5614/Safety net

Safety net
Date of Scene:	17 March 2021
Location:	Wanda's Room - Avengers Mansion
Synopsis:	A debriefing of sorts happens regarding an earlier encounter with a temporal creature (Thanks, Anchovy!), and balance is slowly regained.
Cast of Characters:	Wanda Maximoff, Clint Barton

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Wanda Maximoff has posed:
Dinner is gained, courtesy of Pietro. Only he could find a place with the most perfect of pierogies, cooked in the full fatness of butter, swept away with carmelized onion and sour cream.

Wanda sits crosslegged on her couch, a bowl of the pasta settled in her bowl, the contents only half eaten. She has the look of a person whose eyes were definitely larger than her stomach, and the fork is settled lightly in her right hand. Her red wool coat is cast aside, hanging off the back of a chair, and the lighting of the room is mostly by fire. All of the candles in the room have their small flames dancing in time with the larger from the stoneworked fireplace, lending perhaps the feeling of warmth and comfort. The moment Wanda'd entered her room, all it took was a red-tinged hand to gesture, and flames burst into life in a single heartbeat.

Now, green eyes stare into flames as she considers the happenings, the //feeling// that she'd gotten, that she'd never had before.

"You know, these are good pierogi," the fork is gestured with in the direction of the bowl upon her lap. "I am willing to believe that my brother tasted them ALL before he decided. You notice he did not eat with us." Wanda is trying to keep it light, even if there is that decided //distraction// in her tones, behind those eyes.

Clint Barton has posed:
Clint has given her time to process what happened and what she felt at the market, eating quietly and watching her as she worked through things. Now that she's started talking, he smiles a little and nods, "We'll have to ask him where he got them so we can go there in the future." He considers the mental picture of Pietro whipping through every pierogi place in the city, chewing between doorways, and laughs a little.

"It's very possible he did" he agrees with Wanda, "But at least he's got good taste." He looks over at her, then asks quietly, "Are you ready to talk about it yet?"

Wanda Maximoff has posed:
Wanda ghosts a somewhat weary smile as Clint laughs at the image set in his mind. She knows what it is, because it plays in her own as well. Pietro whizzing up, grabbing a pierogi (probably without paying for it), and walks away chewing thoughtfully before the next place is hit. She shakes her head, the obvious affection for her twin showing easily. Where would either be without the other?

She doesn't move from her position, and she stares down at the leftover food in the bowl, the fork in hand and she exhales in a slow sigh, her head canting to the side. Her hair shifts as well, laying partially on her face and hanging down. She's comfortable with Clint; he's been her rock, one of the very few that has been able to pull her back from that dark precipice. And has done it willingly.

Even at the market, it hadn't escaped her notice that he'd interposed himself.. even unarmed. But, Wanda's no fool. Just because he doesn't have his bow and arrows doesn't mean he's helpless or even 'unarmed'. Anything could be his weapon.

The red-headed witch nods her head before her manner changes to more of a 'matter of fact' as she finds words. She lifts her bowl, sets the fork in it with tines stabbing the pierogi, and puts it aside onto a side table. She's still sitting crosslegged, however, and her hands fall into that gap in her legs. She doesn't look up, however, instead looking at her fingers. There, subtly, she plays with a crimson-colored wisp, sitting there in her hands.

"I can read magic," she begins. "I see it. Is like.. looking at city and seeing neon lights. Everything magic is that neon." She looks up and the red puff disappears, and she smiles across at Clint, "Is why I like to look at you. No neon. Just.. you."

But, not the point, and pausing only a moment, she continues. "I can feel it too. Disturbance. A fullness. Emptiness. Darkness. But that?" Wanda shakes her head, "Was different. Like.. vortex. Gentle, but was there. Like, it was waiting."

Clint Barton has posed:
He watches her, eyes full of affection and caring as she speaks. He smiles back when she describes looking at him, but then tilts his head a little as she goes into her feeling from the market. He shows a little confusion in his expression as she tries to explain, then asks, "I can tell it's a little confusing for you, but I'm not sure what you mean. You can feel magic, I understand that, but how was this different? I mean, you described magic feeling 4 different ways, 2 of which were exact opposites, so how does this feeling different set off warning bells?"

Wanda Maximoff has posed:
Wanda knows it's confusing, and she smiles in prelude to her apology, "I am sorry. But all magic is different. Dark magic, like the imps are cold, dark, filled with.." Her hands lift unconsciously to wrap about her arms in reference to the cold before continuing. "There is light, there is.. mine." That doesn't seem to have rhyme or reason to it. In a word?

Chaos.

"It was something I have not felt. Was new." Brows crease before she offers up a tighter smile, "I mean, why dinosaur in market? Did not feel like mutant. It had that.. magic feeling around it. Like, a swirl. I was afraid if Pietro got close, he could get caught and disappear." It makes no sense to her; it's all //feeling//. "If that happened, I think I could not find him. He would be lost."

Uncrossing her legs, Wanda stands and begins to pace, walking around her candles, holding her hand out to feel the warmth come off of them. "For me, different is dangerous. I need to know, to understand. The creature here? Was easy. Dimension shift. Imps? Dark creatures from ground. That? Was like .. a hole, but not. Like my portal, but .. not." She shrugs her shoulders and looks to Clint, her expression decidedly frustrated.

"I do not know how to explain it more. I wish I could."

Clint Barton has posed:
Clint puts his food aside as well and stands up, moving over to her. He doesn't know magic, but he knows one way to help ease that frustration. He slips his arms around her, drawing her to him, "It's ok. I get it, it's like trying to explain purple to someone who's been blind since birth. There's just no way to share that frame of reference with a person who doesn't feel magic like you do."

He hugs her tight, "I'll do a little digging about the thing, see what I can find out. If it feels weirder than normal mutants and dimensional beings, it's probably worth finding out about just to be safe. I'll dig into both Avenger and SHIELD databases and see if we know anything about dinosaurs in mutant town." He places a gentle kiss on her forehead, "I just wish I _could_ understand sometimes, just to make it easier for you."

Wanda Maximoff has posed:
Wanda watches as Clint rises and crosses to where she stands. When he reaches out to embrace her, she steps into it, wrapping her arms around him as well. Her cheek settles on his shoulder, and she just breathes. She can hear his heart beat just beneath, and it lulls her briefly, allowing her to simply close her eyes.

The hug, the squeeze there as she's held makes things easier. As if the world simply can be held at bay for that moment. She nods her head, no doubt a gesture more felt than seen, as she agrees with his assessment. "It is true." She's buoyed by his strength, his warmth, and she can't help, "But, I can see purple, and it looks good on you."

The promises, though?

Wanda holds her breath briefly before letting it out and cants her face up to look at the archer, concern flickering there behind emerald eyes. "Tell me if you find anything." It's a request couched in a statement. "I will look in library. Perhaps ask Stephen about it." Dr. Strange. She calls him by his first name?

She smiles at the kiss on her forehead, her eyes closing briefly in the touch. Reopening, Wanda just looks into those blues and raises a hand to stroke his cheek. "You understand more than most. And what you do not understand, you trust me." And that?

That is the most telling.

Clint Barton has posed:
Of course he does, he wouldn't be here if he didn't. But at the same time, given his chosen line of work, he understands what a precious commodity trust really is.

And how dangerous giving it to the wrong person is.

With a smile, he rests his head against hers, "I do, Wanda. I don't need to understand to know that I need to listen to your feelings on these things." He gives a little chuckle, "Only a fool ignores a witch on matters of magic, after all." he gently teases. "And I like to think I'm no fool, at least most of the time."

Wanda Maximoff has posed:
"You are no fool. You like pierogies and are willing to eat my goulash." Wanda's trying to raise herself from that funk of hers, only having a real chance because Clint's here, and holding her. "And sometimes you let me win at darts." She knows he deliberately aims for other numbers. The man doesn't miss. Ever.

She's happy to be held like this; the fire is crackling and warm, the candles lend their glow to the room. Dinner's been had, the magic has been discussed, and now? Wanda is content, feeling that balance slowly begin to tip back. The feeling is still there, or rather, the knowledge of the feeling remains,in the back of her mind. It's very much like a sliver under the skin; annoying, distracting but not much else.

"I think it is time for bed. Has been a long day." She doesn't want to release him, but she actually is tired. Weary. But she'll be okay.

"Stay?"