Apr. 29th, 2021

fifthbeatle: (focus on sound)
Spring is pulling in from the cold. The gusts of wind swirling from the light cloud cover are warm. Vanya is controlling its movement, not the other way around. She's found a lot more control. There's a lot that keeps her grounded.

She has her family. That is huge. She makes coffee every morning and breakfast most of them. She goes out with most of them, stays in with Five, ventures out on her own. She cares for people that aren't family, and they dare to care back. She has Elio and Sam and Obi-Wan - people who make her feel like she belongs outside of Hargreeves House, too.

So, she takes risks. Getting mightily drunk and dancing and making breakfast the next morning (with the help of some sunglasses and Obi-Wan) like a badass, for example. Sometimes she uses her powers on purpose sometimes, mitigating the risk for the next effort by accomplishing the first. Soon, she'll be auditioning for the Darrow Symphony Ochestra. Now, she's even been on dates (multiple)!

The Bar Redhead now known as Jamie is a nice girl - cute with a restless spirit, confined to Darrow like anyone else. It's all she's ever known. She, not unlike Vanya, got along in her life mostly by herself. She likes music, she has music tattoos and she is beautiful. Her apartment is full of succulents and geometric patterns. She is kind to people, whether they deserve it or not. Moreover, she kind to herself.

So, why isn't Vanya crazy about her?

It's under her skin all morning, well into the afternoon. A cup of coffee in the early quiet of the house doesn't bring her peace like it usually does. In the library, she reads the same page over and over again, retaining none of it. Her attempts to meditate fail. It's only when a small sob of frustration cracks the corner of her window that she realizes she's on the verge of a panic attack.

She wants to talk to Klaus. It has to be him. The idea of talking to any of the others paralyzes her. It has to be Klaus, but he either isn't up yet or isn't home. Before she can talk herself out of it, she texts him.

Meet me on the roof?

Now, with her violin and the open air, Vanya does the only thing she knows how to: she plays. It's a complicated piece, one that she can only just begin to remember all of by heart. This is her favorite part: when the music comes off the page, into the memory.

The wind, for a lack of a better word, harmonizes. The music she makes resonates to the wind and she is the conduit. The wind isn't howling, it's almost playing along. She's caught in the magic of that for a while, taking breaks to sever her control when she starts to second-guess herself or when she needs to rest her hands. Always, her mind wanders back to the question: what is the matter with her?

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Viktor Hargreeves

October 2024

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