I see you when you're down And depressed, just a mess (closed to gigue)

[fireandthread]

There was no way in hell Charlie would ever be able to make up the years spent pushing Vanya away. It was impossible. She felt that deep in her core. Deep and burning in her chest, something that regularly told her she could have done better.

She could have tried harder.

She could have been there.

She could have.

But she didn't. When it became too hard to shut emotions out, she spent time pushing others away. Vanya, included. But now, with their father alive and kicking and pissing an entire house full of already broken adults off, Charlie was going to start being a better sister to Vanya. One of the ones that needed the most love.

So the second she saw V and her father interact, she knew what she needed to do.

She needed to get out of the house for a bit, and take Vanya with her. Messages sent, Vanya asked to pick the venue, Charlie now waits in the back yard.

Several archery targets are set up, though there's neither bow nor arrow to be found, Charlie's been firing at these things for a while. There are scorch marks around the bullseye, the smell of burnt hay filling the air and Charlie tenses her hands.

One balls into a fist and fire arches outward, twisting and forming a recurve bow. In her other hand, an arrow made of white fire appears and she nocks it to the flaming string, pulling back and aiming and firing. She does this several times over until she hears something nearby and she turns to look, shooting her sister a soft but tense smile.

"I don't know about you, but I super need a lot of alcohol right now. It's tangible, all that anger and pain and distress in there." Charlie can almost see it and she doesn't want to.

"So how hammered should we get? Like on a scale of 'can probably walk maybe' to 'call an Uber driver and hate ourselves in the morning, even though it's probably worth it, all shit considered."

Comments

[gigue]

The anger and pain and distress is probably pretty tangible on Vanya, too: she's never been great at actively hiding her emotions, only bundling them up and hiding them away with medication she never needed and an instinct to hold her tongue. The meds are gone, have been gone, and she is fighting a constant battle between old instincts and new desires. When she approaches Charlie, it's with her coat on and her shoulders hunched, glaring not so much at the ground as through it.

"My self restraint isn't going to stretch to drinking." She doesn't know what she can do, or rather, what she can control: it's taking much too much effort to not give in and just do what she really wants to.

Besides, she already hates herself a little, most of the time. Why not hate herself more in the morning? "Let's get a ride. Bar's not far."

[fireandthread]

It is. Hence Charlie wanting to pull Vanya out of the house. There was too much going on in there for anyone to remain calm, even with what she knew about dear ol' dad. Which she's going to share with Vanya in a moment.

"I don't think mine is, either. I threw a mug at Dad and I'm really not sure if it was me or someone else's feelings, but I'm pretty pissed that it didn't even hit him. It went right through." Which, she's sure, is good news? But he's still going to be a presence in their house.

Their house. Not his. He died. He's dead. He has no hold on the house, as far as Charlie cares.

"Like...clean through. Smashed on the wall behind him. I owe someone a glittery 'fuck this shit' mug, now."

Pulling out her phone, she hesitates between the small handful of rideshare apps and then pokes Lyft. It's been long enough, right? They can safely get a Lyft without someone going nope no Hargreeves ever!

And sure enough, the ride request is accepted.

"They'll be here in five."