· OPEN ·

[carmesi]

Who: Wanda Maximoff, featuring others
When: July 22-August 5
Where: Solvunn and Horizon
What: Catch-all for Wanda's Sadbatical; closed starters within. Her magic is doing some messing around within Horizons, but this is opt-in! It's not happening throughout, and only when she is present in the Horizon.
Warnings: Grief, guilt, shame, mild-suicidal thoughts, Multiverse of Madness themes, TBA

[it has been a week since wanda removed herself from gardsbruk farm and found a place to isolate herself in—a small woods hedging the border of solvunn. the journey there had been fraught with substantial pause, and, at times, she felt she couldn't breathe. all she remembers is sitting in the darkhold castle atop wundagore mountain and forcing it to fall, its destruction surrounding her, the fury of her mistakes heavy stone. to be back here, now, it's not mercy.

wanda wishes she were dead.

her first week away, exiled to this far-off forest, she's set up a hex in it. slowly, as the days went by, the hex became smaller and smaller, until it encompasses a small portion towards the center of it. at first glance, it seems inconsequential, nothing of note to be seen, but an individual more adept at magic would see that its placid visage is interrupted by the back-and-forth of red static. anyone attempting to enter it would be rejected, expelled immediately.

the days go past without her taking any conscious recollection of them. magic bursts forth from her, her sorrow, her shame inclement against her psyche. it isn't long before she starts confusing reality with delusion, in this state, in her own isolation—she tries eating because her body demands it, but she can't seem to keep anything down, water from the stream that goes past the only thing keeping her mildly aware of her circumstances. and as she stares at the stars, and the sun, and the moon, past the canopy of the trees, her eyes blur the images she sees.

finding herself barefoot, she walks the trail of trees, the silence deafening. the leaves under her feet crunch and break. unbeknownst to her, her magic trails along with her, a mind of its own, subsuming different domains in red. it remains so, until she blinks back awake into the real world, an ache in her throat. her scarlet magic pulses again in tired exhaustion, her screams unheard within her self-imposed jail.]

Comments

post-dated to aug5th;

[piqure]

[ before the information from strange had come through — he’s caught up now, with everything that stands for — even before then, before the turmoil and the spiral it had launched peter into, he couldn’t fully shake the sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach.

it didn’t start right away. it didn’t start when he first sent wanda another message and received no reply. she’s busy, he reasoned. it wasn’t always convenient, words blotting out your eyes. it wasn’t a good time.

and then it was another message missed and granted he wasn’t asking anything noteworthy. but it planted a seed of anxiety that made him, a few days following, seek out her horizon.

he had inserted himself into it carefully, and through this state — where somehow everything felt more real even though he was still leaning up against the wall of his room — silence and unease filled him, made his senses craw and craw and crawl.

he’d caught wisps of scarlet fog, he’d called out with no answers and saw the sky haze into crimson red.

and yet still, he tried to reason. he thought since the horizon was still there, then she must also be. that maybe she’s just not in it right, that maybe she’s busy or — or that somethings wrong.

peter had long decided to trust his preternatural sense. for better or worse, it has been a part of him for years, and maybe he just need to be better at listening to it. and it had told him, something isn’t right. but lots of things haven’t been right lately. the nightmares, the entities inside them. maybe, he tries to think, maybe she just didn’t want to risk something happening again.

it’s with that last attempt at convincing himself that he departs, with the a lingering sense of the scarlet fog.

a few more days pass, accompanied by another trip to a horizon that was scattered into pieces and peter thought that that was it, that there she was gone and maybe he had sent one final message after that. maybe, he’d be embarrassed to admit, he sent her something that said wanda? come back, please? and by the time he hears, by the time he knows strange has caught up and surpassed him in time, slips in wanda’s name somewhere in the recollection, something finally hits peter like a proverbial freight train.

if stephen is caught up, what if wanda is too.

what if — what if she was still here and —

— with dread creeping up, and maybe guilt, peter thinks: what if she’s forgotten him. what if she didn’t reply because he was just some stranger acting overly familiar at a difficult time and peter would be mortified if he wasn’t so desperately struck with a premature feeling of loss.

another person, endlessly important to him through the short amount of months spent around each other, another person lost and —

— and it’s okay if she is. it’s okay because it’s selfish to want her to remember him right? because it’s still the price he had to pay. but, whether she does or not, there’s something else that strikes at Peter’s mind. the way her magic wrapped around him that time, their grief and pain shared so much that he isn’t sure he’d ever be able to fully shake it off. maybe he wouldn’t want to (carried together, spread and divided, might lighten a load). but he remembers that now.

it’s okay if you hate me she’d said and something chokes at him at that and what if she’s just scared and alone right now? what if she thinks something like that again and there’s no one to remind her?

is that selfish of him? Is that overstepping??

peter parker has long decided to trust his instinct. and not for the last time, he takes a leap of faith, as he reaches out again. ]

Hi, Wanda?
My name is Peter Parker.
I’m —
I’m not sure you’ll remember me, and that’s okay. Which, I realize, is probably a weird thing to say.

But — We’re from the same universe. And. And I just wanted to reach out. And see if you’re okay.

I know that’s also weird to hear from a stranger, but I just wanted to say you’re not alone. It can feel that way, but you’re not. I just…wanted to let you know that.

[ he lets his mind quiet, let’s that final period drop off and he lingers, in the quiet of his room, where there’s only the sound of his own, slightly faster, breathing. ]

here. we. go.

[carmesi]

[darkness embraced, wanda's state of mind is not one full of clarity. she struggles, hopping in and out of consciousness—waking to delusions created by her magic, of her bedroom in the perfect suburban home, only to disappear the next time she opens her eyes. dreams within dreams, straying out of thought and time, stars wheeling overhead, back and forth, between the moon and the sun.

she sees vision sometimes, taking her hand and picking her off of the ground, regaling her with easygoing stories of simple, trivial things. minutes pass before she catches herself, talking alone, scarlet magic disappearing from the corner of her eyes. it's this constant back and forth, of not wanting to escape reality but wishing to do so irregardless, that makes her feel that she is teetering back and forth from the brink of something damaged.

it's amidst such a moment, in the turmoil of not wanting to confront how she feels, that her thoughts stop abruptly.

hi, wanda?
my name is peter parker.

...familiar. it's a familiar name, and she connects it to the pertaining face so quickly. how long has it been? she blinks and his messages disappear before she can read them. no, come back. wanda holds on to it, to this anchor; she focuses, closing her eyes tight.]

Peter.

[it comes rushed out, frazzled, like this is a message she needs to convey, conversations prior of a boy worried of being forgotten, willing to be forgotten. it feels like the only rational thing she's thought about in days; the first thoughts that follow some kind of distinct order.]

I remember you.

—sam /falcony.

[carmesi]

[when wanda traverses the horizon, she has no place in mind. it is an aimless amble across the quietest parts of it, enforced only by the faintest threads of familiarity. her own home—the majestic towering peaks of sokovia and her cabin—no longer feels like it, and she avoids it without realizing, pulling instead towards warmth that is not her own.

she steps into sam's domain, this perfect depiction of a golden americana afternoon, and her steps are on automatic leading her inside.

time goes by, inconsequential, and when she returns to herself, she is holding steadfast on a wooden frame. her breathing comes out in short spurts, halted by hiccups, by sobs. raising her eyes, she sees the world around her—splintered in two. sam's home, so carefully created, seems overtaken by her own concoction of perfect american suburbia; the walls are amiss, the floors different (one carpet, the other hardwood), and the clash in furniture stops halfway at the seams. windows are shattered, doors tossed off their hinges.

her knuckles white as she holds on tight to the frame. a photograph of sam's nephews with their mother and uncle, and it hurts— it hurts so much.

another sob pulls out from her, as she gently puts her fingers over the photograph.]

I'm sorry. I'm—

[it's a hoarse whisper. to who? she knows to who, her sons, whom she scared, whom she hurt. know they'll be loved. but who will be left to love her, as she is?]

Sorry.

[falcony]

[ he's not sure exactly what it is that draws him in. whether it's the feeling that something is amiss in his own domain, or if it's thor's words, IF YOU SEE ANY OF HER MAGIC MANIFEST, IT IS PERHAPS BETTER TO LEAVE, EVEN IN THE HORIZON, written somewhere behind his eyes. he and steve do as they promise, they check on wanda's horizon, they make sure she hasn't disappeared. but it doesn't settle it, it doesn't fix anything, and the worry and the uncertainty continues to curl inside him.

something is off, that much sam knows, and just like his gut had led him out into the desert, it leads him to his horizon, now. today. it leads him to this very spot, where he stands, frozen to the spot.

it leads him to a vision of two houses, two places, two homes, split right in half. one half is the house of his own horizon, the place he was raised, the place his nephews have been raised, the place where his sister still lives. but it's not right, because when he looks at it now, it's split right down the middle, and on the other side sits a house he doesn't know. doesn't recognize. some home, some suburban house, that does not belong in the backyard of a lousiana lot.

that worry twists into something else, thor's warning ignored. ]

Wanda? [ sam takes off towards the house, or rather - the two houses, joined as one. ] Wanda!

—himeka /aquaveiled.

[carmesi]

[wanda awakens with a start, sitting upright on the bed she shares with himeka. in the darkness of this night, all wanda can dispel from her surroundings is the immensity of her pain, feeling like this is the end of her story. instead, she is rewarded—no, tortured with the wretched realization that she is here, in abraxas.

in a fit of panic, she pulls away from the bed, drawing blankets and pillows with her feet, stumbling and falling to her knees. her hands catch onto the splinters of the wooden floor. she's staring from the edge of the abyss, and it takes a moment of calculated concentration before she is pulling herself upright with magic, dressing herself in her scarlet dress and crown, and crawling up towards the window. the moon shines so bright, and that's all she takes heed of as she removes the pane with magic and pulls herself out, taking off in flight.

wanda doesn't make it too far.

she lands at the edge of the farm's territory, her steps wobbly as she tries to keep upright. blasts of red magic burst forth, against herself, trying to make herself collapse—but in the same way it had protected her before, in westview, her magic refuses to hurt her.

falling to her knees, wanda grabs fistfuls of soil and grass, the weight of her sins weighing her down. she doesn't speak, but her sobs are loud enough, as she cries and screams into the earth, cradling the pauses for shaky sobs.]

[aquaveiled]

[ She feels the shift in the blankets and on the mattress at first, but fitful nights and either one of them getting up and moving about is hardly uncommon. So, initially, Himeka pays it no mind, allowing Wanda the privacy to do whatever it is that she needs to do. It's when she hears more muffling and then the very clear breeze of an open window hits her face that Himeka starts to rouse properly.

Except there is no window anymore. Or rather, there's no pane, just the wooded frame to the side.

She pushes up, noticing that many of the sheets had been taken from the bed as well, and rushes to the window. Small flashes of red in the distance--a red that feels familiar. Worry immediately strikes her heart. Wanda is someone that needs alone time and space--she knows this and she's happy to provide. But this...this isn't a thoughtful stroll under the stars, is it?

Himeka doesn't hesitate to climb out the window, bare feet landing on the mix of soil and moss directly outside. Her approach isn't silent, but it isn't loud either, her footfalls muffled by the soft earth. When she sees the other woman on the ground, she slows. Wanda's frame shakes.

She knows that sounds. ]

...Wanda?

—horizon

[catholica]

( matt's never been accused of having an overly active imagination and that's what this feels like, honestly. sometimes, he'd lay awake at night, scared and unable to see, creating things in his mind just so he wouldn't forget what different things looked like.

but he thinks he's forgotten anyway. he knows that the sky is blue, that the grass is green, but maybe he's forgotten the exact color red of a fire truck or maybe the crisp whiteness of snow seems duller in his head.

but, he knows this is something that's necessary especially for this place, especially if he wants to try and speak with people in other regions.

it takes some time but he does get something formed. he doesn't think, he just let's his mind unfurl and what he ends up with is — not what he expected.

it's chilly but not cold, the breeze just enough to ruffle the hair of anyone that's there. below, he can hear the sounds of cars starting and stopping, not so loud that they're distracting but giving the place some sort of noise so it's not eerily quiet.

it takes matt a few moments to realize that what he's here is create the roof of a tall building in new york, something far, far above the busy city below. there's the smell of concrete and metal in the air but the only light exists are a few twinkling points of illumination on the horizon and nothing else.

matt doesn't need the light and he supposes if someone else were to visit, he could figure out a way to make it lighter. but he leaves it dark. there's a brick wall around the roof's ledge, something to lean against and sit on if you wanted to dangle your legs over the city below.

it's a simple reminder of where he's come from and what he's trying to get back to. he's not sure if he's done it right but this is what he's got.

maybe everyone was right when they said he had no imagination.

[carmesi]

[maybe there is little imagination needed to put together a roof and a brick wall, but for a blind man—wanda is not here to judge. she's followed, instead, the threads of a message she received. as she crosses between realities, finding nothing but cold and bitter resentment, words of gratitude, of barely concealed friendly banter draws her in.

wanda approaches this noisy world; familiar, gritty sounds of the city, enough to keep her steady. she conceals herself in the shadows, only to find herself following the ledge with her hand, feeling the bumps of texture under her fingers.

she comes to a halt. what did she come looking for, here? she thinks of the words she saw earlier—thank you. you didn't have to. ah, that's right. the lawyer. matthew.

it's a noisy world, but it's dark. she can hide away in it, even as the night sky takes on a red tint, colors the world in a hue of reds and pinks. wanda sits on the ledge, her back to the city, an old chimney casting a shadow partway against her. a moderate sense of stability comes to her even as she leans down and stares at her hands, bruised and marred with the evidence of dark magic.

wanda hears him before she sees him, and still she does not raise her head, trying to rub away at the tar on her thumbs. her voice is quiet, shaky,]

You forgot the boxing gym.

—wilhelm /ordinar.

[carmesi]

[when exhaustion leads her to sleep, wanda's dreams no longer see worlds with her sons. be it because of the singularity's interference or her own unconscious doing, there is no repairing what goes through her mind. the endless despair, the desire to remove herself from conscious thought, all to ignore the reality of the world she inhabits.

as she opens her eyes, she finds herself walking down a path among birch trees, mist low on the ground. she roams barefoot, keeping along with this aimless wandering she seemed to awaken halfway through. as hands press against nearby trees, they curl up, wilt in ripples on the spot she's touched—her fingers covered in tar-like black, the red cape cinched at her waist trailing behind her. it is not long before she reaches the edge of the forest, and—standing now before the clearing—she watches impassively.

the mist turns red and slowly starts to roll unto it, towards the modest bungalow she had visited once before. why was she drawn here? the sky darkens regardless of her thoughts, a haze of red taking over the blue that reflected the ocean's waves. it would be enough to alarm anyone seeking a relaxing retreat in this domain.

wanda stands here, waiting, wilting trees at her wake, crown atop her head, like a mara—uninvited.]

[ordinar]

[It was relaxing, until the sky takes on the color of a wound and a wave of hazy red starts rolling down the slope toward the beach. Wilhelm is on his way back up to the house when the shift in the environment arrests him mid-step. The darkening sky echoes closely enough how his domain had contorted during the siege of nightmares that his pulse spikes. Half anticipating the weight of that shadowy entity's gaze — the one that had stalked him through nightmares, the one that should have been eradicated — he darts his eyes around.

The edge of his fear dulls as he discerns the approaching figure. That coppery hair, unique to its owner, has vaulted into familiarity fast. Wanda. Like the calm in the eye of a storm, though, his relief gets swallowed up again as he realizes something is wrong.

Well, he'd already begun to suspect it. After several days of silence followed their last meeting — conversation and tea, which was turning into a routine — Wilhelm had finally tried reaching out. Hey, is everything okay? Casual in a way he definitely didn't feel. But he'd received no answer, and he didn't know what that meant.

Now he struggles to make sense of what he sees. Something jagged and hard shatters the warmth he's used to finding in Wanda's expression. There's a wildness to her, a rawness that matches the sky. As another tree curls up dead in her wake, he's struck with the realization that it's not the corruption of some outside force that's causing this — it's all her.

And yet—]

Wanda?

[He walks toward her. Hesitant with each step, fingernails digging into his palms, he climbs up the slope.]

—julie /princessvegas.

[carmesi]

[time spirals, waves, and wanda finds herself knocking back and forth between the real world and the horizon. there is a sentiment that keeps pushing back at her magic whenever she does roll into the horizon, and it's... familiar? it takes her a while to make note of it, as every time she thinks she is close to an answer, she blinks her way out entirely, back into the real world.

this time, though, when she feels it again, when she thinks she hears the stubborn words that go along with this pinkification of her magic.

it's definitely familiar.

and so, this time, wanda follows along and appears from within. she has always dressed casually within the horizon, but here she remains in the same clothes she had last worn back home; crown on her head, her red clothes and tattered cape. she looks tired, out of sorts, her tone little colder than usual.]

You wanted to talk to me.

[princessvegas]

[ The first day that Julie had discovered Wanda's missing domain, she (somewhat understandably) freaked out. Just a little. Worked herself into an anxiety spiral before she noticed that, yes, the cabin and everything else was gone, but the space wasn't empty.

Wanda is there, shapeless and aimless and lost, but there. An unsteady crimson cloud, trying to consume everything in its path.

So Julie puts herself squarely in that path.

She had, at first, given Wanda the chance to respond to messages, but after a day or two of nothing, Julie decided that the only way to handle this is her own way. She is the woman who has survived two apocalypses, who dragged herself over a thousand miles in solitude for a dream, who has escaped a demon wizard. She can communicate directly and personally with the most powerful force that anyone seems to have ever heard of. She will not be bested by some fucking fog and a cold shoulder.

It does take time. A few afternoons spread over the course of week. But Julie has nothing if not an abundance of free time to spend in the Horizon. Every day, she marches directly into what used to be the heart of Wanda's domain, where there used to be a worn-in chair in the cabin. Like a petulant child, she plants herself on the ground, sitting cross-legged with her arms folded over her chest. When she calls out for Wanda, it's not with her voice.

I'm not leaving, Wanda.

The mist crawls toward her, every time, and every time, she surrounds herself with a mist of her own as a counter, clouds of magenta that rise up to buttress against the scarlet. Julie doesn't seek to push Wanda's magic back -- she only wants to insulate herself from it.

When, finally, Wanda appears, Julie looks up at her from the ground, her head tilted to the side. Her eyes flick over the outfit with little more than a blink; her gaze settles decidedly on Wanda's face. ]

Took you long enough. [ It's not accusatory, just a flat remark. Julie would have sat here for another week if she needed to. As she rises to her feet, a set of two large, ornate armchairs materialize a few yards away, their legs standing defiantly in the mist. Julie makes her way over to sit down. ] You wanna tell me what this whole fit's about? Did you think people wouldn't worry?

—yennefer /vixening.

[carmesi]

[one moment she is deep in the woods, under the darkness of the canopy and the command of gravity, unable to sit upright; the next, she is under the warmth of the sun, sitting amidst yellow flowers that grow in clusters across the meadow. the sky is vast, azure in its peacefulness, and as wanda lifts her gaze, she catches sight of birds tumbling together in flight, chirping.

she squints her eyes, looking over at the approaching figure. it is a woman she knows—yennefer. yes, they're friends, actually. they've known each other for a while, gone to school and learned magic together. wanda continues plucking flowers, careful in her decision on which to pick before setting the chosen ones into her wicker basket.]

I'm almost done.

[her words are light as rain, unburdened by what troubles her in the waking world. it's easy to make herself belong here, her magic having rolled her in through smoke and mist, severing her mind from her pain.

lifting her head again, she has to put a hand over her eyes.]

Come help, Yen.

[vixening]

[ yennefer...is uncertain of exactly what is going on. there is an odd feeling in the horizon itself, which is something new. different not at all how the horizon or the singularity should be acting. still, yennefer has found herself in this space, in the field of yellow flowers, her gown is linen and worn and familiar, and she feels light. lighter than she has in months, in years, really.

she walks through the fields like this is how it is meant to go, and yennefer catches sight of the bright hair. of the splash of red amongst the yellow. she smiles. ]

I had planned to come earlier, to help. [ she closes the distance, the bright sun above them. yennefer knows this woman, knows her as a friend. there is a pressure somewhere in the back of her mind and it causes her to pause, just for a moment, watching wanda pick at the flowers around her.

the sun is bright, and yet yennefer...she doesn't know. her brow creases. ] Do you need my help, still?

—claude /godshattering.

[carmesi]

[the capital of house riegan may be colorful and constantly busy because of the marketplace, but as red mist rolls in from the canals and between buildings, the world darkens—the world quiets. following along the path of the waterway in the horizon has led her here, as she descends from within the mist and onto one of the walkways.

as wanda walks past the different houses, towards the courtyard, the world grows ever darker. shadows extend, a crimson hue following after her cape, dragging on the mosaic floor. she is alone, here, even if she tries to follow the sounds of people that have not yet been drowned out by red. who this place belongs to, she is not certain, and as she reaches the training grounds, she stops.

with a flick of her wrist, one of the swords raises itself from where it is displayed, and her arm moves to swing the sword towards an unknown, yet familiar, presence. with her magic an extension of herself, anyone who steps into the mist becomes known to her.

the blade is inches from the man's neck, and wanda tilts her head. right—she's been in his head, momentarily; she knows him.]

Khalid.

[godshattering]

[ The mist is familiar. It stifles the courtyard's breeze and seems to do the same to the sun above and he studies the vibrant color coiling around his ankles where he stands. It brings disquiet whispering along its path like the fabric he hears dragging from somewhere nearby when those steps aren't quite muffled. Claude turns at the familiar ring of a weapon drawn and barely registers who's standing there before something swings towards him.

He doesn't flinch when the sword finds his neck. That instinct wore out long ago by so many other blades of all kinds against it or wedged somewhere else into him. Here we go again is the first thought that passes through his mind because though in the Horizon is the last place he expected this to happen, it's not entirely surprising. What is, though, is his name spoken aloud. Again.

His expression doesn't change. But on the inside: Claude's pretty sure his heart's skipped a beat or twelve. Someone knowing his name would explain the sword since those usually went hand in hand. He could joke his way out of this, maybe, but is there a point in pretending otherwise? For a second he considers his chances, then decides - no, there isn't. Even if something about that dream had been just a lucky guess, it doesn't make it less of a truth. ]

It's been a while since I've answered to that name.

[ The smile that appears on his face now is a practiced one meant to convey friendliness, at ease as though they were simply lounging on the chairs nearby for a casual chat. Claude shrugs like this is all a normal meeting, like he's forgotten the dream where he last saw this woman and how he'd woken up with no ways to tie up the loose ends. Maybe this is how he'll get them. ]

And I'm sorry to tell you that if you were hoping to be the first one to threaten me with my own weapon, you're unfortunately late to receiving that honor. Well, outside of the Horizon, that is, but you're certainly the winner of it here. [ So much for not joking, even if it's half true. Now he tilts his head as well while appraising her. ] It's not much but I have some tea ready I could offer you as a prize of sorts.

Horizon; after the return

[fourarmedandangerous]

Wanda had probably spied him before, once or twice, on the outermost edges of her domain. Not making any move to enter, or seeking her out. Simply...watching, before leaping away, out of sight. It was clear that Goro had sought out her domain, and was at the very least keeping an eye on it. Or her.

It might not be a surprise during her isolation that a message comes through on the network, intrusive words she probably doesn't want to see, but cannot avoid.

TELL ME YOU ARE NOT GONE.

It comes only once, regardless of whether or not she deigns to reply. Goro has his pride, after all. But after Estinien left things unfinished between them, to have the same happen with Wanda is a thought Goro finds...displeasing. When Wanda does return, there are signs of his intrusion; imprints of his feet in the muddy ground. He has been here, seeking her.

He probably should have expected she'd come to him to repay the favour. When the red mists roll in around him, Goro is exercising in his fortress, a newer addition to his domain. A open cavern of wooden-walkways and stone platforms set high above the lava pool that makes up the bottom. Goro is on the walkways, dodging between heavy spiked blocks constantly swinging across the narrow wooden surface; seeking to smash apart anyone unlucky enough to be caught in their path and send their broken remains flying into the magma below (and knock them out of the Horizon, where this death would not be permanent). To pass, careful timing is required, but the stone platforms offer no respite, because why would they? Here the danger does not come from the side, but from above, crushing the unwary with great force. The reward for navigating these deathtraps? Nothing except the opportunity to do it again from the other side. It required speed, coordination, skill and grace to navigate safely, which is why the mist obscuring everything as Goro pauses in the small safe space between the two swinging blocks makes things more challenging.

Despite himself, he cannot help but smile. The mists can only mean one thing.

"You've returned, Scarlet Witch. Care for some exercise?"

goro bestie 😊

[carmesi]

Goro's presence did not go unnoticed, but in lieu of their previous conversations—of his blatant showcase of respect and reverence—Wanda finds that she cannot properly face him when she is but a mess of emotions and disheartened convictions. If she told others about this, they would probably tell her to not take Goro's words to heart, and yet it is the Shokan's words about power and how it doesn't corrupt that helps pull her out of the brink of the abyss.

Long have been the days of Wanda plunging herself into darkness unknown, of unrecovered self worth torn from her in the images of the nightmares present in what little sleep she has reconciled. Diminishing herself by the chains of absolutes bestowed upon her by others lesser than her.

(This can, in no way, be healthy.)

Wanda does indeed come with the red mist that plague now his domain, like red carpet rolling for her. His traps are of no concern to her, as she passes through like a ghost, her scarlet magic deterring any that come close to her. She descends an imaginary staircase, stepping on air, and her boots hit the ground in time to hear him greet her. Her hands level with her waist, fingers threading together, she presents herself in the crown and caped outfit of when she was at her most powerful.

"Our ideas of exercise are different, Goro," but yes, she has returned; there is no venom in her voice, and her expression is set to convey utmost control. "I saw you came looking for me."

He is not getting an apology, not because he doesn't deserve one. This strange friendship or... whatever the hell it is, does thrive in ounces of respect given and taken, of showcasing strength.

"I returned to my world, but I've been thrown back into Abraxas again. I was... dealing with the fallout."

—viktor /techmaturgy.

[carmesi]

[wanda doesn't recognize where she is; the world around her feels familiar, like the crumbling of ancient obsidian rock upon her, suffocating her. she comes to from the lap of water, from the cold. blurry eyes open, her hands curling onto the rocks she lies on, and she squints to see the entrance (or exit) of this cavern. the light is blinding and she turns away from it, towards the grotto on the other side.

she pushes herself up to her feet, and drags herself further into the darkness.

except it's not darkness at all. the cave opens up, reveals a wall on the far side with a door, and a rocky formation with a surprising creature. it is pink with big eyes, lizard-like, blinking at her, anxious at her presence.

i won't hurt you, she sends as a message with her eyes, and the unease the creature feels shifts into curiosity. enough that it allows wanda to approach it, rest stained hands on the top of its head. it enjoys it, mewls under her touch.]

Where are we?

[she asks the creature—wanda is so disoriented, deciding to sit down on one of the larger rocks as she scans the space. no reply from rio, but for the curl of her tail. from her feet, still submerged in the water, the water changes color into inky black, and wanda puts hands to her face, leaning into them.

her shoulders shake, the same way the cavern starts to shake, too, rio growing alarmed.]

[techmaturgy]

[Viktor tries not to come down here often. A large part of that is the fact that he knows he didn't put it here on purpose, nor has he ventured further down into the caves. Part of him is afraid, perhaps, of what he might find there--what his mind did while acting as a clean slate, without the knowledge of his conscious mind. Having to explain this place to other people is always a little difficult.

Still, it's his domain, which means that if he tries, he can sense when someone is wandering around in it. He follows the feeling out of the lab, into the lift, and all the way down, not sure who or what he's going to find, but knowing he doesn't want someone wandering around down there alone.

He is not, however, prepared for the scene he finds. Something is wrong--he can tell that right away, but having little experience with other people affecting his own domain, the color of the water and the way the walls shake is more than a little alarming.]

Wanda?

[To say Viktor looks out of place in a literal cave is possibly an understatement, but any question as to whose domain this is becomes obvious when Rio perks up and leaves Wanda's side, wrapping herself around Viktor's legs in an apparent search for protection. His hand comes to rest on her head, but his full attention is elsehwere.]

What are you doing down here?

—chester /wolfsseggen.

[carmesi]

[when wanda opens her eyes, she finds herself in a familiar place. a house, big enough for a large family, looking a bit beat up and faded from years of existing without a whole lot of non-necessary maintenance. it's cozy, even if the items inside are mismatched.

wanda takes in a deep, shaky breath.

the worrying part about all this is that she doesn't know how she got here in the first place, but is that any wonder at all? the days come and go in a blur, and she travels aimlessly to keep this nervous energy inside her from expelling into something worse. all that she does now is mostly herself being in survival mode.

her feet lead her for a bit longer, before exhaustion catches up with her, just at the stoop of the front door. it is sunshine warm, inviting, and the earth that she catches on her skin as she falls under her weight—on her knees, the palms of her hands—it feels so real.

wanda stays like this a while, contemplative, before her chest heaves, tears falling onto the dry dirt, looking up at the blue sky in confusion.

what is this place? where is this?

she's so lost.]

—lucifer /thedevilwhorose.

[carmesi]

[it is nature what attracts her to set foot in this horizon in the first place—unapologetic and majestic and relentless. the mountains catch her eye, and before she knows it, she is walking amidst the dangers of these wild and beautiful landscapes, using her magic to fly over any jagged surfaces, the mist that seems to encroach the space around her keeping her from any snakes that try to approach her. the whisperings of the scarlet witch draw them away, change their minds to slither elsewhere.

despite everything, it's peaceful. wanda finds herself coming here several times more. the first day to the east, at the lava lake; the second, up north, in the rainforest; the third, out west, by the limestone towers.

it is on the fourth day that wanda heads south, continuing her trek, down to the red lake. she walks atop it, pausing to catch her reflection before continuing, just on the verge of the coastline, curious about the flamingos nearby. it's peaceful enough that she finds herself casting away the red mist that tends to follow her, the cape cinched at her waist dragging on the lake and its tail-end burning with the composition of the red water.

the sky, so vast, the mountains it faces, the life that transpires ignorant of all horrid deeds ever made by humans— wanda stops, taking a shaky breath, one that she holds as she reaches a hand over a nearby flamingo, her fingers coated in black tar, hesitant, shaky movements.

there is no resolution for her desires; the flamingo grows wise to her approach, and with a loud flutter of wings, flies off to another side of the coast, alerting the rest of the flock in the process.

finally, she exhales, curling her fingers into a fist, bringing it close to her chest, marveling at the freedom they possess to just be.]

[thedevilwhorose]

[It isn't often that he catches people in his domain, though he doesn't generally check. There's a thrill to it. He wants people to pass through. He wants them to be amazed even though he knows it's all just copied. He didn't create anything, just borrowed.

He wants to truly craft instead of steal but he doesn't know how the old man mustered up the inspiration and maybe that's why he just made draft after draft, not because his children weren't enough.

But even plagiarizing serves a purpose. Look at the beauty! Look how Earth should have been. How it could have been without humans mucking about, ruining everything with their gluttony.

It's the magic, though brief, that is noticeable, not for what it was doing, but the flare of familiarity it brought. There and gone, he'd thought he had missed her. But no, she's still here.]

Rocking a new look?

[He doesn't get too close to her, if only to avoid spooking her the same as the flock.]

—jesper /itookashot.

[carmesi]

[wanda seeks somewhere quiet—somewhere dark—somewhere she can hide and ignore the rest of the world for a while. she has been on an endless spiral of convoluted thoughts and altogether too many back-and-forth flickers into the broken and ashamed parts of herself.

she... is a little better, she thinks.

it is with embarrassment that she has to admit to herself that she has been roaming the lands in the horizon, meeting others when she wasn't quite herself, accidentally hurting others, and at times simply having lucid conversations.

sometimes, she thinks she is losing herself amidst all the noise inside her. here, though? in this small corner within the crow club, in the back room, wanda sits in the silence—she replicates the silence in her head, and lets herself breathe. she feels (is) welcome here, this place created by the mind of a young man who loves her so fiercely, and it's so warm — so comforting.

she wants to stay here for a while.]

[itookashot]

[ Jesper has gone to her domain several times and it's been worrisome. Not only her absence but it all feels wrong. He's tried to search for her, and he knows she's not gone just ... somewhere he can't find. If they were in the same faction he'd find her, he knows he'd manage, but they're apart. This is the first time he really and truly wishes he was in Solvunn, if it brought him to her.

He is surprised to walk into the club and find her there, but it's followed with a huge burst of relief. Between Sam being severely injured and Wanda's distance, he's felt the deep anxiety that comes from family being in peril. His domain does wrap around her, knowing instinctively the love its owner has for her.

Jesper hurries to the back and he looks both anxious and glad, sliding into the seat next to her. Maybe he should be more respectful of distances but Jesper is a warm person, a loving person. He puts his arms around her in a hug without a second thought. ]

I couldn't find you. I've been trying to find you.

wanda's horizon (july 24)

[assembles]

[ It's been five days since Thor reached out, and each of those days Steve has made a point of stopping by Wanda's Horizon domain. He and Sam have both been taking time out of their days to try and find her, and Steve knows that Thor is looking within Solvunn as well.

With Wanda's powers, he knows that there's probably no way he'll be able to find her unless she wills it, but he's never been one to turn away from bad odds. Depending on her mental state, which he can guess isn't good when she's been AWOL for this long, there's a chance she'll slip.

So he's at her lakeside cabin once more. At first things seem the same as they always are. Maybe the trees are a little more dry and dead than they were the day before, the leaves slowly darkening, but that might also just be a trick of the light.

What is new is the red mist that unfurls over the lake, making its way toward the shoreline like spilled blood slowly seeping across a table. Steve halts, his shoes digging into the sand at the lake's edge, and looks around, searching the tree line. He forces himself to not make any sudden movements, as if he's on the lookout for a skittish animal.

She has to be here, somewhere. He just doesn't want to scare her off after finally finding some signs of life. ]

[carmesi]

[long have the days felt, as wanda faces her guilt and shame ever-present in her thoughts, the caving emptiness within her, like a chasm of absolute nothingness, worse than when she had lost pietro, because now it's compounded to everything she has lost. to feel so above it all, holding on to the hope that she would, one day, have all she ever wanted—all that was ever taken from her—only to have that hope dashed so completely and so brutally?

it can break a person.

wanda now has the knowledge that her other selves live a life where she wasn't an orphan or had a brother that wasn't murdered or had a loving husband or was the mother to her children, while she was fated to be the harbinger of chaos—the ruler or destroyer of the cosmos, never to know happiness. should she not destroy, then?

she stumbles into the horizon, her magic coming in waves of red mist, ominous and menacing, as the sky turns quickly into a dark red haze. wanda stands by her cabin, with the scarlet witch's crown and gown, flare after flare of hex bursts destroying its composition; not exploding, but disintegrating the wooden planks, the roof tiles, until this methodical destruction becomes too little. with a despairing scream, her hands swinging to opposite sides, she rips the cabin in half, an explosion of chaos taking most of the structure with it.

such explosion manages to crack the earth where she stands, her beloved crows in the woods nearby cawing in alarm, screeching. the ground in her horizon starts to crumble, caving into darkness.

wanda's attacks stop for now, as she falls to her knees, catching her breath, trying to catch her runaway thoughts.]