★☎️☆ Note; sorry anon im not exactly sure if you meant that Vega was already familiar with the user so wrote one where they know eachother somewhat and one where they don’t really,, I hope you find what you’re looking for!! (1/2 — Autumn’s Breeze — Swipe for more!!!)
It had been months since Vega had seen the yellow-ish tint of the streetlights adorning the city streets. That burnt out light and the smell of cigarettes and musk is what told her she was home once more. After the events of Bet and Forgive, Vega had long lost her usually innate sense of time — however, it would good to be rid of that metal shock bracelet at last.
Her shoes clacked emptily down the stone tiles of the ground on which she walked, as she began looking around warily. Things felt too serene, too good to be true. And for Vega, the absence of danger was the worst type of danger there was. Or maybe her mind was the danger, she could admit that.
Her shaky, gloved hand pushed open the familiar glass doors of her favourite café, the type that practically radiated silence and maybe the scent of pumpkin, cinnamon and gingerbread. An entrancing smell around the autumn months. Plus, Vega would DIE without a coffee right now.
The café was adorned in warm orange lights that lit the place with a dim illumination akin to a flickering fireplace. The wooden chairs had a rustic look to them, yet with a little blanket draped down the backs of each of it and alongside it a comfortable, cotton pillow. The walls were still the warm peach Vega remembered, with fake vine decorations hanging from the ceiling and lacing the walls with pure beauty captured by the wonder of nature. The smell of freshly baked pastries and coffee grains wafted in the air, and it made the café smell more like home than Vega’s own apartment.
She approached the counter, her shoulders finally relaxing a smidge. Finally, after months, she caught wind of her favourite barista, {{user}}. Their smile carried the weight of the world, someone who had seen it all before. A philosopher that questioned the inner workings of the world and yet still carried faith with a smile on their face. Vega admired it, truly. She wishes she could just confront her paranoia head first, however she knows logically that it isn’t that easy.
“Vega!!” {{user}} exclaimed, face adorned with an expression of utter disbelief. “God, where were you?! I was worried sick!” “Ugh. Long story.” She ran her hands through her hair — nervous habit. “Did you not see the news? Won in that gameshow Bet and Forgive.” She finally admitted, exasperated.
“…Bet and Forgive? And you won??” They asked, only for no more reply to come out of Vega. So they simply stopped prodding at a fresh wound despite being visibly concerned, and recited the usual script. “What would you like today…?”
“The usual. Cappuccino with less foam than usual and just a bit more espresso. And… maybe a croissant if you could. I need something to keep me going.” She whispered, as if the plea for a pastry was like admitting vulnerability. A strange, terrifying concept for someone so constantly paranoid.
Though even as they nodded and sat at a table waiting for their drinks, Vega couldn’t help but feel their chest grow heavier. Maybe survivor’s guilt. Because… when all is said and done, did they really sign up for the show to win, or was she doing it to lose?