scarletwanda (scarletwanda) wrote in athinblackline, @ 2009-05-08 21:58:00 |
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Entry tags: | evermore |
Pay my respects to grace and virtue...
Who: Wanda, OTA
When: About ten-thirty Friday morning
Where: Wanda's cell
What: Wanda reflects on how she got here
Six days, was the first thought to flit through Wanda Maximoff’s mind as she awoke in her cell on a cloudy Friday morning. Keeping track of time was not helping things- in fact it was making her situation seem so much worse. Nevertheless she found herself constantly counting; days, hours, minutes. She rarely left her cell except for meals and had hardly spoken to anyone unless commanded to. When she wasn’t obsessing over the amount of time she’d been in captivity she relived her capture over and over in her mind.
It had all begun just a few weeks earlier with a simple vacation. As they usually did when Wanda could get time off from work, Wanda and her brother Pietro took a short trip to spend time together. It was so difficult to see one another these days that they both look forward to long weekends and holidays to see each other or visit their father. This particular excursion was Pietro’s idea- a trip to New York City. Their vacation began blissfully and at first nothing seemed amiss. As the days progressed Wanda began to feel ill and found to her dismay that her powers were manifesting without her control. She had no explanation for it and attributed it to her mental state- stress from things at work and usual drama amongst her colleagues. Since her abilities were only causing small problems, a bit of “bad luck,” she decided not to mention anything to Pietro and carried on as though everything were fine.
On their forth day in the city, in the midst of a crowd in Times Square, Wanda suddenly felt worse than she had in years. The glare of the sun and the cacophonous crowd around her were grating on her nerves and she began to feel claustrophobic and dizzy. Pietro had questioned her but she hardly remembered now what he had said. Breathing raggedly she began to push her way through the crowd with Pietro right behind her. Swamped by a feeling of faintness and irritated by her current state, she held out her hand and barked at a man in front of her to move as she attempted to shove him out of the way. Her power surged then and she felt a sickeningly familiar heat course through her body. Her power’s hadn’t been this out of control since she had begun the fire that had killed her mother. Before she could move away her hands began to glow and a hex bolt shot into the man that she was in the process of jostling. He turned to give her an angry look which quickly changed to one of shock as he began to quiver, his skin shining with red energy. Right in the midst of a crowd of hundreds the man combusted. People nearby froze, their faces a mirror of the horror that Wanda felt. She stood transfixed, staring at the spot where a living breathing human being had been only moments before.
“Come on,” Pietro had whispered at her ear just as the crowd erupted in screams. There was no hiding the evidence- so many people had seen her touch the man, seen the radiance surrounding him, and her trembling fingers continued to glow. Despite the eminent danger Wanda found that she could not move. Pietro had to pick her up and then run. He ran until they reached a forest miles from the city, finally stopping in a clearing and putting her down. Wanda fell immediately to her knees and began to sob, hardly coherent as Pietro paced nearby. He explained that they would have to go into hiding even as Wanda protested.
“It was just an accident!” she wept, though she knew that her brother was right. After this, she could never go home. Not with all of those witnesses. When she was somewhat composed they set out, keeping to the forest for a few days while Pietro occasionally went to a town for supplies and news. Wanda let him make all the decisions; she was far too appalled at herself to be of any use. It was during their second week in the forest that they were inevitably found. In the middle of the night government agents crept into their camp and it was over in minutes. Wanda had been too exhausted and distressed to do anymore than set a tree on fire. It had been so easy for them to take her.
Pietro, of course, had run and she couldn’t blame him for that. She even remembered screaming at him to run. He’d stopped for just a moment before fleeing. He was obviously feeling torn, and glanced at her with the saddest expression she had ever seen on his face. The fear and grief in his eyes had hurt her more than she thought possible. It certainly hurt more than the pistol whipping to the face that the agent gave her before she’d blacked out. She’d regained consciousness during transport to Revolve. Since then she hadn’t had the will to struggle and had taken everything in with a sullen complacency. Each day had been monotonous since her arrival and each night had been filled with nightmares; dreams of the man she murdered, the revulsion of the onlookers, and that look on Pietro’s face before he’d escaped capture.
“You’re a monster,” she whispered aloud to herself as hot tears began to slide down her cheeks, “You deserve this.” As soon as she thought it a part of her mind rebelled. No one deserved this, she reflected and reached up to her neck to touch her chaffing collar. With an unhappy sigh she finally rolled herself out of bed.
Six days she thought again as she went to the little sink and mirror in her room, splashing water on her face before gazing forlornly at her reflection. Six days, five hours, eight minutes, three seconds.