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fifthbeatleIt's finally happened.
Vanya's been walking by this second-hand store for weeks. It's on the way to the grocery she likes. As long as she can remember, she's liked consignment and antique shops. Maybe it's the part of her that spent so much time wishing she could have what her siblings did. That wasn't just about powers or love. The rest of the Hargreeves' bedrooms were rich with things. Posters, trinkets, jewelry, gifts from adoring fans. Whereas Vanya's room was bare walls, a few pairs of shoes and one gorgeous (second-hand) violin. Even without knowing what the thing meant to her dad, it was the nicest thing she owned. It was hers. Without it, she feels like she is missing a limb.
So, she walks by this shop as often as she can, gazing in the window to admire, occasionally broaching the doorway to have a quick look around. She has seen instruments there before: pieces of a drum set (never at the same time), the occasional tambourine, a maraca or two, always set out against a backdrop of fine china that with tragically depreciated value and family heirlooms of unknown origin. Being in a place with such delicate things makes her feel deeply anxious - an energy bull in an actual china shop, but today, she doesn't even have to go inside.
There, on display in the window, is a truly gorgeous violin. It's a little beat up and the strings have seen better days, but it's hers the moment she lays eyes on it. This feeling was the closest thing she had to powerful before she knew the truth about herself. Her fingertips rub together at her side nervously, like she's judging that the callouses there have gone too soft to justify this purchase. She doesn't even know how much it is or if she has enough. As she stands there staring into the window, all she knows is that - in a life devoid if stuff - she has never wanted anything more. All she has to do is talk herself into going inside.
Vanya's been walking by this second-hand store for weeks. It's on the way to the grocery she likes. As long as she can remember, she's liked consignment and antique shops. Maybe it's the part of her that spent so much time wishing she could have what her siblings did. That wasn't just about powers or love. The rest of the Hargreeves' bedrooms were rich with things. Posters, trinkets, jewelry, gifts from adoring fans. Whereas Vanya's room was bare walls, a few pairs of shoes and one gorgeous (second-hand) violin. Even without knowing what the thing meant to her dad, it was the nicest thing she owned. It was hers. Without it, she feels like she is missing a limb.
So, she walks by this shop as often as she can, gazing in the window to admire, occasionally broaching the doorway to have a quick look around. She has seen instruments there before: pieces of a drum set (never at the same time), the occasional tambourine, a maraca or two, always set out against a backdrop of fine china that with tragically depreciated value and family heirlooms of unknown origin. Being in a place with such delicate things makes her feel deeply anxious - an energy bull in an actual china shop, but today, she doesn't even have to go inside.
There, on display in the window, is a truly gorgeous violin. It's a little beat up and the strings have seen better days, but it's hers the moment she lays eyes on it. This feeling was the closest thing she had to powerful before she knew the truth about herself. Her fingertips rub together at her side nervously, like she's judging that the callouses there have gone too soft to justify this purchase. She doesn't even know how much it is or if she has enough. As she stands there staring into the window, all she knows is that - in a life devoid if stuff - she has never wanted anything more. All she has to do is talk herself into going inside.
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Date: 2021-03-11 03:43 am (UTC)No, she realized she's excited. It feels fantastic. If she weren't so elated, she would be furious that she didn't know what this felt like before. The pills she took made her feel like she was trying to create a facsimile of any feeling. Why hasn't she gotten out sooner?
"Really? Yeah, I would love that!" she enthuses, instantly a touch mortified by how eager she is. Luckily, she already has a reservation creeping up. "Are you sure she won't be upset? If you jam with someone else?" If only it were a joke. In her orchestra experience, musicians are a jealous sort, counting chairs and mistakes and dividing every section into mine and yours and never the twain shall meet. It would suck if her brand new range of feelings included getting punched in the face, or worse: passive-aggressively sniped at.
no subject
Date: 2021-03-15 11:17 pm (UTC)The house band at Keynote has really become like family to me. When I was brought in as a featured performer, they could have banded against me, or been angry that some kid had been brought in to hog the spotlight, but they never once treated me like that, and I never treat them as just a house band. They're all talented in their own right.
"It'll be a blast," I assure her, pointing towards the club as we approach. "And I think my husband's coming tonight. I'll introduce you to him before, so you can have a seat buddy." My smile widens, and I let out a happy laugh. "Plus I just want to see you next to him. He's very tall."