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[for Obi-Wan (with special guest Nathan)]
Sep. 29th, 2021 11:47 amIt happens sometimes, though Vanya doesn't necessarily want people to know.
She's not ashamed -- not of him, anyway. As is usually the case, any shame is her own, about what she is and what she might be versus who she wants to be. Most people can fuck up in their lives and stand back on their own two feet with minimal damage. Not Vanya, powered instrument of destruction, taught nothing about the truth of her life and how to live with it. She has her family's enduring support. Still, sometimes she can see it so clearly: that little flick of fear behind their eyes. They're not scared of her, but of what she might do without meaning to. She does her best not to use her powers around them, save for the ripples of power that surge when she plays music. It's just a whisper of wind, sometimes just a feeling. To her, it brings a sense of unparalleled rightness. Pushed too far, the feeling becomes something else, something terrifying -- and that feels right, sometimes, too. But she can never tell her family that. Why share knowledge that would only make them afraid?
Nathan is not afraid. Nathan is - and she believes this with the gentlest, most complete fondness in her heart - an idiot. He doesn't know that her powers ended the world (almost twice), but he knows she's afraid of what she can do. Still, he treats her like his favorite roller coaster, hitting her up whenever he's ready to take flight for no reason. Immortality affords him this idiocy. Maybe he's not the best person in the world, but he trusts her and she can be honest with him. Her powers have a way of making him happy. There is no end to the value in that. And she can't hurt him.
She got close once, when the space between her potential and her control widened too far, and she started to take. Not enough time passed to kill him. Nathan didn't even seem to notice. Like the most precious drill sergeant to ever goad a nuclear bomb, he'd only barked at her for dropping him. Anger pressed itself into her chest, but she breathed. And stared at Nathan with clear, cold eyes. And breathed. He didn't seem to notice he was in danger. What a great and terrifying thing.
They're at a different park today, one with slightly less trees for Nathan to get tangled up in. Visibility is better, too. Less safe for Vanya, but probably a better view for Nathan. It's okay. This has been going on long enough, doing it safe enough that she's managed to forget it's wrong. They're just two friends chatting in a park about life, about Darrow, about nothing in particular as one of them suspends the other in the air and tosses him around.
"Are you done yet?" Vanya asks, the smallest, fondest smile on her face. Looking up at him, her skin extra pale, colorless eyes following his trajectory, she feels oddly content.
She's not ashamed -- not of him, anyway. As is usually the case, any shame is her own, about what she is and what she might be versus who she wants to be. Most people can fuck up in their lives and stand back on their own two feet with minimal damage. Not Vanya, powered instrument of destruction, taught nothing about the truth of her life and how to live with it. She has her family's enduring support. Still, sometimes she can see it so clearly: that little flick of fear behind their eyes. They're not scared of her, but of what she might do without meaning to. She does her best not to use her powers around them, save for the ripples of power that surge when she plays music. It's just a whisper of wind, sometimes just a feeling. To her, it brings a sense of unparalleled rightness. Pushed too far, the feeling becomes something else, something terrifying -- and that feels right, sometimes, too. But she can never tell her family that. Why share knowledge that would only make them afraid?
Nathan is not afraid. Nathan is - and she believes this with the gentlest, most complete fondness in her heart - an idiot. He doesn't know that her powers ended the world (almost twice), but he knows she's afraid of what she can do. Still, he treats her like his favorite roller coaster, hitting her up whenever he's ready to take flight for no reason. Immortality affords him this idiocy. Maybe he's not the best person in the world, but he trusts her and she can be honest with him. Her powers have a way of making him happy. There is no end to the value in that. And she can't hurt him.
She got close once, when the space between her potential and her control widened too far, and she started to take. Not enough time passed to kill him. Nathan didn't even seem to notice. Like the most precious drill sergeant to ever goad a nuclear bomb, he'd only barked at her for dropping him. Anger pressed itself into her chest, but she breathed. And stared at Nathan with clear, cold eyes. And breathed. He didn't seem to notice he was in danger. What a great and terrifying thing.
They're at a different park today, one with slightly less trees for Nathan to get tangled up in. Visibility is better, too. Less safe for Vanya, but probably a better view for Nathan. It's okay. This has been going on long enough, doing it safe enough that she's managed to forget it's wrong. They're just two friends chatting in a park about life, about Darrow, about nothing in particular as one of them suspends the other in the air and tosses him around.
"Are you done yet?" Vanya asks, the smallest, fondest smile on her face. Looking up at him, her skin extra pale, colorless eyes following his trajectory, she feels oddly content.
