Her focus narrows. She's aware, faintly, of Diego barking threats, of the knife in his hand. It doesn't make her flinch - there are so many ways her family scares her, now, but it was never their powers that did it, at least, not until Luther - but Vanya still sucks in a sharp breath when she hears a yelp from whoever it was he pinned. Her eyes stay on Allison, though, a lighthouse on a rocky shore, and even with that guidance it would only take one misstep to crash against the cliffs.

No more words appear in her vision, and Vanya watches, as mute as her sister - at least for this moment - as she gestures so carefully, telegraphing her intentions without any verbal language. Like I'm a wild animal, she thinks, and can taste the bitterness even though it's immediately followed by guilt: why should they treat her any different? Her ear throbs again, and though she rubs at it, she lets Allison wrap an arm around her left shoulder, where she can still hear. Somewhere in the back of her head, she wonders if this will affect her perfect pitch, and feels tears pricking at the corners of her eyes. This is what makes her want to cry? She drops her hands, digging her fingernails into her palms. She deserves however they treat her.

But she doesn't pull away. Maybe if she was a better person, more selfless, but right now all she wants to do is follow where Allison and the arm around her shoulders leads.