She hesitated, holding her breath and listening to the quiet inhabitants of the house. Picking it up carefully, she held it in her right hand. A couple years ago, Mom insisted that she have a blade should she ever needed to defend herself- not that Reginald had ever let her learn how to use it. Searching through her drawers, digging past heavily creased sheet music and old medicine bottles, Vanya found what she was looking for. Her siblings tattoos hadn't even fully healed get, and she couldn't even keep up with tracing. She lasted fourteen days, redrawing it eight times and switching to permanent marker three days in. Not long enough, the quieter voice in her head said. How long would the washable ink would last, she thought. Vanya absently wondered if anyone had ever hugged her like that (or at all).īut compared to their genuine tattoos, her smeared crayola marker imitation seemed crude, and she thought maybe they were a little lucky too, in their own way. She saw the careful way Klaus hugged Allison as they cradled their arms, crying. Even now, she heard their whispered assurances to each other. She thought that maybe, just maybe.being together with them, knees touching. And she knew she was better off being just ordinary. She didn't know what it was like to posses inhuman strength or skill or easily bend the will of others or speak to the dead or teleport at will, or hell- become a gateway to Eldritch horrors. She had never known what it was like to fight for your life, and risk extreme bodily harm. She knew, in a way, she was luckier then them. Not better than Number 7, a much quieter part of her thought. Her six siblings were quite good at being quiet, she thought. The buzzing now seemed impossibly loud and droning in her skull, but she knew it was only because of how little sound anyone else was making. She knew from the way Ben came home, clothes torn and soaked in blood that wasn't his own. She knew from the dark circles under Klaus's eyes or the way Diego stuttered his worst after training. Vanya had no illusions that what they did, their missions, were any fun. She didn't know why she wanted any of it. It brought Allison and Klaus to tears, and judging by the way Diego's eyes were clenched shut in pain, he was close to tears himself. She didn't know why she wanted one so badly. She watched with bated breath as the needle buzzed and dark ink was slowly etched into the forearms of her siblings, permanently branding them as members of the Umbrella Academy. She had thrown a fit then and it had accomplished nothing, and frankly, it wasn't worth the energy.įrom where she sat, Vanya could see them squirm nervously in their chairs- it was a rare sight to see. While they often gathered without her, ( far more often than with her, actually), the last time they had gathered like this was for their last family portrait. Vanya sat crouched on the stairwell, watching her siblings.
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