[ semi-closed ]

[hairington]

Who: steve and closed starters
When: after nero's death, approximately end of march/beginning of april
Where: solvunn, horizon
What: the aftermath of nero's death
Warnings: mentions of death, probably swearing, trauma, violence, blood, dealing with death, etc.

Comments

[carmesi]

( steve's message reaches her, an influx of panic and desperation in the words that she's not quite felt before—or at least in a really long time. her heart is in her throat, and she knows that this isn't a prank that the two young men have signed to annoy her. wanda knows that she mustn't delay.

she drops everything she is currently doing and wastes no time in deciding between flying and teleporting; the latter she does quick, towards the area the funeral pyre had been set, and the rest of the way there is a matter of using her telepathy to find them (and yet she can only sense one). it works like a radar, and it takes wanda no time at all to find steve. she feels bile coming up her throat as she sees nero's prone form, and there's only so much she can do to take in the scenario around her.

a half-exploded spider-like carcass (which looks so familiar), ichor that feels to be everywhere in the clearing.

—no, no time to think about any of that. )

Nero.

( the name is hissed out, like she can't remember to speak, and she's falling to her knees to put her hands where the blood has pooled, trying to discern what can be done. steve holds nero, and—maybe—together, a miracle can happen— )

I can fix this. ( she continues, quietly, a string of words that may not be too true, but ones she wants to believe in. her hands, coated in blood, shine with the red pulses of her magic. ) Please. Nero.

[hairington]

[ there might have been a time where a prank like this from steve could have been possible. a time where slightly mean jokes or made up situations edged just a little too far onto the wrong side of the line, and he would laugh and laugh and laugh. that had been a steve before all of this. a steve who didn't know what it felt like to deal with death, who didn't know the hole it left in your chest when faced with it. the steve that wanda knows probably wouldn't even be able to joke about it, not when he still can't go all that long without remember eddie, without remembering wanda too.

still, it doesn't matter, because this couldn't be any further from that. this? this is panic. this is fear. this is steve's absolute desperation for someone to arrive and tell him he's dreaming, that this is some kind of hallucination, that the gods or the singularity or someone is making all of this up.

he needs wanda- he needs wanda, and so when she arrives and falls to her knees next to him, steve lets out a rush of air. it feels like he hasn't taken a breath in ages, in hours, and when he turns to her, his eyes are red and wide. the words come spilling out, tripping over each other, falling from his lips. ]

He- he- he- she, the thing, it- it won't stop bleeding. I've been trying to- I- I don't know, he stopped responding a little bit ago but I can't tell if he's- I can't find a pulse? I don't know where- I- [ steve is covered in it all, his blood and nero's, the ichor, everything else. he knows he doesn't look good, but nero looks works, and he's so still.

steve stutters where he is, holding nero but not sure if he should move or stay, if he should help wanda in some way or if he's in the way. his eyes jerk from wanda back to nero, then back again, breath stuttering in his chest.

wanda's magic flares, and steve prays- prays to the gods, prays to god, prays to fucking wanda if it will even do anything. ] Please, please, please, please-

[carmesi]

( wanda's magic manages to close off the deeper wounds, with a squelch and a melting of skin, leaving ugly scars, because wanda has no time in making it pretty. she needs the bleeding to stop, and there's hardly anything she can focus on given how much of a mess everything else.

how silent it is—when it shouldn't be.

even with steve harmonizing a chorus of 'pleases' as she tries to push her magic through to stilled organs, emptied out veins, hoping to jump start any of these—

it's quieter still, when wanda's magic stops. the glow of scarlet no longer paints any of them, and her hands are bare and human as she stops and curls her bloodied hands into tight fists.

there is no bleeding to stop.

there is nothing to bring back.

there isn't a soul tethered to this body—and wanda cannot bring back the dead. this is a lesson she taught her sons, a lesson she had to learn to live with herself, despite all her powers, despite all her magic.

wanda turns over towards steve, puts a hand to his shoulder. )

Steve.

( her voice cracks, a tinny whisper. there's nothing here to save. )

[hairington]

[ Steve watches Wanda's magic work like it's the only thing keeping his heart pumping. his eyes flutter across Nero's body, trying to find any clue, any semblance of proof, that it's working. part of him feels like he sees it, a shift of Nero's chest, a breath hidden under the layers of grime and blood and tattered clothes. it'll be any moment now, won't it? just like those movies, just like all the times he watched the great big heroes lay prone in the rubble and everything is silent for one second, two, maybe even three, before they cough. before everyone else around them takes a breath.

Steve watches, and he waits, because it will be any minute now-

and then the minute passes. and then another after that. Wanda's magic stops and Steve is still staring, still waiting, because Nero has to come back. he has to. c'mon, c'mon...

a third minute, and Steve catches Wanda's hands pulling away from Nero out of the corner of his eye. Steve doesn't look, though. doesn't turn to Wanda just yet. because there's still a chance, isn't there? it could still happen. this could all just be some prank, and Nero could be taking his time, and all of this will be something that they laugh about after and Steve will hate Nero for but that's okay, they'll be okay, because Nero's okay.

a fourth minute. Wanda's hand on his shoulder. Steve. ]

No. [ Steve says, but it is too late. the burning behind his eyes takes over, tears spilling from the corners. his voice is barely more than a whisper, but it is also hoarse, desperate, as it breaks over the word. ] No, no, no-

[ but even in his denial, even in the litany of no he echoes, Steve knows it. knows that if Wanda couldn't fix this, if Wanda - with all her power, with everything she can do, couldn't save Nero, then there was nothing for her to have saved.

Steve is the one who ruined this. Steve should have called her earlier, should have stopped Nero from getting stabbed, should have been better, faster, smarter, anything- and he didn't.

a sob breaks out of him, rocks through his ribs and out his throat, and folds forward, eyes held tightly shut as his forehead falls to Nero's body - cold, coated with so much blood, lifeless - and he cries. ]

[carmesi]

( steve is thinking all those things about how he ruined this, how it is his fault that nero is dead, but he might as well be screaming it; the emotions and the words are so loud as they reach her, and for a desperate moment she wishes she could stall the way he is thinking of himself. nero wouldn't want it this way.

when he folds forward against nero's body, wretched and helpless, wanda reaches for him, puts her hand to his back, rubs smooth circles over his clothes.

she needs to be strong for him. )

Steve. ( after a minute, she starts again, trying to pull him back. ) We need to take him back to the Settlement. I can do it myself if you rather not have to see it.

( to see the evidence of nero's death any longer. )