sixthiterationlogs | 004 Unhappy changes [OPEN]

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004 Unhappy changes [OPEN]

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.

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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.

"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.

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."

Sam is not happy about what Wanda has done to her hand, but he doesn't say anything else about it. Instead he takes her hand and starts to dab at it with some cloth, pull out bits of bark, and then move on to wrap it. He can't clean it very well out here, but this should do for now. He lives with her, so he can always subject her to a proper cleaning and treatment of the wound later. He's pretty sure he could convince Clint to help with that if Wanda proved to be stubborn.

Which she could be, and often was.

Still, Sam knows this is serious. He knew it before she even said anything. He pauses in the process of wrapping to look up at her face. She looks lost, perhaps more so than usual, and that more or less confirms it for him. "When did you realize it? Were they getting weaker and then gone or is it more like they just got the switch flipped off completely?" This was important. Was Wanda the only one? Was this a sign of things to come? What did it mean and why now?

Wanda didn't flinch or cringe as Sam worked. She was used to this sort of thing and it didn't bother as much as it had when she was young. It took a lot for her to reach that threashold of showing pain. Her fingers throbbed but it began to feel a little better now that there weren't pieces of bark digging beneath her skin.

She'd let him clean it later if he wanted too. Wanda knew when to pick her battles and between Clint, Sam and her hand; it was a stupid fight.

"I woke up and they were gone." Whatever happened, happened while she was asleep. "I can't do anything." Her voice was tense, she hated to admit it but what else could she do? She couldn't lie to herself about it. There would be no point. "I don't think it's coming back." She said finally.

Sam considers this. "It's like the opposite of the gifts. Usually they arrive while we're sleeping, but in this case they took something," Sam mused aloud, figuring sharing his thoughts might be better than just thinking to himself. People had been granted powers in the past, it would make sense that if they could gift people with abilities that they could just as easily take them away.

"Maybe...but we can't really know that for sure," Sam suggests. He doesn't want to get her hopes up, that's not his intention. However, he also knows that if they can give and take so easily (not to mention it's only been one day) that it could just as easily come back in the near future. He pats her hand, not wanting to squeeze it because that might hurt more, partly it's a gesture of reassurance but it's also to signal that he's done with the temporary bandage. "There. That'll work for now."

Wanda nodded. She didn't feel like there was more that she could say on the matter. She didn't feel any different and yet she knew that it was missing, like a gaping hole in her chest.

She exhaled slowly, attempting to keep her anger, frustration and sorrow from overwhelming her. She wanted to hit the tree more but she knew that Sam wouldn't let her continued to hurt herself.

"Thanks." She was grateful, Sam was a good friend and someone who Wanda trusted. Trust didn't come easy to Wanda and while there were many people she knew in the village she only really trusted Clint and Sam. "I interrupted your run?" She asked, if only to alter the topic of conversation.

Sam could only try to imagine--her power was a little more tied to her than his wings. He missed those, but he'd been without them before. He imagined it was closer to stories he'd heard about fellow soldiers losing appendages or body parts. He hoped Wanda would adjust, but he hated that she had to do that at all.

He glanced skyward then just shrugged, "I was on my third lap anyway. It's not a big deal and I should probably start getting to the inn to make breakfast anyway." He paused and then asked, "You want to come? I'll let you chop things into tiny pieces." He wasn't sure if giving her a knife was the best solution, but honestly he'd always found cooking to be good for his own stress -- though he knew that didn't always work for everyone.

Wanda would force herself to adjust. It was simply her way of dealing with the world but she wasn't going to be happy about it and she'd never fully be comfortable with it. She hated feeling helpless.

"Yeah." She knew that she should eat, despite the gnawing feeling in her stomach that insisted that she wasn't hungry. Wanda didn't want this village, their watches, to defeat her. She was far to stubborn for that.

A smirk tugged at her lips. "It'll give me something to cut." It sounded like something she needed.

He knew a thing or two about feeling that way. He was pretty sure Clint had too, but neither men would likely say it. Still, it might be time to start working on more skills that didn't rely on abilities like hers. If she wasn't alone, if everyone with abilities was affected, they were going to need to start somewhere. At least Wanda had some training with the Avengers, not to mention skills outside of fighting. He was wondering how some of the less well-rounded would cope.

"You know how to make an omelet? We can beat some eggs too--not quite as violent as chopping, but still." He nodded his head in a gesture to get her to follow, leading her towards the inn. "We'll chop up some herbs and vegetables to put in it and we should have some eggs from the chickens being kept."

Wanda followed Sam easily, keeping his pace as they walked towards the inn. "Sure." That was something that she knew how to make and she looked forward to putting a little elbow grease into beating the eggs.

"Did you used to cook a lot?" She asked, hoping to distract herself from the empty feeling inside of her. She knew a lot about Sam's military career, practicing at HQ, but she didn't know what he did when they weren't fighting. He lived alone, as far as she knew, it'd make sense that he cooked. That or he lived off of take out but for some reason Wanda didn't think that stuck.

"I did. My mom taught me and since I'm the only one that really expressed an interest in it she used to have me help in the kitchen when she needed it, showed me a lot about how to cook and bake too," he said, realizing he hadn't really talked about that to Wanda before. He'd shown Vision a few recipes, when the android had caught him making cookies once before. That had been before everything had gone to hell of course.

"Been doing a lot of cooking here...surprisingly we might have a lot of people good at manual labor, but we don't have that many people comfortable in a kitchen. Go figure," Sam said.

Wanda felt her expression relax. She hadn't known that about him and it made her feel a little bit better though she didn't know why that was. "My mother taught me how to cook too." When she was very young, prior to her mothers death. "When it was me and my brother, I'd always cook for him. He didn't have the patience." Her voice manged to both weight itself heavily but it was also a happy memory, something that Wanda liked remembering.

What would her brother say if he saw her now?

She cleared her throat and continued. "What do you like making?" At this point, Wanda just wants to keep the conversation going.

This was strange, Sam hadn't heard Wanda speak about her mother before. He knew it was a sensitive topic--given how she'd died. Sam had answered without thinking, but apparently Wanda was willing to talk about it. "Yeah...my siblings weren't very interested in learning to cook either. Although, my mom probably gave my sister the hardest time about it." They couldn't go a holiday without his mom making some kind of comment to her. That never ended well either.

They'd reached the inn by this point and Sam made his way for the back, easier to get to the kitchen that way. He held the door for Wanda, answering her question at the same time, "Breakfast foods. Omelets are pretty easy, but fun. I also like makings pancakes if I have a choice."

"What about you?"

Wanda rarely talked about her family. There wasn't very much that she remembered about her mother and she knew even less about her father. Loosing her brother had felt like losing the last connection she had to those she considered family. The Avengers changed that.

"Soup, stew, meat pies." She didn't make a lot of sweets but savory dishes.

Wanda rolled her shoulders in a shrug. "Did you have a lot of siblings?" This was a heavy question. Wanda knew that but she asked anyway.

He smiled, "We should team up more then." He liked the idea of cooking with Wanda. He'd never tried making meat pies before, though he knew a few good soup and stew recipes. Of course, between the two of them, the rest of the Avengers would have to work even harder not to put on weight.

Once they were inside, Sam took a minute just to enjoy being in the kitchen again. His injury might make cooking a bit more challenging, but he could still manage and there was still something relaxing about it. He looked over his shoulder at Wanda, concern flickering over his shoulders. He knew this had to be a sensitive subject for her...but she was the one asking. "Two--a sister and a brother."

He pointed to a drawer, "The knives are in there...I'll get the veggies for you."

Wanda huffed a breath of hair. It was the closest thing that Sam was going to get to a laugh. "Yeah. We should." She liked cooking. It reminded her of her mother and at times her brother. It was good to remember the people lost.

As long as she didn't spend to much time thinking about it.

She followed him into the kitchen. She spent a fair amount of time here, helping Jon preserve food, and cooking when she was stressed. "Got it." She grabbed the knife from the drawer and then something to cut with.

"Slice or dice?"

"Dice," he replied. If Wanda knew her way around a knife then Sam decided he could leave her to it. Instead he started digging through the spices and herbs they'd slowly been gathering and creating. It was a lot harder than you would think, especially when compared to just going to the grocery store to pick them up. But they'd been making do and Sam was going to at least try to keep the food from being bland when he could.

Her wrist flexed and the knife rocked over the cutting board as she began to dice up the vegetables that he’d handed her. She was perfectly happy working in silence though questions and uncertainty continued to gnaw uncomfortably in her mind. The cutting gave her something to focus on but after a few minutes, Wanda found that it wasn’t enough.

"What do you have there?" She didn’t know about Sam’s herbs or the great lengths that he went through to get them. Wanda used what she could around the kitchen but she always tried to use as little as humanly possible.

It was only when curing and drying meats that she readily used the materials that were there.

"Sage, oregano, parsley, garlic, salt" he says, holding them up as he pulls them out. He looks back down at the cabinet, "Might be a few others---you want anything in particular?" There were some more containers, but the lighting wasn't bright enough to properly identify what they were.

In the meantime, he set the named spices and herbs on top of the counter for easy access.

Wanda paused in her cutting to turn and look at what Sam was grabbing. If she still had her powers she'd keep cutting, even while looking away, but she wasn't particularly interested in loosing any fingers.

At his question Wanda shook her head. "No." She couldn't think of anything that she might want. Except her powers back but she was trying not to think of that.

"Those sound fine." She remarked a bit awkwardly, as if she was trying to fill some of the silence. Wanda usually liked silence except that right now her head was filled with things that she'd rather not think about.

"I'm almost done." Dicing the vegetables.

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004 Unhappy changes [OPEN]

Home - May 1st – Early Morning

Woods/Around - May 1st - All Day

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

May 1

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