The man - Sam - takes silent pity on her. Even though her eyes are shut tight and she's dampening sound, she can feel the car jerk to life and dip out of the alley. Maybe it's her super-hearing or that the car is old, but she hear the engine, still and feel it in her heart. She breathes, just the way Obi-Wan taught her. Her thoughts are a gentle stream, passing her by without taking her under. The blast doors in her middle don't feel like they're about to burst anymore. When she opens an eye and lifts her arms from her head, sound doesn't feel so violent. She realizes she's got her shoes on the leather of the car seat. Her little legs unwind and she sets her feet on the floor. Little hands gently set themselves on the lip near the window so she can look behind her. There are no lights whizzing by. Sirens are a comfortable distance away.
Before she can relax, Sam is having a troubling phone conversation. Vanya's neck whips violently over. Impossibly wide eyes stare up at him from a small, angled face. What the actual fuck is happening.
When he speaks to her, it is so, so gentle and she finds that deeply unsettling. She feels half-feral and terrified and she wants to blast now and ask questions later, but she can't. Even when she means well, even when what she's doing is only to protect herself, she can't know what will come out of her. He's supposed to help her. He said he was going to help her. She wants so badly to believe he can help her.
"What the hell was that?" She demands. Somehow, she is more terrified by how angry she sounds than the idea that he might want to hurt her. She undoes the seatbelt and backs herself out of the car. It's how she knows her eyes are drained of color: regular old Vanya would have scrambled herself to the ground getting out of the car. Even in her frantic unstrapping, she steps out onto her feet with a grace she simply cannot consciously possess.
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2021-02-27 10:02 pm (UTC)Before she can relax, Sam is having a troubling phone conversation. Vanya's neck whips violently over. Impossibly wide eyes stare up at him from a small, angled face. What the actual fuck is happening.
When he speaks to her, it is so, so gentle and she finds that deeply unsettling. She feels half-feral and terrified and she wants to blast now and ask questions later, but she can't. Even when she means well, even when what she's doing is only to protect herself, she can't know what will come out of her. He's supposed to help her. He said he was going to help her. She wants so badly to believe he can help her.
"What the hell was that?" She demands. Somehow, she is more terrified by how angry she sounds than the idea that he might want to hurt her. She undoes the seatbelt and backs herself out of the car. It's how she knows her eyes are drained of color: regular old Vanya would have scrambled herself to the ground getting out of the car. Even in her frantic unstrapping, she steps out onto her feet with a grace she simply cannot consciously possess.