20199/Scarlet and Red

Scarlet and Red
Date of Scene:	07 March 2025
Location:	Backyard
Synopsis:	After an unfortunate incident that resulted in a brief stand-off in Times Square, Wanda Maximoff comes to Xavier's to find Madelyne Pryor. And makes her an offer.
Cast of Characters:	Madelyne Pryor, Wanda Maximoff

---

Madelyne Pryor has posed:
Spring is on the horizon, just a few weeks away.

The air still carries in it the bitter bite of winter -- and many of the students at Xavier's School still prefer the warmth of the mansion -- but there's no snow on the ground. For someone who prefers solitude, a mid-afternoon walk on the pathways behind the school isn't a horrible way to find privacy, at this moment.

It's the mane of red hair that gives her away first. Then the build. The green eyes.

But it's not Jean Grey.

The makeup is too heavy -- dark eyeliner and heavy mascara over blood-red lips. The clothing isn't right -- a long, heavy coat over a skin-tight, red mock-turtleneck, black leather pants, and heeled ankle boots.

Her gait is off. Her posture is off.

She walks like a woman who's simply waiting for someone to challenge her, like every step is one more on a journey to her next confrontation. Her back is straight, her hands tucked into her pockets, her chin lifted.

Yet she makes no move to challenge the few students she passes.

None of them approach her. Only a few are brave enough for direct eye contact, and even those opt against interrupting her stroll.

She can still hear them, anyway, of course. While Jean might respect the privacy of others, might allow them to keep their thoughts secret, Madelyne doesn't. She stretches out with her telepathic abilities, always monitoring who's around her, listening and waiting, eavesdropping, and allowing both her paranoia and her curiosity to run rampant.

Because sometimes the world really is out to get you.

Wanda Maximoff has posed:
Much has been said and done about 'hero landings' yet can they command as much gravitas as a 'wizard landing'? The way they approach through the air, floating as if gravity and the very forces of the Earth held no sway over them, hair whipping freely with eldritch energies surrounding them as they come to land where they will. And that's exactly what Wanda is doing, coming down upon the school to land on the backyard.

The redhead is dressed in the kind of clothing she has become known for. The leather, tight corset around her form that leaves her shoulders bare. A pair of leather pants and dark boots. Dark, blood red, long jacket. She's recognizable instantly by some of the students but none approach though as her gaze trails around the area they come to inevitably rest upon the other redhead walking the trails.

And it stays there.

~*Yes, I am here to talk to you.*~ The Witch sends, knowing full well that Madelyne will be capable of reading it.

She starts walking in Madelyne's direction, long jacket swishing around her legs.

Madelyne Pryor has posed:
No. No, they can't.

There is something infinitely majestic, commanding, and awe-inspiring about watching the power of a wizard, hair and coat fluttering as they lower themselves with absolute grace and control -- absolute mastery of the forces at their disposal -- to light on the ground with barely a thought.

It radiates power and authority.

Two things which set Madelyne Pryor instantly on edge.

Madelyne slows as she watches that familiar figure float over the grounds, her jaw tensing as the other woman lights and begins searching.

When their eyes meet, she doesn't stop walking, though her hands emerge from her pockets to hang by her side. Empty, but ready. Long, elegant fingers each tipped in a manicured, glossy red nail.

. o O ( "Talk?... Or arrest?" )

There's a frisson of power that ripples through her when she projects those thoughts back to the Scarlet Witch.

Anger seems always to stir just beneath the surface, ready to boil over into rage and hate and vengeance, and just for a moment, it flashes in her eyes.

It's not an offensive attack. She doesn't raise her hand or threaten. She's a predator being pinned in a corner, ready to lash out.

Wanda Maximoff has posed:
The answer to that mental question isn't returned immediately, instead Wanda continuing her approach almost as if she hadn't *heart* the question. Not fully acknowledging that someone dares to challenge their word. Because much like Madelyne there's always an anger lingering just beneath the surface, the chaotic energies of the Witch always lurking. When Wanda finally speaks up again she is close now. Perhaps too close for comfort.

"I have no need to lie to you." This time she actually verbalizes her thoughts, tone assertive and firm with that eastern European accent to it, "You knew I'd come here, sooner or later."

Green eyes meet Madelyne's, even through that flash of anger she can see there, "Perhaps we should start with the beginning. My name is Wanda Maximoff." she rests one hand over her own chest, "How should I call you?"

Madelyne Pryor has posed:
The simple fact of the matter is that Madelyne is fully aware that if Wanda Maximoff _wanted_ to take her into custody on the grounds of Xavier's, surrounded by a bunch of students -- children -- who could quickly turn into collateral damage, there would be no opportunity to fight. She would already be in custody.

So, it isn't lost on her that she isn't, in fact, in custody, but she also can't help that nagging sensation -- like a dark whisper in her ear -- that she's just being lulled into a false sense of security. That the moment she lowers her guard, the Scarlet Witch will strike.

Maybe that's just her guilty conscience.

"I... had hoped it would slip your mind."

Her voice is softened -- just a little -- with the faintest curl of dry humor that curls the words and the corners of her lips. And though her fingers curl in anticipation of a strike, her hands return to the pockets of her coat. It's as close as she can really get to 'setting down her weapon,' even if it doesn't leave her defenseless.

A handful of students loiter around the distant edges of the fences, the courtyard, the trees. Some are still making their way to the next class or chatting in groups, oblivious to the tension in the air. Some are watching.

The introduction has Madelyne's own green eyes trailing down to the woman's hand where it rests on her chest and then back up again.

"Madelyne," she answers softly. "Madelyne Pryor."

She wets her lips, and there's a little shake of her head.

"Please understand, Ms. Maximoff. I didn't go to Manhattan with the intention to hurt anyone. I -- "

Her words seem to catch, forcing her to suck in a breath through her nose.

"I'm tired... of _so_ many things. I'm tired of living my life in fear and confusion, and if people want to be afraid of me, I have _no_ problem giving them something to be afraid of." Even as she speaks, her voice slowly becomes a growl.

Wanda Maximoff has posed:
The Witch's expression betrays little of what real intentions may linger underneath it all, her mind a bastion, most likely hexxed in protective wards to prevent mental intrusion. In a way it's a signal of respect for the powers Madelyne demonstrated when they 'met' in New York.

The answer is taken at face value with the implied humor in them, ruby lips curling up in the faintest of smiles, "Alas. We rarely get what we hope for." even powerful sorceresses like Wanda apparently, "Yet I do not believe you wanted it to slip my mind." she then gesturing for them to continue walking through the courtyard, Wanda setting to an easy pace next to Madelyne.

"I know you didn't." She says with no hesitation, "You were defending yourself." until she wasn't. But she doesn't verbalize that part, instead listening to what she says next, lips pressing to a thin line.

"Why do you believe them to be afraid of you?" She questions.

Madelyne Pryor has posed:
Oh. Gods. She's good.

Madelyne's smile ticks a little more at one corner of her mouth at Wanda's first comment, but the next brings the briefest flash of surprise to her eyes.

She's not wrong. Whatever cosmic force lives inside her -- the Phoenix, someone told her -- has no voice. It doesn't itself whisper in her ear or rationalize its wants. But Madelyne has never known a time in her life -- her waking life, outside of whatever process made her -- when she didn't feel that call towards power... more power... always more.

And Wanda Maximoff has power.

She'd never actually expected to encounter any of the Avengers, much less the Scarlet Witch, there was instantly a level of respect and understanding when Wanda stepped forward in New York. Just like there was today. A combination of self-preservation and... desire. Not physical desire -- not entirely -- but desire for Wanda's power.

The surprise in her eyes dips -- demurs -- when she nods and turns to fall into step beside Wanda, walking along that path towards Breakstone Lake.

I know you didn't.

A breath blows through her nose as she walks, eyes watching the trail instead of Wanda's features.

She can't reach in and _know_ the other woman's thoughts or emotions like so many of the students here -- and yes, she definitely tried -- but she can hear the sincerity in her words. It makes bleeds a bit more of that tension out of her muscles.

"I can hear them. Their thoughts. Their hate."

It's a soft answer -- earnest, even though her gaze is still fixed on the path, her hands tucked into the pockets of her coat.

"It's not just the humans anymore, either. Mutants, too. Not so much hate from them. Just fear. A desire to control me. To... be safe from me. To use me."

She rolls one shoulder.

"I don't love being here. I stay away from the students as much as I can," she offers, finally lifting her eyes to Wanda's face again. "It gets to be... overwhelming. They don't know what to do with the fact that I'm not... Jean."

She says the name with a little sneer that's not at all playful.

"I'm sorry that you..."

Stepped in? Came all the way here? Had to get involved?

The sentence hangs for just a second, unfinished, before there's a little shake of her head.

"... well... I suppose I'm just sorry."

Wanda Maximoff has posed:
Power begets power. Much like violence. And Wanda isn't immune to either, specially power. And she knows quite well the potential of power Madelyne has, specially if she is anywhere close to the strength that the other redhead that shares a face with her has. The kind of power that deep down under her psyche Wanda also craves, an insidious call from the darker recesses of her being that not so long ago was in contact with a fragment of the Darkhold.

And while her mind is such a bastion there's a certain darkness in Wanda's being that only the most skilled of empaths could seek. Or those that share the same appetite for power, "And how does that make you feel?" she asks. What exactly though? There were many things they were talking about. Did she mean the human's fear? The other mutants envy? Their desire for control?

"Finding our place in the world is perhaps the hardest thing we can do." She admits to Madelyne, "Specially those that wield the kind of power that we do. It makes us want to lash out, to scream out that we will not be shackled down to what is expected of us." a beat, "Though I won't say that I know all that you are going through." the corner of her mouth curling in a smirk, "I am not that kind of hypocrite."

Those last words out of Maddie has Wanda arch a finely-trimmed brow, "You are not sorry, nor should you. I have become involved because it was fated so."

Madelyne Pryor has posed:
How _does_ it make her feel?

Any of it?

Though she might never admit it out loud, for all of her supposed soul searching and reaching out for support, she hadn't had many conversations that dwelled on her actual feelings. In fact, most of the time, she deflected away from talking about her feelings.

It was easy enough to distract Kurt with 'alternatives' to deep conversation.

Emma had actually gotten into her mind and seen the manifestations of what Madelyne struggles with, but that friendship didn't come with many forceful challenges to her status quo. With good reason. Emma understood her well enough to know that pushing was more likely to piss her off than to get her to open up.

And Cable? Well... that's a whole mess.

"Angry."

It's the simplest of the answers she could give, even if it's not all that descriptive or specific. But maybe it serves as a blanket answer for all of it.

She's not afraid, but she hates them for trying to make her feel afraid.

A soft sigh passes her lips at the mention of finding her place. Of power. And at the mention of not knowing everything she's going through, Madelyne's eyes return to the other woman with a curious glint.

She doesn't voice the words, but the mild challenge in her expression is clear -- Do you care?

Wanda must, right? Why would she come all the way here to talk a walk around a school if she didn't care?

Madelyne shakes her head and looks back towards the lake, her hands stuffed deep into the pockets of her coat.

_That_ is the question that continues to niggle at her, that refuses to allow her to let her guard down entirely, even if Wanda didn't come here to arrest her.

"Fated to..."

The words are just a breath.

"So your god doesn't give _you_ free will, either?" she asks with a dismissive sneer. So much bitterness churns inside her, even if it isn't directed at Wanda. Not intentionally. Not personally.

"I sometimes wonder how much free will my creator gave me, and he wasn't even a god. Not as far as I can tell. Just some guy with a god-sized ego playing with his chemistry set."

Wanda Maximoff has posed:
It may be a simple answer and word but at the same time it's also the only one that matters. For anger is never really that simple, is it? Wanda nods slowly at the answer, "Yes. Anger. It's a strong word, isn't it?" she says, "All-consuming if one isn't careful." and in that she had hands-on experience with. She had ever been angry. She still was, but she had learn to channel it in a constructive manner.

Even if it didn't really work sometimes. But no one's perfect.

The challenge in Madelyne's expression is met head on, "I do." care, "It is both part of my nature but also responsibility. Being the Scarlet Witch is not only a fancy title, Madelyne." her voice stern now. Silence follows for a bit longer until she finally adds in a lower voice, "And perhaps I saw a bit of myself in you." green eyes then tracing alongside the lake view for a time, silence abating for a small while.
    he talk of fate has her shift her gaze back at Madelyne, "Free will. That's the kind of pandora box that I am not sure we want to open just yet." she states, "A day and night would not be enough for us to get done with that discussion, but...." and her eyes roam over Madelyne's form in a more intent manner now, considering her.

"There seems to be a story behind your coming to be." as Wanda knew there would be, "Would you tell me it?" she asks, her tone a request not demand.

Madelyne Pryor has posed:
I do, Wanda says, and Madelyne's eyes snap back to her, doubt consuming her features as quickly and completely as flames across dried leaves.

But she doesn't say anything.

She remains quiet, letting the other woman speak as they stroll along.

The mention of Wanda seeing a bit of herself in Madelyne still doesn't coax any words from her lips, but it does... it does make her sigh. Not in an exasperated way, but as if she's... tired -- bone-tired from keeping everyone at arm's length.

The talk of 'free will' has another frisson of anger rippling as if across her skin, that bone-deep weariness giving way to a moment of impatience and intolerance of being put off...

But that too changes, her moods seemingly a volatile as wisps of smoke in a shifting breeze, when that final question is asked -- Would you tell me it?

That prompts a moment of silence from the woman, surprise at actually being asked shifting to... regret.

Shame.

"I..."

Her mouth seems to go dry, her gaze shifting to the lake that draws ever closer ahead as her hands tuck more firmly into her pockets. Her elbows draw in. Her entire body seems to coil in on itself, as if the act of tucking her arms and squeezing her shoulders could somehow protect herself.

"I... don't know it." The words are so soft. Almost apologetic. "Not very much of it, anyway. A lot of it is just," her eyes lower toward the path at her feet, "broken fragments..."

She draws in a deep breath, and the laugh that suddenly blows past her lips is soft, tired, incredulous.

"I honestly don't even know where to begin."

One hand rises to scoop her fingers through the hair at her temple, drawing it back behind her ear.

"I'm an airline pilot," she says softly. "I... _was_ an airline pilot. Eight years ago, the 747 I was flying into San Francisco International Airport crashed, killing all four hundred and three souls on board. Except me."

She pauses, then, as if the weight of that still sits on her soul -- crushing her like the weight of the Moon impacting the Earth.

"I carried that guilt around for a long time..." She shakes her head again, still not looking at Wanda. "I still do, to some extent. I have nightmares about it. Except, it never happened. Neither did my childhood. My parents. Learning to fly... none of it was real. I have no family. No past... except, for the last five years, I've been trying to piece it all together."

She breathes out another sigh.

"Apparently, I'm a clone."

Wanda Maximoff has posed:
The silence tells Wanda more than if Maddie was chatting it up. Letting the sorceress take in the other mutant's posture. The doubts. The tiredness. Yes, so much alike her even if sometimes it feels like that happened a lifetime ago. She was different now, or was she? "Your doubts. Your tiredness. Those are not of someone who wants to be angry all the time." even if Wanda doesn't press the matter further, letting Madelyne be the one to reach her own conclusions on what she wants.

"I can tell you this though. No one better than a Witch knows the power behind words." she tells the other redhead, "Nothing of what I say is spoken in a light manner. Or untrue." as if answering her doubts on whether she cares or not, "But you already know it." and Wanda is certain of that.

Moments pass, either in silence or talking though the regret and shame that she notes on her expression surprises Wanda, making her purse her lips together while one hand runs over her unruly dark red hair, brushing it away from her face, "That I had suspected." being a clone, though the rest has her crease her forehead in worry, but also anger. Not at Madelyne but who would dare to do such a thing.

Not that Wanda is -that- innocent where it comes to willing life manifest considering her sons...

"So whoever it was implanted memories in you. It would take someone of considerable power to do so." she only knows a few that could do so. And the Phoenix herself. "What are you looking for? The truth?"

Madelyne Pryor has posed:
She doesn't want to be angry all the time. Not really.

Rarely -- too rarely -- she's able to set that anger aside, and... who knows what it really is? Maybe it's just pretend. Maybe, just for a little while, when she's walking along like this or curled up with Kurt, she can pretend her life is normal. That _she_ is 'normal.' That there's any chance that she could have a life that someone might look at and call 'happy.'

In those moments, it doesn't feel like pretend. She's sincere in the way she reaches out, the way she wants that snapshot in time to extend forever...

But it doesn't. It never does.

The next day, she's hovering in Times Square, bleeding from the scalp where a bottle has been smashed over her head, and ready to kill the three men who hurt her. Who were going to restrain her. Who had...

They had a collar. They were trying to fasten an inhibitor collar around her neck before she could react.

They had it _with_ them.

It wasn't random. They didn't spontaneously decide to clobber a redhead with a bottle. They were trying to _take_ her...

... And there it is again. The anger. The rage.

The hatred.

It tightens her jaw and almost seems to pulse from her in waves.

She doesn't want to be angry all the time. She doesn't want to be this way. But they won't stop. They won't leave her alone. They keep coming. And if it wasn't those men in Times Square, it would have been the Mutant Liberation Front -- the only reason she was hiding at Xavier's at all.

What are you looking for? The truth?

"Revenge."

There. She said it.

Kurt once asked her what made her heart sing, and she almost said it then. Instead, she told him he did. Because it was true. Because what she felt for him made her feel so light she could almost forget what hat driven her -- made her put one foot in front of the other -- for five years, since leaving Alaska. To find whoever did this to her and make them regret their whole lives.

"It may be a man named Nathaniel Essex," she says after a moment, her voice darker, quieter. Lethal. "I'm told he goes by Mister Sinister, now. I... don't know much about him, yet. I'm not even sure it was him. But I have it on good authority that he's done this to me at least once... in another timeline."

Wanda Maximoff has posed:
The anger exuding from the other redhead is palpable. Infectious. Making Wanda's own anger bubble to the surface, the one she has learned to carefully bottle down deep inside her psyche. It takes a long, deep breath for her thoughts to clear again and she hears that single word. Just as simple as 'angry', but now loaded with an intention. A target. There is a slow nod out of the Witch.

"Revenge." She echoes the word, making it real. A brief pause while her eyes return to Madelyne, "That .., I can help with." she states in a perhaps surprising twist, her lips turning up in a faint smile. As for the actual reasons for this help? Those she does not disclose.

"I have heard the name. Both names." She tells Madelyne, her life with the Avengers and connection to the Xaviers meaning some of those common enemies have come to her attention. Like Essex. Yet something nags at her, on the back of her mind, that no matter how powerful Sinister may be could he really create or even come close to the kind of power Wanda has felt manifest back in their encounter in New York?

The kind of power that could topple a reality.

"Do you wish it?" She then finally asks. Of the help.

Madelyne Pryor has posed:
That .., I can help with.

"What?!"

The word slips past her lips before Madelyne even had it fully developed in her conscious thought. She'd stopped walking and turned to look at Wanda, her eyebrows lifted in utter shock.

There were many paths this meeting could have taken. This could have been an arrest. It could have been a brawl. It could have been a shouting match, a lecture about how everything _she_ is doing is wrong and she should just let them all do whatever they want to her...

But this?

This wasn't even in consideration.

For a moment, her mouth hangs open, and her eyes search Wanda's like they're waiting for some kind of punchline. When it doesn't happen, suspicion darkens her eyes, narrows them, sharpens them...

"Why?"

There's a little shake of her head, and some of that rippling anger actually is directed at Wanda, this time -- but it's misplaced. It comes out as agitation and confusion, the tension in her voice tightening like a guitar string. She's paranoid. Everyone is out to get her. _Everyone_. She simply hasn't figured out what everyone wants, yet.

"Why would you help me? Why would you come _all the way here_? And don't say fate. Don't say fate and then wave it off like it's something I couldn't possibly understand..."

She shrugs her shoulders a little too forcefully.

"What do you get out of helping me? If you're trying to garner favor with the school..." She snorts. "Unless you're planning to vanish me to some pocket dimension, I'm not sure encouraging me is really going to earn you a lot of brownie points around here."

Wanda Maximoff has posed:
When Maddie comes to a stop and makes that question Wanda slows her pace but she never really comes to a full stop, "What. Why. I understand your need for those, a life that turned out to be a lie. That someone deliberately did so in order to control you. But are they really the right questions?" she lets that sink in for a few, those green eyes sparkling with that kind of intense mystery that puts the Witch to the redhead.

"The ~How~ is so much more interesting to ask though.", a beat, "Wouldn't you agree?" not that she waits for an answer to that question, continuing on in that same velvety tone, she then shaking her head, "Fate can be the spark for a beginning, but one should never rely on it too much. It's on us to take that fate and turn it into something of our own. Very much like I did..." a pause as she finally comes to a stop, ".. and how I believe you can too. Specially where it comes to breaking the strands to a fate you are not interested in. And that is the how." she says, "I can help you take control of that fate. Revenge if that is what you need, until you can harness your power and realize who you want to be."

Getting favor with the school though? That has her quirk both brows, "My actions are never done to seek anyone else's approval." she says, "But you will learn that with time." a pause then and as it seems she wouldn't really answer any of Maddie's actual questions she then finally says, "I believe you have the kind of power that can do much good, but also much evil. And you deserve a chance to choose who you want to be."

Madelyne Pryor has posed:
Madelyne stays quiet through all of it. She doesn't interrupt or challenge the cadence of Wanda's words, doesn't fold her arms or retreat behind a wall of attitude. She listens. Watches the other woman speak with that same measured certainty she's come to expect from people who claim to see more than they let on. The cold presses closer as they stand there, a sharp draft slipping under her coat, but she doesn't move to fix it.

When she finally does speak, it's low, almost hesitant -- not defensive, not hostile. Just honest in a way that feels strange to her own ears.

"I don't know what any of that means," she says. Her gaze drops to the gravel path, the toes of her boots scuffing lightly against the edge of a frost-dusted branch.

"You say I can take control of my fate. That I have the power to shape it. I want to believe that. I want to believe you. But I've spent the last five years trying to understand where I came from, and nothing about any of it has felt like something I could control. I didn't choose this. Any of this. I'm not even _here_ because I _want_ to be."

She shifts slightly, the tension not from anger, but from a quiet discomfort -- like she's trying to hold steady under something heavy that might still shift under her feet. "They made me with a purpose. Even the memories I have -- my parents, my childhood, my training -- they aren't mine. I can _feel_ how fake they are. Fabricated. So when you say I have the power to take control, I don't even know what that means."

She looks up again, slower this time, her eyes fixed on Wanda. "What do you mean you can help me take control? Do you want me as your... apprentice? Is that what this is?" Her expression doesn't harden, but her voice falters at the edge of the question. "I'm not even a Witch. A month ago I was told I wasn't even a mutant -- that I X-gene never activated. So, I don't... I don't know _what_ I am."

There's a beat where she almost stops there, but she doesn't. Her posture doesn't close off. If anything, it softens. She lets the silence sit for a few seconds, then adds, more quietly, "But if you meant what you said... if this isn't about pity or fear or some cosmic obligation -- if you really think I can become something more than what they built me to be -- then I want to understand how."

Wanda Maximoff has posed:
"Maybe you do not yet know what it means. But you can learn, that's the difference. As long as you have the will.." Her long red hair flowing in the wind that has picked up, that draft coursing through the backyard making her hair to flow to it in an almost chaotic manner and yet .., there's almost a pattern to it. As if she could be responsible for said wind. For the chaos and the cold.

"Where would you be if you could choose?" She then asks when Madelyne claims she is not here of her own volition and desire, a curiosity to her expression even if no judgement. As if she didn't expect any answer the other woman could give her as something wrong. Yet as she finally seems to be reaching Wanda's intent there's a nod of confirmation, "Yes, an apprentice. Or a student if you prefer. Labels aren't important." she admits.

"I always mean what I say. But unlike what you have done so far this will have to be something you have to choose." She offers, gesturing with slender fingertips towards the other woman, "I will not force you to anything." though a smile does bloom at those last words out of Madelyne.

"Excellent. Then you shall." She promises.

Madelyne Pryor has posed:
Madelyne's eyes drift off again, her focus falling somewhere past the lake's edge. She doesn't answer right away. The question isn't hard -- at least, it shouldn't be -- but it catches her in the soft tissue, in a part of her that rarely gets touched. She shifts her weight, one boot dragging across the gravel without purpose.

"I... I don't know," she says, finally. Her voice is steady, but quiet. "Not here. Not facing being mistaken for Jean Grey every time I turn around. Not having everyone looking at me like some kind of... I don't know." Her mouth twists slightly. "Evil clone, I guess."

She exhales through her nose, then glances over at Wanda, almost like she's checking to see if that landed wrong.

"But this is where Kurt is, so..."

She trails off, shrugging with one shoulder. Whatever that statement was, it doesn't come with an explanation. She's not offering one.

Wanda's next words land harder than she expected.

Yes, an apprentice.

She wasn't expecting that. The fact that Wanda took her seriously -- the whole idea seriously -- catches her off guard in a way she doesn't quite know how to process. She frowns, but it isn't skepticism. It's closer to discomfort. Or maybe disbelief.

She's tried to make herself into something before. Stronger. Useful. Respected. She'd stood in rooms with the Brotherhood and been offered purpose, and then walked the halls of Xavier's with every set of eyes watching like she might snap in half or explode. She's never felt like a student. She's never felt like she belonged.

But this doesn't feel like any of that.

She swallows once. Looks at Wanda again.

"So... how would we get started?" she asks, with a wry little smile tugging her lips.

Wanda Maximoff has posed:
There is no need to explain. Wanda knows well what the other redhead means when she speaks of Kurt. So there's but a brief, understanding smile at that. Some of the enigma is still there though. But then again, not all answers are to be given right from the start. And if those answers were so easy would they truly be worthwhile?

"You come and find me." A pause as she looks the other woman over, "Once you feel yourself prepared. I am not hard to find.." her eyes glinting, "... if I want to be found."

There is a gesture then and she takes hold of one of the pendants around her neck, it glowing in a red color before a portal starts to form mid-air.

And then the Scarlet Witch starts walking through the portal.

Madelyne Pryor has posed:
Madelyne watches the portal bloom into existence, red light rippling like heat off pavement. It draws her eyes, but she doesn't step forward.

She nods once -- small, deliberate.

"I will," she says, the words simple but firm.

She doesn't know what comes next. Not really. But for the first time in a long time, she doesn't feel like she's bracing for a trap.

As Wanda steps through the threshold, Maddie stays where she is. The cold moves in again, wind pressing at her coat, but she doesn't retreat from it. She just watches until the portal closes and the light fades.

Then she breathes in.

And turns back toward the school.