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[It's moments like these that this apparent darkness churns and twists in his head, clawing up and up. Wanda would be able to sense it, that offness, because he feels no need to hide it when his curiosity is pulled in a completely different direction.

He casts a look in her direction.]

It's precisely why we should ask what it is.

[His brow scrunches.]

Come on. You must be curious, too.

I am, but that doesn’t mean—

[henry hasn’t been here long enough, but he’s been here through a lot of the messed up stuff. he should know better than this, and yet he is driven by this churning anger and darkness within him that he hides so well.

it’s easy to tell she won’t be able to change his mind, though.

wanda picks up her pace, towards that feeling that lures them to continue forward.]

It’s not going to be anything good.

[she can just tell.]

[It's the ugly part beneath that draws him to what he should not be curious about, what he should be wary of. His fascination regarding all things that might be powerful, that might be strange, unusual and misunderstood-

But most of all, he feels a power.]

Maybe not.

[Wavering in the air, near the shrine, tugging and tugging and tugging at his consciousness.

Probably heralding nothing good, Henry extends a hand. Seeks a little piece of the veil in his mind's eye that might be weaker, where something is trying so hard to push through.]

Help me bring it in.

[HELP HIM WANDA EVEN THO YOU JUST SAID HE SHOULD BE CAREFUL,]

[bringing anything in is reason enough to not do anything towards it, and wanda can definitely hear stephen’s voice in her head asking her what were you thinking and telling that she knew better. but she doesn’t deny henry’s request, putting up her hand once she manages to stand beside henry—wanda reaches forward, too.

maybe, if she gets herself involved in this, she can control whatever henry is inevitable going to bring out.]

You remember the shrine we went to a few months ago, don’t you?

[wanda says this as a bit of a warning, but she also knows it’s not going to make her stop.

something starts pushing against their consciousness, and wanda frowns, wary.]

This doesn’t — seem right.

[Oh, yes, Stephen Strange would definitely not approve of this instance in particular, nor would he approve of the company she's keeping, i.e. Mr. Creel here, who seems more than adamant enough to pull things free of the veil that he should not.]

Wanda, we're never going to unearth the secrets of this world-

[He feels her effort to aid him in wrenching this thing free, and that immediately overrides any immediacy in her warning; if Henry would have cared in the first place, besides.]

-we're not going to do it by standing by and waiting for something to happen to us.

[Action versus reaction. He's tired of simply letting things happen to him.

And so, it's not unlike a rubberband snapping, and quickly: something in the veil tears, a hole yawns in the fabric of reality itself, and just above the shrine, a retinue of so many arms reaches through at all manner of awkward, twisted angles, as though it pull itself in. Wanda you wouldn't be able to relate to this at all, huh.

Eventually, it simply falls through and lands... in a heap at their feet. A strange monster is really all it can be described at, with grey flesh and too many limbs, like a human turned upside-down, ribcage jutting upwards, fleshy and blooming. It twitches wetly.

What the actual hell.]

[the idea of wanting something to happen by seeking it out themselves is a hard lesson wanda has already learned plenty of times before—the quintessential 'fuck around and find out'. it's far too late to reconsider what she's doing, though, for their psionic abilities combined pull something that tears through the fabric of reality.

arms, a creature with its torso open, its organs naked to the surface, falling quite suddenly at their feet.

wanda takes a step back, already taking in a pulse of this creature's inner workings. her hand surrounds itself with a circling of her scarlet magic.]

This creature cannot be, Henry.

[and, unless he or someone else stops her, wanda will disintegrate it from its existence in their world.]

Wait.

[No, how can she simply banish it away, try to destroy it? When something so fresh and impossibly curious is all twisted limbs and heaving "chest" at their feet, some creature unlike anything he's ever seen before. Something alien and terrible and fascinating.

He reaches out to grab her by her wrist, a sign to halt.]

What do you mean it cannot be? I can feel it, it's like... It's connected.

[To his mind. Somewhere deep, somewhere he cannot precisely access, but the feeling ist here, so faint -- as thin as fishing wire, but just as taut.]

No, wait. Let's see if it's even dangerous.

[A laughable notion, because just look at it.

...Look at it as it starts to rise onto its many legs, hissing out as it twists around to turn its "front" towards them both; hard to tell without a face, but it seems almost... disoriented?]

[wait, he says, and wanda feels altogether too baffled by his words and actions—grabbing at her wrist to stop her—to really try and formulate a logical reason for all this.

she pulls her wrist back onto herself, showing her disapproval.]

We both know it's dangerous.

[just by looking at it — but also based on what they're receiving as a mental connection, surface-level as it may be. as it starts moving, wanda takes a step back, but holds her ground once she sees that it seems to be gathering its bearings.]

[He releases her wrist, far too intrigued for his own good. It's unlike anything he's seen before in this world, certainly something pulled from- what? Another realm?

When the thing rises and twists itself to look at them, Henry barely takes a backstep. There's something there, that nigglings sense of connection that makes him believe he's not under threat — at least not immediately.

Which is a strange stance to take when it lunges forward just enough to close the space between both of them, raising its limbs in the air, hissing loudly—

(Henry’s eyes widen, but really, he just smiles a little.)

—before it pauses, as though frozen in place… and twists around to dart away through the trees.]

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