Violet rarely speaks, so when you find yourself hearing her voice, you either cherish it or start running.
Being a selective mute who's power is to disappear, Violet Hargreeves hasn't aged ever since Five's powers kicked back at her for trying to st...
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REWRITTEN.
Though neither wanted to tear themselves away from eachother, they did eventually have to make their way downstairs to the memorial service.
Violet did so while picking out her old noise cancelling headphones and placing them over her ears. All those irritating background sounds filtered out and eased the tightness in her muscles.
The rain poured heavily, rapping against the windows, and it was so hard she could just about hear it.
While Violet avoided the umbrellas stacked by the back door as though they were poison, Five was the one to pick one up for the both of them. Her fingers rubbed at the scarred skin on her wrist where the umbrella logo used to be absently.
She walked in step with Five initially and leant up on her tiptoes to whisper something in his ear.
"Thank you."
He looked down at her, speaking equally as quietly. "For what?"
"Telling me the truth." She murmured softly.
He smiled at her slightly.
Once outside, she stepped away from his side and shifted back towards Ben's statue, opting to sit on the little wall beside it to observe the service from afar.
She didn't want any part of it.
Five kept his eye on her. He was banking on the fact she didn't notice, but she did.
She embraced the cool water hitting her skin, dampening her hair and jacket before she flipped her hood up to protect her headphones. Violet loved the rain, and at least that fact hadn't changed over the years.
As a kid they could always find her outside during a storm without a proper jacket on. She'd get soaked to the bone just wandering the garden in the pouring rain and Grace would scold her, saying she'd catch a cold if she didn't wrap up.
Back then she'd think to herself 'it doesn't matter. I'll be right as rain in a few hours of catching it.'
When the others finally arrived one by one with varying umbrellas and coats, Luther was the main one to notice her absence in the circle.
"Violet," he demanded. "Come on."
She glanced up through a curtain of her hair and simply shook her head, glancing back down at the droplets of water running down the blades of grass at her feet.
"Violet, it's dads funeral. The least you could do is-"
"-leave her alone," Diego cut him off in warning. "Just get on with it."
But Luther being Luther just ouldn't let it go.
Violet listened to the muffled voices through the barrier of her headphones, bouncing her knee rapidly up and down as she tried to ignore them.
