✫彡 "I kind of hate most things but I never really seem to hate you."
𝗜𝗡 𝗪𝗛𝗜𝗖𝗛, Daniella's thermokinesis, aka the ability to manipulate temperature, is completely hidden away from the world.
That is until Sir Reginald Hargreeves fi...
When a nice, introverted girl her age had come up to her, fiddling with the strings of her violin, and meekly asked, "Would you...would you like to hang out after practice?"
But as it stands, Daniella has grown fond of the other sixteen-year-old girl. They are not similar, not at all. While Vanya is quite closed off in their shared lessons, Daniella has been content attempting to pry the walls down and call her somewhat of a friend.
So now, the brunette is standing outside the infamous Hargreeve's house. Daniella peeks through the window. She catches a glimpse of a quiet family dinner inside before shuddering and slinking back to lean against the dull brick wall.
If one of the Umbrella Academy members-well, apart from Vanya-catches Daniella stalking outside their house, she's sure they'll use whatever fuckass superpowers they have on her next.
The girl thrums her fingers against the brick and decidedly ignores that possibility. It's almost peaceful, she thinks. Humming to the sounds of her and Vanya's latest musical piece, she takes in the (rather bland, insanely dark) scenery around her.
Daniella has always wondered, if the head of the Hargreeves house possessed such wealth, why the outside of the mansion itself looked dated to the eighteenth century.
Her mindless train of thought is cut off when one of them-Number Five, if she's remembering correctly-yanks the door open. Frantic and wide-eyed, he stumbles down the patio steps.
"Five?"
The boy nearly breaks his neck with how he snaps it in her direction. "Who the fuck are you-Y'know what? Don't answer that. It doesn't matter."
Daniella furrows her brows, standing upright and placing a hand on her hip, walking cautiously towards him. "First of all, fuck you. Second, you look like someone killed your mom-are you okay?"
"I don't have a mom."
Her lips pull into a frown. "Oh. Well, now I feel bad."
"Don't. And anyway, you're getting in the way of my plan," Five mutters, pinching his nose. He doesn't know when or how this girl got here, but it isn't his current problem. The need to prove his father wrong overcomes anything else.
"Which is..?"
Daniella turns around slightly, squinting to see through the window. The Hargreeve family continues munching on their prison food like nothing out of the ordinary has occurred.
Weird family, they are.
"Why would I tell you?" The brunette gnaws at her bottom lip and looks back at him. Like, really looks at him. Distantly, she thinks those newspapers photographing him don't do him much justice.
But he's right.
He doesn't owe her anything, but she's bored, and now he's the victim of her curiousity.
When Five doesn't receive an answer, he huffs. There isn't any time to play games with pretty girls; he needs to refocus his energy on his powers.
Five shuts his eyes, lets the power coursing through his veins take control, and pushes forward with all his limited strength.
When he appears at a new location, he grins excitedly, chattering, "And the old man said I couldn't do it, huh?" before jumping through time again, satisfaction curling inside of him.
Unbeknownst to him, the girl he had met moments prior had grabbed his arm (if asked, Daniella would personally say that he just looked constipated and she genuinely thought he was seconds away from shitting himself) the exact second a blue aura had enveloped him.
What was extremely more odd than that, however, was that Five's was not the sole power activated.
☂︎︎
Present day,
The mind is a fickle thing.
It was never understood by scientists or any other profession-not wholly, at least. Certain nerves trigger other sets of cells. Memory loss or gain. Learning a new skill. A new language.
At this moment in time, however, Daniella clutches her pounding head in her frail hands. It doesn't feel fickle; it feels fucking persistent.
A loud whimper leaves her lips as another pang of agony shoots up her spine. The brunette squints her eyes open, her heart dropping when she takes in the room's unfamiliarity.
Four white-tiled walls encapsulate her. Tubes pierced into her arm. With her jagged nails denting her skull, she frantically notes that she's lying on a hospital bed for a reason unknown to her.
Daniella's eyes erratically bounce off the room. The weighted blanket over her torso feels suffocating; she's alone in a Frankenstein-looking lair; and-
"Ow. fuck!" Daniella yells, doubling over in pain after she hastily stands up.
Legs numb and crimson blood trickling down her arm from the yanked-out IV tube, she places one foot over the other. Walking and talking feel foreign. Like she's learning it all over again, though she doesn't remember where or when she first learned how to.
The sharp, icy floor nearly blisters her bare feet. Survival mode on, she limps towards the first door she sees, large and iron-plated. The ones they use for animals.
Daniella quickly glances down at her hands. Okay, not an animal, she breathes out absent-mindedly.
She grips the doorknob. It rattles obnoxiously but stays locked. The anxious pit in her stomach only bubbles faster, rising to her throat.
She'll die here. No people, no food, no water.
Breaths are coming out shallowly now. Each effort to not sink to the ground in despair exerts itself. Suddenly, Daniella catches a bright, crimson aura in her peripheral vision. Eyes wide, she looks at the floor.
But the light isn't coming from the solid, boring white beneath her feet.
Her veins are aglow.
"What the fuck, what the fuck, what the actual fuckity fuckness in fucking hell-"
Out of her control, the crimson lasers escaped her pointer finger, landing on the protective lock on the door. The metal sizzles against the light's touch, sunken and melting at an alarming rate. It lands on the floor with a loud thump.
Daniella feels her eyes flutter shut against her will, knees sinking.
Before the girl slips out of consciousness out of sheer shock, she's distantly aware of an abnormally hairy, stubby man pulling the door ajar.
"Ah, Ms. Sayre, you are finally awake. Or-well. Were."
She musters up enough strength to peek an eye open, blearily blinking up at the figure.
Is that a fucking monkey?
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AUTHOR WRITES . . .
A short little backstory! It's probably a bit confusing right now but everything will be explained.
Thank youuu for reading!!! <3 dont be a silent one tho
