Chapter Text
Ordinary Vanya has imaginary friends.
They don’t like to play. Number Seven’s bloody companions mostly scream and cry, cacophony and clamor invisible to all but her.
Her extraordinary siblings’ powers are things of beauty. If she leaves her bedroom door unlocked, sometimes Klaus flits in, dancing around with his Walkman, conducting waves of sound to the drumbeats of his cassettes.
The sound of her violin doesn’t drown them out, not fully, but the music calms her, distracts her from their unearthly screeching for a little while.
If only Vanya had a power, maybe her imaginary friends would leave her be.