sirenspull_logs | If your sister or your brother were stumbling on their last mile

Wanda can’t help but burst out laughing—all out laughing—as they flee from the underground mall. The entire scene is ridiculous and totally inappropriate for a supposed super-heroine, but she doesn’t care. It feels good to laugh after everything. She needs this release and distraction from the long psychedelic trip that has been the past week. And the look on that sales clerk’s face is worth every lost shred of dignity. Neither one of them would be welcome back in that shop any time soon—if ever.

It would only be much later that Wanda would look back on the incident with a more critical eye and be thankful the clerk didn’t get a chance to use her own powers in retaliation.

As they continue on toward the beach, her companion’s obvious difficulty with breathing begins to reign in Wanda’s good mood. She doesn’t comment on it, not sure if she should. And when they arrive at their destination, Wanda stands by silently as the girl regains her breath, quietly taking in their surroundings instead of speaking.

The compliment about her hexual prowess is met with a mischievous smile and a slight bow. But almost immediately afterward, the twinkle in her eyes starts to dim as the full gravity of the current situation finally creeps back into her awareness.

There are so many things Wanda wants to know, needs to know. So many questions are vying for control of her mouth; however, one stands out from the rest.

“What is your name?”

She doesn't offer an explanation for her troubled breathing, relieved when Wanda doesn't ask. She doesn't like have attention paid to it if she can avoid it, after years of father's disappointment in her weakness.

She looks down, hands clenched at her sides. It's so hard to say, suddenly, after claiming a new life and a new name, here, and there's even a speck of her tempted to try 'Petra', to claw her way with lies and gall into the private microcosm of their twin world, where she had never been welcome.

But she teeters, conflicted, because she doesn't want to lie. She wants her family to care about her, the real her, and it was never going to happen, but - Wanda always did come closest, in her haltingly sympathetic way.

"I'm Anya," she says softly.

Anya.

Wanda is at first unmoved, her eyes betraying a lack of recognition for the name.

Anya?

And then it all comes crashing down on her.

Oh, my god—Anya!

The sister who died before Wanda and Pietro were born.

Her eyes widen with visible shock. She inhales sharply before pressing one trembling hand to her lips. Her mind is racing, full of questions tumbling over and over each other. Is this the truth? It has to be! Why would she lie? What would she have to gain?

Too much, this is too much! What do you say to a dead sister you have never known? And this is her sister, or at least some version of her, of that Wanda is certain. She has to be. Wanda needs her to be.

It takes all of her strength not to go in for a hug. She doesn’t, unsure of how the act would be received. Oh, but she wants so desperately to touch the girl, confirm she’s real.

Anya, her sister Anya, who is back from the dead! Or, perhaps she was never dead? This Anya is far older than the four-year-old who died before the twins’ birth.

And that train of thought leads Wanda to blurt out a question.

“Is Mother Magda alive too?”

Edited (Edited to change "mother" to "Mother Magda") 2012-04-02 21:59 (UTC)

She looks up, movements jerky and light, like a nervous bird. She nods in kind, a swift darting motion of her head.

"Alive, yes. If you can call it living." She shakes her head, as if to dislodge the morbid thought.

"Sorry. I don't mean to be maudlin. She and I haven't really been. Close in a long time."

If you can call it living? What did that mean?

Wanda doesn’t press for details, at least not yet. Instead, she tries to say something a little bit supportive.

“But you’re alive. At least you’re both actually alive!”

Clearly she finds this to be an astonishing but good state of affairs. Although, the fact that Mother Magda and Anya are estranged comes as a surprise. What kind of mother would not be close to her young daughter?

It was yet another question that would have to wait to be answered. First, there is something else, something very important that Wanda needs to know.

“What about... Pietro?”

The inquiry is made with obvious apprehension. Anya’s previous reaction to his name hadn’t been clear. Was it possible that...? No! Wanda could not conceive of a world where her twin did not exist.

Then again, she also never imagined there would be a place where her birth mother and older sister are still alive.

(apologies for the late edit on that last post)

It's hard for Anya to talk about Mama. After the accident, Father got worse and worse, and eventually she just stopped fighting him. Someone from the modern world would recognize Magda as horribly depressed, but Anya doesn't have the words or the understanding for it, beyond the vague and hurt notion that her mother gave up.

She's always had a vague sense that so many of the things wrong with her life were her fault; if Father hadn't needed to save her from the fire, then he wouldn't have declared war on humanity, wouldn't think of himself forever as better, wouldn't treat Anya and Magda as throwbacks preserved by his favor. She thought perhaps, without her around, Mama wouldn't be so broken. It's a bit of a shock to process exactly the opposite. So she doesn't, blinking away her uncertainty and focusing on the rest of the conversation.

At the question, she smiles a little, fondness and habitual exasperation together. "Kind of a brat. The pair of you are both twelve, for me," she explains. "And what about you?" There's so much she doesn't know, too much. "Where does Maximoff come from, for one thing." She isn't familiar with the name.

Wanda laughs. “Even grown, he’s still a brat!”

Was a brat. He was a brat.

When she remembers he’s gone, her happy expression fades. But she recovers quickly, forcing a smile back on her face.

“Django and Marya Maximoff were our adoptive parents.”

The qualifier “adoptive” is tacked on for Anya’s benefit. Wanda still thinks of the Maximoffs as her true parents. The fact they didn’t share blood is inconsequential.

“We grew up as Roma in Transia.” By way of further explanation, she adds, “Erik didn’t raise us.”

Erik. Not father or even Father Erik. Just Erik.

Wanda tries to keep her tone neutral when she says his name. Not quite successful in her efforts, a clear chill enters her voice. For Anya’s sake, she refrains from calling him Magneto. The girl might actually have a good relationship with her version of their biological father. And it's possible the fact she survived kept him from becoming a terrorist.

A curt exhalation, not loud or joyous enough to be a laugh. "Lucky you," she mutters, rough and wry. It's a terrible thing to say, knowing as little as she does; it turns on Mama being dead and Anya feels a twinge of guilt, then starts, eyes wide. "Is he dead too?" It isn't hope in her voice, not exactly, but it might be hope's colder cousin.

Edited 2012-04-03 02:44 (UTC)

Wanda looks at Anya critically. If she didn’t know Erik, she’d think the girl’s attitude was merely a reflection of a teenager’s petulant dissatisfaction with her parents, coupled with hearing too many romantic stories about gypsy life.

However, she does know Erik, some of the good and a lot of the bad. As a result, Anya’s reactions are throwing up red flags for her.

In some ways Anya is far older than her physical years, to the point of being even more mature than Wanda. But she also possesses the raw vulnerability of a broken child. And neither of those traits comes from having an easy, happy life. In Wanda’s mind, all of this points to Erik being as poor a father to Anya as he had been a father-figure to the twins. At least until he tried to make amends with them. But by that point it had been too little, too late for Pietro and a tough sell for Wanda as well.

So, she makes a choice and takes a risk. She’ll be blunt with her alternate-sister, telling her the plain truth because she believes the girl can handle it.

“No, he’s not dead.” It’s a basic statement of fact. There is no gratitude or anger, just a stated fact.

“But he didn’t know of us until we were grown. Mother Magda fled from him in fear and had us in secret after he violently lashed out at the villagers that let you—that let the version of you from my world—die.”

Hopefully, Anya’s reaction to Wanda’s story would begin to paint a clearer picture of her alternate life.

It hits her like a sledgehammer, elation and pride for her mother and then acid guilt eating away at her. Mama left him, she ran and she got away, when she didn't have Anya to hold her back. And - and then she died, somehow or other. But she died free.

She turns out to face the sea, breathing carefully.

"It still happened, that night," she says quietly. "The village, I mean, and the fire. I just didn't die. We all fled together, after that, but he was never the same."

So, Anya survived, but Erik didn’t forgive.

Her sister’s pain stabs at Wanda’s heart as she offers an apology for something that isn’t her fault.

“I’m sorry.”

Moving to stand beside the girl, she quietly mimics her stance, facing out toward the water, watching the waves break on the sand. She wraps her arms around herself for comfort and to keep from hugging Anya, unsure if the girl is ready for that kind of contact.

After several minutes, Wanda breaks her silence.

“He’s waging war on humanity.”

It’s not a question, but the next thing she says is. She’s scared to ask it, afraid of the answer, but she needs to know.

“Is he forcing you to help him?”

It never occurs to Wanda that her sister might not be a mutant.

She laughs, soft and faintly contemptuous. She laughs because she has to laugh, because for so long she had to laugh or scream, and she didn't dare. She hasn't lied to her sister yet, but there are some things she feels exactly zero need to volunteer.

"He barely ever lets us off the base," she answers. "Obsessed with perfect safety. Maybe when we're older he'll make us, I wouldn't put it past him." If she were useful, Anya knows, she'd be used. But she isn't.

Edited 2012-04-03 21:20 (UTC)

“Yes, he would.” There is much regret in those words. “We were barely 17 when he—”

Wanda cuts herself off sharply, refusing to give more breath to this subject. She’d thought herself over these dark feelings or at least to have made enough peace with the past to lock it away and bury it deep. She’d even made tentative steps toward a reconciliation of sorts with Erik. But now this conversation is opening up those old wounds, releasing a torrent of bad thoughts that threaten to flood her mind if she lets it.

“No. I’m not doing this anymore. We’re not doing this.”

With determination, Wanda straightens up and switches her position until she can look Anya directly in the eye. It’s important the girl understand just how serious she is.

“Erik’s not here.” She repeats the words to drive her point home. “He’s. Not. Here. But we are, and we’re family.”

Wanda reaches out then and places one hand softly on Anya’s shoulder. It’s a light touch, barely any pressure, just enough to make contact.

“I don’t care that we’re from different worlds. We’re still family. And, right now, we’re all the family each other have.”

Anya covers one of Wanda's hands with one of her own, squeezing tight. Wanda seems so grown up all of a sudden, so much more than just being taller and better with magic and English.

"We're free of him," Anya murmurs, low and fierce. "I thought - I thought that cost everything and everyone else in my life. And I thought it was worth it, even then. But you're here, and. I don't care how old you are, you're always my baby sister, okay?"

“Okay!” Wanda laughs out the word. “Besides, I’m not always this much of a grown up,” she says with a self-deprecating smile. “For one thing, I’ve been told I’m too naive and trusting for someone my age.”

Told repeatedly by Pietro. But Wanda’s not bringing him into this conversation. Right now it’s all about her living sister, not her dead brother.

“I could probably use my 'big' sister looking out for me.” She shakes her head, mocking herself. “So, listen. I don’t know how long we’ll be here. But while we are, I want...”

Wanda pauses. What exactly does she want? What can she ask for? What can she reasonably expect?

Ultimately, she decides to simply speak her heart.

“Honestly, I just want my sister in my life! I want to get to know you.” Her tone becomes serious again. “And I don’t want to talk about him anymore. This is a fresh start of sorts, you know? Why ruin the good stuff by bringing up bad things?”

"It is a fresh start," she agrees softly. And that, in a way, is the biggest problem. She wants to have Wanda back, but she wants to have her new life as Maddy, too. A clean break. Wanda is a connection, even if she's technically a connection to a world where Anya doesn't exist, she's part of the world of mutants and history. She remembers Anya's real name, the name of their mother.

"I want to be part of your life too," she murmurs, because she knows that much is true, it always has been, struggling to matter as she took care of the twins from outside their tight bonds of affection. So until she knows how to talk about her own life, she'll do what she always does, what Wanda even admits she needs - watch out for her.

"Are you okay, where you're staying now? I saw the girl who offered you shelter. Who is she? Is she treating you alright?"

“Her name is Jubilee. She’s older than I remember. But she’s still part of the X-Men, so I trust her. And the room she offered is secure. Other than that, I can’t really say.” She shrugs and offers a wry smile. “I’ve spent most of my time there face down in my bed, trying to catch up on sleep.”

Now, it’s Wanda’s turn to question Anya.

“What about you? How long have you been here? Where are you staying?”

She’s glad the subject of living arrangements has come up. She hopes Anya is settled somewhere safe—and that it’s a place she doesn’t want to leave. Jubilee’s condo is fine for Wanda, but Deadpool and Emma Frost live in the building as well, and she doesn’t want them anywhere near her teenage sister. Plus, if she’s honest with herself, even though Wanda really does want Anya in her life, she isn’t quite ready for the forced intimacy of living together.

"Sleep is good," Anya agrees with a small smile. She shrugs one shoulder. "I'm doing fine," she promises. "I've only been here a few weeks, but I've got a decent little apartment. It's not secure, in the ideal sense of the word, but it's darkness-proof and it's mine. That's enough for right now."

Her smile grows as she says that, without her even noticing. She loves her little place, and she can't stand the thought of sharing with a roommate, so she'll probably have to move out when her month is up, but she's putting out feelers and making plans on that score already.

"Tell me about the X-men," she says next. She hates admitting ignorance, but asking is the only way to learn. "I don't think we have them in my world."

Wanda is happy to see a contented smile on Anya’s face. From the sound of things, there is no need to suggest a move. It’s obvious the girl is enjoying her new found independence. She wouldn’t be the only teenager successfully fending for herself in the Port. And, even living apart, Wanda can still keep an eye on her. Which is good, considering that Loki and his hellhound (hellhound!) also reside in Jubilee’s building.

When Anya asks about the X-Men, it comes as a surprise.

“Really? Oh!”

How to explain as simply as possible?

“The X-Men are a group of mutant heroes, who believe in peaceful coexistence. They oppose humans that would enslave or oppress mutants and vice versa. They don’t support mutants who think they are superior to humans. The X-Men also fight mutants who use their abilities to commit crimes or cause harm.

“They started out as a simple training school to help mutants master their gifts.” She shrugs and shakes her head. “But, you know, there’s always bullies out there. The X-Men team came about because they couldn’t stand by and do nothing while others abused their power.”

Wanda smiles, thinking of her X-friends, especially Jean. The next words come out before she has time to really think about them.

“They’re good people. Even after everything, Pietro and I were welcomed with open arms when we finally got away from Magne—The Brotherhood.”

Realizing her error, Wanda blanches and looks away from Anya, guilt preventing her from maintaining eye contact.

Anya just grins, wide as the sky and sharp as a cliff's edge.

"They must drive him crazy," she says, because even if she doesn't buy the pretty fairytale whole-cloth, just hearing people with powers spin that kind of line would drive the Magneto she knows right out of his skull.

She shakes her head ruefully.

"Well shucks, that didn't last long," she mutters, but not unhappily. "I don't know if we can really do radio silence on him, he's one of the only things we definitely have in common. But we don't have to focus on him. I think maybe that's the important thing?" It comes out less confident than she intends, though mostly out of concern for Wanda's feelings, rather than her own.

Wanda loves to see the smile thoughts of the X-Men bring to Anya’s face.

“Oh, yes, they constantly...” She takes up a wide stance and shakes her fist at the heavens, mocking Magneto and all overly dramatic so-called super villains like him with a booming proclamation. “Thwart his plans!”

Dropping her arm back down to her side, she sobers up a bit. “Though, in all fairness to him, he has made some attempts at redemption in the past...at least in my world.” She makes the distinction to acknowledge Anya’s experience may differ.

“Charles Xavier, the founder and leader of the X-Men, is (or was) his friend. They parted ways over a difference of opinion on the merits of equality/coexistence versus superiority/segregation. But Charles keeps trying to win him back. Sometimes, it almost seems to take.” She shakes her head, thinking about what could have been.

“Erik actually compromised when he established Genosha, an island he maintained as a sanctuary for mutants. They weren’t coexisting in proximity to humans, but at least they also weren’t actively fighting them either.” She doesn’t tell Anya how he got Genosha in the first place, not wanting to taint the pretty picture.

Wanda waves a hand in the air as if to chase off any dark thoughts that are trying to settle in the area.

“You’re right. We can’t just ignore him. He’s not here, but he’s still a part of us. That’s not going to change. I agree completely: The important thing is not to dwell on him.”

She looks around. “And speaking of dwelling...” Yep, she is segueing in a less than smooth manner. “I don’t think we should dwell here much longer. It’s starting to get dark; the sirens will go off soon. I think it’s time to head home before darkness falls.”

The grin breaks out into full-throated laughter at Wanda's impression. Anya can practically see the cape. She catches her breath eventually, listening avidly to Wanda's information on another world, other possibilities.

At the mention of the coming Darkness, she glances West, then nods.

"Yeah, probably a good idea. We can catch the bus on Turner about a block from here if you're heading home for the night. Towers and your house are only about a stop away from each other."

If, alternatively, Wanda intends to spend the night either hexing monsters or going to darkness-proof bars, she will have to explain herself to her older sister, a prospect Anya has every intention of making as mortifying as possible, should that be necessary.

Wellllll, Wanda is tempted by the idea of staying out late to test her hexes on the Darkness. Thus far, she’s wisely steered clear of it, but maybe tonight...

“Mmmm, I think I’ll catch that bus and ride it as far as I can with you.”

There's a mischievous twinkle in her eyes and smirk turns up the corners of her mouth as she thinks back on the Underground Mall ‘incident.’

“I believe I’ve had enough excitement for one day.”

She’s not complaining. Sure, she lost her cool, a skirt, and all possibility of shopping at that particular store. But, in exchange, she’s gained a sister, which is definitely the better end of the bargain.

“How should I get in contact with you once we part ways? If you saw my network posts, you must also have your own NV, right?”

Wanda pushes up her right sleeve to reveal the Tallus, her personal NV.

"Sounds good." Anya stuffs her hands in her pockets as she starts back up the beach toward the bus stop.

"Yeah. Mine's pretty boring though, just a book. How do you even use that thing?"

Falling in line beside her, Wanda lets out an undignified snort and rolls her eyes.

"I have to talk to it as if it were alive."

She scrunches up her face and gives the Tallus a once-over.

"I'm afraid it actually is...in a way...sort of."

The eye in the middle of the gem isn't open at the moment, for which she is very grateful. That thing is creepy!

Edited (Edited because I originally wrote this at 2 AM on little sleep. ) 2012-04-12 18:05 (UTC)

"Well, I hope you're being nice to it then," Anya replies tartly, though she grins. "My NV is [number goes here.] Can it take that down or should I write it on a napkin or something?"

“No complaints yet.” Wanda drums her fingers playfully across the large red gem in the center of the Tallus.

“No need to write it down. I’ll ask the Tallus nicely to keep it in memory.”

She proceeds to request that it do just that.

“Tallus, new contact entry. Name: Anya.” She leaves off the surname, preferring to keep her simply as ‘Anya’ and not as the daughter of Erik Lehnsherr.

“Number: [insert NV number here].”

The Tallus speaks back into her mind, confirming the information has been logged.

“There, I think we’re all set...unless you need my number as well. Or can you get that off the network?”

"Yeah, I kept the record of it after your open post," Anya admits. "Hey, if you don't mind, could you do me a tiny favor?"

Wanda answers without hesitation. "Of course! What is it?" She looks at her earnestly, no thought of denying whatever request Anya might make.

"Don't mention that I'm here, if you don't mind? I'm mostly keeping a low profile right now, and....it's nice." She shrugs, smiling a little awkwardly. "I just...I want to introduce myself to people at my own pace, that's all." It certainly has nothing to do with being paranoid or maintaining a separate identity.

"Oh."

Wanda's enthusiasm noticeably dims. She's disappointed, wanting to loudly celebrate finding Anya after having lost Pietro and Lorna. Staying quiet about her presence puts a damper on that. Then again, who here would know of Anya anyway? There was no harm in keeping her secret and no real reason to tell it.

"Okay." For a space of a heartbeat, she quietly looks at her sister. "Just know, I'd love to tell the world, but... I promise not to."

Her mood has become melancholy. "You're finally experiencing your first taste of independence after being kept on a leash, and I know what that's like. I won't take that away from you." Her tone is firm; she means what she says. "So, if we spend time together--and I hope that we do--how should I introduce you to anyone I know?"

Anya reaches for Wanda's hand as they walk and leans into her, knocking their shoulders together gently. Her smile is soft with gratitude.

"Thanks," she murmurs. "That means a lot to me."

It's so hard to calibrate how to answer; the more she asks Wanda too keep her secret, the more obviously, outrageously secretive she reveals herself to be. Should Anya tell her to use Maddy? But she'd rather keep her two selves as separate as possible. But she doesn't particularly want the Anya name around either, especially with people from worlds at least like theirs around, especially with so many of them mutants. Even if they are apparently 'nice' ones.

"How about an old friend?" she suggests simply. "And if we do run into anybody, I'll introduce myself." They'd spend time together, yes, but preferably with just the two of them. No need to make things complicated.

Wanda leans back into Anya, squeezing her hand lightly. The contact makes her face light up with a smile she couldn't suppress if she tried.

"Okay, it's a deal."

There is no hint of suspicion or indication that she's holding anything back. As usual, Wanda is wearing her heart on her sleeve. It's obvious she already cares for and trusts her 'sister.' Any doubts have already been brushed aside in favor of cultivating family unity.

If your sister or your brother were stumbling on their last mile

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why the hell is this tag so hard, bluhhh. sorry for the delay!

No probs!