( closed prompts )

[carmesi]

Who: Wanda and others
What: Eclipse, magical madness, quest
Where: Solvunn and Horizon
When: A bit after the eclipse, mid-March.
Warnings: Will include in top levels if necessary.

Comments

[piqure]

[ he wouldn’t want to say he lost everything. but he did, in many ways. it felt like she had too (felt, more apt than seen).

not all was lost, he'd still argue. after all, the multiverse was reportedly stable. mj and ned got into their top choice universities, friendship strong as ever and maybe one day — one day they'd know him again. dr strange...returned to the sanctum, and likely returned to facing down issues larger than the worries of an eighteen year old who didn’t even call to convince a school for admission first. life went on.

and yet even those who are alive and who matter no longer remember him. even here, it’s all just borrowed time before something happens again — before he gets whisked back home, or before they do, and how does that even work and if they come back will they know him or will he have to do it all over again?

it isn’t a spiral of thought he should go down on and the world shudders around him, and peter pushes against his horizon instead. almost forcefully pushes, chases the loneliness away, pulling the apartment back to whatever it was before: one of may’s places. melancholy maybe, but comfortable to fall back into. maybe because he can’t quite picture any other place with as much stability for the horizon to take its shape.

but wanda approaches the couch and sits, and peter lingers at the threshold, carefully watching the scarlet tendrils paint the scene around them.

there’s an ache under his ribs, cavernous. brows pinch, and he watches the two boys. there’s the start of a wave, until his hand drops by his side again. ] Oh.

[ anything beyond that seems inadequate. her magic? created them?? they couldn't stay? he does supply ] I won't tell anyone else... [ that's not his secret to tell, regardless.

he doesn't understand the magic, no. the nuances are lost on him, the disbelief rising before its tamped down. but it would not be superfluous now to say he knows near exactly how she feels despite. at the mention of her brother, he nods. small and quiet. ]

Oh — yeah, yeah I did.

Pietro, right? [ don’t go forgetting it the man of memory had asked. it seemed impolite to now. it seems impossible to. ] I didn’t know he was part of the Avengers too.

I'm — sorry. [ he remembers wanting to warn him, apprehension bubbling up. he means the next genuinely: ] He seemed really great.

[carmesi]

Just for a day.

[the way she says it, in sing-song, like it's a bit of an aggravation and not something quite so special. she sighs, pulling tommy's longer hair lightly behind an ear, her own magic and this place's workings allowing for the semblance of realness to their shapes.

it's not at all surprising that he isn't all that well known at all, even with the newer avengers; no one ever spoke of him, no one wanted to speak about him with her. clint did, but wanda hated to do so—the guilt he felt over the situation weighed on him. besides, whenever wanda was pulled out of her shell enough to talk about pietro, she would always look for a reason to fight about it—she was angry, in pain, and didn't know where to put these feelings.]

He was — half of my soul, ripped apart. We were always together, and after our parents were killed, he always looked after me. [a small shrug] He was twelve minutes older, and he would never let me forget.

I was so angry when he was killed. How dare he leave me? How was I supposed to continue living? I felt like I was... dead.

[she hugs her children tighter against herself, a lasting comfort, before she squeezes a little too tight, enough for flutters of red to disappear, their image breaking apart as she ends with her elbows at her lap, her hands to her face. every day that she isn't with her sons feels like a nightmare; it aches, it's painful.

wanda composes herself enough to sit back, her face muted, eyes rimming with tears, looking at peter. she recalls their first conversation back in sam's horizon.]

It never goes away. We just have to learn to live with it, because the world moves on.

[she reaches her hand out to him, so that should he take it, she will tug him to sit on the couch with her; however, she doesn't let go of his hand, holding on to it, now putting her other hand over his. her voice a quiet whisper after she waits for peter to sit himself down and stop wriggling in place. she knows this is a conversation that needs to be had, because she's had it a number of times before. vision always led it, and she leads now from his example (and she's glad he did, because had she bottled it all inside, she would have broken at the seams).]

What happened to Aunt May, Peter?

[piqure]

[ peter keeps stock-still while she talks, arms crossed and shoulder leaning against the threshold to the room, little more than an arms length from the couch and treacherously unsure of what to say.

there’s a small wave of guilt, somehow, for not knowing who pietro was until he’s come to him in that blur. he wishes he knew him for longer than a frazzled recollection. there’s a small huff, brittle humor in the small curve of his mouth. he was twelve minutes older, and he would never let me forget.

it felt like i was dead, and she talks of anger and he nods. it wasn’t the same, their stories, but they had uncanny parallels, found in losing the people that meant the most. ] Like you’re drowning.

[ slips out, all sentiment, before he watches the twins fade through the scarlet, doesn’t realize the step he’s taken forward as it happens until he’s looking at her offered hand and tear filled eyes. how could she ever think he’d hate her for any of this, he still doesn’t know, a hand carefully slipped into hers.

throat suddenly dry, confronted face-on with something he’s been trying to tamp down ever since he’d scrambled himself out of the tumultuous interweave of their collective grief. don’t think, don’t think, don’t think.

but she asks so directly and so simply, settling in on the couch and he deflates. he considers it a moment, considers the honest hurt wanda had just shared with him.

parallels.

he shrugs. his voice is small, a waver at the edges of his words.] She stayed when she should have ran?

[ memories still frayed and raw. even if they weren’t just scrubbed through, even then, sometimes when he closes his eyes all he can see is her in the rubble but it’s especially bright now.

her last words, and the burning anger that still stings the back of his throat like bile. ] We wanted to help, and things just got messed up. I really messed up.

[ he takes a breath and the words all tumble out faster than he can stop them. he hasn’t had the chance to tell anyone else, not in the same context. strange knew the facts, sam knew the loss. wanda seemed to know his heart. ] There were all these people coming in from different universes — people who knew me. Or — versions of me, I guess? [ he doesn’t infill the how’s or why’s, apprehensive. guilty, embarrassed, and maybe not wanting to bring in stephen (he thinks of the wrecked man in the horizon just days before, all sharp words and dismissal and hurt). ]

We — wanted to help them. Sending them back would have meant they’d just be sent back to die, but —

But I thought we could help them instead and May agreed. She convinced me it was the right thing and —

There was a fight, [ he doesn’t look at wanda as he talks. doesn’t look at anything in particular as much as through. his throat tightens, hands tense under hers.

I want to rip him apart.

he nearly had, too. a near thing until his own counter, a displaced peter parker with nothing but understanding in his words and his eyes, reminded him of a different choice. reminded him of everything she stood for too. ] One of the last things she told me is that I still made the right choice. And that I had a responsibility.

[ he shakes his head, and finally chances to look at her, near stranger no longer, who somehow knows the most now. ] Is it bad I still wish I killed him? [ he doesn't specify who, isn't sure he can, or he needs to, the corners of his eyes tight. ] I didn't. It wouldn't have changed anything but —

It doesn't go away.

[carmesi]

[it cannot be comforting, to feel the guilt of someone's death on your actions—because of mistakes. wanda listens, keeps her hands wrapped as a steady anchor for peter's tense hand.

universes. the multiverse. people getting pulled in.

it's pretty dangerous, vision had told her once, as their conversations of more trivial matters eventually led to his unbound exploration of the universe and the cosmos and whatever the stone on his forehead wouldn't keep quiet about. wanda can only imagine what must have happened, the inklings of those thoughts locked too far back in the recesses of peter's mind, regardless of their thought becoming intertwined.

it's always the better people that they know who end up dying. vision, wanting to save the world; peter's aunt may, wanting to believe in the good in others.

a fight brings back memories of that moment when she started losing hold of her magic; she felt like she was being strangled, a crazed man's eyes staring down at her, pupils blown out. she felt the spit after his words on her cheeks, the desperation in her thoughts, how weak she had felt. all that: peter's memories.

gently, wanda tries to sway the tension from peter's hand, rubbing lightly over his knuckles, reminding him that he isn't alone.]

I never got to kill those who took my loved ones from me. [not stark, not ultron, not thanos.] I still think about it, but... that's not something you can come back from. [similarly to how she had done to the illusion of tommy, wanda picks a hand up to fix peter's hair behind his ear, an easy enough distraction.] But I've killed others, innocents, because of my own mistakes. It feels horrible, and I think of it every day. [she drops her hand back down onto his, holding his hand tighter.] It will go away.

[it's—the opposite of what she told him, before, but peter had asked if that self-hatred would ever go away. this time, he asks it in the context of the guilt that comes from not taking action. it will go away. she thinks she forgave tony stark, despite everything, so there's that, right?]

Just focus on her words.

[he had made the right choice; he had a responsibility. i love you, before a flash, the mind stone breaking. shakily, she exhales, and lets go to pull him close, her words a murmur against his hair.]

You hang on to that, Peter.

[piqure]

[ for a moment, peter closes his eyes and tries to ground himself, between how tired he feels and how — hollow, maybe. wrung out of everything he had.

but her hands on his serve as anchor, and the cadence of her voice and not for the first time, she offers understanding. parallels. it goes away, she promises. he isn’t so sure, but he wants to trust her in that, so much.

but there’s a news anchor’s voice in his head, loud amidst the rush of a downpour and stretched across a billboard; everything spiderman touches turns to ruin and we, the innocents, are left to pick up the pieces —

eyes flick open, with an inhale in. hair tucked behind his ear. ] Yeah. Yeah, I guess you can’t.

[ he doesn’t know what else to say, just leans forward when she draws him in. you hang on to that. it’s all he can do, as he pulls away, and runs a hand across his face. ] Sorry — [ croaked again, a sniff. ] Sorry you got drawn into this. I didn’t mean it to be so — loud? [ she said her powers reacted to these things, hadn’t she? that they’ve been acting out for the last few days?

sentiment called to sentiment, but he hand’t wanted to make it worse, isn’t sure if he could have ever helped it anyway.

ruin and ruination. ] — and, thank you. For listening. No one else knows all of that, either. Not fully, anyway.

[carmesi]

It was my fault.

[there's no point in cutting corners. it was her magic that spiraled out of control, latched onto something incredibly private, all because her intent was that she wanted to uncover something dark, something deliciously upsetting, just so she could feed her own pain.

but she offers a small smile nonetheless, because it means so much to her, that peter would not blame her for what she's done. wanda knows he is smart enough to know where fault lies.

this really speaks to how beautiful and generous his heart is.]

It's not easy. [parsing through these feelings—keeping them in, allowing others to know about them. neither option is easier.] Vision would constantly walk into my room to see how I was doing, after Pietro's funeral. I found it so irritating, but... it helps.

[she rubs her hand gently along his back, and then allows for distance between each other. their knees knock together, but nothing more.]

You can talk to me any time you want, Peter.

[looking around at the work-in-progress that is peter's horizon, she settles back on the couch.]

I only saw these kinds of apartments on American sitcoms. Do you know Friends? [PLZ] Their apartments were much bigger.

[piqure]

[ it wasn't, actually, he wants to say.

but sometimes, good intentions still lead to messes. he knows that too and it doesn't feel like a point that they need to keep dwelling on, he thinks and it's easier to react with just the slightest shake to his head against her shoulder before righting himself away.

he looks down at his hands again, before rolling his shoulders, and looking back out at the incomplete horizon. edges of memories of everything it wants to be, too much all at once. ] Thanks, Wanda. [ not alone. ] You too. [ for now. ]

[ the question catches him off-guard though, and his eyes are quickly snapping up to look around the room again, then back at her. his mouth tilts in tired amusement. ] Oh, yeah! Yeah, I know Friends — [ hey are you trying to say this place is small!! ] — their places were definitely bigger than what you can get now. I guess it depends where you look.

[ he hums, as if realizing he never really knew, or asked: ] Where were you, before getting brought here? [ country, planet. universe? ]

[carmesi]

[wanda is glad that her comment offers some levity to their situation, despite all that they've witnessed so far from each other. it brings a smile to her face that he's quick to recognize the sitcom she would watch a lot of, in a faraway country, unawares of the reality of a place such as new york city.]

I never actually got to go to New York City.

[so she has no scale of it, only ones from a very particular viewpoint.

she is curious about his question, though, frowning for a moment as she thinks about it, until she lands on what she's talking about.]

I was... in some part of Sokovia, but [a light shake of her head] it's obviously not Sokovia anymore. Thanos was defeated, and it's been, maybe a few months? I didn't keep a calendar or phone with me.

[with a slight sigh and a bit of a shrug, she straightens her back before she speaks.]

I don't have anywhere else to go.