𝓦𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐀 ⬡ 𝓜𝐀𝐗𝐈𝐌𝐎𝐅𝐅 (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
carmesi) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
abraxaslogs2022-07-25 12:02 pm
carmesi) wrote in abraxaslogs2022-07-25 12:02 pm
Entry tags:
- claude von riegan; the wheel of fortune,
- goro; the chariot,
- himeka sui; the fool,
- julie lawry; the wheel of fortune,
- lucifer; the devil,
- matt murdock; the tower,
- peter parker (mcu); strength,
- prince wilhelm; the tower,
- sam wilson; justice,
- steve rogers; the hierophant,
- viktor; death,
- wanda maximoff; the hanged man,
- yennefer of vengerberg; the chariot
· OPEN ·
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.]
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.]
no subject
He thinks of her the second time, begging to die instead of being locked back up. He should have granted her that wish; he was so blinded by the simple thought for just one second he could be back in his Father's graces. And what did that get him? Lies, abandonment. The same story played out the same and Lucifer should have known better.
'What's sorry to me? I spent millions of years crammed into that cage alone and afraid, wishing, begging for death because of you! And what was my crime, brother?'
Oh, but Amara, she had it right. Had he only listened. Had he not wanted to take revenge for the first real pain she had made him feel in such a long time. Torture for the King of Hell.
'You think you made the archangels to bring light? No. You made them to create lesser beings, to make you large. To make you Lord. It was ego! You wanted to be big!'
He should have sided with her. Not out of spite against the old man, but because if God wasn't involved, then him and Amara could have understood each other.
He should have given her the reprieve she wanted. If it ever came down to it for himself--success or the Cage, he'd find death. He'd get there by any means necessary. He will not go back.
One word is enough to break both him and Wanda.]
Yes.
no subject
the devil, heaven's adversary, the serpent—for all these negative names that adorn his crown, there is one certainty: he has never lied to wanda, he has never not been honest with her, no matter whether his words are light and dramatic or filled with anger and spite.
it's such a small word, such a common one, but it doesn't pull back any of the emotional punches he dresses it with; the pain, the abandonment, the fear, the desperation. it is truth of the grimmest of fates, and wanda doesn't know what to do with it. would that it be the right thing to do, to keep her locked up; is there already not enough that she's suffered? was her being born into the world just for the purpose of pain, sorrow, eternal grief, to be consummated after all's been said and done, to spend it locked away? or is she projecting what she sees, what she feels, flowing off from lucifer's thoughts and emotions?
she says quietly, tightly, turning her gaze to the immense world he's created—vast and feeling like the sky could go on infinitely. it's sympathy for the devil, and she knows now why he has created such a place.]
Then let us hope it doesn't come to that. Evil or not, we — [we] — still have a soul and a heart, and— [quieter still] The world failed us. How is that our fault?
[she's at the bargaining stage, it seems.]
no subject
But even here in the current state of the two of them, he'll offer this. And maybe it's because he sees a part of himself in her. A lot of himself. Maybe it's just because he doesn't think someone like her should be killed or caged. There shouldn't be the question at all.] I'll break you out of yours.
good place for wrap up, i think! luci ;-;
gasping for air, no words come out, but she nods, eyes diverting downward as she closes them; tries to breathe herself into calmness.
there is never any certainty for her, but—whatever this is—it'll give her much to think about; it'll give her reprieve, amidst the pain, a flicker of—
hope
—in the darkness.
words escape her still, and wanda, instead, looks out toward the horizon of this crimson lake. she continues, now, walking along its sandy shore, damp camp pulling behind her, singed at the edges, her hands holding one another, but lucifer may notice the stiffness in her shoulders is lessened, the uncertainty within her a shadow of a once concrete thought.
thank you, she spurs towards him telepathically, her reverent desire to see and witness the world he's created in his domain a sign of respect, if nothing more, until she is too but of similar ilk to the statues that remain amidst the beauty, until her mind tires and she disappears from the horizon entirely.]