004 Unhappy changes [OPEN]

[scepterschild]

WHO: Wanda Maximoff
WHERE: Home/Inn/Woods
WHEN: May 1st - 8th
OPEN TO: EVERYONE
WARNINGS: None yet
STATUS: OPEN

---

Home - May 1st – Early Morning

It wasn’t unusual for Wanda to be woken by her nightmares. They came more readily here than they had at home, playing over every loss and uncertainty like a Scooby Doo rerun on TV. Lately her dreams have been about her brother and more often than not she’d find herself jolting awake by slinging a ball of red sparks across the room. This morning brought no damage to her surroundings. Her heart pounded frantically in her chest while sweat matted her long dark hair to her neck and shoulders.

She was quick to get dressed, pulling on her jeans and the white tank top that she’d been given on her arrival. The house was warm though she could feel the morning chill creeping like thin tendrils through the air. With a heavy sign Wanda kicked open the door to her room and headed down stairs to see how much of the night’s fire was still burning in the hearth. Her fingers laced through her hair pulling the brown silky strands back from her face. When she reached the living room Wanda extended her fingertips out towards the far side of the room, willing her powers to move a log onto the fire.

Nothing happened.

She called for her abilities again but nothing happened. "Move." She kept her hand pointed towards the far side of the room, her voice harsh as she glared at the stack of logs. "MOVE!" Wanda shouted as she quickly stepped towards the small stack of logs, kicking the one she’d been commanding halfway across the room. The log thumped loudly against the floor. She wanted to scream at the piece of wood but what little self-control she had stopped her.

Woods/Around - May 1st - All Day

Eventually Wanda left her house. Tension was set in her shoulders as she walked straight for the forests edge. She didn’t want to believe that her powers were gone, that there was now nothing she could do. She was helpless, defenseless. She couldn’t protect anyone.

She’d had her powers for so long; she didn’t know how to handle them being gone.

When she reached the trees she shouted, listening to her pained cry carry over the canopy. She kicked at the trees around her, her boots stopping with every solid object that she’d come into contact with. Rage, pain, fear, frustration and hate mingled in her chest as she lashed out at everything around her. She threw a fist into the tree, feeling the rough texture of the bark scrape and bruise her knuckles. Again and again she hit the trunk of the tree, wishing she could push all of her feelings away.

When she returned her town her knuckles were bloody and brushed, her hair matted to her neck where a thin layer of sweat covered her skin. She looked tired and worn out, having managed to release the bulk her frustration in the woods.

Inn/Around - May 2nd - 8th - Brooding

Wanda could be found in many places throughout the village. She was determined to prove that being without her powers didn’t change anything. She knew it did but it was the only way she could fight the frustration that knotted and grew uncomfortably in her chest.

Early in the morning Wanda would split wood for her home, occasionally kicking a piece of timber that wouldn’t split properly. She helped Kate preserve the meat at the inn; this never required the use of her abilities and was now one of Wanda’s favorite tasks. While every other after noon she could be found cooking at the inn, using the few spices that she knew and testing the ones she didn’t. Wanda wasn’t sure when the last time she ate was. She remembered making food but not eating it.

In the evenings Wanda dreaded to return home. It was when she was trying to sleep, alone in her room that she’d lose herself to her thoughts and her doubt. It was stupid. She knew that but so many things were changing and there was nothing she could do to stop it. A distraction, all she needed was a distraction.

She could usually be found sitting at a random table in the common area. There was a button on the table in front of her; sometimes she’d spin it on its side with her finger while other times she’d just stare at it, expecting something to happen. Towards the beginning of the month she’d search for any abandoned liquor from the feast, welcoming the dizzying sensation that it brought with it.

Comments

[powerunleashed]

Jean knew Wanda's signature. She didn't connect with her telepathically, she couldn't focus enough for that in the village but she was always aware of a low-level psychic signature from another telepath and telekinetic. When she woke up the first day, though, she didn't feel anything at all. How was that possible? She'd had voices in her head since she was nine years old and now they stopped? Really?

Confused and upset about it, she'd taken to the woods. Logan had liked the woods, when he was here, and sometimes she liked to go there to kind of be with him, even if he wasn't around. He'd been a friend and after losing Kylo, she'd needed him. Pietro had come and gone too. Now it was just her and Erik and Wanda. The only mutants left.

When she spotted her hair, she called out to her. "Wanda? Did it happen to you too?"

[scepterschild]

Her fist connected with the tree when she heard the familiar voice. No, they hadn't spoken but she knew Jean's voice. She'd known everyone's voice. It wasn't as if Wanda purposely dived into peoples heads but a small push and she'd hear everything that simmered on the surface. It was quite now, for all except the trees and the animals that began to stir with the forests wake.

Dots of blood rose to her knuckles as Wanda let her arm sag to her side. "Yes." Her voice was thick and her accent almost made the word impossible to understand. There was something dark in Wanda's gaze, a pain and hate that has grown since she was a small child.

Inhaling the crisp air she turned towards Jean. It wasn't this girl's fault and she knew that they were both experiencing the same loss, though Jean looked far more graceful than Wanda did.

Silence lingered in the air between them and then Wanda spoke. "I don't know what to do." She admitted feeling foolish and weak.

[powerunleashed]

"I don't either. I feel like...I feel like I'm not me anymore," Jean admitted. It made her angry in a lot of ways, angry enough that she felt like taking it out on the tree the way that Wanda just had. It also just made her feel sad, as if a part of her had been taken away without her permission and she was empty now, bereft. It wasn't right.

"They're trying to make us weaker," she said. She'd expressed these feelings before to Logan and Erik but not to Wanda. "They stripped us of what we can use to protect ourselves and now they can...I don't know what they're going to do."

[scepterschild]

Jean's words felt like pin pricks against Wanda's skin. Weakened, vulnerable, they really were like test subjects trapped in a canyon. What horror would be next now that so many have lost parts of themselves.

She swallowed, the motion slow and thick. "I've never been sure how to think of myself." She admitted with her eyes focused on the tree in front of her. She saw where her fist had contacted the bark, where blood had seeped into the rough brown surface. "Now I don't know again."

The tension in her voice tightened. "I can't protect anyone like this and those damn Seers-" She exhaled, trying to force herself to calm down. She didn't know the names of those who've been watching them but she called them Seers in her head. The name was short and to the point and it did what she needed it to do; it provided a label.

[powerunleashed]

"We're all vulnerable," Jean finished.

"And I don't like feeling that way. In my world, humans and mutants don't get along. Humans do anything they can to suppress mutants, to hurt them, to force them into hiding. It's getting better, sure, but we're still second class citizens. Now I'm a mutant but I've been stripped of my power. How am I going to keep myself safe?"

May 2

[pretendtoneedme]

He gives her one day to come and talk to him. It's impossible to miss that something's wrong, not when her anger is stirred up like it is, even ignoring the lack of red mist around the place as she uses her powers to do small tasks they'd come to take for granted, and sometimes people just need space. Pietro disappearing, even if he wasn't "their" Pietro, had made her sad and upset, and then the smoke monster - the Obscurus - had made it worse; needing a day wasn't unreasonable.

But when she doesn't come to him the next day, Clint comes to her. Because she's hurting about something and it doesn't look like it's something she'd able to deal with on her own. He can at least ask what she's angry about besides the obvious, if there is anything, and just do a general check on her to be sure she can handle whatever it is even if she's angry. He shamelessly takes advantage of the time she's cooking and will be more or less chained to the stove to make sure nothing's going to burn, walking into the kitchen and leaning against the door frame, watching her more closely than his expression shows. "So what's going on?"

May 2

[scepterschild]

Wanda enjoyed cooking. She used to cook for her brother and had found creative ways to make their food last longer. Her mother had taught her how cook. She was seven or eight when those lessons started and they were one of the few memories about her mother that she still had. She remembered less about her father, sometimes a face rose to mind but it was over a decade ago now and with time, memories fade.

She was standing next to a small pot, the wood within the stove burning like hot coals. The knife in her hand rocked against the cutting board as she dropped different items into the stew. Soup was very common through the winter, this soup was thicker than usual, a creamy potato base, filled with what meat could be spared from their limited stores.

Wanda hadn't known when Clint arrived. He had an annoying habit of walking lightly and without her powers she couldn't sense his presence. A frown was pulled firmly across her lips as her knife echoed with each chop.

"I'm cooking." She knew what he meant, he didn't have to explain but she didn't want to admit her weakness. Silence settled between them, it was obvious that she wanted to say more but the words turned to ash in her mouth. She finished cutting what was in front of her before dropping it into the thick soup.

Wanda didn't look up at Clint but when she spoke her voice was low and thick. "My powers are completely gone."

[pretendtoneedme]

Clint just waits while she chops and cuts and works through whatever's going on in her mind, used to playing the waiting game after so many years as a sniper. You have to wait in that job, poised in that peculiar space between total focus and total ease, hoping your target would show up sooner rather than later. Waiting out Wanda is child's play.

Still, when she finally admits what's wrong... it's not what he expected. "Gone- completely gone?" It's a stupid question and he knows it, knows that she wouldn't say that unless it was true, because Wanda may not have been born with her powers but she's come to rely on them after three or so years of having them. This place had already reduced her powers by a significant margin, he knows that as well as she does, but she'd still had them. But now... that would explain the last day, at least.

"How do you feel?" he asks at last, because if she's sick, maybe that's some sort of explanation. And even if she's not, that gives her an option to talk about it, if she wants to.

[scepterschild]

"Other too." She confirmed, not wanting to keep the focus on her. She continued to pamper the soup but there wasn't any more to be done. The broth needed to boil and the vegetables needed to cook through. It was the worst part of cooking: waiting. She might have gone to do something else in the mean time but Clint was here and she knew this wasn't a conversation that she could easily escape from now that they've started talking.

She turned, pressing her palms against the edge of the surface and then lifting herself up and onto the counter. A frown remained tightly pulled across her lips.

"Empty." Weak, lost, hurt, angry: there were too many answers to his question and none of the sat well with her. She looked down at her hand and willed her powers to her palm. Nothing happened. She tried again, narrowing her gaze at the skin.

Nothing happened.

Wanda wanted to give Clint an explanation but she had none. What more could she say? She was weak, useless.

May 1

[notabirdcostume]

With spring in the air and the weather warming up, Sam had returned to his routine of running. Not that he had really stopped during the winter--but it was harder and he hadn't gone nearly as often. But he had running shoes (thanks to Christmas) and his path was clear. Sure, he had a sprained wrist to deal with now, but he could run with it. He could run and forget everything happening around him. He didn't have Steve to push him, but he pushed himself just fine. He had to keep up, had to find a way out, had to just move. The warming weather meant something else too and he wanted to escape--but now they were approaching a year and he hated that thought.

By the time he had circled back towards the village he was covered in sweat and breathing hard. Normally he'd head back to the house, bathe, and then get ready for breakfast. Instead he was distracted by the sound of frustrated cries and something being hit over and over again. Sam looked in the direction, wiping sweat from his brow and debating whether or not to investigate. He sighed and jogged in the direction of the sounds: branches breaking, a woman cursing in a familiar accent.

He passed into a clearing and saw Wanda. She looked like she'd been in a fight, the only thing missing was the tell-tale red mist. It was odd, though at first Sam didn't think much of it. He stood at the edge of the clearing and then winced as she slammed her fist into a thick tree trunk. Even from several feet away he could see the raw red and bleeding wounds on her hands. Without thinking he crossed the distance between them, "Woah! Wanda! What are you doing!" His hand went to her shoulder, firm but reassuring. He didn't want her to think he was trying to attack her -- which in this state he wasn't sure if she'd realize that or not. Obviously she was worked up about something.

May 1

[scepterschild]

Wanda's head swam as her fist connected with the tree; a loud and disconcerting thump echoed through the small area. She knew this was stupid. Somewhere, in the back of her mind, a logical voice was telling her that being upset wasn't going to get her anywhere. Her emotions stirred and writhed uncomfortably and she need a place to channel them, something to lash out at. The careful control and shields she'd built over the last year felt thin and raw. With another weight, they'd crumble.

Her head jerked when she heard Sam. She hadn't realized he was there, she hadn't felt the presence of his thoughts. She remembered the log that sat in the middle of their family room. The realization sank into her like a poison coursing through her.

"Practicing." Her arm dropped limply to her side, beads of blood rolling down her knuckles and onto the grass.

It was a lie and Wanda knew that Sam would see through it. At this point, he knew her too well for her to hide her anger. It was the same with Steve and Clint and the few who frequented the headquarters that she stayed at.

[notabirdcostume]

"At what? I don't think you need to practice making your knuckles bleed," Sam said, trying to break the tension with his usual humor. Still, he can't keep it going for long since he is actually very concerned right now. Sam knows there is a time and place for his humor and now might not be it.

He frowns, crossing his arms, "Seriously. What's going on? And while we're at it...let me take care of your hand." He keeps his bag with him most of the time and a few supplies that could come in handy if he was caught unaware -- one of which is some torn cloth he can use for various things. He pulls it out, holding it up as an offering to her.

[scepterschild]

On any other day Wanda would have enjoyed his quip but not now. She ignored the comment and waited for Sam to continue before regarding him with a serious eye. Inhaling deeply she nodded her head. "Alright."

She closed the distance between them holding her right hand up for Sam to see. The knuckles were cracked, bleeding and bruised with bits of tree bark embedded into her skin.

It wasn't until Sam was bandaging up her hand that she spoke again, her voice low and pained. "I've lost my powers."

May 3rd - afternoon

[ethnobotany]

It's one of those afternoons when Wanda is helping cook that Beverly runs into her again. She remembers the young woman well from their previous encounter talking about plants and was hoping they might run into each other again. So she approaches carefully, as with everyone here, making sure that she doesn't surprise Wanda as she does so. Especially now, the last thing she wants is to startle Wanda. Cooking burns would not go over so well here.

"What are you making?" she asks with interest.

May 3rd - afternoon

[scepterschild]

One of the benefits of Wanda's power was that she was in tune with the area around her. She knew when people were close, could feel the presence of their minds, even if she didn't reach into their thoughts. That power was gone now.

Her shoulders tense reflexively when she heard Beverly's voice and for a fraction of a second she paused. "Ukha" She replied as she cut thin sickly looking carrots and dropped them into her broth of potatoes and fish. Her eyes glanced back at Beverly before accompanying the reply with a shrug. "Or the closest I can make to it." She was missing a lot of spices but with fish and potatoes so readily available it was an easy thing to make.

"Do you want some?"

She tried to keep her voice even but it was obvious that Wanda was on edge. Her accent was always thicker when something was bothering her.

[ethnobotany]

It looks delicious and reminds Beverly of the wonderful vegetable soup her grandmother used to make. For one brief moment, she feels homesickness lance through her. Some days she misses Nana more than others, even though years have passed since the funeral. The carrots are a familiar part, but not so the much the fish. It should be an interesting dish, she thinks.

"Something from your home?" she asks kindly, figuring she can offer up the idea of her grandmother's soup if it comes to it. "If you're not making it for anyone specifically, I'd love to try it."

Something in Wanda seems different, more on edge. Beverly doesn't know Wanda nearly well enough to prod at that right off, so she hopes that maybe after they talk a little more Wanda might feel comfortable enough to brush at whatever is bothering her. And if not, Beverly won't press.

[scepterschild]

Wanda looked down at the soup watching as thick bubbles pushed through the bottom of the pot to the surface. She'd chosen a dish that took a long time to make, if only to keep her thoughts and feelings distracted on the task. "Yes." Her accent was thick and she was forced to think of her home and her brother. Loss stabbed painfully in her chest before she pushed the feeling away.

No more weakness.

"I grew up in a cold country. Soups and starches like dumplings were a specialty." Her mother had taught her to cook before she was killed. "There will be plenty." She wasn't even hungry. Wanda knew she should eat but the idea of eating turned her stomach uncomfortably.

May 1st - afternoon

[frankensteinian]

It had been a shock to him when he'd gone out this morning to chop some wood and had found that he could no longer control the axe like he used to be able to. Thankfully he'd stopped attempting before he gave himself a headache that would make him useless all day, but by that point he'd felt the anger swell up. It had been hard enough to accept that someone had been able to take away so much of his ability, but now they've gone and taken all of it. That will never set well with him.

Thanks to his ten years of purposely not using his powers, he has some practice at doing things without them, and there's an axe and a pile of wood that needs to be turned into firewood. Put those together with the anger he feels right now, and soon enough there's a pile of firewood large enough to fuel one or two fires for a couple of days.

By the time he heads back to the main part of the village, to return the axe to where it belongs, his hands are covered in blisters. He has rags wrapped around each of his hands when he sees Wanda. He can tell by the look of her hands that she seems to have gone through the same thing he did this morning.

"You too? I'm relieved to know it didn't just happen to me."

May 1st - afternoon

[scepterschild]

Wanda wasn't in a good mood but she was to exhausted to argue or pretend. "You, me, Jean." She replied in an even voice. "Probably everyone who once had powers." She had no doubt that it wasn't just them. She thought to check in on Thor, to ask him if he experienced it too but she didn't want the answer. Wanda wasn't sure she'd be okay with the answer.

Her head turned towards Erik, her eyes thin and pained. "What now?" She asked him feeling younger than she ever had. The world had already beaten her up and now, now she was back to being weak.

She hated feeling weak.

[frankensteinian]

At least it's not just him, which really is small comfort anyway when it comes right down to it. Him, Wanda, Jean, it's uncomfortably like mutants are being targeted. (Which of course makes no sense -- the only reason some people haven't lost powers is because they had none to lose.)

He holds up one of his hands, covered in a makeshift bandage. "I don't really know what now, but I wouldn't recommend this method."

[scepterschild]

Wanda hadn't bandaged her hand from that morning. She raised it up to show him anyway. Her skin was stained a dark purple and black where she'd repeatedly punched the tree. Dark maroon was smeared across her fingers and down her palm and wrist. She looked like she got in the fight with an animal by holding it back with her fists. After showing him she dropped her arm to her side and spoke.

"We had the same thoughts." She remarked in an even tone. They were a lot alike though Wanda wasn't able to see just how much alike they were.

may 7th - brooding

[womanofvalue]

Peggy notices the button.

She's finally worked herself back to a normal routine, eating properly and going out to more places than just the hospital for visits and the school to clear up. She's grateful for the return to form, but at the same time, she worries that it will only be temporary until something else happens. When she sees Wanda playing with a button and looking somewhat distracted, Peggy worries that time is now.

"Is everything all right?" she asks, sitting down opposite her at the table, though she leans forward just enough so that their conversation won't be overheard in the event it's quiet. "Is everyone all right? Healing properly and all?"

may 7th - brooding

[scepterschild]

Wanda didn't look up when Peggy sat down. Even without her powers she knew the other woman's voice. It was one of those voices you didn't forget though Wanda couldn't exactly explain why. Something between it's strength and affection that seemed from her words. She could easily understand why Steve had been enamored by her.

She wished that Steve was here now. He always knew what to do.

"Everyone is fine." As fine as they could be. Things had gotten a little stressed after the feast but they were better now. "I'm..." Wanda's voice trailed off and it was clear that everything wasn't fine. "Those with powers here have lost them."

[womanofvalue]

That's good news, at least, given that between the fireflies, the strange food poisoning, and then the Obscurus within Credence, Peggy has been on edge and ready to fight for what feels like the last month or so, her adrenaline pounding and refusing to let her sleep very much.

It takes her a moment to parse what Wanda is saying, recalling what she had seen of the woman earlier. "Are you sure?" she asks. "It's not just a temporary malfunction of sorts?"

[scepterschild]

Wanda lifted the button and flicked it with her pointer finger. It spun on it's side before clattering back to the table.

There was a hardness in her voice when she spoke, her eyes locked on the small piece of plastic. "And why would they return them?" The question was tense, as if it took ever ounce of her control not to turn and scream at Peggy. Her powers are gone and there was no way of knowing if they'd come back.

She didn't know anything.