Chapter Text
When she was ten years old, Violet entered the Slumbering Weald for the first time.
She grew up in the small town of Postwick in Galar, known best for raising Wooloo, and for being the hometown of Champion Leon. When her father was still with them, the Taxew family was friendly with their neighbours, though adults gave young Violet scornful glares and told their children to stay away from her. When her father left, however, the neighbours abandoned them.
A silly yet malicious rumor arose in the town that Violet was a sort of fae, a changeling, who was slowly killing her mother. No one intervened. It wasn’t their business. And besides, who were they to intrude on the family of a Champion-ranked Trainer? But the town’s children would chase her and throw iron items at her. One day, they chased her so far that she had to flee into the forbidden Slumbering Weald to get away.
“Go back to where you came, freak!” one of the children yelled as Violet entered the foggy wild woods.
It didn’t take long for Violet to get lost. The Slumbering Weald had no paths, and the thick fog meant that it was impossible to know where you are or backtrack. She wandered aimlessly through the woods, seeing large shapes move through the fog. Were they predators, stalking her? Would she soon be devoured? Strangely, there wasn’t much fear within her; only curiosity.
Her wanderings eventually brought her to a broken, moss-covered altar. Oh, this made her excited, regardless of the dangers of her current predicament. She approached, looking at the faded symbols, trying to interpret what they could mean—
And as she knelt to further investigate, something left the fog to approach.
A shadow of a horse, black with purple wisps surrounding it, walked towards her. Violet half-expected to see a headless knight on it, ready to decapitate her, but no, this horse had no rider. It sniffed her, and then gave a loud neigh as Violet’s vision went first blurry, and then dark.
...
The same day as Chalce’s interview from Chapter 100 of Arc Two:
Violet awoke in one of the beds in the Brave Olivine from that dream of a memory. As she slowly came to consciousness, the memories of what happened earlier in the day came back to her.
Watching Chalce’s interview. Entering a period of dissociation upon seeing her mother appear, only to find herself in one of the guest bedrooms with Eri and Orla. Immediately excusing herself to the washroom, where she stayed huddled for the better part of a hour. Watching the rest of the interview on her laptop. Seeing her reflection call her disgusting. Smashing the mirror. Looking at one of the larger glass shards.
Cut your neck, Noelle’s voice commanded. But this time, the voice was outside Violet’s head, even though no one else was in the washroom. And more voices like that one followed:
You’re rotten to the core.
You’ve poisoned me, and now you’ve chained me here.
Why do you need so much care?
Cut your neck!
But when Violet picked up the shard, Isla howled and unlocked the door. Orla rushed in, immediately removing the shard from Violet’s hand and taking her back to the guest room. Violet didn’t fully remember what happened between then and when she woke up from the dream.
As the memories crashed back to her consciousness, Violet felt a hand gently run through her hair. She glanced up to see Eri looking down at her, her face showing sadness and concern.
“How are you feeling?”
Why do you need so much care?
“I’m...fine,” Violet stated automatically, before clarifying upon seeing Eri’s face fall a bit: “Or rather, I’m...numb. How are you?”
Eri took one of Violet’s hands in hers. “Sad. Angry.”
“Why?”
“Sad to see you like this. And no, that is not an excuse for you to pretend that everything is fine. Angry...when we’re ready, we’re killing that bitch Chalce. But right now, you’re staying here and recovering, and I’m watching over you.”
Now you’ve chained me here.
“I don’t need anyone watching over me. I won’t bur—”
Eri placed a finger over Violet’s lips. “Forbidden word, remember. Vi, Orla found you with a shard of glass in your hand.”
Once Eri removed her finger, Violet began pleading: “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m—”
“There’s nothing to be sorry for. But I’m not letting you out of my sight until you’ve recovered. And that is not a burden whatsoever.”
All of Violet’s Pokémon were out of their Pokeballs and present. Pecharunt was cuddled with her, while Isla was on the other side of the bed, watching. Flutter Mane hovered nearby. Gwyndolin was keeping Violet’s cane-sword safe, sitting on the edge of the bed and reading an easy to read fictional book written in Western Common.
“Supper is ready,” Eri continued. “Are you feeling...”
“I’m not hungry, and...I can’t bear to face anyone right now,” Violet answered the unstated question. The thought of seeing everyone after Chalce’s interview sent waves of shame through her. Would they be disgusted with her? Or would they pity her, which, in some ways, was even worse?
“No one’s mad at you, Vi. Arven’s been asking about you non-stop, to the point that Murdock had to drag him away with the promise of baking lessons. But you don’t have to go out if you don’t want to.”
Violet nodded. “Thank you...I still can’t face them.”
“That’s okay. They’ll understand. We’ll stay in here. Though you’ll at least try to eat some food. That, I insist on.”
It turned out that all Violet could eat was one of Pecharunt’s mochi, even if it would produce stomach aches later. She lacked the energy, or the will, or both, to get out of bed, or do much of anything. Reading, watching videos, playing games on her Switch...those were too much right now. All she could do was lay in bed as the voices, back in her head, scorned her.
Demon-spawn. Changeling.
Eri started to stroke Violet’s hand again, once supper was finished. “Do you want to play a game?” she asked. “It won’t take much work on your end, don’t worry.”
Must you burden everyone with your needs and inadequacies?
“What’s the game?”
“Try to guess what shape or word I trace on you. Don’t look. Let’s start with an easy example.” Her fingers traced a heart on Violet’s palm. “What was that shape?”
“A heart,” Violet quickly answered.
“Good girl. But I can make it harder...and more creative. It may keep you distracted from your thoughts and those voices. And we can continue talking through it.”
“Okay. I’ll try.”
You should be strong enough on your own, you burden.
So they played the game throughout the night. Eri asked Violet questions about random topics, whether they were about historical events, Fallout: New Castelia, fantasy books, or Pokemon training. She avoided any topics which could tie back to Violet’s past in Galar, or Chalce, or Uva Academy and Team Star in general. And all in the meanwhile, her fingers traced shapes and words over Violet’s hands, arms, neck, back...anywhere she could access and get consent from Violet for.
The combination of talking about interesting but not too heavy topics and trying to figure out what shapes Eri was tracing keep Violet focused.
“Are you enjoying the game?” Eri asked. “We can stop whenever you want.”
“It’s good. I...like it,” Violet assured her. “But...are you enjoying this? If you’re bored or annoy—”
Chunky fat Lechonk.
“Vi,” Eri interrupted her, placing a finger under her chin and lifting her face so the two were eye-to-eye. “Of course I enjoy this. Can I ask you to do something for me?”
“Of course.”
“I want to be the only voice you listen to. The others – those in your head, those which spoke during that cursed interview – try to ignore them. For now, my voice is the only one which matters. Can you do that for me, my shining knight?”
Why do you need so much care?
“I...I can do that...my noble lady.”
With that, the game started up again, except that Eri made sure to amp up the praise. And those words of praise, combined with the gentle yet stimulating touches, served as a lifeline Violet could cling to as to avoid drowning in her sea of shame.
Late at night, Orla would check in to see both girls cuddled together, sleeping, with their Pokémon nearby. Relieved, she went to tell the others, especially Arven, who by now had done a ridiculous amount of baking at Murdock’s insistence, that Violet was doing okay.
At least for the night, Violet was safe.
Right now, that was all they could ask for.