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They talked briefly at the Freehold Hollow about, you know, talking about whether or not they shared a Keeper. And so, Ziv has ordered sushi (their favorite -- they've ordered some tempura items to be Hanukkah-appropriate, too) and it has just arrived, so they've tucked it into the fridge to wait for her to arrive. The tea kettle is heating up, the pretty little tea set that they bought for proper tea is sitting out on the dining room table, and the Emotional Support Rabbi has been called and asked to come, too.
Ziv and Eko's house is a little cookie-cutter affordable house in Northeast, with a postage stamp of lawn and a little front porch with two rocking chairs on it. The electric menorah is lit in the window, and the menorah itself sits next to the tea set, with seven candles plus the shamash. Ziv is wearing comfy soft knit cotton house pants and a loose, comfortable shirt that matches, along with a pair of comfy blue socks with dreidels on them. It's too cold for Daisy Dukes and a pilfered tank top, alas, so they choose to look Super Comfy instead.
When Violette arrives it's in the back of an SUV that pulls up to the curb and lets her out. She steps out of the vehicle and heads toward the front door, the hood of her sweatshirt pulled over her head. The leather jacket that's on over the hoodie is familiar. Jeans and boots complete the ensemble. Other than the familiar aesthetic she doesn't look much like the Violette that Ziv has met before, mostly because her Mask is strengthened. That doesn't mean she might not be familiar, though. Over the past decade she's had plenty of media attention, both for her music career and her disappearance. That might be the reason for the hood.
She leaves the door open behind her, and a moment later the vehicle's driver gets out and comes around to close it, then goes to get back in the car and drive away. When she gets to the door she lifts a hand and knocks on it, about the same time her driver is heading off to park a couple of blocks away.
Ziv looks out the window to check on who's present outside, and then opens the door, offering a little lopsided smile. "I didn't know it was you," they laugh, a little wryly. Surely she gets that an awful lot.
"Come on inside. There's a hook right there for your coat, and a mat for your shoes. My primary partner is Japanese, we're a shoes-off house. If you need house slippers, I can get you a pair." Because of course they can. "The sushi is already here and in the fridge. Aaron should be here in a bit. He's a Mage, but -- he knows a lot about us. Both of his partners are Lost, and he's the Rabbi to our supernatural minyan."
Violette strikes a little bit of a pose at the response her appearance gets. One that says 'it's me!' Following that she steps inside, slips her leather jacket off but not the hoodie, and hangs the jacket up on a hook. She does pull the hood down, since once she's inside she doesn't have the same need to hide.
She does kind of fill up the room with her presence, though. It's a little hard to look away from her, whether it's purely an aesthetic attraction, something less tangible than that, or something more than that. It sure explains why she tends to hide herself when out in public.
Her hands start moving through some rapid signs, not joined with the whispering since she knows that Ziv can understands the signs alone. "Shoes off keeps things cleaner anyway. I get it. My house growing up wasn't shoes off, but once I started doing it I could not go back." She leans down to unlace her boots, which takes a few moments, and then she pulls them off. Somehow she makes it look like a show. Like people might pay just to watch her take her shoes off, and not just foot fetishists. It's not that she's trying to, that's just how it is.
"I love sushi, but I don't know much about mages," she signs, once her hands are free again.
They keep themself facing toward Violette -- they know she's going to use sign -- and know their own house well enough to be able to back into the kitchen without tripping on anything. It's a tidy little house, not overly full of stuff, but there's a big wrought-iron hamsa hanging on the wall. (They are symbols of protection, after all.) They grab the electric kettle as it clicks itself to off, pour the boiling water into the teapot, and then settle down at the table. "I figure we'll wait until Aaron is here to eat, if you don't mind."
A pause. "Well, they have their own groups and their own priorities, but really they're just people." Ziv answers in English and ASL. "Aaron is a really great person, very smart and thoughtful. He just also can punch through solid steel and turn his hands into magical glow-lights and text message with his brain."
Violette moves after Ziv toward the kitchen, tredding in feet wrapped in extremely fuzzy socks covered with dancing potatoes. The rest of her outfit is at least relatively serious, but her socks not so much. "I don't mind. It's your house, your rules," she signs in answer, before reaching for a chair at the table and pulling it out to seat herself. "That seems polite anyway," she adds.
"That doesn't really surprise me, either. That they're ultimately just people. You know, ultimately I don't know much about rabbis either. I guess it's..." she realizes she doesn't know the sign for this, and whispers aloud, "Hanukkah." Then back to signing. "Isn't it?" This comes with a glance toward the menorah. "I'm pretty sure most of what I know about Jewish people is really wrong."
"Well, if you were hungry, we could eat now. I have microwaveable edamame to go with the meal," explains Ziv, padding back into the kitchen and putting the electric kettle back on its stand. They keep turned so they can see her signing, and smile a little bit. "Yeah, I think it's generally more polite," they agree. "I'm glad you agree."
They return to their chair and tuck a foot under themself. "Hanukkah," they explain, bringing their hands up in front of themself, making the number 4 with each hand, thumbs in, palms out, in front of their chest, and then then bringing both hands out to their sides. "It is Hanukkah. And probably! But that's okay. Learning is a thing that we all do. We'll light the candles once he gets here, too."(edited)
Violette repeats the sign to help commit it to memory, nods with the gesture, and then lets the conversation continue. "What kind of tea are you making?" she asks. "And, yes, learning about other people and their views and perspectives is wonderful. It was one of the best aspects of my music career, in addition to just being able to perform, which I loved. I got to meet people, learn about their cultures, experience things I never imagined. Me, a nobody girl from a dirt poor mining town in the middle of nowhere? Nobody thought I was going anywhere, including me."
She stops and shakes her head. "I didn't come here to talk about myself, though. Sorry."
"I like a light green tea with dinner -- it's good for digestion and plus it's light and not overly sweet or flowery like jasmine," explains Ziv with a subtle smile as Violette repeats the sign. She got it right, so they nod to her in agreement, and repeat the sign back to her.
Ziv listens when Violette talks about herself, her path, the things she learned being a musician. Joyeux, yo. Plus, also, it's almost impossible to turn their attention away from her anyway.
"You did come here to talk about you, though, didn't you?" they gently prompt.
Violette glances away and lightly scratches one cheek with a neatly trimmed fingernail. Right up until she stops so she can continue signing. "I did, but I didn't." She turns back to Ziv. "I want to know about you, too. About the place you experienced. I know that can be a painful topic, but..." she trails off and seems to be trying to get her thoughts in order. "I don't to upset you by asking. I'm curious if we went to the same place, though."
There's a long silence, and Ziv -- who spends a lot of their time gently deflecting from talking about themself -- does so again by reaching for the teapot and pouring two delicate little cups of green tea. "Originally, I was not part of The City," they answer, after a long, long silence. "But at the end, yes."
In the depths of their glass bottle full of water body, little swarms of neon lights shimmer and cluster.
"You don't want to talk about it, do you?" Violette asks after only hesitating a moment. "I'm sorry. I try to avoid making things about me. They're about me too often, and I'm always afraid people are going to think that I'm self-centered and conceited." Her head turns slightly and she doesn't quite conceal a wince, after which it takes a moment for her thoughts to coalesce again. "Especially now. But if it will make you more comfortable, rather than bother you, I can talk about my own experience."
"I don't talk about myself much," answers Ziv. "Most of my job is getting other people to talk about themselves as much as possible, which means decentering myself as much as I can. It's not something i'm used to." There's a wry little smile, there. Lo, for they are opposites in this, as in many things.
"The City had no place for me. I was ... something She won."
"Your job job, or do you mean being a Joyeux?" Violette asks with the motions of her hands. "The latter is my job too, but I'm not sure I'm the best at it. I'm trying. I want to be good at it. I hope I'll get better. Helping other people is one of the things I want most out of--" she trails off a second before finishing. "--my life now."
She glances at the tea, then at Ziv, and seems to ask permission with the raise of her brows.
There's also a short silence before she says more about what happened to her. When she does it's to sign, "she made me believe she loved me. Like she wanted to make her city a better place for me. I can't even make myself imagine being there and not feeling like the focus of her world, even though I know I wasn't. It's hard for me to guess what that might have been like for you."
They reach out to set one of the cups in front of her with a slightly abashed smile.
"I'm a cantorial student--that is, I am studying to become a cantor, who leads prayers at a synagogue. So my actual job-job is studying. I meant as a Joyeux," explains Ziv, curling their fingers around their small cup of tea. They go quiet, listening, and nod their head thoughtfully as she says that's what she wants out of her life now. A small sip, and then they set their cup aside so they can continue to sign.
"You stood in the light and I had the darkenss," they answer, and roll their shoulders, their lips twitching wearily as that wry smile skates back across their face.
"Like a priest?" asks Violette, because she doesn't know shit about Judaism. "How is that different than a Rabbi?" she looks like she's genuinely curious, at least. "And yes, I guess I did, but too much light and too much dark can both be dangerous, can't they?" She picks up the cup of tea and takes a sip, then puts it down again, because she can't sign to Ziv and hold the cup at the same time. "This is good."
A smile, and a little shake of their head. "No, not really. A rabbi is ... more like a priest. Rabbi means 'teacher,' though, so it's really... there's no role that's equivalent to a priest, exactly." Ziv picks up their cup, sips a little, puts it down again. "A cantor ... sings, and leads the communal prayers. A lot of Jewish synagogue life is ritual repetition of prayers together, and so someone leads that, and songs -- singing is a big thing in Reform, not in some other movements -- and so on."
And then Ziv sips more. "I suppose," they answer. "I can't judge, because I didn't experience that light, and you didn't experience my darkness. My river."
"Thank you."
Violetta nods like she understands, at least enough for now. "You like to sing too, then? Was it you that I heard singing along to my guitar? If it was, you're quite good." She picks up the tea and sips it again, this time for a little longer, leaving a bit more of a gap in the conversation, until she whispers loudly enough to carry across the table, "I love hot drinks. They help me relax. I have trouble doing that, sometimes."
She puts the cup down again after another sip, seems to pause to organize her thoughts before signing again, and then responds, "I didn't. I'm glad you got away, though. I wish I could have done something for more of us."
"I love to sing." answers Ziv, sitting back comfortably in their chair and letting their tea rest on the table. "Before-- before I was in The City, I was made as a Siren. We had pods. I don't remember much else, but I was -- at least -- with people, there." A little roll of their narrow shoulders, and they look down at their phone.
"I love tea, especially," comes their agreement. "The process of making it is ... " and they pause for words. "It's a ritual. Humans need ritual. It calms us."
They sit there for what probably feels like a long time, looking at her, in a sort of thoughtful quiet, after she answers them. "You aren't responsible for what She tricked you into doing, and I don't hate you."
Violette stills for a moment before she signs, "I love to sing too, but I can't any more. If I do, she will hear it, and know where I am. And it will let her into the minds of the people who hear it." This doesn't really scan with the way that these kinds of things usually work, but she seems utterly convinced that it's true. "That's why I can't let anyone hear my voice any more."
She picks up the tea and takes a drink, cradles the warm mug in her hands for a few seconds, and then puts it down so she can continue. "Rituals are good. I've had to develop a lot of new ones. I'm still trying to find ones that work for me, really."
Her eyes glance away before she answers the last part. "I should have known better."
Their eyes tell her when they're looking right at her, because if they're not making direct eye contact? Ziv's eyes are solid black, no pupil, no iris, just black sclera. When they make eye contact with her, though, their shockingly-white irises pop into visibility in their black eyes, like reflected hollow moons. "... that's not... usually how that works," Ziv reassures softly. "If there are other reasons you don't want to sing, that's okay. But ... even Helldivers have to have a thread, and when that thread is broken... " their voice trails off, and they shake their head.
"Finding rituals is hard." And then their shaggy-haired black head tilts to the side a little. "Known better than what?"
Violette's head shakes as she answers, "I know it's not normally, but we were close. Closer than I've ever been to someone else. She was always..." She stops her hands from moving, like someone who just realized she almost revealed a secret she shouldn't. "I used my voice to hurt people, for her. I should have known that's what I was doing, but I let her convince me I was helping them."
"If you want to be able to use your voice, we can always talk to Autumn. They're pretty competent here, from everything I've come to understand about them. So if you want them to, like, talk to you, and do the research, and see if you can sing without notifying her?" Ziv suggests, careful words, careful signs. They press their lips together a little, and stops signing when she does. "I cannot absolve you of what you did. Each person you hurt, in the way I believe, at least, has to ... forgive you. But I can help you move forward, if you want."
"They lie. It's what They do."(edited)
"The problem is that it's not my voice any more, really. It's hers. I became her voice, and it became me." Violette signs rapidly, a little agitated. "I don't think we can be separated again. They can't help me. Nobody..." her hands still. "Nobody can help me."
She lets out a sigh and looks away again. When her signing starts again there's a brief pause before she looks at Ziv. "I know that nobody can forgive me. I don't know if they should. Now I just want to be better. Even if I can't make amends, I can be better. I can make people's lives better."
They sit there for a very long time, just.. looking at her. "You are telling me two things which are essentially at odds with one another," the Siren points out, frowning thoughtfully and absently rubbing at their cheek with their fingertips. "You're saying 'nobody can help me' and in the next breath 'I want to be better.' Those two things are in diametric opposition to one another when you're in a situation like this. You can't heal from these things on your own. None of us can. So either you are incapable of being helped, or you are capable of being helped, and capable of being better. Those two things cannot exist together. So... I guess it's up to you to choose which one of those things is true."
During that period of silence Violette quietly sips her tea, though her face doesn't remain entirely still. If anything, it looks a little bit like someone who is overhearing an unpleasant conversation at the next table that they wish they could tune out, but can't; there's an occasional slight wince, she looks like she's a little uncomfortable, or her lips frown just a bit. When Ziv speaks up again she her attention comes back with a slight start.
"I guess I should say that they can't fix me," she answers after putting the cup down to free her hands. "I can use help moving forward, but I don't think there's any going back. That's why I'm in Spring, and not in Winter, in a lot of ways."
Those little motions of hers have them tipping their head the other direction, like a dog listening for a sound just out of human range. Ziv sips their tea. "I don't think it's going back to reclaim your voice. I think that's part of moving forward. Your voice was taken from you, at least inasmuch as you feel that you are unable to use it. And... I think it's fair to say your voice was -- is -- important to you. Which, you know, is something I understand."
"I won't beat this drum anymore, but -- just think about it, please. I don't think it's lost to you."
"I'll think about it, but I don't to put anybody in danger," Violette answers with graceful motions of her hands. "There are risks I don't want to take. I've hurt too many other people in the name of my own happiness. I've been finding other desires within me to pursue instead. Supporting and building up others. Helping them to find their voice. I'm finding joy in it." She'd clearly be lying if she said she was fine with this, but she does seem to have genuine enthusiasm for this course forward for herself, too.
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