Wanda Maximoff/Scarlet Witch (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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sixthiterationlogs2017-05-05 02:38 pm
scepterschild) wrote in sixthiterationlogs2017-05-05 02:38 pm
004 Unhappy changes [OPEN]
WHO: Wanda Maximoff
WHERE: Home/Inn/Woods
WHEN: May 1st - 8th
OPEN TO: EVERYONE
WARNINGS: None yet
STATUS: OPEN
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.
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.
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.
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.
May 2
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
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."
no subject
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.
no subject
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.
no subject
She's definitely unhappy about this situation, and he can't blame her; all of her body language screams shaken, unsure, unhappy and it's so easy to see why. Those powers are a part of her, and now they're gone. He'd feel the same if he suddenly couldn't shoot anymore. But at least she doesn't feel sick. That's one slight positive, that it's not having any more of an effect on her than that. Clint finally pushes away from the door frame and makes his way over to her, reaching out to take the hand she'd been staring at in his own blunt and calloused one. "We'll figure it out."
no subject
"Will you teach me to fight?" More than what she knew now.
It was a small measure of comfort but Wanda didn't feel comfortable having no way to defend herself and little experiance with fighting outside of her hand to hand combat training. She was small and she'd have to learn certain skills all over again.
Wanda assumed that Clint didn't think that fighting was as important as she did but she couldn't keep feeling this helpless. For the first time in years she truly felt like a lost child and she found herself wishing that her brother was there with her. No matter what they had faced, they'd come out on top.
no subject
After all, one of his philosophies was anything could be a weapon if you used it right. And he'd make sure she'd learn that lesson before he turned her loose.
"Anything else I can do?" Clint wanted her to know she could come to him with anything (mostly); he knew she sometimes didn't want to bother him for one reason or another, but for anything important like this he definitely wanted to be kept in the loop. He couldn't help her without knowing the whole story.
no subject
At his last question she shook her head. "No. Others have lost their powers too. I haven't asked Thor but I think everyone brought here was affected." She frowned. "I am sure those who took them can give them back but I don't expect them too." As seen with Credence, those with powers were a variable that couldn't always be controlled. She doubted their overseers wanted that when they had the power to take away everyone's abilities.
She wanted to start fighting as soon as possible. "Can we spar in the afternoons?" It'd be easier in the fading light and they'd both still be able to go about their day. The darkness would tell them when it was time to stop.
no subject
"Sure we can. But I can show you something right now, if you want." Not a fighting move, and he doesn't shift in any way that indicates that he's talking about one. No, Clint means something very different with that statement, and if she takes him up on it, he'll be glad - but if she doesn't, he won't push her.
no subject
She did however have to go back to addressing her soup. She stirred it a few times and watches as bubbles escaped the thick liquid. "Hungry"
She shifted her attention to Clint and waited for him.