These Powers We Wield || closed with kevscompendium
@kevscompendium
All was quiet in the facility. There was nothing left to do. No sense of urgency, no more battles⊠only silence and her own thoughts. Two things Wanda didnât deal well with at times like this. She stood in her old room, but it didnât feel like hers anymore. Her eyes flitted around, not sure where to look, for everywhere she did there was a memory she couldnât face⊠not yet.
In that bed over there, she had spent so many hours unable to sleep, crying over Pietro. Over there in the kitchen area, she and Vision would cook together, or try to anyway. Her lips curled upwards for a fleeting moment as if to smile, but she just didnât have the heart. The pain was still too raw, too deep⊠and yet she felt numb inside. She wanted to believe that this was peace, that after a life of losing everyone she ever loved it had somehow gotten easier for her, but⊠no, she knew differently. The numbness wasnât peace, it was dissociation, and she was so broken inside.
Swallowing hard, she took a few steps forward, but only stood looking around the room as if the walls were going to close in around her. Rather than sit in any chair or on the bed, Wanda sat down on the floor cross-legged and called forth her powers, that force inside her sheâd felt had always been there but that took the shape of the red energy after the experiments. It was, perhaps, the one thing sheâd loved that had never left her.
Slowly rolling it in her hands and letting it weave its way between and around her fingers, she watched the shades of red light as they swirled before her eyes. She held it close, because she had no person left to hold, taking solace in its presence. This power that was so personal and dear to her - some would call it magic, she would call it an extension of herself - was her only comfort now. She had a mind to merely play with it, feel it, let it speak to her as it would, until she was ready to face reality again in some small degree.
It was erratic, jumpy, reacting to how turbulent she felt on the inside, even though the movements of her hands were fluid and gentle. âShhâŠâ she whispered to it, as if attempting to calm an infant, but it was no use. She could no more calm down the energy in her hands than she could quiet her own grieving soul. and so she let it do what it would, giving the energy the freedom to exist without some pressing need for defense or offense, but just to be, hoping it would suffice to ease the loneliness she felt.
So many creatures had disappeared for years leaving the wolf feeling much too alone. It was the first time in nearly an entire century that heâd sought out even humans out of a need to not be on his own. It hadnât been often, but heâd gotten less bothered by them as the years went on.
Then one day, all the creatures were back, his ravens finally flying overhead once more. But what had been unexpected, was that his wandering had brought him somewhere that smelled less human. In fact, it smelled like the magick that he missed oh so very much. Most of those in the village had used runic magick like he did, but there had been a few that were gifted with more of Mother Freyjaâs blood than most and they had smelled so much more of power.
And now that same scent, or at least one very similar, was on the air and he couldnât help but track it down.Â
The over-sized paw steps he left behind didnât bother him in the slightest as he ran after the scent, tracking it this way and that as the wind shifted about. Head high as he breathed deeply, he finally found himself closing in on the scent and put on a burst of speed. Shooting out of the forest line, he didnât even think to check if there was anyone else around as he headed across the close cropped grass.
His mind was completely consumed by the memories of home and the feeling of comfort heâd been lacking for literal centuries. And thus he made his way quickly over the grass, seeking the smell, finding a window just barely cracked open was the source. Or at least how the smell was getting outside.
Standing up on his hind legs, massive paws against the windowsill, he pressed his muzzle up against the opening of the window, breathing in deeply and then whining low in his throat. Somehow, until heâd caught scent of the magick, heâd not realized just how much heâd missed it. Whimpering and whining softly, his paws flexed, claws digging in against the windowsill so he could keep himself as close as possible to the scent. Blue eyes closed, he was lost in memories of home and was oblivious to the redheaded woman sitting on the floor on the other side of the window.
