Incest
Violet purrs (Violet purred), as if she could. As if she really, really, honestly did.
Klaus had a thing eating in his head. Mordant, corrosive, elusive, the reclusive. He could think, and read, and make smart, intellectual replies. Still. The thing's telling him: feel her up, kiss her hard. And the other (legitimate) part says: no, no, that wouldn't be right.
'Cause blood was thicker than water.
And that could be taken two entirely different ways. Damn axioms, minimums, maximums. How society plays high and low, dolled up and down. Whorish.
The thing eats him raw, peels back his skin, and reveals the intricacies and convolutions dancing inside. See, they say. This is how the body worked.
Raw, brutal, burned up to a char. And Klaus thinks he is a martyr. The only one burned at the stake. Till he sees Duncan (and Isadora) and Duncan touching Isadora.
-x-
Violet like a flower, violet like puce. And violent like puce-toned vomit is exactly what she makes him out.
"Klaus," he hears her calling, "Don't leave. You're all I have left." (Since Sunny grew sick and old
—Sick of them, old of deceit.
And so he does, back to her, back to his sister (and wife) and kisses her purple. The color of royal, like Caligula and so on. And as he's turning, he thinks he's losing his mind (there appeared Duncan and Isadora). But they were long, long dead.
Buried six feet under.