Chapter Text
Too Much Purple
Vi’s gray eyes seemed blue in the flickering, laser blue lights of the Last Drop, and she closed them as her mind shifted focus, bringing the bass and electric guitar to the forefront of her attention.
She felt the warmth of the last shot of vodka blossom in her chest at first. It left a simmering heat in her chest as it spread through her body, wandering up her throat, down her muscular arms, and then down towards her booted feet, making them feel weightless. She swayed in the music, enjoying the soothing quiet the liquor created in her mind. Her cup was empty, waiting for her at the bar, and she gave a half-hearted attempt to lift her sore arms and sway with the music. She was off her game lately and had taken a tough blow to the face and stomach in the pit-fighting ring earlier.
Only alcohol could soothe the ache her ego had taken, and she had retaliated in the ring by knocking her opponent’s teeth out. He was here somewhere, drinking his shame away while she partied. She remained undefeated in her streak in the ring, and the close call today had her reconsidering the longevity of her latest career choice. Surely there was something more fulfilling she could do between fights.
Barfing up the previous night’s meager dinner every morning was getting old, and the drinking was becoming quite expensive. She could handle it for now, but she wasn’t so sure she wanted to keep getting punched in the face. Makeup was never her strong suit, and the bruises were getting too dark.
Too much purple, not enough yellow. She smiled at this thought, the frantic thoughts slowing to a nice crawl. God, she loved vodka. Whiskey was good, too, and was quickly becoming a favorite. Unfortunately, she had too many whiskey sours last week and traded them for plenty of vodka and tonics. She was reaching her limit with the vodka, though.
A break would be good, Vi thought to herself. She lowered her arms and raised her blurry vision, struggling to see her former position at the bar. She pushed through the crowd, her throat dry. She needed another shot. She had tried shimmer and liked it too much. She avoided it like the plague. Life was never that bad, though it was getting pretty close lately.
“Excuse me,” Vi brushed past the broad-shouldered man standing too close to her cup, not at all gentle. The man turned to her, unfriendly brown eyes darkening at the sight of her face. He huffed and stepped aside, noticing the bruises on her face and the seeping blood oozing through the old bandages on her knuckles. Vi had stormed straight to the Last Drop after her latest brawl, failing to recognize she needed to change her bandages sooner than later. Technically, she should have changed them this morning, but this morning had started at five pm, with her first fight beginning at six. She had spent the morning vomiting last night’s dinner of bread and broiled aurma fish. She had splurged on the dinner and regretted the expensive purchase as it came back up.
“’Scuse yourself,” the man muttered to himself.
The most Vi could do was fix him with a deadly, cool glare. She wasn’t in the mood to bleed all over the bar. She ignored the burning urge to knock out another set of teeth and turned to the bartender.
Thieram’s nervous eyes flickered from her face to the man’s, having been accustomed to the weekly bar fights Vi would get herself into. Vi’s record of being undefeated didn’t help, and every once in a while, Thieram would kick her out for the weekend to save face. She would be let back in on Monday night without a problem. Thieram exhaled a visible sigh of relief, shock brightening his eyes at Vi’s behavior, and fixed Vi with a slightly relaxed look. She nodded at him and scooted her cup closer to Thieram. Vi turned her attention back to the bar, gray eyes searching, while Thieram fixed her drink.
The Last Drop had changed drastically since Vander died. Vi had spent the entirety of her prepubescent years in Stillwater, only to be freed a year ago when council members Heimerdinger and Shoola took a special interest in Stillwater’s prisoners. Shoola had urged the Council to create a formal rehabilitation program and only grew irater with the slow moving council upon reviewing Vi’s sparse case file. While Vi didn’t know much about Shoola’s politics, she grew to appreciate the bi-weekly meetings with the council woman and Heimerdinger, and being on her best behavior in said meetings had paid off. Due to the lack of official charges and proper sentencing, Vi had received hand-written apology letters from each member of the council, a bit of settlement money, and free updated papers regarding her Piltover citizenship, all courtesy of Shoola’s new law and thorough investigation. Despite the fighting, beatings, and less than appropriate visits from other prisoners, Vi was released. She would always be a former ex con with sealed records, but she was a free woman. Allowed to go where she pleased.
It was hard to adjust to the new culture of Piltover’s Undercity, and the culture shock had driven Vi to various bars at first. She hadn’t been brave enough to venture into the Last Drop as soon as she was free, but urgent thoughts about Powder had pushed Vi to continue exploring the Undercity, always looking for the familiar dark blue hair. Shoola would have Vi’s vote of confidence until the end of time, and she was the only member of the Council Vi didn’t have absolute disdain for. After adjusting to the Undercity’s new environment somewhat, Vi spent the majority of her free time looking for Powder, and the frequent visits to the Last Drop were a continuation of her search. The problem was no one seemed to know who Vi was talking about . . .
“Here you go,” Vi barely heard Thieram’s voice over the blasting music.
Vi turned and grabbed her full cup, the buzz in her body dying at the thought of her missing sister. Did Powder die in the explosion? It had been years since . . . Was it time to let her go? She could never-
“Thanks,” Vi muttered, a fresh pang of grief surging up in her chest. Her eyes misted, then watered. She cleared her throat and took a generous gulp of her drink, craving its effect, and she closed her burning eyes. She inhaled a long deep breath, her hand shaking, and she rested her unsteady hand on the bar. She lowered her head as if in prayer, allowing the chaos of the Last Drop to overwhelm her senses, wanting it to drown out the tiny voice in her head screaming, Powder! Powder!
“Are you okay?” A gentle voice broke through the noise.
Vi opened her eyes and wiped her cheeks as the tears made their frantic escape. She cleared her throat again, eyes settling on the woman in front of her. She had brown skin that reminded Vi of the forest’s sturdiness, and darker eyes that seemed to peer into Vi’s heart and see the damage inside of it. Vi avoided her eyes for a moment, noting her dark dreads piled high on her head, the complimentary dark blue eye shadow on her eyelids. She couldn’t place the woman’s face, but she knew her from somewhere.
“Vi?” The woman’s eyes widened.
The woman pulled Vi into a hug before she could respond. The strength in her arms reminded Vi of her own, and Vi hugged the woman back without thinking. For a moment, she settled inside Gurt’s arms and felt the large chunks of her broken heart scratch against each other, not quite fitting into place, but almost.
“How do you know me?” Vi asked as the woman released her.
“We didn’t, really.” The woman said with a soft smile. “I was a few years older than you. Name’s Gert. Ring a bell?”
Vi stared at Gurt’s face, struggling to remember the faces of older peers from her short childhood. She couldn’t remember a thing, especially right now, and she shook her head. Gurt’s smile grew sad, and she gestured to Vi’s cup on the bar. Vi took the hint and stepped aside, letting Gurt stand close to the bar. She placed an order with Thieram and Vi took a longer sip of her drink, the ache in her chest hurting anew at the sadness on Gurt’s face.
“Where’ve you been?” Gurt asked.
Vi struggled to answer. She settled on short words, easy to punch out. “Prison.” She said. “I was arrested the night Vander died. The council got me out a bit ago.”
Gurt nodded at this. “Welcome back,” she said and grabbed her offered drink from Thieram. The brown-haired bartender set Vi’s new drink on the counter, and Gurt pushed it closer to Vi’s hands. Her right hand held her old drink while her left hand was clenched in a fist. The memories of that night hurt and the images had been seared in her mind, flickering across her mind’s eye almost every night she slept in Stillwater, and most nights since her release. She would never forget the vivid purple tears running down Vander’s cheeks, leaving scars in his skin. She would never forget the smell of churned dirt and ash, assaulting her nose as she had woken up, pinned by broken concrete. She would never forget the way the sobs had forced Powder’s chest to heave, the way her little body shook with the force of them, the words she had forced through the heaves and sobs-
“Have you seen Powder?” Vi asked, her voice low and shaky.
Confusion crossed Gurt’s face. “Powder?”
“Yeah. My sister.” Vi said, a rush of anger making her knuckles turn white around her drink. Gurt leaned away from Vi, confusion darkening to a fleeting moment of fear, and Vi leaned away, too, struggling to gather herself. She looked away from Gurt’s face and tried to inhale a slow, calming breath. The liquor wasn’t treating her well now, just making her mad. She held her breath as she waited for Gurt to answer, and she traded her old drink for the fresh one, gulping down half of it, hoping for her mind to be numb again as Gurt uttered the words of her sister’s fate.
“She’s not Powder anymore.” Gurt said. “She goes by Jinx now.”
For a moment, Vi was filled with relief. Powder was still alive! Safe? Vi looked up at Gurt, eyebrows scrunching together as she processed the rest of Gurt’s words. Jinx. She stood there, her face frozen, as memories of that night came running back to the center of her mind.
“Because you’re a Jinx!” The words, the curse, her words, ran through her mind. Why did she say that? How could she? Why did Powder claim such words as her new identity? How could she take those words to heart? Did she remember the volatile emotions of that night? That Violet was devastated? Beyond broken? Hadn’t meant to-
“Where can I find her?” Vi asked, tears falling her cheeks.
Gurt fixed Vi with one of those looks, peering right into her heart and seeing the blame and regret. “You can’t.” Gurt said. “No one knows where she hides out, and more than that, no one wants to find her.”
Vi gazed at Gurt with narrowed, wet eyes. “Why?”
Gurt stared at Vi for a moment, disbelief in her dark brown eyes. “You don’t know? She works for Silco.”