Well, there's no response for now. Time passes, enough to assume that Henry has either begun his travels over, or that he's changed his mind entirely.
Except it's the former, revealed when the nearness of a mind brushes her own. A reaching outwards with telepathy, rather than using their connection via the Singularity to communicate.]
I don’t think that was the intent, but sure looks like that.
[she didn’t wait for him out in the garden, because then she’d be waiting a long time. wanda had gone back inside to do her usual chores, and his message finds her up on the third floor of the treehouse, out on the balcony.
she sees him after a moment, through the canopy, and tugs at their telepathic connection; only when he does look up does she raise a hand to wave at him. henry should find the path towards the treehouse’s entrance just fine. as for wanda—she disappears from the balcony, heads inside, and makes her way down to the bottom floor.
an orange cat will greet henry in the garden, tail perked up, meowing to get his attention.]
[No, he suspects she wasn't out in the garden, but he does feel a tug at the corners of his mind, and redirects his gaze up to the balcony. He raises his brows, gives a little smile, but not much else.
Instead, he'll wait for her to meet him down here, all while a little orange cat comes out to greet him. Henry... doesn't have the best track record with small animals, but he certainly has little reason to do more than just let the creature rub his against his leg if it gets close enough.]
[the orange cat purrs and rubs against his leg, as expected, the curious little pouch on its back pulling away from the usual collar with a jingle on its neck. wanda appears through the door, looking at him.]
He doesn’t have an official name.
[she studies henry’s face for a moment.
he seems as calm as ever. wanda motions for him to follow her inside, through the door.]
[He's good at being calm on the outside, having put his demeanor back together somewhere between then and now. A conversation about the previous topic at hand will undoubtedly dredge more sincere emotions out, probably none of them too flattering, but that'll cross that bridge again when they get there.]
You should at least name him.
[Even the kids in the lab at least got a number, gosh.
[as henry goes in, the cat steps inside, too, hurrying ahead of them towards the kitchen.]
There are different tiers in the treehouse, so if I need to send something to someone—I just put it in his little backpack.
[—pouch—]
He’s very well trained.
[because she created him with a specific intention in her magic when she did so. the cat meows as they reach the kitchen, and wanda sets down a bowl with a mix of meats for him; as for them, wanda grabs a warm cup of tea and hands it over to henry.
[The interior does very little to quell his first impression of this being a rather storybook place, but that's not necessarily a bad thing. Just... quaint, in a way that he isn't entirely used to, not even within Solvunn territory.
His eyes roam, following the cat, then Wanda, then taking the tea as they reach their destination and she hands him the warm mug.]
Peppermint. A new name for the well-trained cat? I guess it's not that bad.
[wanda knows very well that he meant the flavor, but she's not going to give him the satisfaction.]
Hmm.
[—instead, a noncommittal sound. she finds a stool for herself by the table in the kitchen and sits herself down, twirling her hand to make a cup of tea appear for herself, too, beside her elbow.]
[He will remain standing for a moment or two, opting to sip the offered tea before he says or does anything else.
Just a small sip, enough to taste the tingle of peppermint.]
What isn't?
[Henry's always turning something over in his head, perhaps something of a character flaw of his. But once again, he knows that's not her meaning, and he finally accedes as he finds somewhere nearby to sit.]
Lately, though, after... everything- [The monsters, the Singularity pinning some blame on him.] -I've been starting to wonder about our actual role in this world. As Summoned, I mean.
[why they were brought here to begin with. thorne says one thing, while the cities dictates another, while solvunn has prophetized their arrival like it something that was destined.
wanda tries not to think too hard about it, but she knows other people are.]
Do you have any theories or thoughts, or is it an existential kind of thing?
[there’s no mockery in her voice, just genuine want to understand what’s going through his mind.]
[A little shrug of his shoulders, then another sip of his tea. He rearranges the words in his head first before uttering them.]
But we're the ones with the connection to the Singularity. We're the ones with... unusual abilities, not normally seen in this world.
[Some of them are even powerful, enough to give what he assumes are the strongest magic-users in this world a run for their money. He assumes Wanda is one of those people.]
And yet we bear the brunt of all the bad things that happen to us thus far. [(This perspective is very skewed by his time in the pit.)] We're meant to be content and happy in our roles, our new homes, even if what amounts to what's happened to us is nothing short of interdimensional kidnapping.
[is what she says after a long pause—clearly, henry has been thinking about this for quite a while, or at least been thinking about it hard to draw this kind of conclusion, to spin into these kind of thoughts.]
It's like we're punished for being here, as if—
[well.
she turns to look at him, a frown in her expression.]
We are the ones that don't belong.
[parasites, in this world. anomalies.]
Maybe this world, its magic—whatever it is, it's trying to fight us off. The way our bodies would with a cold.
[the question is a little unusual, and while wanda is not surprised at his just asking it,it’s curious that henry would ask it at all. she is sure, though, that he has a reason for it.]
[He asks because he's not sure how she'd take to the idea he's spinning in his head. One that hasn't taken form, but threatens to, given his recent discontent.
A pause. He supposes it would beat being dead, and his brows raise.]
...Wondering how much you'd be willing to fight for it. Or if you'd rather claw your way back home; though I suppose not, if you don't have anything waiting for you back on your world.
Sometimes, I just think we're being complacent.
[He's a fellow villain, so perhaps she would understand his restlessness. His dislike for being kept in a cage.]
[the issue here is that wanda’s keeping to herself (and a select few) the idea that she wants to return home, but in her own terms, with her own variables as far as the return trip would go.
but it’s interesting to hear what henry has to say, unfiltered, almost.]
More aggressively looking for a way back home. We were nothing short of kidnapped to begin with, trapped here whether we like it or not. I'm tired of being kept in a prisons.
[And that, of course, is the sticking point. He will always feel trapped, no matter how much more "freedom" he's been given here versus the lab.]
If the veil's already so thin to begin with, it would be a shame not to take advantage of it.
[wanda stares at henry for a long time, keeps her gaze on him—and doesn't falter. she knows that they agreed that they wouldn't dig into each other's minds (the action futile, anyway, given how they'd both be able to quickly remove the other's intrusion the second they recognized it was there).
but that still leaves this certainty that there is... a lot that they are keeping from one another, about themselves.]
And you want my help.
[wouldn't that make sense, since they both managed to grab hold of whatever was just behind the veil and tugged it into their current reality.]
I like you, Henry. [that's no secret] And I don't need to know your most guarded secrets, but I can't — figure you out.
[this darkness, thrumming, quickly dismissed with a dark sense of humor. there's more than that here, isn't there?]
[Maybe so. Even in the pit, where Henry had made much of his anger known, others did not know the depths of which it ran -- nor why it existed, where it came from. Henry remains unassuming on purpose; an enigma and a "weirdo" to most, but harmless.
But the reality is one that Wanda can sense, something darker churning beneath. And much the same way, he doesn't know the extent of her story, either. Her predilection towards taking action, even if others tells her no. Even if a balance is slightly upset.
Otherwise, he'd not be asking. He'd be assuming. And he doesn't have enough information to assume.]
Well...
[He considers her with a tilting head, a pointed gaze.]
If there's something you want to know, something you want to make clearer... Then ask. I'll be honest.
[And for this one conversation, at least, he means it.]
[and perhaps that is the issue, that they both can only just about assume, navigate these waters without enough information to even do so properly. henry offers and it would be so easy to just shut this down, tell him that there is no good in looking for answers where he is looking for them.
but wanda—
wanda's never been one for the normal, for following the rules, for situating herself within the margins of what is expected of her.
(why should power be feared? why remain chained under the weight of expectations from others much weaker? a voice in her head churns out, and wanda doesn't try to shut that down either.]
I want you to show me.
[—a pause—]
The prisons you were kept in. Why you were kept there.
[I want you to show me. Somehow, that almost makes a light laugh gutter out of him. That would be easier, wouldn't it? It would be more visceral. But no one here has managed even close to that much from Henry; no one's even wandered into his Horizon domain except the rare times in which he's ushered them there, and of course all the unflattering things were kept at bay.
But this is different. Either she will help him or she won't. Either she'll grab hold of the power that's available to them as Summoned--or maybe just the power that's available to them by way of being Wanda Maximoff and Henry Creel--and use it to their benefit, or she'll stay her hand.
Opening up his mind means putting all the cards out on the table. Offering some trust. So, he'll roll that die and see where it leads him.]
All right.
[He taps at his temple, and perhaps she'll feel the walls lowering. A mental door gently opening.]
[the walls lower with two simple words, all right, and suddenly there's a flood of noise—thoughts, emotion, words, images—that had never filtered out before. wanda blinks several times to align herself, to settle in how this tips her world sideways, and braces for a walk through henry creel's mind.
the white fluorescent light above her is too bright, even as it blinks and crackles, making wanda squint her eyes for a moment. the world around her is dark, but slowly shapes start to form.
it's a long corridor, narrow and clinical, and it smells of antiseptic.
this is henry's world, right now.
wanda turns her head to the side to find him standing beside her, nonchalant and with his usual smile plastered on his face.]
[Ah, yes. The cold, cold stretch of HNL unfurl before them. Those buzzing lights above, the tiled floors. Closed doors open closed doors, little rooms suited for the children who would spend years of their lives here. It was the only world they knew.
There's nothing warm and comforting about this place. And yet it was his home for so, so long. Twenty years of imprisonment.
But not his only home.]
I will. First, we need to go just a little... further back.
[They'll come back here, have no worry. He smiles at Wanda as the room shifts yet again, those cold walls of the lab melting away and being replaced by a much warmer, much homier interior. They stand in the middle of a room, a fire blazing in the hearth.
A man sits in a chair, reading the paper. Across from that, sits a woman next to a little girl, who threads her fingers through the child's hair to begin pleating it into a braid. The girls laughs, goes on and on about something at school. The mother smiles and listens, commenting occasionally with genuine interest.]
This is... was, my father, my mother, and my older sister. Here, in my old family home.
[But where's little Henry, in this visage of the past?]
[wanda follows after henry, all too aware that he is the one in control of his memories. it isn't like when wanda traversed her own suppressed memories alongside agatha; at that time, wanda had kept all of it under lock and key. henry is clearly fully in control, here.
though she watches the scene of the family unfurl before her, she does have that very question: where is little henry?
something makes her look up, to the ceiling. somehow, she knows there's a second floor to this home.]
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[at least waiting isn't so awful to do when you are at home.]
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Well, there's no response for now. Time passes, enough to assume that Henry has either begun his travels over, or that he's changed his mind entirely.
Except it's the former, revealed when the nearness of a mind brushes her own. A reaching outwards with telepathy, rather than using their connection via the Singularity to communicate.]
Like something out of a storybook, isn't it.
[Hi, he's here.]
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[she didn’t wait for him out in the garden, because then she’d be waiting a long time. wanda had gone back inside to do her usual chores, and his message finds her up on the third floor of the treehouse, out on the balcony.
she sees him after a moment, through the canopy, and tugs at their telepathic connection; only when he does look up does she raise a hand to wave at him. henry should find the path towards the treehouse’s entrance just fine. as for wanda—she disappears from the balcony, heads inside, and makes her way down to the bottom floor.
an orange cat will greet henry in the garden, tail perked up, meowing to get his attention.]
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Instead, he'll wait for her to meet him down here, all while a little orange cat comes out to greet him. Henry... doesn't have the best track record with small animals, but he certainly has little reason to do more than just let the creature rub his against his leg if it gets close enough.]
Hello. And who might you be?
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He doesn’t have an official name.
[she studies henry’s face for a moment.
he seems as calm as ever. wanda motions for him to follow her inside, through the door.]
The tea’s inside. Come on.
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You should at least name him.
[Even the kids in the lab at least got a number, gosh.
But he'll follow her in.]
Why does he have a little backpack?
[A pouch, Henry.]
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There are different tiers in the treehouse, so if I need to send something to someone—I just put it in his little backpack.
[—pouch—]
He’s very well trained.
[because she created him with a specific intention in her magic when she did so. the cat meows as they reach the kitchen, and wanda sets down a bowl with a mix of meats for him; as for them, wanda grabs a warm cup of tea and hands it over to henry.
quietly, she says,]
Peppermint.
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His eyes roam, following the cat, then Wanda, then taking the tea as they reach their destination and she hands him the warm mug.]
Peppermint. A new name for the well-trained cat? I guess it's not that bad.
[(He knows she meant the flavor.)]
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Hmm.
[—instead, a noncommittal sound. she finds a stool for herself by the table in the kitchen and sits herself down, twirling her hand to make a cup of tea appear for herself, too, beside her elbow.]
What's on your mind, anyway?
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Just a small sip, enough to taste the tingle of peppermint.]
What isn't?
[Henry's always turning something over in his head, perhaps something of a character flaw of his. But once again, he knows that's not her meaning, and he finally accedes as he finds somewhere nearby to sit.]
Lately, though, after... everything- [The monsters, the Singularity pinning some blame on him.] -I've been starting to wonder about our actual role in this world. As Summoned, I mean.
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[why they were brought here to begin with. thorne says one thing, while the cities dictates another, while solvunn has prophetized their arrival like it something that was destined.
wanda tries not to think too hard about it, but she knows other people are.]
Do you have any theories or thoughts, or is it an existential kind of thing?
[there’s no mockery in her voice, just genuine want to understand what’s going through his mind.]
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[A little shrug of his shoulders, then another sip of his tea. He rearranges the words in his head first before uttering them.]
But we're the ones with the connection to the Singularity. We're the ones with... unusual abilities, not normally seen in this world.
[Some of them are even powerful, enough to give what he assumes are the strongest magic-users in this world a run for their money. He assumes Wanda is one of those people.]
And yet we bear the brunt of all the bad things that happen to us thus far. [(This perspective is very skewed by his time in the pit.)] We're meant to be content and happy in our roles, our new homes, even if what amounts to what's happened to us is nothing short of interdimensional kidnapping.
Don't you find that odd?
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[is what she says after a long pause—clearly, henry has been thinking about this for quite a while, or at least been thinking about it hard to draw this kind of conclusion, to spin into these kind of thoughts.]
It's like we're punished for being here, as if—
[well.
she turns to look at him, a frown in her expression.]
We are the ones that don't belong.
[parasites, in this world. anomalies.]
Maybe this world, its magic—whatever it is, it's trying to fight us off. The way our bodies would with a cold.
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[He says with a thin smile, wry beneath his politeness, but not at all worried if Wanda interprets it as acerbic. One more sip of his tea.]
Let's put that thought on hold for a moment. Can I ask you something? [He's gonna anyway.] Are you happy here?
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Beats being dead.
[—back home, and considering what she has here.]
Why do you ask?
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A pause. He supposes it would beat being dead, and his brows raise.]
...Wondering how much you'd be willing to fight for it. Or if you'd rather claw your way back home; though I suppose not, if you don't have anything waiting for you back on your world.
Sometimes, I just think we're being complacent.
[He's a fellow villain, so perhaps she would understand his restlessness. His dislike for being kept in a cage.]
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but it’s interesting to hear what henry has to say, unfiltered, almost.]
What exactly do you have in mind?
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More aggressively looking for a way back home. We were nothing short of kidnapped to begin with, trapped here whether we like it or not. I'm tired of being kept in a prisons.
[And that, of course, is the sticking point. He will always feel trapped, no matter how much more "freedom" he's been given here versus the lab.]
If the veil's already so thin to begin with, it would be a shame not to take advantage of it.
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but that still leaves this certainty that there is... a lot that they are keeping from one another, about themselves.]
And you want my help.
[wouldn't that make sense, since they both managed to grab hold of whatever was just behind the veil and tugged it into their current reality.]
I like you, Henry. [that's no secret] And I don't need to know your most guarded secrets, but I can't — figure you out.
[this darkness, thrumming, quickly dismissed with a dark sense of humor. there's more than that here, isn't there?]
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But the reality is one that Wanda can sense, something darker churning beneath. And much the same way, he doesn't know the extent of her story, either. Her predilection towards taking action, even if others tells her no. Even if a balance is slightly upset.
Otherwise, he'd not be asking. He'd be assuming. And he doesn't have enough information to assume.]
Well...
[He considers her with a tilting head, a pointed gaze.]
If there's something you want to know, something you want to make clearer... Then ask. I'll be honest.
[And for this one conversation, at least, he means it.]
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but wanda—
wanda's never been one for the normal, for following the rules, for situating herself within the margins of what is expected of her.
(why should power be feared? why remain chained under the weight of expectations from others much weaker? a voice in her head churns out, and wanda doesn't try to shut that down either.]
I want you to show me.
[—a pause—]
The prisons you were kept in. Why you were kept there.
[—and beyond, if he'd allow.]
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But this is different. Either she will help him or she won't. Either she'll grab hold of the power that's available to them as Summoned--or maybe just the power that's available to them by way of being Wanda Maximoff and Henry Creel--and use it to their benefit, or she'll stay her hand.
Opening up his mind means putting all the cards out on the table. Offering some trust. So, he'll roll that die and see where it leads him.]
All right.
[He taps at his temple, and perhaps she'll feel the walls lowering. A mental door gently opening.]
Then come in. I can show you from the beginning.
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the white fluorescent light above her is too bright, even as it blinks and crackles, making wanda squint her eyes for a moment. the world around her is dark, but slowly shapes start to form.
it's a long corridor, narrow and clinical, and it smells of antiseptic.
this is henry's world, right now.
wanda turns her head to the side to find him standing beside her, nonchalant and with his usual smile plastered on his face.]
Lead the way.
[from the beginning, he had said.]
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There's nothing warm and comforting about this place. And yet it was his home for so, so long. Twenty years of imprisonment.
But not his only home.]
I will. First, we need to go just a little... further back.
[They'll come back here, have no worry. He smiles at Wanda as the room shifts yet again, those cold walls of the lab melting away and being replaced by a much warmer, much homier interior. They stand in the middle of a room, a fire blazing in the hearth.
A man sits in a chair, reading the paper. Across from that, sits a woman next to a little girl, who threads her fingers through the child's hair to begin pleating it into a braid. The girls laughs, goes on and on about something at school. The mother smiles and listens, commenting occasionally with genuine interest.]
This is... was, my father, my mother, and my older sister. Here, in my old family home.
[But where's little Henry, in this visage of the past?]
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though she watches the scene of the family unfurl before her, she does have that very question: where is little henry?
something makes her look up, to the ceiling. somehow, she knows there's a second floor to this home.]
Are you up there?
[she can feel it—feel him.]
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