The scariest part is, she doesn't know how she'll outdo herself next.
Vanya's not just told she's cocky- she is cocky. Part of it is inherited, being the oldest and, well, the best, and the other half is from her own merit. She's twenty four, and she's the first Bellisario to get a Capitol-level clearance for travel. That's right, certified, apartment keys for a condo right up Style Street. The style street at that, her first year in the Capitol she would just stay at home with her window open and stare, take notes and get ahead.
Look the part, Modern Success in the form of an electric blue taser with an aubergine emoji and everything. She'd take photos on the phone she got for work, and print them out to take back home with her after the three months clearance. Absolute love for the culture, it's a breath of fresh air compared to that of District Two.
And there's just something powerful from watching the trees clear and seeing the monoliths of District One pass by.
Physically seeing yourself pass it all by, to finally feel ahead. See, Vanya is an over achiever - her whole family is, honestly - but deeper than that, she's a winner. There's nothing more important than winning, and, ultimately, watching someone else lose. To be so far ahead, she can revel and watch the train carry her the rest of the way; you can't catch up to her. Not on foot, not in a race, and that's just the way she wants it.
To work herself to death until she can look back, and no longer see you.
Maybe it's just to outrun her expectations, maybe it's just a way to avoid talking to her parents. Vanya loves them, of course, they gave her everything and have only threatened to take it away less than a hundred times. Everything that makes a good father-daughter relationship, surely, she carries herself as if it's not a bother. She comes home and kisses cheeks, brings presents for Love and the younger kids, and spends just enough time to get her credits.
She's there! You remember? Back in February, yada yada, she's just been so busy since- "talk to you soon, okay? Love you, mom, and so forth."
And she does, but god. How much does she have to give until they stop asking her questions already? It's been this way since growing up, the only career inconvenienced by the Hunger Games. Volunteering is too tacky and she knew damn well it'd never happen, not with how many girls were in her class alone. Since twelve years old, the question has always been, well, what's next?
What comes after?
With all that training, it's a shame the only battle careers fight after 19 is against depression. Vanya's seen it time and time again, the way bright eye'd seventeen year olds stare at that dimming spotlight, a light they hadn't even entered yet. These parents are killing their kids, all they prepare them for is the damn Games.
So, Vanya always knew to look ahead. Forget about it all, despite how deep rooted it all is. She was never scared to age because she had that game plan -- when she talks to herself, she tells her she'd have won if she were ever reaped. Just on the idea that she's still fighting, even after the cut off, chasing something more than a chance at fame.
She doesn't chase validation,
she chases wins.
That's what pisses her off with Ira, someone who just never seems to grow up. It's not like with Love or the twins, where they can still deny accountability, but when Nineteen comes and you're still lamenting over an early death? Get real and get help, perhaps even get over it.
It's a guilty pleasure that she only brings gifts for the younger kids -- she likes the feeling of cutting out her parents, and she likes disappointing Ira. Making him feel like he's not worth the attention; it's the most malicious thing she'll do to him. He's at least got some grip on his life, Vanya just can't stand people without drive. Without some kind of ambition, what's even the point anyways?
There's some truth behind the bad intention: why should she care if you don't? Vanya models for Capitolite's now, once she breaks a new Bellisario standard she wants her try at another one. Something so ingrained she doesn't even know to question it, her dad always told her you give everything for the family. Sacrifice your time, your energy, your life if you can.
Maybe Vanya's going about it the best she can after all.
Maybe she's sacrificed her identity to it, that's something that keeps creeping down her neck. An ugly truth, it's embarrassing to bring that to a place like the Capitol. To be surrounded by the pinnacle of Panem, and still question the ideology that got you there.
Her parents are so proud of her, they tell her in congratulation cards. Of what? She couldn't tell you, but she enjoys the thought of it.
Just like the enjoys the thought of archery, really. Centered her identity around it, that she's an archer, that that's her thing, her weapon to tackle her situations. When the going gets tough, she just remembers that mom and dad are most proud of her. That she gets to be the trophy, the most valued.
But she thinks Love is the favorite, ever since he became their prodigy. Admittedly, it's nice to hide behind it every now and again, especially since she's been around less. Vanya's missed his last formation, but she heard all about it, and damn did mom tell her all about it. Every little detail, and if she weren't so irritated she would be proud of him.
On the surface, she's overwhelmingly proud of him! She knows she should be, she couldn't ride on Ira's complacency for forever. Anytime she's around, she hangs around Love and Lux the most, supports them how she can and everything- but it's fucking annoying that he beat her in something. It was bound to happen but... damn.
When Vanya came back from the Capitol last year, Love wanted to spar and she always entertains it. Of course she does, it's a free win -- a free rush. She's six years more experienced and she's a trainer for her day job for God's sake. And she won, of course, too close for comfort and mad at the fact she didn't demolish that kid. Just- how dare he? Absolute audacity.
Anyways, completely irrational and she recognizes that. Every so often it'll crop up, that inner anger anytime someone pokes holes in her armor; her full proof plan to prove herself. Every time she's forced to question the sustainability of herself; how much further can she push? What is left to achieve?
Blue hair down to her lower back, spotting in music videos for Gulliver Zane, working right under the Capitol's own hand; should she start modelling or something?
Well, if she can't figure it out by thirty, she can always be a serial killer or something.
She'll always wonder what they wrote in the book after her, when she'll have the chance to read it again. Read what's in her blood, the people who have walked so she could sit pampered on a train. And part of her will come to wonder why exactly Love was chosen instead of her, why he was allowed to volunteer in due time.
Her name exists under a list of other trainers, every Capitolite's above her own, and she's worked twenty four years for that. And Love is third on his list, district two male from a blessing she was never allowed to ask for.