Chapter Text
Vera Nair: a stoic, overconfident narcissist who many of the manors residents kept a distance from. For most, she seemed intimidating and unapproachable, too caught up in her own work to acknowledge those around her. Empathic nature did not come to mind when describing the perfumer, countless times she tended to her own needs before reaching out to her teammates. Remarks pointed towards Vera were agreed by majority, but the young coordinator could see nothing but the opposite.
From their first encounter, Martha knew Vera was hiding something; she seemed lonely, distancing herself by putting up a wall. Things like eating alone at the dining hall, or staying rather silent during conversations, only tuning in when given the approval of others. In matches, Vera would insist on handling things, never seeking help until it was the last resort, being sour towards her teammates' support.
Getting to know Vera was the hardest part of their relationship, as the older woman gave little information about herself outside of perfumery. They were complete opposites, often clashing with the other in more ways than one. Teasing Vera became a routine for Martha, enjoying the usually composed perfumer becoming an embarrassed, flabbergasted mess. Vera would take Martha’s antics as nothing but bothersome, irritating her further than anything she had endured with her other companions. From a distance, one would assume Vera hated the young coordinator, getting worked up around her, fussing over every word spewed from her mouth.
“Martha, please be a doll and quiet down. Your voice is making my head do nothing but spin.” She aggressively stated, the two working on the last cipher machine, if not for the remaining number, Vera would never consider standing next to Martha for such a long period.
A moment of silence was all the time her mind had to rest, for the second the cipher became primed, Martha continued with her conversation. Truth be told Vera blanked out the second she approached her, preparing herself for the endless chatter Martha tried to enforce; but this didn’t seem to stop Martha. With a low groan she began to walk away, interrupting Martha’s voice from her thoughts as it slowly reduced the further she walked. She didn’t have time to keep the coordinator happy, the only desires she held were for her formula.
This became a regular norm between the two of them; Martha pestering Vera to the point where she would up and leave. She had no aspiration to keep a conversation going, so why bother? Annoyance blossomed with each passing word, it was best for her to maintain distance; that is what she would have liked to continue thinking. Overtime, Vera had become accustomed to Martha's charades, finding it enduring on how determined she was to befriend Vera. Of course, accepting this was rather difficult for Vera as she reminded herself on the many different reasons to hate Martha.
She’s too friendly, easy-going, always putting others before herself, it’s sickening; seeing how someone can throw themselves out there for others sake. It reminds me of everything I could never strive to be, being able to speak your mind without criticizing fear of others, not having to worry about how you’ll be perceived. Yet, I can’t help but feel happy around her, sure, she’s loud and overbearing, but the attention thrown my way leaves me feeling important-
“Vera? Are you even listening?” Vera snapped out of her thoughts, a soft voice bringing her back to her surroundings of the dining hall, she must have started to daydream.
Sitting across from the small table was a young painter named Edgar Valden; carelessly waving his paintbrush from side to side as he looked at her with annoyance.
“Sorry, I spaced out for a bit. What were you saying?”
Edgar let out a loud sigh, proving his irritation towards the disturbance further.
“Oh nothing. Seems like you’re too busy anyways, I won’t bother repeating myself.”
Silence fell onto the two with no further conversation exchanged, both absorbed in their own thoughts to make an effort in proceeding with small talk. Vera enjoyed Edgar’s company, they both shared similarities, making it a lot easier to get along with the short painter. He was one of the few people in the manor that didn’t leave her emotionally and physically drained.
“I think I’ll head back to my room now Edgar, if you don’t mind.” Vera flatly said, proceeding to push her chair in as she stood, he gave her a nod of acknowledgment, seemingly too consumed in his artwork to waste his energy on their dialogue.
Vera made her way to the door of the dinning hall, reaching out to open the wide doors before a voice suddenly stopped her. Freezing in place, she turned her head towards the familiar voice.
“Hey Vera! Wait up!” Of course, out of everyone in the manor it had to be Martha Behamfil. Rolling her eyes she paid no attention to the unformed girl as she pulled at the large handle, opening the door and stepping outside of the dinning hall, Martha trailing closely behind her.
“You did really well in your last match Vera! The way you were able to contain the Photographer for so long was really amazing!’ She cheerfully exclaimed, out of the corner of her eyes Vera noticed a bright smile with her words.
“Thank you Martha. It wasn’t anything really.”
“Aww don’t discredit yourself so much! I hope we get matched up more often. Having you on my team will relieve a lot of stress, knowing you’re a reliable teammate and all.”
“I look forward to it as well.”
Vera surpassed a blush as the two walked throughout the halls of the manor, Martha doing most of the chatting as Vera gave small remarks here and there. It annoyed the perfumer how well Martha was at talking, even without trying she could spark up a conversation, keeping others engaged with ease. As much as she hated to admit, that was an aspect about Martha that Vera admired, she was a light of life to the contrasting gloomy atmosphere of the manor.
Martha came to a stop, alerting Vera as she turned around to the girls sudden halt.
“This is my room. I just wanted to walk with you and catch up seeing how we’re always busy with games.” Martha’s voice having a hint of bashfulness. That was new, Martha always seemed on top of her game, was she nervous?
Vera nodded “It was enjoyable for once, Martha.” she lightly smiled, immediately stopping as she realized the change in expression; going back to its usual neutral state. Unfortunately, Martha took notice, grinning from ear to ear causing color to dust around Vera’s cheeks.
“You actually smiled!” Martha stepped closer to Vera, taking a gloved hand into her own, imitating a similar smile to Vera’s, except this one was much more noticeable; much more Martha-like.
“Shut up. I did not.” She blurted out, her composure slipping as she stumbled on her words. Despite the state of denial, Vera didn’t move her hand away from Martha's, she subconsciously gripped it tighter, a sense of security washing over her.
“Whatever you say, you totally did.’’ Noticing the tight hold on Vera’s hand, Martha lifted it to her lips, placing a chaste kiss onto her palm. Instead of dropping it, angrily questioning what Martha thought she was doing, Vera used her free hand to cup Martha’s cheek. She smirked, a dumbfounded look plastered onto Martha's face, her cheeks mirroring the same color as Vera's.
“You're warm.’’ Vera whispered, her voice dropping all usual displeasure. “I think it’s all the talking you do.” Martha leaned into her touch, closing her eyes and humming softly, doing her best to distract herself from the overbearing embarrassment.
“And you're sappy. Who knew you were such a smooth talker?”
Both girls smiled, staring at each other; a calm aurora settling over the both of them as they enjoyed the silence. Vera broke away from the moment, removing her hand, the last thing she’d want was for someone to see them as they were still standing in the wings hallway.
“Vera I-”
Before Martha could finish her sentence, her face was pulled down, a weight planted onto her lips. It was quick and rushed, but left Martha lightheaded as she tried to process what was happening. Vera pulled away too soon, looking up at Martha, letting out a warm giggle, gently cupping her face. Bright pink residue from Vera’s lipstick marked the corner of Martha’s mouth, proceeding to laugh as she brushed her fingers over Martha’s lips to wipe away at the pigment.
Vera closed in for a tight hug, sighing contently; feeling the presence of Martha’s arms as they wrap around her slim waist, pulling her closer. For the first time in her life, Vera felt secure, her mind racing with everything except usual sorrow. Her facial expression eased as she dug her head into Martha’s shoulder, face sore from grinning.
“Like I said, you talk too much Behamfil.”