Steve had encouraged her to take this break; before she fully committed herself to training, she needed to take time. Time to mourn. Time to figure out how to think of one half as being whole. But where could she go? What would she do? Wanda has never been alone in her entire life.
It was Natasha who had the answer. She knew a place Wanda could go where she would feel safe. Where she would not feel alone. Where even if she wasn't family, she'd be made to feel like she was, if only for a brief time.
Now Wanda sits on the floor of the kitchen in the Barton family home on their farm, playing with the Clint's daughter and the few weeks old kittens that the barn cat recently gave birth to.
His little girl claps her hands in delight as Wanda's hands curl into signs of power, as the dancing red lights makes one particularly brave kitten dance and paw with infantile ferocity. "That's one of the girls, Wanda! You name her!"
It takes Wanda a moment. She doesn't smile much anymore, but when she does, she's found it's most often when she's around the children - especially around little Nathaniel Pietro.
"Maržena," she decides. "She is a goddess of many things. Magic. Death. Rebirth." A flick of her ring finger and the kitten's tail is gently tugged, prompting the little feline to try and chase it. "It's a good name, yes?"
"Cause I'm broken when I'm open And I don't feel like I am strong enough 'Cause I'm broken when I'm lonesome And I don't feel right when you're gone away"
Wanda knows she's made the right choice. It was the only choice really, becoming an Avenger. Where else could she go? How would she live? She has to pay for her crimes, and she will pay by doing good in the world. By using what she allowed herself to become by healing the world, stopping the bullets she knows coming, trying to think about the bullets she couldn't.
But it's hardest at night. She can't hear him breathing, can't feel his thoughts, and the emptiness makes it hard to sleep, and far too easy to weep.
She knows there's no limit to her power, or at least, they've only begun to catalogue her capabilities. She wonders if she can find a place, a time, where he is still alive. Even if it's in her own mind.
Her hands raise, curling and flicking as red lights dance around her fingers. She reaches - forward, backward, she's not sure, into time, into her own mind, trying to find something to serve as an anchor.
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timeasmymeasure
no subject
Date: 2015-05-06 12:16 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2015-05-06 12:28 am (UTC)It was Natasha who had the answer. She knew a place Wanda could go where she would feel safe. Where she would not feel alone. Where even if she wasn't family, she'd be made to feel like she was, if only for a brief time.
Now Wanda sits on the floor of the kitchen in the Barton family home on their farm, playing with the Clint's daughter and the few weeks old kittens that the barn cat recently gave birth to.
His little girl claps her hands in delight as Wanda's hands curl into signs of power, as the dancing red lights makes one particularly brave kitten dance and paw with infantile ferocity. "That's one of the girls, Wanda! You name her!"
It takes Wanda a moment. She doesn't smile much anymore, but when she does, she's found it's most often when she's around the children - especially around little Nathaniel Pietro.
"Maržena," she decides. "She is a goddess of many things. Magic. Death. Rebirth." A flick of her ring finger and the kitten's tail is gently tugged, prompting the little feline to try and chase it. "It's a good name, yes?"
no subject
Date: 2015-05-06 12:22 am (UTC)"Cause I'm broken when I'm open
And I don't feel like I am strong enough
'Cause I'm broken when I'm lonesome
And I don't feel right when you're gone away"
no subject
Date: 2015-05-06 12:33 am (UTC)Wanda knows she's made the right choice. It was the only choice really, becoming an Avenger. Where else could she go? How would she live? She has to pay for her crimes, and she will pay by doing good in the world. By using what she allowed herself to become by healing the world, stopping the bullets she knows coming, trying to think about the bullets she couldn't.
But it's hardest at night. She can't hear him breathing, can't feel his thoughts, and the emptiness makes it hard to sleep, and far too easy to weep.
She knows there's no limit to her power, or at least, they've only begun to catalogue her capabilities. She wonders if she can find a place, a time, where he is still alive. Even if it's in her own mind.
Her hands raise, curling and flicking as red lights dance around her fingers. She reaches - forward, backward, she's not sure, into time, into her own mind, trying to find something to serve as an anchor.
no subject
Date: 2015-05-06 12:32 pm (UTC)OR THE CUTE OPTION: