Who: wanda and others When: november-december Where: solvunn, nocwich, horizon What: catch-all for both months! closed and open prompts within. Warnings: none at the moment, will mark as needed.
[this speaks leagues, then, of the fact that wanda is as powerful as kyle may have surmised her to be, and yet not even her magic could have saved her children.
and even if they had been brought to this world with magic, were made from her magic? the pregnancy, their birth, the growing pains—it was all too real. she knows she is a mother, because she still aches for them, just as if they had been brought into the world in the most conventional of ways. it is easier to remember them this way than with their panic-stricken, tearful faces, begging her to not hurt them.
wanda raises her head to look up as billy jogs back over to them, crunching over leaves and dodging roots on the way. his arms are outstretched, hands carrying over a small treasure. she puts her hand out to him, a small smile on her face.]
Look, mom.
[she receives into her hand a rock with a hole in it, one that looks a bit like a heart if one turns it at an angle.]
I'll keep it safe for you, okay? —go.
[the boy smiles big and then returns to the other two, giggles exploding between the three. wanda wraps her hand around the rock.]
The changes in the Horizon last month brought them forth. I haven't had the heart to let them go, especially since they've found a friend in Rousma.
[speaking of,]
Why do you keep her in the shape of a dog, and as a skeleton?
[ A broken spell. It's vague enough that he can only guess at what she means by that. Blood and bones, nearly all spells - whether done by priests or witches in his world, requires sacrifice. Curses can backfire. Storms can turn on the mystics that call them. He remembers the sorrow and anger in her voice that night when she called out for her children, accusing him of hiding them from her.
There are limits to what even the most powerful can accomplish. The priests can conjure the spirits of the recent deceased to speak with them, briefly. Living bones can be crafted, but only when the woman is still alive. There's no bringing back the dead back to living flesh once they've passed. Only a god may grant that gift.
Billy approaches and he watches quietly as the boy gives his mother the gift, the way she tenderly holds it. Does her mind and will supply the pitter-pattering sound of his feet against stone and dirt as he returns to his playmates? It's these little details, down to small faults that make them feel more alive than they should -
He gives her a small look of surprise when she mentions when her sons first appeared. That was when Rousma appeared too. But to the question...
There's a pause and a frown. He stares-without-really-looking at his feet as he gathers his thoughts into an explanation that makes sense, then admits: ]
I don't know. [ His frown deepens. ] I... what I remember about my past hasn't always made sense. Sometimes I remember stealing her from where she was kept, her bones, and she takes the body of a dog. But then I wake up in a world and time where none of that happened. [ Another pause, and a grimace. ] And, truthfully... it's been so long since she was first taken, I don't know if I can recall her face anymore.
[ He's long forgotten his parents features. He remembers Rousma's dark hair and dark eyes - he kept that image for as long as he could when they were separated, whispering secrets to each other like these children, only over an impossibly long distance.
If he tried for longer than a second, he's afraid her face would only be a blur. ]
[that's what happens, isn't it? when one loses a loved one. it's not just the initial shockwave of emotion from their passing, but those things no one talks about—how in a matter of weeks, months, you'll forget what they looked like, what they sounded like; the way small, trivial things will remind you of them, and how that will make you realize you can't hear their voice in their heads or remember how exactly their smile would be splayed on their faces.
grieving never ends, after years and years and years. the moment you think you're doing better, you remember that you don't remember, and it's experiencing that pain all over again.
wanda shifts a bit, looking down at the basket of strawberries and picking one out. she runs over it with her fingers.]
I have got the graves for my parents, my brother, and the twins' father here, too. Sometimes I wonder why my magic never brought them forth the same way it did for the boys.
[except she knows—and kyle probably also knows.]
I cannot remember their faces or their voices. We lost everything when our home was bombed. All pictures, photo albums; and when my brother was killed, I only ever remembered the look in his eyes as he lay there.
[so cold, lifeless. the same happened with vision. the darkhold only poured more reminders of how she had lost him, her brother, her parents.]
We cannot recreate what we cannot remember, and it never is quite right even if we tried.
[—quietly, she brings the strawberry to her lips, bites into it. it's sweet, pleasantly so. wanda turns to him once she's done chewing.]
[ He glances at the graveyard again. Too many gravestones for only the two children, he'd noticed. Pietro is a name she told Rousma. Her brother. He recognizes the word bomb in Nayeshi. Has seen from a safe distance on a television screen the power of their weapons.
He sought to become the Kahlil because of the protection it would afford himself, and his sister. A chance to escape. He wonders if it wasn't similar for her with her own powers, growing in strength with the promise that one day you can protect that which you hold dearest, only to have it all ripped away from you. All that remains is ash and blood.
Here, at least, there is laughter.
He doesn't notice she's tasted the strawberry, she makes that last remark and he turns to look at her again. He smiles in spite of himself, lets out a short, surprised chuckle. ]
I'm glad. [ There's warmth in his tone, and for a moment he looks younger than his thirty-odd years because of it. After a moment he looks away again, back at the children as they draw pictures in the upturned dirt with long sticks. ]
Do you have someone that can remind you to... come up for air?
[ To remind her what's real, when it becomes easy to want to forget. He cares that she has someone like that, not just because of the dangers she might pose to others. ]
[what wanda has noticed is that, between the two of them, there is this balanced understanding that they have both suffered losses and enough tragedy in their lives, and that this leads to something that can go unspoken. like a blanket that's heavy enough to mute out the things that go unsaid.
but the beauty of it all is that there are still these small, trivial things that can be appreciated. the sweet taste of the strawberries, the warmth of the sunlight filtering through, the encouragement to one's soul when there is an actual conversation partner sitting beside oneself.
so kyle asks a question that gravitates around what they've been conversing about, but on a lighter tone. almost like hoping they can gear out of the darkness despite being in it. the answer to his question is immediately in her mind, as is the quirk of her lips into a small smile.]
There are those from my world here who remember me as I was before I became what I am. [the scarlet witch, that is; that which kyle thinks he sensed in her, when they had first met.] But— there is someone, yes.
[she thinks of him, matt, fondly, for as undefined as what they are is, he isn't afraid of her and he's shown her kindness where she thinks it was impossible to find again—kindness like the one she had found with vision.
[ Even though small her smile warms her features. Some of the Summoned are blessed or cursed with others from their own world. He wonders if this person who makes her smile is someone from home, or someone she was drawn to here. Either way, he nods in an approving kind of way. It's good. ]
I made a friend in Thorne. [ Jack. His own smile goes wry. ] Nothing I say seems to faze him.
[ Some months ago he couldn't imagine having a friend like that.
He closes his eyes, lifting his face toward sun so that he can feel the warmth of it on his skin. In Thorne the days are getting shorter in these months, the light fading faster. ]
I worry, though. About him, and some of the others. [ Tilting his head to look at her with a slight frown. This is a thought that is unescapable, a heavy anchor back to reality. Libertas was months ago now, but the aftermath still hangs heavily. ] Not all of them are prepared for what a war will bring.
[perhaps that is a blessing amidst the mystery the sometimes frustrating stay they suffer while here; to find others who are like-minded, or who are willing to set aside preconceptions and prejudice. wanda knows things would have been a lot more different for her if she hadn't found matt.
(or if he hadn't found her?)
to know that someone won't be afraid or fazed by the things they say and do— it's incredibly nuanced and welcome.
though kyle brings up a point that she has worried about before. war hangs over them all like a pendulum, swinging ever lower onto them. when will it strike, they don't know, but beyond the when, it's definitely the concern for others that have not had experience in this kind of situation before that is the biggest point of worry.]
We can only hope it doesn't come to pass. That those who are familiar with war will be able to protect and guide those who aren't.
[blessedly—]
The majority of the Summoned are familiar with something like war, at least.
[ He nods. That's true. Jack has experienced... not war like this, but something frightening and bizarre. He has powers that will protect him to some degree, unconsciously. But then there's Wilhelm, who he's only just begun teaching self-defense, and whose magic is blocked by what Kahlil has to assume is fear and guilt.
Those like Wilhelm will need to be protected. With Solvunn's current neutrality, it's unfortunate that there's no easy way to smuggle the boy across the borders.
But then, Solvunn has its own dangers - ]
You mentioned the shrines and blood offerings. [ And disappearances. He frowns to himself. ] Have you witnessed those rituals?
[knowing wilhelm, wanda doubts he would want to be in solvunn at all. they've been lucky to have summoned who don't mind the place and how little it provides in terms of entertainment or an otherwise busy city life, but wanda is fully aware that it is not everyone else's cup of tea.
neutrality, anyway, is but a concept. while wanda knows that the council means it when they mentioned their intended neutrality, only time will really tell how the variables around it all will change.
the children are currently standing, looking upward and wondering if they could climb a tree for whatever envisioning of fun they're wrapping their heads around.]
I've participated in them myself.
[drawing the shawl closer to herself, wanda knows that not everyone takes 'oh yeah we cut a guy's arm off' as the most casual thing, so— she doesn't mention it, yet.]
There is real magic in those shrines. I'm afraid the people of Solvunn still keep to their secrets. Recent events have made them... more cautious towards us.
[ Rousma is the first to scrabble up the tree, the pointy ends of her fingers good for digging into the bark for purchase. She perches on the lower branches, calling out to the other two.
Kahlil watches them for a second, seemingly unfazed by her admission. ]
It's been the same reaction to us in Thorne. [ Strangers treat them with a little more caution than they might have before the omens swept through the land. ]
They have no use for gods or old rituals there, though. High magic is a relic. [ A pause, then: ] I don't doubt there's power within those shrines and offerings. Similar practices were more common in my world. Blood could be used for many different purposes, some sacred and some blasphemous. Bone, too. Not always from the willing.
[ He glances at Rousma again, something sad in his expression. ]
The priests and sisters kept their practices well-guarded. I don't doubt that there's more to these rituals in Solvunn than they're telling you. You're outsiders, and non-believers.
[wanda is aware that not everyone might take too kindly to the fact that she and others have participated in these kinds of rituals. it's been upsetting to the few people she's talked to about the details of it.
however—
one cannot expect something without sacrifice. that seems to be the way of things in solvunn, and perhaps wanda has found herself leaning into it quite a bit more than she initially expected, especially considering that all her life has been one sacrifice after another with nothing to show for it; the thought that something could be attained from it? it feels redeeming, in some twisted way.]
The gods have 'chosen' us, though. We are but part of their will, and no one has openly defied this notion. They don't expect us to believe, just that we do our part within the commune.
[—is she defending the place? she definitely stands somewhere in the middle.]
[ He goes quiet for a moment after her response, frowning to himself. Then: ]
I'd be interested in anything you might hear. But - and I say this from experience, be careful with the fanatical.
[ The ones like him. They might believe the gods have chosen them, but for what purpose? they have kept to themselves beyond the vaguest of explanations. It may seem silly for him to tell her of all people to use caution, she is far more powerful than most of the Summoned here. It's the unknown that worries him, though.
He leans forward a little, hands clasped between his knees. ]
What do you believe?
[ He's asked others this before. Why they believe they were chosen, whether they believe in being chosen at all. ]
[wanda appreciates his advice about being careful with the fanatical. she is pretty certain that she and those in solvunn who have been there longest can handle themselves just fine, should the tides turn. however, there really is no telling how things could pan out.
there is certainty in that concern, then.
as he turns the question towards her, wanda is somewhat at a loss. she's repeated the beliefs of others before, taking them as her own—their being more informed, and all that. she's been adamant about trying to figure out what she does believe, because of her magic being a conduit for probability manipulation, so it is hardly something she likes to simply just express.]
We are here because we are powerful, aren't we? In our own worlds. Or because we have come face to face with something that tests our mettle. It's easy to think I was chosen for my magic, much like others have.
[her magic, chaos, that which can achieve spontaneous creation and is infinite and unlimited.]
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no subject
[this speaks leagues, then, of the fact that wanda is as powerful as kyle may have surmised her to be, and yet not even her magic could have saved her children.
and even if they had been brought to this world with magic, were made from her magic? the pregnancy, their birth, the growing pains—it was all too real. she knows she is a mother, because she still aches for them, just as if they had been brought into the world in the most conventional of ways. it is easier to remember them this way than with their panic-stricken, tearful faces, begging her to not hurt them.
wanda raises her head to look up as billy jogs back over to them, crunching over leaves and dodging roots on the way. his arms are outstretched, hands carrying over a small treasure. she puts her hand out to him, a small smile on her face.]
Look, mom.
[she receives into her hand a rock with a hole in it, one that looks a bit like a heart if one turns it at an angle.]
I'll keep it safe for you, okay? —go.
[the boy smiles big and then returns to the other two, giggles exploding between the three. wanda wraps her hand around the rock.]
The changes in the Horizon last month brought them forth. I haven't had the heart to let them go, especially since they've found a friend in Rousma.
[speaking of,]
Why do you keep her in the shape of a dog, and as a skeleton?
no subject
There are limits to what even the most powerful can accomplish. The priests can conjure the spirits of the recent deceased to speak with them, briefly. Living bones can be crafted, but only when the woman is still alive. There's no bringing back the dead back to living flesh once they've passed. Only a god may grant that gift.
Billy approaches and he watches quietly as the boy gives his mother the gift, the way she tenderly holds it. Does her mind and will supply the pitter-pattering sound of his feet against stone and dirt as he returns to his playmates? It's these little details, down to small faults that make them feel more alive than they should -
He gives her a small look of surprise when she mentions when her sons first appeared. That was when Rousma appeared too. But to the question...
There's a pause and a frown. He stares-without-really-looking at his feet as he gathers his thoughts into an explanation that makes sense, then admits: ]
I don't know. [ His frown deepens. ] I... what I remember about my past hasn't always made sense. Sometimes I remember stealing her from where she was kept, her bones, and she takes the body of a dog. But then I wake up in a world and time where none of that happened. [ Another pause, and a grimace. ] And, truthfully... it's been so long since she was first taken, I don't know if I can recall her face anymore.
[ He's long forgotten his parents features. He remembers Rousma's dark hair and dark eyes - he kept that image for as long as he could when they were separated, whispering secrets to each other like these children, only over an impossibly long distance.
If he tried for longer than a second, he's afraid her face would only be a blur. ]
no subject
grieving never ends, after years and years and years. the moment you think you're doing better, you remember that you don't remember, and it's experiencing that pain all over again.
wanda shifts a bit, looking down at the basket of strawberries and picking one out. she runs over it with her fingers.]
I have got the graves for my parents, my brother, and the twins' father here, too. Sometimes I wonder why my magic never brought them forth the same way it did for the boys.
[except she knows—and kyle probably also knows.]
I cannot remember their faces or their voices. We lost everything when our home was bombed. All pictures, photo albums; and when my brother was killed, I only ever remembered the look in his eyes as he lay there.
[so cold, lifeless. the same happened with vision. the darkhold only poured more reminders of how she had lost him, her brother, her parents.]
We cannot recreate what we cannot remember, and it never is quite right even if we tried.
[—quietly, she brings the strawberry to her lips, bites into it. it's sweet, pleasantly so. wanda turns to him once she's done chewing.]
...it's really good.
no subject
He sought to become the Kahlil because of the protection it would afford himself, and his sister. A chance to escape. He wonders if it wasn't similar for her with her own powers, growing in strength with the promise that one day you can protect that which you hold dearest, only to have it all ripped away from you. All that remains is ash and blood.
Here, at least, there is laughter.
He doesn't notice she's tasted the strawberry, she makes that last remark and he turns to look at her again. He smiles in spite of himself, lets out a short, surprised chuckle. ]
I'm glad. [ There's warmth in his tone, and for a moment he looks younger than his thirty-odd years because of it. After a moment he looks away again, back at the children as they draw pictures in the upturned dirt with long sticks. ]
Do you have someone that can remind you to... come up for air?
[ To remind her what's real, when it becomes easy to want to forget. He cares that she has someone like that, not just because of the dangers she might pose to others. ]
no subject
but the beauty of it all is that there are still these small, trivial things that can be appreciated. the sweet taste of the strawberries, the warmth of the sunlight filtering through, the encouragement to one's soul when there is an actual conversation partner sitting beside oneself.
so kyle asks a question that gravitates around what they've been conversing about, but on a lighter tone. almost like hoping they can gear out of the darkness despite being in it. the answer to his question is immediately in her mind, as is the quirk of her lips into a small smile.]
There are those from my world here who remember me as I was before I became what I am. [the scarlet witch, that is; that which kyle thinks he sensed in her, when they had first met.] But— there is someone, yes.
[she thinks of him, matt, fondly, for as undefined as what they are is, he isn't afraid of her and he's shown her kindness where she thinks it was impossible to find again—kindness like the one she had found with vision.
wanda turns the question back on kyle.]
Do you?
no subject
I made a friend in Thorne. [ Jack. His own smile goes wry. ] Nothing I say seems to faze him.
[ Some months ago he couldn't imagine having a friend like that.
He closes his eyes, lifting his face toward sun so that he can feel the warmth of it on his skin. In Thorne the days are getting shorter in these months, the light fading faster. ]
I worry, though. About him, and some of the others. [ Tilting his head to look at her with a slight frown. This is a thought that is unescapable, a heavy anchor back to reality. Libertas was months ago now, but the aftermath still hangs heavily. ] Not all of them are prepared for what a war will bring.
[ Not the way she understands what it's like. ]
no subject
(or if he hadn't found her?)
to know that someone won't be afraid or fazed by the things they say and do— it's incredibly nuanced and welcome.
though kyle brings up a point that she has worried about before. war hangs over them all like a pendulum, swinging ever lower onto them. when will it strike, they don't know, but beyond the when, it's definitely the concern for others that have not had experience in this kind of situation before that is the biggest point of worry.]
We can only hope it doesn't come to pass. That those who are familiar with war will be able to protect and guide those who aren't.
[blessedly—]
The majority of the Summoned are familiar with something like war, at least.
no subject
Those like Wilhelm will need to be protected. With Solvunn's current neutrality, it's unfortunate that there's no easy way to smuggle the boy across the borders.
But then, Solvunn has its own dangers - ]
You mentioned the shrines and blood offerings. [ And disappearances. He frowns to himself. ] Have you witnessed those rituals?
no subject
neutrality, anyway, is but a concept. while wanda knows that the council means it when they mentioned their intended neutrality, only time will really tell how the variables around it all will change.
the children are currently standing, looking upward and wondering if they could climb a tree for whatever envisioning of fun they're wrapping their heads around.]
I've participated in them myself.
[drawing the shawl closer to herself, wanda knows that not everyone takes 'oh yeah we cut a guy's arm off' as the most casual thing, so— she doesn't mention it, yet.]
There is real magic in those shrines. I'm afraid the people of Solvunn still keep to their secrets. Recent events have made them... more cautious towards us.
no subject
Kahlil watches them for a second, seemingly unfazed by her admission. ]
It's been the same reaction to us in Thorne. [ Strangers treat them with a little more caution than they might have before the omens swept through the land. ]
They have no use for gods or old rituals there, though. High magic is a relic. [ A pause, then: ] I don't doubt there's power within those shrines and offerings. Similar practices were more common in my world. Blood could be used for many different purposes, some sacred and some blasphemous. Bone, too. Not always from the willing.
[ He glances at Rousma again, something sad in his expression. ]
The priests and sisters kept their practices well-guarded. I don't doubt that there's more to these rituals in Solvunn than they're telling you. You're outsiders, and non-believers.
no subject
however—
one cannot expect something without sacrifice. that seems to be the way of things in solvunn, and perhaps wanda has found herself leaning into it quite a bit more than she initially expected, especially considering that all her life has been one sacrifice after another with nothing to show for it; the thought that something could be attained from it? it feels redeeming, in some twisted way.]
The gods have 'chosen' us, though. We are but part of their will, and no one has openly defied this notion. They don't expect us to believe, just that we do our part within the commune.
[—is she defending the place? she definitely stands somewhere in the middle.]
I could ask around. See what I find.
no subject
I'd be interested in anything you might hear. But - and I say this from experience, be careful with the fanatical.
[ The ones like him. They might believe the gods have chosen them, but for what purpose? they have kept to themselves beyond the vaguest of explanations. It may seem silly for him to tell her of all people to use caution, she is far more powerful than most of the Summoned here. It's the unknown that worries him, though.
He leans forward a little, hands clasped between his knees. ]
What do you believe?
[ He's asked others this before. Why they believe they were chosen, whether they believe in being chosen at all. ]
no subject
there is certainty in that concern, then.
as he turns the question towards her, wanda is somewhat at a loss. she's repeated the beliefs of others before, taking them as her own—their being more informed, and all that. she's been adamant about trying to figure out what she does believe, because of her magic being a conduit for probability manipulation, so it is hardly something she likes to simply just express.]
We are here because we are powerful, aren't we? In our own worlds. Or because we have come face to face with something that tests our mettle. It's easy to think I was chosen for my magic, much like others have.
[her magic, chaos, that which can achieve spontaneous creation and is infinite and unlimited.]
—perhaps we are here to find purpose again.