Tags: Vayne, Drama. A quick attempt at a more fluid and conservative writing style while experimenting with dark world building and foreshadowing supernatural-suspense elements.
Warning: mentions of self harm.
There is cold and then there is winter in Valoran City, a harsh test of seasonal endurance that never fails to claim a couple of lives every year after the leaves of the trees in the city's various parks fall. The freezing gusts of wind then rap on the windows of the crumpled gray apartments, the temperature drops down and pedestrians vacate the streets. The lucky citizens, those that are wealthy and privileged enough to own a hex-mobile use their vehicles as moving fortresses of warmth. The restless working ants of Valoran City huddle together in the cars of friends, family members and close colleagues. Credits, bills or heartfelt thanks are exchanged for a quick ride to work. The exhausting rhythms of the great city blatantly ignoring the deathly chill that ends people's lives just outside.
The Public Underground Transportation Train is another viable choice for those unfortunate enough to not have access to a personal chauffeur or a vehicle at bay. A little less luxurious and eye-catching than a brand new hex-mobile the PUTT offers its passengers two rows of uncomfortable seats and four dozen handrails per car as the enormous silver monstrosity runs below the frozen guts of the city like some kind of mythical serpent. Fully automated and relatively affordable to ride, the underground trains supply the dying body of Valoran City with the working force its grey metal heart needs to survive.
…
"Next station, Demacia." A female robotic voice rings clear inside the speeding car of a late night silver train, a couple of passengers either grab their belonging or clasp their coats with grim expressions. Worn boots and dirty footwear tapping the vibrating floor of the vehicle impatiently while waiting for the double doors to soon open with a loud hiss. A little boy pauses with a hand still held in the reassuring grasp of his mother, forced to remain still for at least 5 minutes now while boarding the humming train, the young child's eyes somehow keep returning to the strange figure of another passenger.
"Bill, don't stare at people, it is rude." The boy's mother absentmindedly chastises the boy for its behavior as she spares the silent black-haired woman that is sitting next to her son a small apologetic smile. But when the woman in the worn black hoodie ignores her, the mother's gaze minutely lingers on the pale visage of the quiet passenger and the scarlet goggles that are perched on her head. The middle-aged mother instinctively grasps the hand of her offspring and pulls the bored boy closer when her eyes land on the other woman' scarlet orbs.
"You have reached, Demacia. Please, mind your step." The monotonous voice once again states from the car's speakers and both mother and child proceed to exit the vehicle in a hurry. Without anyone else sitting close enough to distract her inner musings, the young pale woman's sanguine orbs instantly return back to the heated foggy windows. The almost quiet hissing of the doors closing acting as the cue for the railcar to begin sliding forward once more.
"Next station, Noxus." Predictably crackle the speakers and the young woman closes her tired eyes, almost lulled to sleep by the rhythmic shaking of the pristine car.
The falling snow outside is instantly replaced by a rain of black-red liquid, skeletal hand suddenly lunge for something in the dark, a creepy smile turns into two smiles and then a motionless body. Brown hair turning red. With despair choosing the color palette, a scenery is drawn with explosive hate. A knife descends toward the stunned face of a pale child.
"Vayne…"
Red eyes instantly snap open as the pale woman in the railcar jerks awake and almost falls from her seat. Shaky arms rise to cup a grimacing visage, rigid shoulders slowly relaxing. Shauna Vayne takes a long deep breath as the vehicle spots and the doors open with a loud noise.
"You have reached, Shadow Isles. Please, mind your step." A homeless man with thin, almost skeletal hands picks that very moment to board the train and then sends Shauna a creepy grin as he takes a seat opposite to her. A young brunette woman that is holding a birdcage containing a majestic blue eagle against her chest hastily jumps into the railcar and pants for breath as the doors start closing. The homeless man sends the new arrival another one of his sickly smile as he starts rummaging through his pockets.
The scenery outside changes as the train abruptly rushes forward amidst the snow and Vayne's eyes narrow as the man seems to find what his was looking for. An image of two mixed colors abruptly flashes like an annoying warning of sorts behind Shauna's eyes.
The frowning pale woman takes a quick look at the brown-haired teenager that is currently busy checking on her eagle and then at the crooked blade that is slyly peeking from the tattered pocket of the despicable man. Vayne is already positioning her body to dodge the wild swing of the would-be killer when the emaciated stranger's knife angrily whistles towards her face.
0000
Blink. Cold water is caressing Vayne's face, tiny bubbles of air occasionally escaping from her mouth and nostrils.
Blink. Black trenches are framing her face, swirling and waving under the surface of the quickly coloring liquid.
Blink. The headache is killing her, Vayne's vision blurry and her face numb from the low temperature of the water, macabre images flashing like sudden stabs in the back of her skull. If only the quick dip in the sink would muffle the voices like it could so easily impair her hearing. If only the voices had lips that could be stitched shut.
Blink. The pale woman's lungs are almost out of air now, her eyesight fading, Shauna's eardrums are filled with bloody liquid along with screams and yells that have no body nor face.
Blink. The last vestiges of oxygen leave like fragile shifting marbles when Vayne opens her mouth. For just a moment, the injured woman entertains the thought of never surfacing again. Never taking another breath, simply going to sleep with her head shoved in the bloodied bowl of her bathroom's cracked sink. Extinguishing her life to mute the invisible mouths. Perhaps…
Tempting as it is, the pale woman keeps her eyes open as she forces herself to pull her head out and face the broken bitch in the mirror. Bloodshot red eyes observe her without emotion from the other side of the stained glass, familiar bruises and wounds welcoming her back to reality with crimson tears spilling across her battered reflection.
"What are you looking at?" The bitch with the split bottom lip mutters against the face in the glass and when the other person refuses to answer Vayne just snorts and limps out of the bathroom. Droplets of water and fresh-leaking blood forming a path behind the brooding woman as she painstakingly makes her way to a filthy, depressing bare bedroom.
Tossing her body against the old mattress is the easy part, peeling her tattered hoodie off her porcelain skin feels like attempting to climb down a skyscraper while hanging upside-down. Vayne somehow manages it even if she is still wearing her torn jeans and shoes when she tosses the covers over her feverish form, unseen mouths already whispering murder in her thumping ears.
"S-shut up." The pale woman mutters in an exhausted tone of voice whilst shivering, Vayne's wet hair already forming small puddles of muddied water against the pillow. The voices seem to only get louder and louder, however.
A bleeding hand blindly latches on a small Hex-tech device that rest near the bed and brings the powerful shocker close to previously burnt, ivory flesh. "Shut up." Vayne repeats once more as she positions the small device under her chin and presses the silver button.
The electric current makes the brooding woman spasm and croak something terrible as she jolts, Vayne's unresponsive limbs bouncing across the sheets, scarlet-stained fingers tightly clenching from the immense pain. After what feels like an eternity to the breathless woman the button is released from numb paralyzed fingers.
Panting while huddled under the sheets, dull red eyes close as Shauna passes out. Mere seconds before she loses consciousness, the voices finally disappear.
The scenes of cruelty still remain, however. Like despicable bogeymen that find the chance to slip out from between the cracks on the wall when the lights are off the images smother Vayne's brain into a cerement of violence.