THE WORLD BELOW (VixCaitlyn) / a dive into season two

Guilt

The Last Drop was unusually crowded when Babette entered with her entourage, her jewelry softly chiming at every step. A sudden shortage of Shimmer had brought people back to the simpler pleasures of life, which the leader of Zaun's most visited brothel understood like no other.

The old woman had swiftly taken charge of the bar after Silco's death had awakened a long-lost spirit of hope and fight in the Zaunites, a glimpse of what life could be, maybe even better than at Vander's times. She felt she had to act swiftly to harness that feeling for a good cause, one that wouldn't lead to more violence once the dust had settled. Fuelled by a drive to change, the Zaunite youth was now working to restore the Last Drop to its former state, carefully inspecting every crevice to obliterate the remains of Silco's regime.

Babette was in awe at how much of the past seven years could be undone in just a few weeks. The local looked nothing like the nightclub it used to be, and most of the damage caused by Vi and Sevika's fight had been repaired. At the far wall of the pub, a young firelight was finishing a portrait of Vander holding his pipe and looking down proudly onto his life's legacy. "Should I add the kids?" he asked as she walked by, waving his spray can in the air like a banner.

"I think it might be a bit too soon for that, darling." Babette said softly, knowing deep down that she wasn't there to oversee the renovations. She scanned the dark corners of the pub for what she was scared to find, hoping her assumptions would be proven wrong. But her instinct rarely failed her.

"She's back." Miguel walked out from behind the bar, a towel loosely thrown over his feminine shoulders.

"So I feared" Babette replied with sorrow as she recognized the dark, hooded figure in a shady corner.

"We could stop serving her, if you want..." the newly appointed barman suggested as he swung his towel over a window to remove a forgotten stain of shimmer on the glass "She's not here for the music, I fear."

Babette sighed with a deeply unsettled expression. "To be completely honest, Miguel, I would rather have her ruin herself in here where I can keep an eye on her than out in the streets." she said bitterly "I owe it to Vander. We all do. But only as long as she doesn't turn violent."

Miguel nodded, the refined lines of his beautiful face mirroring the woman's sorrow.

"I will try to talk to her," she added, "for what it's worth."

Vi didn't show any reaction when the brothel leader walked up to her spot at the corner table, her hood pulled up far onto her face as she stared straight down into her empty glass. Babette pulled herself up onto the bench next to her and lit a cigarette with feign indifference, twirling the golden cigarette holder in her hands with a satisfied hum. "This place is coming along beautifully, don't you think?" she said with a raucous voice.

Vi shrugged, clenching her bandaged fist. She reached out to a bottle in the middle of the table and poured the meager rest of it into her glass before slamming the empty vessel back onto the wood with frustration.

"Sweetheart, I hate seeing you here so early" Babette continued, unable to hide her worry.

Vi remained quiet, raising the glass to her lips and throwing her head back to empty it. For a moment, Babette could see the bruises on the girl's face, fading into the dark rings under her half-closed eyes.

"Did you get into another fight?" she asked in a strict tone, reaching out for the clenched fist on the table and inspecting the dried blood on her knuckles. Vi let it happen, her head still tilted down, her mind completely detached from reality. "What would Vander say..." Babette scolded her.

Vi quickly pulled her hand back, her foot nervously tapping on the floor. "Vander is dead" she said shakily. Babette shuddered at the resignation in her voice, so far from the rebellious teenager she used to know. "What an ugly, ruthless world we live in" she thought, leaning back into the bench.

They remained quiet for a moment, each lost in their own thoughts.

"You are so much like him", Babette murmured into the void, "When he was younger."

Vi turned her head to look at her before letting her eyes wander along the side of the wall to where Vander's face had been immortalized in paint. He looked eerily different from how she remembered him, but before she could make out what exactly was wrong she winced at the feeling of cold metal on her fingers.

"I thought you might like to hold on to this." Babette spoke softly as she placed Vander's old pipe into her hand "You will be surprised to hear that Sevika gave this to me. A puzzling woman she is, so much is sure. Regardless, my dear, I am sure he would have wanted you to have it."

Vi closed both her hands around the Pipe, holding on tightly to the one thing that hadn't changed.

"As a matter of fact, my presence in this place is only temporary. Rightfully, you should be the one to own the Last Drop." Babette wrapped her wrinkled hands around Vi's, moving her short body so close to her that she could hear her laboured breathing. "Don't ruin your life, young heart. There is so much out there for you."

Vi's leg began tapping again, her head nervously shaking under her dark hood.

"Do you know what it's like?" Vi's voice was trembling, every single muscle of her body tense and ready to fight whatever demons were creeping into her mind "Do you have any idea what it's like to wake up every day and see their faces? Mylo, Clagger, Vander, Benzo... I killed every single one of them. And Powder..." her voice broke "I killed Powder too, that night, when I left her. I am the one who made Jinx. Not Silco. Me."

"You can't think that way." Babette tried to console her "It will kill you."

"Would that be so bad?" Vi thought. She felt nothing but empty, her stare aimlessly pointed into the distance, her soul numbed by the chemicals rushing through her veins. She got up, holding on to the table until the world around her stopped spinning and then staggering towards the door, not without reaching behind the bar for another bottle. Any bottle.

"You can't run from the truth forever, Violet. You're a fighter, always have been!" she heard Babette call across the room as she stepped outside. In one hand, the full bottle felt somehow lighter than Vander's pipe in the other, but none weighed as heavily as the memories that the latter carried.

"You've got a good heart." a voice echoed in her head "Don't ever lose it."