Varvara
Varvara was never very good at keeping quiet. She couldn’t help herself, it was like there was something wrong with the way that her mouth attached to the rest of her body. When she grew up in the Red Room, her mouth got her into trouble a lot. Her handlers would make her bite down on items just to get her to shut up.
It was a humiliating punishment at first, especially when the other Widows would look at her when she bit down on shirts, belts, rulers, and even small blocks of wood. But it kept Varvara quiet and none of the Madames would ridicule her for looking like an idiot.
Varvara then had one Madame who stopped her before she could bite down on the rubber bit that had been given to her for when she danced or sparred. Varvara wanted to warn her that she had an uncontrollable mouth but she also hadn’t wanted to speak out of turn.
Rather than silencing her, that particular Madame encouraged Varvara, ordering her to get it all out of her system before they began their training session. She told Varvara to swear and ramble, and when Varvara would bite at her lower lip or tongue to try and keep herself quiet, she’d be chastised, especially when her lips began to get chapped and bleed.
When they finally started to subjugate Widows, Varvara discovered with a hazy clarity that she could be ordered to shut her mouth. It was something she had heard dozens of times before but suddenly it would be like a phantom hand clamped over her mouth to hold it shut and she would be unable to speak, even if she needed to. It was terrifying to lose that bit of control.
When she was seventeen, she was placed undercover in an office, playing a role she wasn’t very good at, a sweet little naive intern. She was supposed to extract information from the boss to pass along to the Red Room and for the first time in a long time, she had control over her mouth. That led to a lot of embarrassing outbursts. The Red Room had to shove a bunch of phrases that she was not allowed to say, taking control over her speech until she could only be that sweet little intern.
The very first time she met Yelena, she wasn’t sure who she was or what she was doing there, only that she shouldn’t be. The woman tailed her and Varvara tried to contact the Red Room but her mouth couldn’t work to get the right words she needed out so Varvara climbed to the third floor where she knew there was an empty room so that she could face the woman tracking her without prying eyes. Her body was heavy, her head foggy as she tried to pour all of her focus and control into desperately trying to protect herself.
The woman cornered her easily and when Varvara couldn’t get her limbs working right to fight her, her enemy took the opportunity to spray something in her face. Suddenly, all of the angry thoughts that Varvara had in her head were pouring out of her mouth as she was dumped back in control of her body after just swimming around in an empty head. It was like she suddenly had too much energy buzzing around inside of her, every ‘danger!’ meter in her body going off.
Her very first word after being freed was screaming “You fucker!” at the woman who cornered her before she attempted to escape through the nearest exit, still disoriented and confused at the control over her body.
She struggled when hands grabbed her and yanked her back from the window she had opened. Varvara screamed and swore at her in every language she knew, unable to comprehend why the woman had just held her close and whispered soft reassurances in her ear.
There was really no point in resisting. Varvara was an eighteen-year-old nobody that could be written off as a failure if she suddenly disappeared. She obediently let the woman, who was named Yelena, lead her out of the office building.
Varvara refused to put on a seat belt when sitting in the car, instead moving to sit on the floor of the car so that she could pull her knees to her chest and cry. She hadn’t been able to in so long.
She went from undercover Black Widow to the random kid that lived with an unknown woman. There she met a girl a few years younger than her, a fellow Widow, named Daria.
Varvara was unsure of how to feel about the girl at first, especially when she noted the big thing about the girl was that she doesn’t speak. Varvara wasn’t sure if it was an inability or refusal. Varvara took advantage of her freedom over her mouth and would swear and yell and see just how far she could push the woman who gave her a roof over her head.
Yelena would ask her to keep her tone down, to use an ‘inside voice’, and that if she wanted to yell then she could go outside. She doesn’t tell Varvara to stop her swearing, shut up, or even make her bite down on something to keep her quiet.
“She won’t get angry if ya speak,” Varvara whispered to Daria after doing everything she could think of to get the girl to just say something. “I called her a bitch earlier and she didn’t even slap me.”
Daria wrinkled her nose and moved to uncap the gel pen in her grip to write something in the little notebook she carried around. Varvara grabbed the pen and held it out of her reach. Daria looked confused and stared up at the pen.
“Just ask me for it back,” Varvara told her. She expected Daria to get angry, to get frustrated, to finally use her words. Instead, Daria looked up at her pen and her face scrunched up in distress as tears filled her eyes.
Varvara swore and gave the pen back, having meant to make her talk, not make her cry. Daria refused to ‘talk’ to her, shoving her notebook and pen away in her hoodie and ignoring her whenever Varvara tried to speak to her.
Varvara eventually had to bring the situation up to Yelena because being snubbed was distressing her and twisting her stomach in knots. She expected to be hit for her transgressions but Yelena sat her down at the table.
“You need to respect Daria’s boundaries just like she respects yours,” Yelena said. “Just because Daria does not use her voice does not mean that she cannot communicate. When you took her pen away, you took away her way of talking.”
Varvara thought about the times her Madames ordered her to be quiet, stuffing things in her mouth to keep her silent, and how she had her voice taken away from her. She had never meant to do the same thing to Daria and the thought of making the younger girl feel the way that she had felt made her feel sick.
Varvara pushed herself closer to Daria that night. “I’m sorry,” she apologized, staring down at her feet because the memory of how distressed Daria had been made Varvara feel ill, and if she accidentally upset her again then Varvara wouldn’t be sure if Yelena would keep her around. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. I just--” She huffed and rubbed the back of her neck as she struggled to explain. “I don’t understand.”
When she finally peered at the girl, Daria pressed her lips together but shuffled over to make room for Varvara. Varvara hesitantly took the offer and moved into the empty space. She watched as Daria pulled out her notebook and a different colored gel pen.
I FORGIVE YOU
Daria held up her notebook to show the words she scrawled on the page. Varvara looked down at her lap guiltily.
“I don’t understand why you just don’t talk…” Varvara admitted. She listened to the sound of a pen scratching on paper before the notebook slid into her view on her lap.
IT IS SAFER TO BE QUIET.
Varvara frowned, pushing the notebook back. “Did they get upset at you for talking too much too? My Madames would make bite on things to keep quiet. I can talk all I want now.”
Daria took a while to write in her notebook and Daria sat in silence until she was finished.
I DIDN’T ALWAYS UNDERSTAND THEIR QUESTIONS. SOMETIMES THEY WOULD ASK ME A QUESTION AND WANT A REPLY BUT OTHER TIMES THEY WOULDN’T. IT WAS SAFER TO KEEP QUIET THAN TO SPEAK OUT OF TURN.
Varvara pressed her lips together in thought before nodding. “That makes sense,” she agreed. “You don’t hafta talk if you don’t wanna.”
Daria gently bumped their shoulders together and when Varvara finally looked at her, Daria offered her a small smile. Varvara mirrored it, glad that she was forgiven.
Varvara learned that Daria could speak through her body. She would rock on her feet when anxious or lean forward when seeking something out. Her nose wrinkled when confused her hands fiddled with her sleeves when she was frustrated. It was a little weird at first for Varvara to talk to someone who didn’t reply vocally but she soon learned to adapt.
Daria had a lot to say, Varvara just wasn’t listening before. Varvara would often fill the silences with long rambling, sometimes pausing whenever she heard the sound of a pen on paper. Other times, Daria would nudge her and use her hands to gesture.
At some point, Daria started to nudge or grab at Varvara whenever she wanted to say something, then she would just do it because she wanted to touch Varvara.
The thing about Daria, that Varvara quickly discovered, was that she was very big on physical affection. It freaked Varvara out at first, especially when all of her physical contact in the past few years had been negative.
Daria had jumped onto her back once and everything had been okay until she accidentally pressed a hand down right over a burn scar she had on her shoulder and Varvara threw her off in a panic, not realizing what she had done until the thump of Daria hitting the floor echoed in her ears. She apologized profusely, worried that Daria would either start crying or rat her out to Yelena. If Daria ratted her out then Varvara might have to leave.
Instead, Daria waved her apologies off and pulled their notebook out of their hoodie pocket, selecting their black ink pen and uncapping it before starting to write.
Varvara warily scooted a little closer until she realized that Daria was not actually writing but drawing. A small figure of a girl slowly pieced together on the page and Daria switched pens from black to purple, placing seemingly random purple marks on the person. When she finished, she scrawled across the top of the page.
NO TOUCH WITHOUT WARNING
Daria then held up the picture and pointed to herself. Varvara barely had time to comprehend what it meant before Daria pulled her notebook back and flipped the page, scrawling out another figure. She then pulled out her red ink pen and drew a few loops coming from the head for curly hair and Varvara belatedly realized that Daria was drawing her.
When she finished, Daria fished out a blue pen and shoved both the utensil and paper into Varvara’s hands, gesturing for her to do the same thing.
Varvara hesitantly does, marking places on the figure where she needed warning before being touched.
The pages are tucked away in Daria’s notebook for nobody but them to see.
The first time Varvara ever heard Daria speak was during a bad night. Varvara had heard Daria's voice before in the form of laughter or small grunts or hums, but she had never heard her actually form a word.
That was until Varvara had a night terror and woke up, panic gripping her as she reached up toward her mouth to make sure that she was still in control of her body, unable to calm down.
Daria wrapped around her immediately, the pressure of wiry arms wrapping around her helping her remember to breathe.
"Shh," Daria whispered, her lips brushing against the shell of Varvara's left ear. "You're safe."
It was the astonishment of hearing Daria speak that jolted Varvara out of her small spiral. She opened her mouth, ready to point out the obvious, before closing it and swallowing down the words. Daria had trusted her with her voice and Varvara understood that making a big deal out of it was the wrong thing to do.
Daria kissed the side of her head and Varvara leaned into her, closing her eyes as she focused on the sound of the heart beating behind Daria's chest.
Varvara liked how clingy Daria was. There was something soothing about the weight of the girl whenever she settled on her, whether it was climbing on her back, settling in her lap, or even just laying on top of her as they slept. Daria was just tiny enough that the weight wasn’t stifling nor did it feel dangerous.
She caught Yelena eyeing them a few times, especially when she and Daria began to get more comfortable around each other. Daria had started to ask Varvara to kiss her head, loving the way that it felt. It was a little awkward at first but Varvara knew that Daria would take all that she could get but would not push Varvara if she wasn’t comfortable.
Varvara kissed Daria’s head each time she asked with three quick taps to her arm. Then she started to do it just because she felt like it.
Varvara liked looking after Daria and having someone depend on her a little. It made her feel important. Being with Daria was like being with a part of her that she didn’t know what missing. It was familiar and comforting and so achingly easy to just be with her.
Viktoria was the first one to call them “The Twins”. Never mind the two-year age gap, the different hair colors, or even their different skin tones, Viktoria said it so matter of factly and with such conviction that Varvara found it hilarious.
Daria liked being called Varvara’s twin, especially because sometimes sister wasn’t a good enough word for how Varvara felt about her.
Varvara loved all of her sisters, she’d do anything for them, and she wanted them happy more than anything. But there was something about Daria that her other sisters just didn't have. They never seemed to mind that Varvara gravitated toward Daria first. In fact, they took great delight in teasing her. But during movie nights or rides in the car, they always knew to leave two spots together for Daria and Varvara to be next to each other.
It’s just how it was and Varvara would never have it any other way.