#banks violette

[luckyacid]

Banks Violette reasons to be cheerful, 2024 Installation view

[electric-veins]

Banks Violette, Untitled (Tristar Horse), 2008

video projection on water vapor

[parure-d-insomnie]

''Banks Violette'' (2003), Untitled (model for a future disaster)

Steel, drum hardware, polystyrene, polyurethane, tinted epoxy 34 x 48 x 48 inches.

[aheathen-conceivably]

New Year’s Day 1934 had come and gone. In the desert, it hadn’t seemed that much different than the height of spring or the dawn of fall. The day had been hot while the night was filled with the rage of dusty wind. Only with it had come the news that they would have celebrated with gusto five years prior: Prohibition Ends At Long Last! Instead it was marked in a silent kitchen, the first bottle of legal liquor they could purchase in over a decade sitting precariously between them. No one knew if it was there to enjoy or to numb.

Each one of them clutched their own glass in guilty silence, maybe even imagining the clinking of champagne flutes that could have once accompanied this occasion. Rather than carouse in a frenzy of dance, they studiously avoided each other’s eyes, afraid to break the silence with even a sip. Everyone except Josephine. 

She threw back her drink so that when she spoke her voice was slurred with anger and alcohol, “So you’re telling me you don’t even own the goddamn farm, Gio? The farm you lured us all out to.”

“Of course I own the farm, Josephine. It’s just a loan, it just means…”

“I know how a loan works. Better than you do apparently. It means if you don’t have their money in six months they take the house. It means they own you.” She turned to Antoine and Zelda, pointing her finger and her blame directly at them, “And you two knew? What the fuck have you been doing, lying and playing at being farmers while the roof over our heads slowly falls into someone else’s hands?”

Antoine remained impassive, the anger and guilt swirling in his glass turning him to stone; but Zelda’s eyes watered as she futilely tried to answer. Gio saw her panic and spoke for her, “Its my loan, Jo, and mine alone. I was supposed to have until the end of the year, okay? The bank moved up the terms on me. I mean this can’t be legal — just scooping up someone’s land like this when we had an agreement.”

“Oh the end of the year, was it? Then you could have swept it under the rug so that poor little Josephine never found out, huh? That it? Well you’re an idiot. All of you. Idiots.” She covered her face in her hands, unsure if the burning in her throat was from the whiskey or the sob she had suppressed, “Does it even matter if it’s tomorrow or December? You don’t have the money. Antoine barely earns shit, and your little farming pipe dream does nothing but keep us hand to mouth. Where’s the money going to come from? The same imagination that told you any of this was a good idea in the first place?”

Her insults finally succeeded in burying the sob so deep that she could look back up at Zelda, “I’m right aren’t I? We can’t make shit off this land?” Jo’s eyes dared Zelda to so much as try to challenge her, so all she could do was muster a guilty nod of her head in affirmation.

Jo looked back toward Gio, the anger rising as the words she really wanted to cry out stayed trapped in her throat. You all let me think you were happy. That our life was perfect and I was the problem. You let me sink and disintegrate while you lied to my face! I stayed because I love you, and this is how you repay me!

Instead she sharpened her words and her eyes into razor sharp daggers, “I’ve had enough of this shit. I’m going into town tomorrow. It’s been over a month. The saloons and the bars have to be opening back up. I’ll sling a drink, I’ll do anything. We lose the roof over our heads and it’s right on the route with the rest of the Okies, fighting for scraps and scrounging for gas while Violette starves. Pathetic, Gio. All of you. Idiotic and pathetic..."

Her speech was cut short by the sound of Gio’s chair scraping against the wooden floors, “Enough, Josephine! I told you to leave them out of it!” Then he went quiet, hands gripping the table as her steadfast gaze told him she would never be the first to back down. When he spoke again it was in a low, chilling voice that none of them had ever heard before, "And I won't let you do that. To go down there and sell yourself again."

Antoine and Josephine rose to their feet at the same time; the former’s eyes burned with threats all the while Gio stayed staring at Jo. Within a split second his voice returned to normal, full of remorse and pleading as he ran after her in a rush of apologies and reassurances.

Their footsteps echoed on the hollow porch before they disappeared on the sand below. Zelda’s fingers remained locked on Antoine’s wrist, anchoring him in place until his rage could subside. His mind was vibrating with Gio’s final words; but he looked down to Zelda, internally counting to ten as he let her face replace the images of wrapping his hands around Gio’s neck, making him feel just as trapped and suffocated as his sister did before he let him go, gasping and desperate for air.

By the time the image faded, there was nothing left in the room but silence.

He sank back into his chair, moving it closer to Zelda. The look of guilt still hadn’t left her eyes, and seeing it, Antoine’s anger settled into worry. She didn’t hesitate to speak to him the way she had to Jo, “I should go after her, shouldn’t I? I should have told her. I’m her friend. Her sister…”

As her words dried up his stepped in, “I know, Zelda. I know. But we couldn’t. How could we?” He already knew that she didn't have to answer, because they had tried to absolve their complicity a dozen times. At their most avoidant, they had told each other it wasn’t their lie to tell. But beyond their deepest desire to avoid the conflict at all costs, they both knew that with each lie to Josephine’s face they had made it their betrayal just as much as Giorgio's. Only they were backed into an impossible corner, simply hoping the loan would be paid off and it would never come to this; otherwise, it meant they might lose Josephine or their home, perhaps even both.

Now that it had, all they could do was repeat what they had told themselves and each other for years. “They love each other, you know that. They’ll work it out. They have to.”

Zelda answered with a small nod, still unable to take her eyes off the door left open to the desert beyond. Across its stillness she could swear she heard arguing. She knew that she couldn’t convince Josephine to stay, the same way that she couldn’t have told her and jeopardized her daughter’s home and happiness.

So she let Antoine pull her head down onto his shoulder, gradually coming to the real question boiling under the surface. But where are we going to get the money? Only it was no use voicing it, not when they and Gio had already discussed it a dozen times over. Both of them had looked for work, and however many times Zelda offered to do the same, they all came to the same conclusion: they couldn’t sell what they grew, but at least they could eat it. She was the only one who could really ensure they wouldn’t go hungry, and the one who’s presence at home was actually the most vital of them all.

So all they could do was sit and wait to see if Josephine would stay. Wait and hope.

[evispunk]

MEET THE CAMERONS

a/n: first chapters are normally super slow and are just to get you an introduction to the book, so if you don't like it, please give it a chance and read a little more. as a reader, i don't even like this chapter. this is where you can stop reading if you don't want to know a few things about me.

one - i've been watching outer banks and reading fics about it since 2020. i've gotten quite a feel for the characters and my own opinions and views on them. so of course, this may or may not be similar to other fics you have read, or maybe this is something entirely different! this will follow the plot of the show MAINLY. it will derive a few times and not exactly follow the timeline of the show but all of the events will happen.

two - i have been writing since i was twelve. my writing may not be your style or the best you've ever seen, but i'm proud of it and that's why i'm putting it out there for you to see. please do not critique me in the comments! save it for your therapist.

three - i'm a rafe defender sorry not sorry he's a baby

summary: violette and her parents head over to the cameron's, her parents' good friends, house for dinner where she meets sarah & wheezie for the first time, and rafe, whom she hasn't seen since they were in diapers. plot intro.

warnings: innocent little kook with no idea what she's in for

"ARE YOU ALMOST ready?" Matt called up the spiral staircase to his daughter, Violette. She huffed, unplugging her curling iron and brushing out her waves.

"Yes, Dad, just get in the car, I'll be down in a sec!" she yelled back, applying lip balm at the same time and switching the lights off. The brunette girl took one last look at herself in the hallway mirror, staring back at her smooth, cream-colored dress with knots that were tied into bows on the shoulder straps. Her black heels clicked against the stairs as she jogged down them, heading towards her parents' car.

"Oh, honey, you look beautiful." Violette's mother, Cecilia told her once she sat down in the back seat.

"Thank you, Mom." she smiled, buckling her seatbelt behind the driver's seat.

"Are you excited to see The Cameron's again? You haven't seen Rafe since you two were in diapers right before we moved." Cecilia said, turning to face her daughter.

"I guess. I'm a little nervous to meet his sisters though, I mean, what if they're the fake bitchy type?"

"Language, young lady." her father interrupted, pointing a finger into the rearview mirror as he turned left.

"I doubt that. I've never met Rose personally, but I've talked with her a few times and her and Ward are amazing parents. I'm sure they're really sweet." Violette's mother reassured her with a smile.

"What are their names again?" 

"Sarah and Eloise, but the little one is called Wheezie."

"Wheezie? Does she have asthma?" she returned, pulling her phone out from her black shoulder bag.

"No, just a nickname that stuck, I'm sure. Don't make that joke at dinner."

"Wouldn't dream of it." Violette smiled, unbuckling herself as the car halted to a stop in the Cameron's yard.

"Be on your best behavior, Vi." Matt instructed, locking the door and putting his keys into his pocket, next to his wallet.

Violette swung the gold chain of her shoulder bag over her left, and began walking up to the front door with her parents. Her mother lightly knocked three times on their large door, and stepped back, awaiting their response.

The door swung open abruptly, and the blond woman behind it smiled.

"Welcome! You must be Cecilia!" the woman Violette now knew as Rose hugged her mother, then looked at her father.

"Matt." he smiled, and hugged her too as she kissed his cheek.

"Rose." she returned, moving her attention to their daughter. "And you must be the wonderful Violette I have heard so much about," Rose continued, initiating another hug. "Wow, I have to say you smell great. What are you wearing?"

"Miss Dior." the girl replied, thanking her.

"I'll have to buy that one. Come on in, guys." she said, opening the door completely to let the Rhodes enter their home. "I'm just about done with supper, and Rafe is setting the table."

Violette looked around at the Camerons' house, taking in her expensive surroundings. Their home was even more elegant than hers, and they were considered to be almost filthy rich. It smelt quite clean, almost like a mix of fresh linen and salt air.

"Violette?" a voice called from beside her, and she whipped her head towards the sound to find a dirty blond girl standing there wearing a strapless, navy, crossfront bandeau top dress. "Hey, I'm Sarah. Rafe's sister." the girl smiled, taking a few steps towards Violette.

"Oh, hi. Sorry, you scared me, but it's nice to meet you. I love your dress."

"Thank you! I got it at this cute boutique downtown, you'll have to come shop with me sometime."

"I'd love to." Violette replied, looking at the Cameron girl some more. She noticed her wearing two necklaces, one smaller gold chain, and a longer necklace with an 'S' on it.

"Your heels are gorgeous, by the way." Sarah continued, silently urging Violette to walk with her.

"Givenchy."

"Wow. So, you're bougie."

"I like what I like. Of course, not everything is about a brand, but it sure can be."

"You know what, I get that. I don't really care as much, but, I can see why someone would." she smiled. "Oh, Wheeze." Sarah stopped in her tracks, almost catching the Rhodes girl off guard.

"Hm? Oh. Hi, what's your name?"

"Violette. I'm assuming you're Wheezie?"

"I don't know anyone else with that name." she responded with a laugh, her dark curls bouncing with it.

"Can't say I do either," Violette said, voice back to normal. "Hey, I've met pretty much everyone besides Rafe. Do you know where he's at?"

"Probably in the kitchen." the black-haired girl answered, standing up to join the two girls on their walk. "Come this way." The two newfound friends followed Wheezie through the hall until they reached the kitchen, finding Rafe and Ward sipping on their drinks while leaning against the island.

"Violette. How're you doing, sweetie?" the older Cameron smiled, meeting Violette halfway and hugging her.

"I'm doing well. And you?"

"Great, great. You remember Rafe." he pointed to his son, drink in hand.

"Just barely. I do remember a lot of him stealing my toys." she replied and Ward laughed, grabbing Rafe's shoulder. The blond teenager only dryly stared at Violette and drank from his glass.

"Yeah, that sounds like Rafe. I see you already met Sarah and Wheezie, hope they weren't too hard on you."

"Hey!" Wheezie defended herself from behind Violette, still standing next to a temporarily silent Sarah, "We're actually really nice, if you didn't notice."

"I'm sure that's what you think," Rafe commented, refilling his cup with Coke. Violette's gaze fell upon him, slightly taken aback by his arrogant demeanor.

"Rafe-"

"Supper's ready!" Rose called out from the next room over, and Rafe smirked to himself while Ward's face turned sour. His expression quickly recovered when he turned to the three girls and nodded towards the dining room, he and his son following.

"This looks delicious, Rose." Cecilia complimented, smoothing her long dress down as she took a seat at the table.

"Thank you. It's an old family recipe of Ward's." she smiled at the woman in return, setting her napkin on her lap.

"It's steak, Rose." Rafe rolled his eyes, scooting his chair in louder than necessary. 

"I think it looks and smells lovely," Ward interjected whilst giving his son 'the look', "Let's eat." he smiled. 

Violette walked into the kitchen and began stacking plates and cups, deciding to help Rose with the dishes as a thank you for the supper she undoubtedly spent hours cooking.

"Oh, you don't have to do that, honey. You can go talk with everyone else."

"That's okay, I like to help. Take it as a thank you for supper."

"Well then, I won't stop you," she agreed, turning back to the large sink, scrubbing and rinsing dishes before loading them into their stainless steel dishwasher. "So, Violette, do you have a boyfriend back on the mainland?"

"I don't, actually. I was seeing this one guy for a while, but he turned out to be a huge jerk, so I ended it. It was sad too, he was real cute." the young girl responded, heading over to the other side of the sink and using some of the water that had collected to rinse cups and silverware.

"Trust me, I've been there," Rose laughed. "I dated this one guy in high school, Thomas White. Turns out he was making out with guys the whole time we were dating." she continued, shaking her head.

"Whoa, talk about a plot twist."

"Tell me about it. You know, I never got to ask at dinner- what do your parents do for work again? I know your mother makes jewelry, I bought some from her."

"Yeah, she does. Um, my dad's a lawyer, actually."

"Have you ever got to say, 'My dad's a lawyer,'?" Rose chuckled lightly, switching off the sink and shutting the dishwasher door.

"Not yet, but it sure has crossed my mind a few times."

"Goodnight Mom," Violette said as her mother passed her bathroom whilst brushing out her wet hair.

"Night sweetie. Love you."

"I love you, too." 

Violette walked across the hallway to her bedroom and opened her closet door with the intention of finding pajamas to wear. She settled her mind on a ribbed mauve tank top, and loose white sweat shorts. After dropping her towel and changing, she slid on her beige fluffy socks and plaited her hair. Tomorrow she would explore the island after having been here for a week and only unpacking her house. 

"Alexa, play thunderstorm sounds."

[watcheraurora]

Hello there!

I’ve been following your superhero au for a while, and I was wondering if you have a set timeline for Tango and Jimmy’s time as superheroes and villain? I know that ‘current events’ are about 8 years after Tango left the Division, and he got his powers at ~17, whereas Jimmy was already in college, but I’d be really interested in knowing a little more about when Tango became a public hero, and how long Deepfrost and Sheriff were ‘nemeses’ before the events of their reveal!

Love your work, I hope that you keep it up!

Thanks!

I do, yeah! Most of that information and math is scattered through the various works in the universe and alternate timelines but basically for Tango and Jimmy:

Tango is one year and one month (ish) older than Jimmy.

Tango got his powers at 17 (barely 17 for a couple weeks) which was also around the time he graduated from high school a year early

Jimmy was 16 when all that happened, and they definitely didn't know each other yet.

Tango pretty much immediately went to the division and recruited himself for training.

Tango debuted/became public about four months after he started training. He wasn't supposed to. But he ran after Impulse when no one was looking and debuted himself waaay early

Tango burned through the ranks of the division fast. He got through E- and D-Tier within a year of debuting and sat at C-Tier for the next three years. He was months away from being promoted to B-Tier when he got kicked out

Tango was kicked out of the division at barely 21, not long after his college graduation (Jimmy was 20 and still in college), after about four years of serving as a hero, primarily as Impulse's rival

He was kinda finding his footing on the villain side of life for a little over a year, keeping himself to himself and not interacting with Impulse or Poultry Man much (Soup Group didn't exist yet, Gem and Pearl didn't manifest until later). Doc found him at the age of 22 and took him back to the Perimeter for almost a year. Doc trained Deepfrost/Tango on all sorts of skills Doc thought he'd need in order to survive as a villain (including combat, forensic science, and other random skills that Tango didn't think would be useful but actually turned out to be useful)

While Tango was training in the Perimeter but almost ready to come home, Jimmy manifested. At the age of 22. The only person ever (known) to manifest powers later than 20. The usual range being 16-20. So two years later is unique.

Gem and Pearl's powers manifest a few weeks after Jimmy's. Gem is 18 and Pearl is 17. They manifest within a few hours of one another. Their dad (Stephen Violett/Impulse) reveals to them that he's Impulse. They begin training with him.

About six months later, GeminiSlay and Blood Moon debut with Impulse. The Soup Group is formally established as a trio.

Tango comes home and goes out into the city for the first time as Deepfrost since returning. He's been home for a few days, maybe two weeks. He's 23

Jimmy goes out on his first solo patrol as Sheriff after about six, seven months of training himself. He's 22.

They meet each other for the first time that night.

Their rivalry begins there.

Tango, fairly soon after, begins working at Empire Studios as a freelance programmer while also bouncing around a handful of other game dev studios in the city that never stand on their legs for very long.

About two months after that, Deepfrost approaches the other villains with data that a bank of factories along the river are pumping pollutants into the water and he wants to level them. The other villains agree. They level the bank of factories, and solidify Deepfrost's position as a villain

The Deepfrost/Sheriff rivalry continues

At 25, Tango becomes a full-time programmer at Empire Studios, rather than just a freelancer. Jimmy is working at an animation studio at 24 as a background artist at the time.

When Tango is 27 and Jimmy is 26, a 22-year-old, newly-graduated-from-college Gem Violett begins working at Empire Studios as a character artist.

Not long after that (about three months), Jimmy sees a position for a background artist at a game dev studio opens up and gets hired. He's still 26 and he gets hired on to Empire Studios himself

His very first day, he meets Tango Tek, one of the best and brightest programmers on the tech team. Immediate crush formed on both sides

The next year, when Tango is 28 and Jimmy is 27, the events of "Even Ice Walls Fall Down" happen

The year after that, Strong Walls

By the time we get to Joined Walls another year after that, Tango has been a villain for 9 years and is 30 years old. He's had his powers for 13 years. Jimmy has had his powers for seven years and is 29 years old.

Extra information:

Joel is 7 years older than Tango and 8 years older than Jimmy

Scar is 5 years older than Tango and 6 years older than Jimmy

Grian became CuTeGuY about a year before Tango manifested, and Poultry Man within a few months of CuTeGuY's debut

Grian and Etho are both immortal. Grian is a couple thousand years old and Etho's probably around 800? (Grian knows about Etho. Etho doesn't know about Grian. Grian is a lesser deity and keeps himself and his full range of powers really close to the chest. Hence he can be Poultry Man and CuTeGuY at the same time and no one has ever figured him out)

If there's anything more specific you're curious about, let me know! I'll do what I can to answer! :-D

[keepsdeathhiscourt]

Pairing: Elijah Mikaelson x Original Female Character

Rating: Mature (18+ Only)

Story Summary: It's been ten years since Lucie LeMarche last set foot in New Orleans. But when she's forced to return to bury the woman who raised her, she finds herself pulled into the midst of rising supernatural tensions in the city. Entangled in a web of intrigue and seeking answers, Lucie must learn to navigate a powder keg of warring factions, family secrets, and old wounds if she hopes to survive.

Warnings: Canon Typical Violence, Some Language, Smoking, Death, Drinking

Series Masterlist

Read on AO3

Chapter 1: City of the Dead

The streets are packed shoulder to shoulder as Lucie steps out of the cab and onto Decatur.

With the worst of hurricane season behind and the oppressive summer heat fading, the French Quarter is in full swing to prepare for Halloween. Beneath the wizened, watchful eyes of St. Louis Cathedral, Jackson Square is a veritable menagerie of excitement. Tourists pose for photos in front of the manicured gardens while artists, street performers, and fortune tellers seek to alleviate their heavy wallets by a buck or two. The honeyed notes of a corner brass band reverberate off the walls of the red, pink, and purple Spanish-style buildings, rising above the bustle to join the music coming off Royal and Bourbon, mixing into a cacophony of jazz that floats overhead like a cloud. 

Lucie hates the French Quarter. It hits her in full force as she squeezes between feverish bodies and dilapidated storefronts, the air thick with the miasma of sweat, seafood, and alcohol. The colors are too bright and the smiles too broad, both painted and polished for the out-of-town crowds. 

But Lucie knows the truth. The sugared confections, clinking plastic beads, and the curated romance of wrought-iron balconies and Spanish oaks, are a mask. Like a corpse sewn and rouged for the wake, they hide the telltale signs of decay. 

In a land below the water table, the earth spits out its dead in a final act of rejection. Above-ground burials are hot real estate, dotting the landscape like ant hills. Yet even in death, all is not equal. Towering over regular “ovens,” the grand mausoleums of Lafayette and St. Louis are monuments to the elite. 

New Orleans is more mausoleum than city. 

She weaves through a sea of people crossing the square. Her feet travel the well-worn flagstones of streets where victims of Yellow Fever were once left to molder in the heat until they could be dumped into the Mississippi. There had been too many to bury. 

It’s only one of many gruesome moments in the city’s long history. Stories of not only apparitions, but the atrocities that humans commit against each other were enough to make even the most skeptical of locals harbor a healthy fear of that which lurks in the dark. 

Even they don’t know what Lucie does, don’t know what monsters make their beds on the banks of the delta. 

A chill radiates through Lucie like long, bony fingers running down her spine. The cathedral’s shadow amplifies the ice in her veins as she slips into one of its quiet side alleys. 

The air is lighter here. She fills her lungs and finds her bearings against the faded white-washed facade. Only when she retrieves the box of cigarettes from her purse does she notice her trembling hands. 

It’s not surprising. Not when she passed through two state lines, including the entire width of Texas, in the last eighteen hours. That’s saying nothing of the half day spent on some roadside trying to find a tow company to haul her and her sedan out of the bayou. The ride here alone had cost her close to a week’s old wages. 

And Violette is dead. 

The sentence plays on an endless loop in her head. Like if she only tells it to herself enough times, it’ll make it seem real. But all she can muster is a dull acceptance and sharp edges of a distant pain. 

She’ll have to deal with it eventually, but for now, presses a cigarette to her lips and lights it. Her eyes close against the familiar harshness as the smoke slides down her throat.

“That’s a terrible habit, you know.” A voice says and Lucie jumps out of her skin. Smoke catches in her throat. She coughs and scowls at the intruder with stinging eyes. 

The first thing she notices is the tattoo on his chest. It’s eye-level, peeking out from beneath the collar of a light-colored Henley. The shirt is tucked into a pair of jeans so meticulously distressed they must have cost a fortune. She doesn’t need to look at his face to know this isn’t the average LSU frat boy. But she does anyway. 

What she finds is blue eyes beneath sandy locks of curly hair and a smug smile. She realizes he’s smirking. At her. 

“Yeah, I’ve heard,” she says, flicking the end of the cigarette. She watches the ash flutter to the ground before taking another drag, despite her burning chest. Irritation flickering, she adds, “So is sticking your nose in other people’s business.”

If she thought it would humble the strange man, she was wrong. His smile broadens in a way that can only be described as wolfish. 

“Then I suppose we’re both in need of a little self-improvement.” His accent is unmistakably English. That in and of itself is surprising. Usually, foreigners opt for more well-known travel hubs, the Gulf Coast or Floridian beaches. But there’s something in his tone, too. Like he’s laughing at a joke she’s not in on. 

She hums in a non-committal response, hoping he’ll take the hint and leave her alone. She’s never been particularly lucky. 

“Shouldn’t you be out with your friends, enjoying all that the French Quarter has to offer?”

She exhales, watching the smoke swirl and dance in the space between them. “Needed some air,” she shrugs. 

If he’s fishing for personal details, he has the wrong girl. And she certainly isn’t going to let on that she’s here alone. Despite her more melancholy tendencies, she doesn’t have any desire to end up at the bottom of the Mississippi. 

“Well, filling your lungs with poison seems a strange way to get it,” the man drawls. The amused sparkle in his eyes sets her teeth on edge and tests the limits of her already strained nerves. 

“Are you bad at picking up hints or just a dick?”

The man laughs.

“Easy, love,” he says, hands up. “Your point is clear enough. I’m just passing through. It’s a free city, after all.”

Lucie feels the tiniest flicker of regret. Exhaustion and stress and years away had eroded her manners. 

“I’m sorry,” she says reluctantly. “It’s been a long day and crowds make me edgy. Do you need directions?”

His lips flicker in the faintest of smiles. “Oh, I think I can find my way.”

And with that, he steps out of the alley and into the bright daylight, disappearing into the crowd beyond. 

Well, that was weird.

_____

She’s hit with a blast of cool air as Lucie steps off Chartres Street and into Rousseau’s. She blinks a few times, eyes adjusting from the abrupt transition from bright autumn sunlight to the dim ambiance of the bar. 

A handful of patrons drink at tables scattered across the room. Nobody raises their voice above a whisper. The soft sounds of conversation only seem to add to the sleepy atmosphere. It’s a far cry from the world outside its doors. 

The bell jingles as the door shuts behind Lucie and a blonde head pops up from behind the polished bar top. 

“Hi!” the breathless bartender says. “Take a seat wherever and I’ll be around to take your order in a sec.”

Lucie nods, but the woman has already returned to rummaging around behind the bar. 

Framed art and candles cover the walls. It’s an odd mismatch, but it works somehow, giving the place a quaint, hole-in-the-wall sort of charm, Lucie thinks as she slides into a seat at the bar. 

“Alright,” the bartender says after a few minutes pass. “What can I get for you?”

‘Camille ’- according to her nametag- peers at her from the other side. Dark blonde strands escape the confines of her loose ponytail, framing her angular cheekbones. She seems a little frazzled, but her lovely hazel eyes shine with curiosity, and her smile is friendly. And even though her nose wrinkles in disgust when Lucie orders the cheapest domestic on tap, she doesn’t say anything. 

She turns away to pour her beer, and it’s then that Lucie realizes that she’s not alone at the bar. 

She watches the man at the other end, with detached observation. She traces the sharp lines of his profile, from the meticulous coif of his dark hair to the strong jut of his jaw. The perfect tailoring of his suit accentuates the broad span of his shoulders and the curves of his biceps in a way that makes him seem more fit for the pages of an Armani catalog than an empty French Quarter haunt. 

What are they putting in the water here?

When his eyes, dark and arresting, lock on hers, she realizes that she’s been caught staring. His lips quirk at the edges and she turns her head to inspect the patterns in the wood grain, cheeks hot. 

It’s not until she has a beer in hand and some of the initial embarrassment has faded that she dares another glance. To her relief, he’s looking down into the amber contents of his glass. If she had to put a name to his expression, she’d call it pensive. 

“So, how long are you in town for?” Camille asks.

“Hmmm?” Lucie tears her gaze from the man in the suit to look at her. “Oh, just a week.”

Camille’s lips quirk as she rubs at the wood with a washcloth. “Is it your first time in the city? I’ve got a laundry list of recommendations if you need them.”

“Thanks, but they’d be wasted on me.” When the bartender gives her a curious look, she adds, “I grew up not too far from here.”

“I thought I smelled a local,” Camille says wryly. “Irish Channel.”

“Garden District,” Lucie replies with a soft smile. Her eyes wander about the room as she searches for a friendly topic. “Do you still have family nearby?”

It’s the wrong thing to say because the bartender’s smile slips and her eyes go blank. Then she plasters it back on, though more lackluster than before. “Just an uncle, but we don’t really talk.” 

Lucie gives a sympathetic hum. “Families are tough.”

The bartender snorts. “You can say that again. I didn’t catch your name.”

“Lucie.”

“Nice to meet you, Lucie. I’m Cami.”

“Likewise,” Lucie says, sipping at her beer. “You can’t be that much younger than me, but I haven’t seen you around here before.”

“You wouldn’t have,” Cami says, tensing to a stack of empty glasses. “Catholic school until I left for college. I’ve only been back for a couple of months. I didn’t plan on being here this long.” 

Lucie swallows the foamy liquid, only wincing a little as it goes down. “This place has a way of dragging us back, kicking and screaming.”

Cami huffs in agreement, leaning against the bar top. “Good to know it’s a universal experience. What brought you back? -No wait, let me guess, a wedding?”

“Funeral, actually.”

She expects the stilted silence that follows, but it doesn’t make it any less uncomfortable. 

“I’m sorry to hear that,” she asks gently. “Can I ask who it was?”

“My great-aunt.”

“I take it you were close?” She pauses at the stunned look on Lucie’s face. “Actually, you know what? It's none of my business. I’m going to shut up now.” Cami’s cheeks flush and she returns to wiping at the counter with renewed vigor. “Grad degree in psych. I need to learn to shut it off.”

“Impressive,” Lucie laughs. “Maybe you should lean into it. I bet a drink-slinging therapist could make some pretty amazing tips.”

“You know, I think you might be onto something there.” Cami smiles at her, cheeks still pink, but seemingly relieved she’d been let off the hook. “Maybe we can be business partners.”

She reaches under the counter to the distinct sound of clinking glass.

Then a bottle of bourbon lands on the bar, followed by two shot glasses. Cami pours both and slides one to Lucie. “Here, on the house.”

Lucie gives her a questioning look.

Cami shrugs. “Let’s say I know what it’s like to come back to say goodbye.”

The expression she gives her is so sincere that Lucie finds herself at a loss for words. 

She lifts the glass, locking eyes with the beautiful bartender. “To goodbyes.”

“To goodbyes,” Cami echoes, clinking their glasses together before knocking the whiskey back. 

Lucie does the same. The amber liquid burns her nostrils and sears down her throat, but settles like a warm blanket in her belly. It almost feels like home. 

When she steals a glance to her side, the man in the suit is gone. 

____

A light breeze tugs playfully at her hair, but her body is liquor-warm as she steps out of Rousseau’s. A reluctant smile forms on her lips. It’s late. She had stayed at the bar far longer than she’d meant to. But Cami was easy to talk to, and it had been a long time since she’d been in the company of women her own age. They’d swapped stories and numbers, sharing more than a few drinks. 

A couple of squandered hours and a long walk on a nice night seemed a small price to pay to find a kindred spirit here of all places. 

Nearly a mile of clubs and bars stand between her and her hotel. She knows the streets like the back of her hand. The walk should take her twenty minutes except she opts to detour down to St. Peter. It’ll add another ten minutes to the trip, but at least it’ll keep her a safe distance from the east side of Dauphine. 

The last thing she wants is a run-in at the Jardin Gris. So she commits to enjoying the extra long walk that allows her to bask in the peaceful balmy night and ignores her aching feet.

The streets are mostly empty, though a few individuals are out enjoying the evening. She sidesteps them as she passes, deftly avoiding uneven slabs in the sidewalk. 

The trees rustle as another gust picks up, carrying the rich scent of gumbo and soft brass.

When she was a girl, she used to wile away autumn evenings like this at Violette’s. She and the other girls would park themselves on the front stoop with glasses of lemonade and listen to the music. Inside, the older women chatted in the kitchen, peeling vegetables and taking turns stirring the pot. 

Now and then, one of them would step out of the hot kitchen to catch the cool air. Bastiana would chide them for their laziness and, more often than not, Violette would shoo them away to do some chore or another. But she always liked it when Agnes came to join them. She was quick with a smile or a gentle pat, and she always had the best stories.

Her chest constricts. It’s a past that’s no longer hers. No one lives in the old house in the Garden District and Agnes would be more likely to drive a knife through her heart than tell her story if they were to cross paths now.

She shakes off the pain like a chill. It’ll still be there in the morning, but for now, the night is too lovely to let old ghosts ruin it. The sun has long since dipped beyond buildings and the French Quarter comes to life. Neon signs and gas lamps glitter like stars from every corner, casting Chartres in an ethereal glow. 

She watches a group of girls stumble out of a bar, leaning on each other for support as they amble along in their heels like drunken gazelle. Their laughter jingles like bells as they pass her in a gaggle of hooked elbows and hairspray. 

Cool air wafts off the river, bathing the neighborhood in a crisp shroud. The street lamps glow and fairy lights twinkle from balconies overhead.

Bewitched, she follows rows of picturesque balconies block by block. Laughter and music trail behind her. 

The Ursuline Convent looms a few blocks ahead, but even it can’t dampen her spirits. For a moment, she wonders if she ever truly thought she could hate this place.

Then, she turns the corner and finds Jane-Anne Deveraux dead on the pavement.

[daggerzine]

Snowgoose- Descendant (Violette Records)

Snowgoose, the Scottish duo of Anna Sheard(vocals) and Jim McCulloch(guitar), are releasing their third album, Descendant. A who’s who of incredible Scottish artists join them this time around. Check out this lineup: guitarist Raymond McGinley (Teenage Fanclub), keyboard player Chris Geddes (Belle & Sebastian), bass player Stevie Jones (Arab Strap), pedal steel guitarist Tim Davidson (Tracyanne & Danny), drummer Stuart Kidd (BMX Bandits), and percussionist Adam Stearns (Trembling Bells). “Better Listen” kicks off the album. It’s also the first single. Not sure if seeing Carole King’s Beautiful recently triggered this, but it’s got a “Sweet Seasons” vibe to it. Nothing wrong with that. Anna’s beautiful vocals over a dreamy song sets the stage for a great album. Here’s the video:

Next up, “Salix” is a bluesy number with nice percussion. Love the gorgeous chorus, " Happy and waiting, willow willow. Anticipating, willow willow. Without any warning, willow willow. A new strike is dawning, willow willow." Track 3, “The Fall,” highlighted by the organ and a blistering guitar solo, shares a deep, emotional, somber song. Next, “Down the Line,” features repetitive, but beautiful keyboards with trumpets. It's another favorite that's borderline jazz. Track 5, “Good Medicine,” highlights Anna’s singing in a bluesy way. The chorus will have you screaming along, "Got me good medicine. I didn’t take it before. Got me good medicine. Now I’m begging for more." “Sorrow,” despite the title, is a bouncy borderline country and western number that features jangly guitar, trickling keyboards, and a solid rhythm section. “Bewildered Dance” is an eerie waltz that showcases Anna’s soaring vocals and Davidson's pedal steel playing. It's a song Renaissance could've easily composed back in their heyday. "We can see, we can dream. In this dance. I just can’t seem to understand. The way you go with this heavy load. How can I ever understand? The way you go." Track 8, “Fugue State,” is a short, moving instrumental complete with Anna’s “oohs and aahs” that could easily fit on a movie soundtrack. “Call For Peace” is exactly what the title states. In our world filled with wars, Snowgoose is doing anything it can to stop the bloodshed. “Your callous mind attempts to fool us all. Swept aside, ignored the signs of conflict. Hope in silence, you may hear our shalom.” The title track, and 2nd single, “Descendant,” is another favorite. As the drums kick in with delicate keyboards and soaring vocal harmonies, it’s an easy one you’ll want to sing along with, ”Change of the season. I’m lost for good reason. Going out of my mind. It’s assuring my time.” Here’s the video:

The album closes with “Wings of Glory” coming full circle with the Carole King sound. It's another beautiful piano-driven ballad with touches of pedal steel that sparkles the heart. I'll cast my vote to make this the 3rd single. Now, the only issue is that the album is over. Anna says it all here: "Descendant explores the delicate interplay between the joys of love and the inevitability of loss. Each song navigates the complex emotions that connect these experiences, serving as a reflection on the beauty and pain of impermanence."

UK Tour Live Performances: Acoustic Co-Headline Shows with Eugene Kelly(!): 18th October - Central Bar, Gateshead 19th October - Art Bank, Shepton Mallet 20th October - The Waiting Rooms, London (matinee show) 21st October - The Prince Albert, Brighton 22nd October - Leaf, Bold Street, Liverpool

Here’s hoping Snowgoose can tour this album in the US. ERIC EGGLESON

[andythefurnituremaker]

Banks Violette

[chameleon-on-lsd]

SOKO Leipzig S24E1 - 4 liveblogging

Joela

oh no is that man gonna die a horrible death? nope he finds someone das fucking streichkonzert opening xD AH Moritz is dir nicht kühl? wie sad moritz ist ;-; helllooooo barman lmao sein 'ach du scheisse' xD (mh okay I guess es ist sommer? idk sah für mich so frühlingsmässig aus xD) hey another one for the 'relative calling dead person during todesnachricht' jar warum läuft deren pc im wohnzimmer einfach? hey another 'ach du scheisse' xD finds geil wie die deren namen jetzt schon auf 3 verschiedene weisen ausgesprochen haben hallo typ mit kettchen du lebst in nem fucking loch my guy oder ner fucking fabrik god die shaky cam des todes xD :O INA MIT CAP omg (god that guy's body type. i'm jealous) und schon wieder 2 verschiedene aussprachen von jan alleine für den namen xDD ugh the non-continuity of moritz supporting his head with the hand in different poses in the wide and close-up gott hat die schwangere krasse grüne augen moritz ya little creep xD announce yourself better wkdljaslkdasl moritz so cute auch wenn der schnäuzer irgendwie noch krasser ist diese staffel xDD damn those two got problems gott moritz ist so süss und helpful 'pubertät ist, wenn die eltern anfangen schwierig zu werden' 'pft, wem sagen sie das, meine mutter isses bis heute gelieben' mORITZ. it's true but you can't just drop that xDD aslkdjalsdjlajlkd wie impressed er von der musik ist xD 'grrrrreat balls of fire' playing softly in the background lmao einmal tagebuch klauen :D (also ja er fragt um erlaubnis) AHHHHHHH MORITZ UND JAN AUFM FENSTERSIMS bbies salkdjasdl wie moritz das tagebuch vorliest. '[....] mein gott, is ja ein richtiger Pilcher' xDD moritz auf der bank um ins fenster zu spinzeln xDD ......warum würde der mann aufs HAUSTELEFON anrufen? wer tut das 'komm sie, freie fahrt!' xD gott ich lieb moritz was ist das für ne fucking kameraeinstellung?? das ist so unter der tischkante. maus POV?? gott moritz in verhören <3333 finds geil das man von moritz vor der tür basically nur den ring und die augen sieht xDD natürlich hat die was damit zu tun and the next weird kameraeinstellung unfortunately, the guy is kinda of attractive but also kudos to his commitment to fuck before going for the piss he wanted to take. how und dann nicht mal abschliessen?? xDD ya murdered your best friend? vorallem.. der typ der beste auf erde? ne xD 'wo wir ab und zu mal gekifft haben'. sir you're 25 and she's 15. bahahahaha WARUM habt ihr die tanz szene gefilmt? xDDD ja geil, underage beziehung verherlichen xD

Zaubermittel

'richtig nice mucke heute abend'. ja klar, sagt man so zum türsteher (wenn man kurz mal weggeht?)??? mh raus kiffen ?? einmal random ersticken lmao die wegziehenden schuhe DIE FUCKING GRAUE JEANSJACKE MIT SCHWARZEM FELL. MOTIZ ALTER und dann noch der beige strickpulli, die schwarzen hosen und boots dazu. fuCK man. was für ein outfit <3333 'na, ein partner, eine partnerin?' how to make a subtle queer character <3 or just a WOKE xD schön hat moritz handschüchen an um den zettel zu befummeln und gibt ihn dann ina. die keine ahndschuhe trägt xD wieder mal mit dem fucking scannen auf nem ipad?? lmao the je ne regrette rien holy shit das outfit von kim ist auch <3333 (weisser hoodie mit schwarz-weisser karojacke und grauen jeans und weissen sneakern) aaaaah wie scheissen flauschig moritz' pulli aussieht das ist mal ein schickes haus ..was? fully didn't understand what she's trying to say gottt. der mitbewohner ist auch einfach hübsch wie die alte sich versteckt xD AAAAH MORITZ 'vielleicht möchten sie sich kurz setzen.' 'ne alles gut, passt schon' geile antwort irgendwie xD moritz deine haare sich etwas zerzaust 'die waren so weird miteinander' xD gott moritz, der grüne pulli ist auch <333 kim mit der alten dame xDD rettig hat so ne angenehme stimme und moritz der sich einfach selber mal mitm projekt erblinden lässt xD die outfits diese episode ficken so hart. der violette pulli mit der karo jacke?? einfach schick ....dafür ist ina's augen make up sehr fragwürdig. blauer eyeliner um die aussenseite rum .... 'ich weiss dass man ziemlich dumme sachen machen kann für eine süchtige die einem wichtig ist' moritz ;-; ugh der fucking sichtbeton in der wohnung. warum ist das so ein trend XDDD that very casual confession of 'yup. i killed him' XDD that was. SO weird xD aww die beiden <3

Keine Rettung

XDD mal wieder 'voller frühstückstisch und person geht ohne zu essen' trope was habt ihr fürn fucking anwesen??? ......wie scheissen kalt ist es in dem haus wenn man deinen atem sieht?? gras in episode. 3/3 so far lmao XDDDDDDDDDD moritz mit dem handy entsperren durch gesichtserkennung von der toten ....ich versteh jetzt aber einfach noch fucking weniger was für ne jahreszeit war in der ersten episode. weil moritz trug draussen kurzärmelige sachen und die einen haben ihren rasen gesprengt. aber jetzt ist fucking winter? timeline? don't know her aw, ina mal wieder auf fortbildung die pflanze gegossen. dachte schon den fucking fake bonsai den ina hat XD das wär so ne troll anweisung von ihr was rettig einfach immer für random arbeiten hat xD liebs what THE FUCK 'rettungsgeschwister'??? damn that's fucked up djlksajdalk kim und moritz. 'kannst dich ja mal mit meiner mutter unterhalten. würde mich wahrscheinlich auch sofort für bent zum ausschlachten freigeben.' ....warum all die bahnhof luft aufnahmen? 'oberkomissar'? has jan ever introduced himself like that? XDDD gott okay der schnäuzer von dem typen ist einiges schlimmer adölaksdlkalö moritz darf mal wieder englisch reden lol ....und ne drogenleber wär gut gewesen?? .....was ist das für ne weirde metalltafel / magnetboard das kim als dartscheibe benutzt? xDD <333 eeeeeeverlooooooong wie moritz impressed ist von dem büro xDD (ist das nicht auch der drehort vom büro von der alten staatsanwältin oder wer das war?) '.....ihnen auch ein schönen guten tag' xD ......ist die olle da einfach reingewandert???? wie kann die einfach durchs präsidium laufen?? lmao wie kim und jan einfach kaffee aufgedrängt wird xD dakldjaslkdas moritz mit den salzstangen 'das ist mein abendbrot' moritz ;-; asdlkasödla und der blick dazu ;-; <333 AAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH AAAAAAAAA MORITZ KEEP IT IN YOUR PANTS AKDLÖASKDÖL H E L P am I a kim/moritz truther now? or it's just something about him looming y e l l i n g .................... die sind geschwister oder?? WER hockt SO seinem bruder auf den schoss?? XDDDDD mal wieder eine mit 0000 handy code. und hätte erwartet das jan was dazu sagt so wie adam jan...... nicht SO viel giessen xD jan. du bist ein beschissener cop XDDDDD natürlich haben die anderne beiden die pflanze ersetzt

Ohnmächtig

hey mal wieder boxclub setting für ne cop show lol quite interesting sound design/mix for the opener brian? xD very random vielleicht kann ich mir endlich mal sabine's name merken 'das war ein guter kampf' ya killed a guy xD tiddies ........that guy isn't that Weisser wie Schwarzer von spatort? yee it is aaaaaah moritz im hoodie <33333 und wie die ganze gang dunkle kleidung trägt XDDDDDD MORITZZZZZZZZ. erst schön frühmorgens den arsch einer fitness influencerin aufm beamer anstarren und darüber sinieren, dass man so halt follower kriegt, dann super süss kim einen kaffee anbieten und dann das niedlichste lächeln weil er einfach komplett am tagträumen ist xDD die hat ne schöne wohnung lmao, wie fucking lame die box show ist. halt fix einfach so als wären 15 leute im raum die tun als wären es 50. XDDDD fellas, is it gay to stand forehead to forehead, nose to nose, with your opponent? lmao die befragung mit einfach den random 4 mädels am boxen. 'sowas ist part of the deal okay' amazing 'du hässliche bitch' xDD things I didn't except jan to say (well he's reading comments) 'das klingt toxisch' xD lmao und moritz voll im sherlock modus. 'die beleidigungen haben muster!' xD XDDDD JAN 'WIE WÄRS MITM PROBETRAINING' DO WE GET JAN ARMS?? aw t-shirt sadkjadjklkj the sport shorts tho xDDD poor jan d'aw das pommes sharing von kim und jan xD und moritz klaut natürlich welche xD moritz in dem hoodie <3333 der case ist so fucking langweilig. and all the people are unlikeable xD and the flashback scenes are weird wenigstens die musik ist gut lol und noch n 'toxische beziehung' drop

[whatsnow-design]

BANKS VIOLETTE / PAINTING

[brn1029]

On this date in music…lots of stuff went down, it’s also Ted Nugents 74th birthday today….

December 13th

2021 - Joe Simon

American soul and R&B musician Joe Simon died age 85. He charted 51 U.S. Pop and R&B chart hits between 1964 and 1981. His biggest hits included three number one entries on the US Billboard R&B chart: ‘The Chokin' Kind’ (1969), ‘Power of Love’ (1972), and ‘Get Down, Get Down (Get on the Floor)’ (1975).

2019 - Tom Petty

A settlement was reached in the Tom Petty estate battle between the rock legend’s widow and his two daughters from a previous marriage. Petty’s daughters Adria Petty and Annakim Violette sued Dana York Petty for $5 million after claiming that the widow superseded the daughters’ rights to “equal participation” over decisions involving the singer’s estate and catalog.

2012 - The Rolling Stones

A collection of love letters written by Mick Jagger to American singer Marsha Hunt sold at auction for £187,250. The letters were penned in the summer of 1969 while The Rolling Stones frontman was in Australia. They are believed to be the inspiration for the band's hit single 'Brown Sugar'.

2005 - John Lennon

A cheque signed by John Lennon made out to the Inland Revenue sold for £2,000 at a UK auction. It was sold by former madam Lindi St Clair, (formerly known as Miss Whiplash), after she decided she had no use for it. Clair who now runs a duck farm in Herefordshire had bought the cheque for £4,000 in 1988. It was signed by Lennon on 23rd January 1968 on a District Bank Limited form and made out for £6,946.

2002 - Zal Yanovsky

Canadian guitarist and singer Zal Yanovsky of The Lovin Spoonful died of a heart attack. Was a member of The Mugwumps with Denny Doherty and Cass Elliot. Formed Lovin Spoonful with John Sebastian in 1964, they scored the 1966 US No.1 & UK No.8 single 'Summer In The City'.

2000 - Melody Maker

It was announced that after 74 years the UK rock weekly Melody Maker was to close down. The Christmas edition would be the last one then it would merge with the NME creating a more sizeable broad-based magazine.

1986 - Bruce Hornsby

Bruce Hornsby & The Range went to No.1 on the US singles chart, with 'The Way It Is', a No.15 hit in the UK. Written by Bruce Hornsby and his brother John Hornsby, it made explicit reference to the American Civil Rights Movement. The song was heavily sampled by Tupac Shakur in his song, 'Changes' from 1998.

1970 - Dave Edmunds

Dave Edmunds was at No.1 on the UK singles chart with his version of the 1955 Smiley Lewis hit 'I Hear You Knocking.' The Welsh singer, songwriter and producers only No.1 hit.

1966 - Jimi Hendrix

Jimi Hendrix made his TV debut on ITV's 'Ready Steady Go!' (Marc Bolan was also on the show). The Jimi Hendrix Experience also recorded 'Foxy Lady' on this day. The United States version of Are You Experienced listed the song with a spelling mistake as 'Foxey Lady' and this is how it is still known among many North American fans.

1962 - Elvis Presley

Elvis Presley was at No.1 on the UK singles chart with 'Return To Sender', his 13th UK No.1. Elvis performed 'Return To Sender' in the film Girls! Girls! Girls!. The opening bars and backing on baritone saxophone was performed by Bobby Keys who later went on to work with The Rolling Stones, The Who, Harry Nilsson, George Harrison and Eric Clapton.

1961 - The Beatles

The Beatles performed at the The Cavern Club Liverpool playing two shows at lunchtime and then again at night. Decca Records' Mike Smith attended the night performance with a view to offering The Beatles a recording contract.

1955 - Dickie Valentine

Dickie Valentine was at No.1 on the UK singles chart with 'Christmas Alphabet', the first Christmas song to reach the No.1 position. It was the first Christmas No.1 that was actually about Christmas, a trend that would continue off and on over the next several decades.

[aheathen-conceivably]

🎶 So I close my eyes and the tears will clear 🎶

The sound of the whistle permeated the air, cutting through the steam and fog on the docks of New Orleans. Zelda held Violette’s hand tightly so that she wouldn’t get lost amidst the sea of luggage and people greeting one another or waiting to be taken far from this place.

The moment that she stepped foot on the dock, Zelda's eyes were drawn up to the church, which looked exactly the same as it did when she had first arrived nine years ago. She was staring at it, distinctly recalling the dizzying feeling of the first time she had seen it rising above the river banks, when a figure rushed toward her.

Before she could say a word Antoine’s arms were around her, suffocating out everyone else on the dock and any of her reservations about being back there. He brushed back her hair and kissed every inch of her face, seemingly making no effort to hide the tears of happiness flowing from his eyes and unaware of the stares raining down on them.

He continually looked at Zelda, attempting to formulate the words to express how grateful he was simply to touch her and see her again, before he would lose his thoughts to a small sob or a quick touch of her gloved hand. He could feel the apology caught in his throat, begging to be let out, when a small hand began to tug at the pant leg of his pink suit.

He looked down to see a pair of olive green eyes besieging him for acknowledgment, her need for attention only heightened by her parent’s momentary forgetfulness of her. Antoine bent down to pull her into his arms, “Ma petite cherie! I am so very sorry. Tell me, how was England? Was it as grand as a storybook? Did you see any castles?”

“I did! I did! On a hill in the clouds just like in the stories. Momma told me my Aunt Rosella used to work there. Aunt Rosella was momma’s sister. She said she was pretty just like me and that she told lots of stories and…”

As Violette rambled on, Antoine pulled Zelda close to the two of them, unspeakably happy that they were back here with him. All of the noise around them seemed to fall into a pleasant drone as he stared as Zelda, still yet to speak to one another even as Violette continued to recount her entire journey across the Atlantic.

Sensing her parent’s emotions, Violette ceased her diatribe and tugged at her father’s collar, “Poppa? Poppa? Put me down. I’m big enough to walk on my own.”

The moment her small feet hit the wooden docks she began to confidently walk ahead of them, as if she knew every step to take to get back to the home she had been asking about for months. Her parents trailed behind, watching her steps lovingly and veering ever closer to one another.

When they reached the planked sidewalk above the dock, Antoine stopped and looked toward Zelda. It was quiet here, the murmur from the crowd below only reaching them in snippets. Suddenly the words he had been waiting months to say finally spilled from his mouth. He had accepted that she wasn’t coming home, that perhaps he couldn’t blame her in the slightest if she stayed in England.

Yet he wanted nothing more than for her to choose to come back, but couldn’t ask her to do so knowing that the future he offered here would never be as secure as the one she had in England. Even still he apologized in every way he could: for his absence, for allowing her to go without him at all, and for leaving her to face her ghosts alone while she had stood beside him through so many.

His eyes beseeched her as they bridged the small gap between them, “Zelda, if you can forgive me, I promise all you have to do is tell me you need me and I’ll never leave you alone again, okay?”

Zelda returned his gaze, knowing that his words were only part of what she needed. She had come back so that Violette wouldn’t grow up without him, but also simply because she wanted to be with him. Although her absence seemed to have drawn out what she craved from him, she still didn’t know if he could continue this vulnerability or face the difficult realty of their lives when mundanity returned.

But his eyes were so familiar, so earnest in their questioning and love, that she couldn’t deny why she had come back, and that she herself would turn a blind eye if it meant she could ever be this happy. She leaned onto him and lifted her eyes to meet his own, letting her face tell him that yes, she could forgive him.

“Momma? Poppa? What are you doing? Let’s go home!”

Zelda took Antoine’s hand in her own and began to follow after Violette, “Yes, my little love. Let’s go home.”

[searchsystem]

Banks Violette / Blum & Poe / Not Yet Titled / Installation / 2009

[thunderstruck9]

Banks Violette (American, b. 1973), Standard (Bergen Pro-Model), 2000. Oil on canvas, 213 x 127 cm.

[mimeticspace]

Banks Violette