eyes while she wasn't watching. I'm not your friend, and I don't know why you're crying in my dorm room, is what Violet wanted to say. I can barely handle my own problems, and I don't have a lot of room for yours. Instead, after several very long seconds, Violet reluctantly grit out, "Are you ok?"

"Yeah," she said quickly, but her eyes were still downcast. She took a deep breath, but it didn't seem to have any effect on her nerves. Her eyes roamed ceaselessly and her voice quivered. "I'm just... I'm sorry."

"Just..." Violet shook her head. "Calm down. And stop apologizing."

She looked up at Violet, wide eyed. "Ok," she squeaked. "Sorry."

"Are you apologizing for being too apologetic?"

She shrunk into the bed just a little bit. "Yes?"

"That's a vicious circle," Violet said, to which Ariana nodded and sniffled. Violet sighed and grabbed the box of tissues off Noreen's desk.

"Thanks," she said, taking the whole box. "Not many visitors, huh?"

Violet frowned while the girl blew her nose. "What gave that away?"

"You had to stop and think about how to console a crying guest."

"Most people don't make it past the front door," Violet added with a shrug. They both jumped at a few quick raps at the door. "Don't worry. It's just the pizza."

Ariana nodded again with a sad smile, and she was dabbing at her right eye when Violet came back a minute later.

"Do you want a slice?" Violet said, mad at herself even as she offered it. She didn't want Ariana to stay. She just wanted her gone.

"No," she mumbled. "I think I'd just throw it back up."

Thank god, Violet thought. "Alright, well, I don't have a whole lot longer. I had plans tonight." It felt less horrible to say since it was true, but Violet would have said it anyway under other circumstances.

"Of course you do." Ariana folded the tissue in her hands relentlessly. "This was a stupid idea. I shouldn't have... I'm sorry."

"Is this about the final paper?"

"I think you might be my sister," she burst, and Violet found, several seconds later, that she'd fallen into her desk chair.

Ariana looked back down at the floor again, the kleenex shredded between her fingers. The silence hung thick as Violet slowly leaned back. 10 seconds. 15.

"...Come again?"

"I think you might be my sister," she repeated, weaker than before.

"We... have the same mother?" The artist in Violet's brain studied her face, and there were similarities. They had the same cheek bones, although Ariana was a few years younger and had a bit more baby fat. The curve of the upper lip. The shape of the nose. Violet's hair was darker, but only by shades.

Ariana met her discerning gaze, and Violet gasped. She had Violet's father's eyes. Those fucking ice blue eyes. Fuck me running, how does she have Dad's eyes? Violet's heartbeat throbbed in her ears.

The door opened suddenly, with a cursory knuckle rap afterwards. "Knock, knock."

"Huuu... Hey Dad," Violet managed. Barely.

Ariana turned and stared, her already-pale disposition blanching instantly.

Gavin Torrance stopped a few steps into the room and looked down at his wrist. "We're not interrupting anything, I hope. We did say seven, didn't we?"

"Yes we did," Clare said smugly from the doorway. Violet's stepmother never failed to capitalize on an opportunity to be visibly correct.

"Dad, this is Ariana. She's... um..."

Ariana turned crimson and stared down at the floor.

Violet swallowed as she tried to work some moisture back into her mouth. "She's a friend."

Ariana looked up at her with an unreadable mask.

"A friend, huh?" Clare chuckled mirthlessly.

"I'm glad to hear you're finally making friends, dear," her father said patronizingly, "but we have reservations. Are you ready to go?"

"Um..."

Her father stared down at her, eyebrows raised in expectation, and Violet shrank.

"Yeah." She grabbed her purse as she got up, looking to... her. "You were just leaving, right?"

Ariana nodded evasively as she got up and slipped out the door. Violet waited a few seconds, trying to catch her breath, before heading out too. At the end of the hall, Ariana ducked her head down as she bolted through a door and out of sight.

Clare smirked beside her. "Awww, did we hurt your girlfriend's feelings?" Then, she quickly added, "I'm just kidding."

Violet fumed silently.

***

"—with the New York Strip. My lovely wife will haaaave..." Gavin looked over the menu again, dragging out the order with flair and showmanship. "...a glass of Pinot, and the Cod."

Violet simmered in her chair, barely-restrained frustration seething inside her.

"That sounds delightful," Clare purred, relishing in the take-charge mannerism that her stepdaughter found so infuriating.

"And the young lady will have the house salad!" He folded and returned the menu as Violet's lips press together in a vague impression of a smile. Partly in disgust, partly because she wasn't the least bit surprised, and partly because she had a pizza getting nice and cold on the edge of her desk for later.

The waiter jotted a few more notes on his pad, nodded, and whirled away.

"So!"

"So," Violet repeated.

"How are your classes going?"

"Good."

A few seconds passed quietly while her father waited for her to offer more, but Violet was in no mood to play along. Clare made a small "Hmph!" exactly loud enough to be heard by everyone but quiet enough that she could pretend not to have said anything should Violet press her on it. On another night, Violet might have. Theirs was an elaborate dance. It was all she could do to put off thinking about meeting her sister for the first time, let alone the innumerable repercussions that spiraled outward from that. "Oh, Patches died."

"What?!" Violet cried. "That's how you tell me?"

Gavin gave his wife a rueful smile, but Violet could barely look at him. All she could see were his eyes. Her eyes.

"I'm just kidding," Clare replied, with a light laugh. "I only wanted to snap you out of whatever funk you've been in since we showed up."

Violet had gone through a lengthy 'I hate you' phase with Clare. She'd fought for years to drive Clare out of her life . Eventually, she gave up when it became clear that not only was she not going anywhere, but that she also had her husband's explicit approval when it came to her little 'jokes'. It was especially bitter to take today.

She tried not to think about it, but the temptation was too great.

She grew up with Mom! Walking, talking proof that there was an alternative to life with these two.

Or at least, that's what she assumed. Maybe their mother had abandoned Ariana too.

"Earth to Picasso."

"Jesus," Violet snapped. "Will you give it a rest?!"

Clare gasped in exaggerated shock, placing her open palm over her yawning expanse of cleavage as she and Gavin stared at each other. "I don't understand! I mean, he's a famous artist, and you want to be an artist."

Gavin shrugged apologetically.

Violet bit down on her tongue and shook her head. She shouldn't have responded. She knew better. That didn't even crack the hundred most passive-aggressive things Clare had said just that year. Violet hated her life sometimes.

***

The note she left on the door said she'd eat lunch on that bench for the rest of the weekend if Violet wanted to talk, so Violet was slightly confused when Ariana looked utterly shocked as she came out of the Union Building. It might have been because it was only 9:30 and she didn't expect Violet to beat her there. The raven-haired girl planted her hands on the bench seat to the outside of her knees and leaned forward. Shoulders hunched.

Ariana ran a finger through her hair, tucking chestnut strands behind her ear as she walked over. White spaghetti strap top and a long, flowing pink skirt kicking around her ankles. Black flip flops. Her toe nails matched her skirt. They had the same body type, although Ariana was probably a little taller and Violet slightly heavier. Not by much either way. A vaguely-olive complexion to their skin. She was sure she'd seen Ariana around campus a few times in the last year, but she wouldn't have put the similarities together on her own.

The girl in the pink dress licked her lips and sat down. "H-hi," she said hesitantly.

"Hi." Violet swallowed and stared down at a leaf as the wind dragged it across the concrete. "I don't really know what to... um..."

Ariana set her tray down and carefully folded her hands in her lap. "Thanks for coming."

Her voice had little of the strength Violet knew it to possess in class. For a moment Violet wanted to be proud of that, and happy for her, but it seemed to soon for pride to be entering the equation and she nodded absently in lieu of any real response.

"I always..." Violet couldn't stop herself from chuckling morbidly. "I always wanted a sister. Always. Had a few imaginary sisters growing up. Every doll was a little sister I could take care of. Suddenly, I have a real one, ready to go, and I can't think of a single thing to say."

"You seem to be doing ok."

Violet shook her head. "Nervous babbling doesn't count. I mean... I've barely slept. Barely eaten. All I've been doing is thinking about this. About you. About... Mom. About... I mean, I have so many questions, and... just..." She sighed.

"That's how I felt too," Ariana said, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Did you know?" Violet turned to face her. "That first day? When Professor Stahl called my name?"

"I was... I was pretty sure. I had to talk to Mom."

Violet fell back against the bench and exhaled loudly. Their mother was an entire acre of questions she wasn't ready to touch. She pressed her palms into her eyes and rubbed.

Next to her, Ariana fidgeted with the hem of her skirt. Her feet were out of her flip flops, one foot curled over the other. "If it makes you feel any better," she offered, "you're adjusting faster than I did."

"Well, I'm older than you. That's expected." Violet paused. "At least, I think I'm older than you."

She confirmed it with a nod. "Three years."

"So you're... what? 20?"

"About to be 21," she said with a bracing grin. "Hurraaaaay."

"It's not everything it's cracked up to be. Bars are just one more place your friends will try to make you go against your will."

Ariana frowned as she looked over. "Are they really your friends if they make you go?"

"You are not allowed to be wiser than me already." She chuckled and looked down, and Violet shook her head as she continued. "I missed out on years of being bigger and faster... knowing how to use a fork first and getting boobs before you, so you've gotta give me, like a week before you start blowing me out of the water."

Ariana blushed so hard, she was practically glowing. "I don't think I'm smarter than you."

"Shut up and take the compliment."

"Ok," she said, glowing brighter.

"My first piece of advice as a big sister... Let's just sit back and breath that one in."

Violet glanced over to find Ariana smiling back. She rocked to the side as she pulled a bare foot up and tucked it beneath the other knee. The remaining foot swayed slowly, toes pointed, just above the grass.

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