[How much time do you have, Wanda. Henry is a well of misanthropy and anger churning below the surface, and within that is so much cruelty he would just love to displace upon the world.
But she's asking about this moment specifically, isn't she? He meets her gaze with ease, blue eyes unblinking.]
I never wanted to be here, in this small town. As if moving here would have changed anything from before. And even then, it wasn't enough for my parents. My mother, especially.
[Her broken body lies before them, as if proof of that.]
They wanted to send me away. To "fix" me. As if I was just trash to be tossed out, becoming someone else's problem.
[wanda could sympathize, here and there, with henry’s plight, what with similarities churnign so close to the surface between them, but she gets it now — his selfish nature, that unrelenting want to just destroy because he can and nothing else. whatever would she have given to live in a home like his, to be delighted by the comforts offered in safety and familial warmth?
she glances away.]
And you still were sent away.
[not as his parents had planned, perhaps, but in another way entirely. the walls dissolve from the warmth of mahogany and the orange glow of lamps, like paint dripping down from the ceiling—white and cold static.]
[The scene begins its transition, the walls dripping, dripping, revealing only white walls and the fluorescent buzz of the light above. The hallway shifts and then solidifies completely.]
The government did, technically. But...
[Footsteps echoing down the hall, distant, but drawing nearer.]
He had us call him "Papa." Would you like to meet him?
[the place feels familiar in essence alone, in how it is a place devoid of any human warmth; meant to be only a place to contain subjects at the mercy of the government or, in her own experience, scientists with a streak towards committing war crimes.
in her case, wanda is grateful that von strucker never had her and pietro call him anything remotely close to ‘papa’. the idea alone, for henry’s experience, sounds dreadful.]
Sounds like a sick man. [she’d like to put a ‘name’ to a face.] Show me.
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no subject
But she's asking about this moment specifically, isn't she? He meets her gaze with ease, blue eyes unblinking.]
I never wanted to be here, in this small town. As if moving here would have changed anything from before. And even then, it wasn't enough for my parents. My mother, especially.
[Her broken body lies before them, as if proof of that.]
They wanted to send me away. To "fix" me. As if I was just trash to be tossed out, becoming someone else's problem.
no subject
she glances away.]
And you still were sent away.
[not as his parents had planned, perhaps, but in another way entirely. the walls dissolve from the warmth of mahogany and the orange glow of lamps, like paint dripping down from the ceiling—white and cold static.]
Who took you in?
no subject
The government did, technically. But...
[Footsteps echoing down the hall, distant, but drawing nearer.]
He had us call him "Papa." Would you like to meet him?
no subject
in her case, wanda is grateful that von strucker never had her and pietro call him anything remotely close to ‘papa’. the idea alone, for henry’s experience, sounds dreadful.]
Sounds like a sick man. [she’d like to put a ‘name’ to a face.] Show me.