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Mar. 14th, 2019 at 5:54 PM
They've escaped the apocalypse (her apocalypse), and whatever weirdness happened with their teenage bodies for the first few days. But escaping immediate danger hasn't truly fixed anything. Vanya hasn't said a word since waking up in the house they've taken over, somewhere upstate; she's eaten a little, drank less, and hasn't met anyone's eyes. Her violin is gone. So is the white suite, the pale skin and paler eyes, but it's the violin she misses.
And living without a ringing in her right ear. She really misses that.
Mostly, sleep has been her answer to avoiding it - avoiding everything, really, her siblings and the ringing and her fear that she's lost her hearing on the right side. It's easier to just focus on drifting off whenever she's awake, because then she won't have to remember.
It comes in flashes anyway, but she makes a damn valiant effort to avoid it.
Running only works for so long, and they don't live in a manor that takes up a full city block anymore: this is a farmhouse at best, two stories plus an attic and a cramped basement. They don't all have space for their own rooms, but Vanya - always apart, even now - does. And when she emerges from it, she does so mostly in the dead of night, the better to avoid the others. When she comes out in mid day, blinking in the sunlight that streams through, it's only because she couldn't ignore her growling stomach anymore. It smells like someone is making bacon.
And living without a ringing in her right ear. She really misses that.
Mostly, sleep has been her answer to avoiding it - avoiding everything, really, her siblings and the ringing and her fear that she's lost her hearing on the right side. It's easier to just focus on drifting off whenever she's awake, because then she won't have to remember.
It comes in flashes anyway, but she makes a damn valiant effort to avoid it.
Running only works for so long, and they don't live in a manor that takes up a full city block anymore: this is a farmhouse at best, two stories plus an attic and a cramped basement. They don't all have space for their own rooms, but Vanya - always apart, even now - does. And when she emerges from it, she does so mostly in the dead of night, the better to avoid the others. When she comes out in mid day, blinking in the sunlight that streams through, it's only because she couldn't ignore her growling stomach anymore. It smells like someone is making bacon.