Author's Notes: I probably say this every chapter, but Gomen na! The reason for the lateness is that my computer died on me last week. .-. I promise I wasn't just being lazy! Anyways.. fairly soon, I'll be posting some artwork of Lavender and Airies on my Deviant Art page, since Wolferz has been demanding me to, just so you all know. So watch out for it, if you're interested! And now, onto the chapter! Enjoy. :3
;Standard disclaimer applies.
Chapter fifteen: Consequences
Midmorning sunlight decanted into a hotel room through unfiltered windows and beat mercilessly down upon the room's ill occupant. Lavender made a feeble groan and turned over, away from the windows. She was experiencing, and deeply ruing, the vindictively unpleasant after-effects of too much alcohol. The sunrays continued to shine down upon her and, coupled with the unusually great heat of the morning, made little balls of sweat trickle over her face.
For Lavender, everything was anguish this morning. Every little sound stabbed and pounded on the inside of Lavender's head; from the creaking of the frail bedsprings in the mattress beneath her, to the upbeat chirping of little green birds outside. The blankets piled on top of her felt as though they were being set on fire by a giant magnifying glass that was augmenting the sunlight. Lavender's throat was parched and begged for moisture to soothe the sandpapery feel, as did her stomach beg to be nourished with food. To add to all these circumstances, the bed sheets, below and above her, annoyingly clung to her bare, sweaty legs as if they were magnetic.
Giving out a sigh, Lavender rubbed away her tears of sleep. She lay for another fifteen minutes or so, willing herself to get back to sleep, but found it was a wasted effort. The morning had spoken. It was time for Lavender to face the day, her sickness and her problems. The former two she didn't mind so much if it was possible to a) avoid heatstroke and b) be as inactive as boredom would permit. Her problems she could do without confronting. At least until she could heal and recover from the shock of finding out whom she really was. Or rather, who her father really was.
Lavender flipped her legs out over the side of the bed and gasped at the sudden thumping her head experienced, induced by the movement as though it was a punishment. She put her head in her palms and tried ignore the painful sensations rooted in her forehead and stomach. Though it was hard to think straight or be resourceful, Lavender decided that what she really needed right now was water. So when the pain died down a little, she stood, her legs like jelly, and trekked towards the bathroom. Twice her legs almost gave way underneath her, she felt so dizzy and nauseous, but she eventually made it in there.
Since there was nothing in the kin of a kitchen in her sparse hotel room, she would have to drink straight from the bathroom sink without a glass. Lavender flicked the tap on and inspected the water as it poured into the dinky basin. It seemed potable enough, despite a faint cloudiness. She shrugged (It wasn't going to get any cleaner, after all.) and scooped some up in her palm. After several rotations of the scoop-and-sip routine, Lavender began to tire and her thirst still wasn't satisfied.
She flopped down onto the bathroom throne and rested her legs for a moment, thinking. She would take a shower, she decided. The best way to receive as much water as possible. Since Lavender was feeling so weak and faint, she had half a mind not to undress and to just get in the shower fully clothed. But, recalling that she had no spare clothes, she dismissed the notion and slowly began undressed herself, careful not to disturb or increase the rhythmic pounding in her head.
Sitting on the tiles of the shower cubicle, with her knees in the margins of her arms, Lavender began to drift away from the steady pattering of the water on the floor and on her skin. Her mind wandered over the events of the past two days and she thought sullenly of how she had acted the previous night.
'Maybe Syrell was right…'
-
Syrell and Lavender were sitting quietly and morosely in the hub of a crowded bar. Drunken shouts and raucous laughter issued from the other occupants around them while the 'clink' of glass was heard throughout the smoky, dimly lit room, signifying that the inebriated were getting even drunker. Syrell was looking harassed and uncomfortable in the atmosphere, and failing to understand how Lavender had managed to drag him into this grungy bar in the first place. He sighed exasperatedly as Lavender took another draught of some cheap beer to her lips. Lavender downed the glass of the bitter, yeasty liquid in no time flat and belched.
"I can't believe it," she said tipsily, wiping her mouth on the back of her hand. Syrell gave a mumble in response.
"I just can't believe it!" Lavender reiterated, more loudly.
"Okay, Lavender," Syrell replied fervidly. Lavender shot him a look of disdain that was exaggerated by liquor. She huffed and tossed her nose into the air, grabbing one of the few bottles at the table that still had a little liquor left in it. Syrell sighed again as the beer precariously missed Lavender's schooner as she poured it. Lavender glanced down and righted the angle of the bottle nozzle. When the mug was full, she took it to her mouth and gulped it down eagerly. This routine went on for a while and Syrell just sat in silence, not dissenting. Not aloud, anyway.
"You know…I really just can't believe that my father is Vash the Stampede!" she said with the air of those people around her that had drank one too many, put a little too much emphasis on random words. Syrell's eyes flashed furtively sideways at her.
"Then don't believe it," he said scathingly. It was difficult to tell whether Lavender ignored Syrell or whether his voice had just been lost in the chatter of the other bar patrons.
"Still," she began with a stupid grin. "I'm free now! I'll never have to see the bastard again!" She cheered and shook her drink about. Syrell balked as some of the beer sloshed over him.
"Listen," he demanded. "When are you gonna stop this?"
"Stop what?" Lavender responded into her mug.
"Lavender," Syrell began as calmly as he could. "I know you're angry with your dad—"
"Of course I'm angry!" Lavender cut in, slamming her glass down on the table. Beer slopped out onto its surface as she did so. "The bastard lied to me my whole life!" She slapped her palm on the table drunkenly.
"I don't think you should be calling him that, Lavender," Syrell reproved.
"Why the hell not?" she demanded vociferously. "My parents—no, parent—anyway, those two lied to me my whole life! My father is Vash the bloody Stampede and I had no idea!"
"Keep your voice down," Syrell hissed. One or two people were glancing circumspectly over their shoulders at Lavender.
"No! I won't beee quiet! I woon't!" she slurred. "My dad is Vash the Stampeeeede! He could've…God, he could've killed meee!"
"He only slapped you, for goodness sake," Syrell corrected, sighing in derision.
"Only slapped me?" Lavender said incredulously. "ONLY SLAPPED ME? THE SH—" That was the last straw.
"Lavender!" Syrell barked. He was on his feet. "SHUT UP!" Lavender paused, taken aback.
"Okay, he hit you!" Syrell went on vehemently. "So what? We both saw that he immediately regretted it afterwards! He didn't mean it, and you know it!"
"He diiid…" Lavender protested weakly.
"You wouldn't even hear him out!" Syrell cut across her. "And you acted like a total cad! Ripping up the photo album like that was totally uncalled for! And you're still being a contrary little cow!" Lavender looked daggers at Syrell, opening and closing her mouth but not finding any opportunities to speak.
"Not to mention how irresponsible you're acting!" Syrell continued. "You ran away from your parents, you stole two thomas', and you made me leave New Miami with you so you could 'get out of that city with such bad memories'!" The whole bar was now silent and staring in awe at the pair.
"But you don't know how it feels!" Lavender pointed out after a moment of hush. Her eyes were glistening a little. "You don't know how it feels to be lied to all your life!"
"Actually, Lavender," Syrell said more calmly. "I do. My parents never told me that I was adopted. I overheard them talking one night. And let me tell you, not once did I ever think about 'drowning my sorrows' or fleeing 'such a horrible city'!" Lavender went pink. Partly because she stood corrected and partly because she realized she had nothing to counter with.
"But…at least your parents were good to you," she argued pathetically.
"And yours weren't good to you?" Syrell spat. "I think you have the greatest parents a girl could ever hope for. Think of all the things that your father and mother have done for you! Too many!" Lavender blushed more brightly and scowled up at Syrell.
"Lavender," Syrell said quietly with an air of finality. "You're my best friend and I'm not gonna lie to you." He inhaled and stared sternly down at Lavender. "You are spoiled, irresponsible, melodramatic and a cow! You are completely ignoring the reason why your parents lied to you!" At these remarks Lavender got furiously to her feet and looked livid at Syrell.
"AND WHAT REASON IS THAT?" she demanded, situating her hands on her hips and making a conscious effort to appear taller than her friend.
"ARE YOU THAT MUCH OF AN IDIOT? YOUR WHOLE LIFE, YOUR DAD HAS BEEN TRYING TO PROTECT YOU!" With that, Syrell kicked his chair aside and stormed out of the bar. Lavender was left with mixed feelings and the gaze of the entire bar placed on her. She was stunned, angry and disbelieving and her eyes were glazed in deliberation.
She was about to sit down and take up her half-empty mug of beer when the scraping of chairs met her ears. Glancing around at the looks on the faces of the other customers, Lavender decided, with the little logic she had left, that it was best to scram before anyone pulled a firearm on her. Though having it known that she was Vash the Stampede's daughter might inspire fear in some people, Lavender knew that these people, since they had heard the entire conversation, weren't likely to run with tails between their legs. No, even a drunken idiot knew when it was time to make an exit. Especially when everyone knew you were helpless, inebriated and none other than a child of the legendary outlaw himself.
Their hands were at their holsters. Lavender mumbled something of an apology and quickly dashed out of the bar. A little or so later, she was hiding in another alley. After half an hour of crouching in the darkness and holding back the contents of her stomach, Lavender decided that the bar customers had not come after her. Perhaps they were smarter, or more scared, than Lavender had thought. Maybe smart wasn't the correct word, but Lavender didn't care. With no intention of making an exhibition of herself anywhere else in Septombre city, she made giddily to the nearest hotel and got herself a cheap room for the night. The first thing she did when she had clambered up the stairs and into the room was make for the toilet to empty her stomach.
-
'Maybe Syrell was right,' Lavender reflected, hugging her knees tighter. 'Maybe dad was just trying to protect me.' In spite of the fact that it was a good explanation for her father's irrational behavior over the years, Lavender didn't really feel like forgiving him. It just too difficult for her, right now, to come to terms with Vash's identity. And since it was proven that Milly wasn't Lavender's true mother, who was she really? Questions such as these roamed about Lavender's mind. Then she thought of Syrell and how she had unjustly yelled at him.
The tears came and Lavender just let them roll over her cheeks with the droplets of water. She just simply sat there, silently crying, missing her best friend and missing her pet cat and her guitar until the shower ran cold.
Lavender turned the shower knobs off tight and grabbed the only towel off of the rack on the wall. She dried herself, the starched fabric of the towel prickling her as she did so, and pulled her clothes back on. Noticing that her attire smelled greatly of liquor, Lavender rooted around in the cabinet above the sink just in case there happened to be a can of deodorant it its musty depths. Unsurprisingly, there wasn't any such a can but instead a box of aspirin. Lavender gratefully snatched it out and took two of the capsules. At least her headache would soon subside. Now it was only a matter of satisfying her hunger.
She would have liked to have stayed in the hotel room a little longer, even despite the overall frugality of it, but she had been told to depart by ten o'clock. So, pocketing the aspirin and tying her long hair with a strand of cotton that had frayed off of her jeans, Lavender took herself downstairs and thanked the hotel clerk. He nodded genially at her and waved as she exited.
The morning sunshine was somewhat more pleasant now that Lavender was recovering from her hangover. She soaked up the rays and breathed deep, standing in the middle of the street.
"Okay," she said authoritatively to herself. "Time for breakfast." She fumbled around in her pocket to see what she had left in the way of money. Not much more than twenty double dollars, she registered, pulling out a couple of notes and some loose change. Lavender suddenly detected that one of the notes in her hand was actually the photograph she had seized the other day. She separated it from the money and gazed into the brown image. There was certainly no doubt that the short woman was Lavender's mother. The resemblance was obvious.
Lavender examined her parents' expressions. Her father certainly looked happy. He was grinning a ridiculous grin but cuddling the woman in front of him.
'He must have really loved her,' Lavender thought. 'I wonder what happened to her…'
"There she is!" Lavender was suddenly jerked from her spell by a familiar voice. Her eyes shot up, meeting Syrell and Vash who were standing at the end of the street, their eyes on her. A single word crossed Lavender's thoughts as she instantaneously ran in the opposite direction: 'Crap.' The question of how her father had managed to get to Septombre city in such little time would have been posed to Lavender, had she not been so intent on escaping him.
She sprinted up and down streets, periodically turning to see how far behind her pursuers were. Lavender despaired, seeing that Vash was gaining ever closer on her each time she glanced over her shoulder. It was hopeless, she thought as she felt her energy seeping away with each stride. But she just couldn't face her father right now. She needed more time. She wasn't ready to forgive him yet.
Lavender suddenly halted. The sky above had, literally out of the blue, turned a disturbing shade of red. Vash and Syrell must have noticed it also, since they had ceased in their tracks also. Not that it was difficult to notice the sky suddenly look as though it would drip blood. Lavender underwent a sense of foreboding that writhed and twisted about her stomach for several agonizing moments before the ground beneath her began to pulsate. She didn't need to hear the horrified screams of the people around her; she took one look at the growing, angry light on the horizon and tore away from the city into the already fleeing herds of its residents—But the blast was advancing to quickly.
Lavender ducked down into the sand, praying that somehow the light would just pass over the top of her. Confused, frightened and still unwell, she passed out. The last thing she heard was her father's desperate voice, calling for her.
-gasp- The climax. :0 ... It's review time, everybody. And I reinstate my crying threat. :D