[The only silver lining about this kind of thing is Nero's pretty used to things blowing up around him -- or cars falling out of the ceiling -- or almost getting magically nuked.
Of course, demonic energy isn't... this. And they don't just pop out of nowhere into his room.
The bed shakes around him, cracking, and he rolls off the side with a "whoa!" landing on his feet.
Just in time for this pulse to shock through him, hitting him like a brick wall. He hears Wanda before he sees her, the center of this red magic that's flicking out like a solar flare. He sputters a curse, planting his feet down, magic crackling across his skin. For only a second, he feels it trigger his power, skin turning to scales on his right arm before he tamps it down. She might know he isn't exactly human, but she doesn't need -- that -- approaching her right now.]
Wanda! Come on, man, I don't need you destroying my place --
[Probably way too late for that. Fuck. He shoves a fallen beam out of his way with a grunt, arms turning demonic as he grows claws, scraping them across the floorboards to crawl towards her. The magic is trying to push him back, but luckily, he's fucking Nero.
And he's not letting this place fall on top of her.
He makes a last jump to grab her shoulder, not light but not rough enough to hurt her, either. Unfortunately, the claws are still there.] Hey. Hey. You're safe. Can you chill, please?
[Look. He's even being polite. He just... really liked that bed.]
[the whispering and the static that she had heard from the mind stone, the rush of air like a gale that she fought against to stay standing as it revealed to her the potential in her, it overwhelms her. it demands her attention, reminds her of what she could be, what she could do, how she should get what she is owed.
a voice cuts through the noise.
wanda! come on, man, i don't need you destroying my place—
it grounds her even as her magic pushes against her attempts to contain it; it keeps her from getting lost in the past, what ifs, the anger and the resentment that goro's thoughts and words had brought to the forefront of her mind. when she opens her eyes again, she doesn't see dead bodies staring back at her. she sees nero, instead, looking down at her with concern, reminding her that she's safe.
the glaze over her eyes disappears as she blinks away at the tears that had formed, and suddenly she's profusely aware of their surroundings falling apart. she spares the clawed hand a bewildered, momentary look, before she's sitting up and reigning in her magic. her hands raise, keeping the barn from falling flat to the ground.
everything floats, suspended in space. wanda's eyes are wide, looking at nero.]
I'm sorry. [she whispers; she's always apologizing after doing something horrible, isn't she?] I'll fix it. I promise.
[with a twirl of her wrists, everything starts getting situated back in place—fallen beams, broken items, the broken foundations of the walls. she focuses her attention on the details, fortifies what she broke. and even when she presents such easy comfort in using her magic, there are times when it just takes so much from her—like right now.
sorry, nero. your bed is not fixed, yet, as wanda drops her hands, as if weighed down by them, breathing heavily, trying to catch her breath. at least the world isn't falling around them anymore, and her magic seems to have stopped flaring out of her.
and yet—]
—I'm sorry. I'm sorry.
[—she keeps muttering apologies, breathless as she is, and will not stop repeating them ad nauseum until told so.]
[Okay. Not hard to guess that whatever had just happened to her was pretty fucked up. He holds onto her shoulder, scales turning back to skin, a frown etched deep between his brows as he catches her eyes. Yeah, she's in there now. Good.
Luckily for her, he's really hardy. The whole place being held up only by her magic isn't freaking him out as much as whatever made her this way. Besides, pretty sure he could grab her and get her out before it all came crashing down. Not a splinter or cut on her.]
Don't worry about it, all right? Nothing that can't be rebuilt. [Except she -- okay. There she goes. Well, it's not the worst thing that's happened to him.
(Shit. He's gonna have to sleep somewhere else tonight, huh?)
He sits down next to her, hand on her arm, as if to say, you good now? Seems... better. Not great.]
Seriously, quit that. I don't care. It's not even my place, really. [Okay, that's probably not helpful. Moving on.
But she keeps going. Apologizing. Since it's not the first time he's done so, he leans in and gives her a squeeze of a hug.] Like I said, you're all right now. You can tell me whatever the hell happened later. [He pulls his hands away, more aware of his own slip.] Sorry about the -- you know. [He wiggles his fingers. They're human now, at least.] Oh, great, now it's my turn to do it. [Apologize for nothing, he means.] I think you're rubbing off on me.
[if she thinks about it, it's a little funny how nero has become one of the few individuals wanda can truly be herself with. she doesn't care that he sees her cry, angry, nor does she fear that he will grow upset at her teasing and meaner-sounding jokes. as she sits here amidst the rubble of her own making, arms tired, magic draining her of energy, frantically apologizing, wanda does not care that nero gets to witness her at her weakest.
he seems to get it, anyway; posits that whatever the hell happened, she can tell him later. not a demand for answers, just concern. he jokes, even, like he always does, trying to bring levity to the situation.
wanda raises her eyes to look at him, at his hand.]
I'm sorry.
[she whispers her final apology, taking his words to heart. quit it. he doesn't need apologies from her—he never asks for her to be anyone but herself. she should know this by now, shouldn't she?]
—I've always known your hand was weird. [echoing back to the memory they had seen before of him getting his arm ripped right off; of it growing back. she has questions, but she can't formulate them right now. instead, as he pulls away, she leans forward, her forehead against his shoulder.] Stay a moment.
[her plea is muttered, reaching with her hand to hold onto his. just like with pietro, whose hand she would hold to ground herself. just for a moment she can pretend that this is her brother, a quiet, stalwart presence in her life, giving her a place of respite.
the explanation for what happened will come as soon as she has taken a moment to gather her thoughts.]
Hey. Weird is relative. [Okay, it's way worse than the whole arm-getting-ripped-off thing, but. This is here. Now. Not... a memory. Even if he's still very aware of what it'd felt like. It still echoes through his head.
Not important right now. Anyway, this kind of shit hurts way worse than an arm. She moves against him, and he parks his ass right where it is, hand moving to her back. Giving it a rub. His other holding the one she reached him with.] Yeah. Not goin' anywhere, don't worry.
[He's not about to jet and leave her alone looking like a wreck. Er. Literally being surrounded by one, even. Mostly fixed, but. He hasn't missed his bed was collateral.
Something fucked up definitely happened. Wanda's not exactly the most unstable person he's met, so what was it? Another memory? But he hadn't heard of it happening to anyone again. And it's not happening now, as he holds her up, their palms together.
And he's sure she'd know, if it did happen again. Cause right now, holding her up, he -- he's been here. With Kyrie. After the forest. Holding her, making sure she was okay. Telling her she was safe, that he wouldn't let a damn thing happen to her.]
I was readin' up on those weeds. You know, the ones we massively fucked up with. [He emphasizes the we, 'cause it's funny as hell looking back.] I never really asked why they were so important, but apparently it's like, a good luck thing? Like having a lawn gnome. Supposed to keep your plants safe and your crops healthy. You think they would've picked something a little nicer for that, huh?
[it's good that he fills in the silence with some random anecdote of the most mundane of things, as solvunn is happy to oblige them with. she's half listening at first, but then she pays attention; grasps onto his words, and lets the memory of their amazing failure wash over her.
(it is funny as hell, looking back.)]
In what world are lawn gnomes good luck? [her brows furrow, questioning. it's not tradition in sokovia, but she doesn't know if it's tradition anywhere else either. except maybe nero's world, looks like.] —where did you read that from?
[leaning into him a bit more, and using him as support, wanda pushes herself up and onto her feet. she feels a little... wobbly, but she's managing.]
I got into a fight. [she starts. granted, getting into a fight in the horizon is debatable, considering how particular things are within it. still.] He made me remember — Vis. That I lost him. [she squeezes his hand tightly,] And I... I let my powers...
[she shakes her head slightly, trying to pull away now. she can stand on her own two feet. her voice is quiet, heavy with emotion—sorrowful, pained.]
I -- wait, they're not good luck? [He sort of assumed. Why else would people have those freaky lil fuckers out in a garden? Anyway, it's not like Nero's ever had a garden. Kyrie grows some herbs on the windowsill, but he's been banned from touching them.
Luckily she made sure it was not because he has little demon fingers. Mostly because he forgets to wash his hands.]
A fight? The Horizon? [He doesn't need to look her over to know she's not hurt here. He'd smell the blood alone.
His face softens. Vis. Vision. It's not hard to tap back into what he'd felt in that memory of hers. Love. Fear. They really went well together, huh?]
I get it. [It's all he says about that. He gets it. Fear and love had made him lose control of his own, once. He'd almost gotten himself killed. Probably would've killed Agnus, if he could've gotten his hands on him.
Nero lets her hand go, but he's still helping her up until she's all but shoving him away.] It doesn't say anything about you. Just says what a dick the other guy is for making you feel that way. I hope you fucked 'em up, honestly. It's the only way some guys learn.
[up she goes, on her two feet, finding stability and comfort in the fact that he doesn't allow her to go at it alone, even when nero knows very well that she can handle herself. ever since she came to solvunn, to live with himeka, she's felt less alone.
she still dreams of a life where she can be with her children, with her family, but having something akin to a family in the real world, away from her dreams, it helps anchor her.
the same way nero's words are anchoring her now.
wanda would laugh if she didn't feel so overwhelmed by what the psychic connection with goro brought forth. it felt similar to when she read into ultron's thoughts, and ended with a cataclysmic desire for the destruction of the world. this time had felt so personal, too. when that had happened, pietro had been there to hold her; now that it's happened again, nero is here.]
I had a twin brother. [she starts, quietly, her hands holding onto nero's arms momentarily. she glances at him.] His name was Pietro. [there's a pause, a painful note to the way she says his name.] He was killed fixing a mistake we made, and, ever since, I've blamed myself— [and has been lost, losing herself to the despair of grief and pain so unbearable, had it not been for vision, she would never have gotten back up on her feet.] You remind me of him, and it— [her voice cracks] it hurts, but I'm glad you're here.
[pietro was much taller than her, but it never stopped her from worrying over him. wanda reaches up to nero's hair, brushes it back lightly with her hands, because she will always be peitro's little sister, even if he is no longer here. before she was vision's lover, before she was her kids' mother, she was—and will always be—a sister that frets.
[Not for the first time, he wishes Kyrie was here. For a different reason than usual. Not to unload Wanda on her -- neither of them needed that -- but she'd know just what to say. How to give someone hope when things were desolate. She'd always done that for Nero, he couldn't imagine her not having that effect on anyone who met her. He hadn't met a damn soul who didn't like Kyrie.
He was just. Not built for this. Kyrie and Nero both shared the same sorrow -- the loss of a brother -- but maybe Kyrie could make memories into strength rather than weakness. And Nero always took his pain and carried it, sometimes for years, let it tug him in a thousand directions, let it tear him apart, until he could refine it into violence towards something that deserved it.
Nero shakes his head. How fucking close it comes to him, too. Pietro. Credo. Were they just too weak? Maybe in his case. He knew way better to think Wanda was weak, even beyond her magic.
Somehow it digs at him, deep in his chest, to hear it. You remind me of him. Because whether she's read his head or not, he's had the same damn thought.]
Yeah. Me too. [His hold is still gently firm on her, and though the touch she gives him is surprising, he just sort of. Blinks.
S'been a while. Maybe not even since their mom died. She might've been the last person to do that.
Forget the bed, already.] I mean... I had a brother. Credo. [Adoptive, yeah, but Nero had never cared about blood. Not until recently, huh?] He was killed. [Because I wasn't strong enough.] And it's funny you say that, 'cause you remind me of him. [Nero sniffs, nudging his nose with a fist. An old tick from a younger version of himself, when all he'd known was Credo, Kyrie, and the Order, never quite grown out of.] He never missed a chance to give me shit, either.
[Maybe his tone says enough that he doesn't mind it. That he's glad she's here, too. That he can have those memories and not be torn apart by them.]
[wanda wishes she could laugh at that, at the fact that she reminds nero of his brother, in turn. she takes a deep breath instead, and tries to breathe out calmly. when she has—unintentionally—poked into his thoughts, she would see remnants of this credo; a stoic man, of the military sort, but with kind eyes. he plainly cared for nero.]
I don't always give you shit.
[it's easy, now, at least, with him here. it's not awkward, it's not... weird.
her magic starts working away at stitching the fabric and threads of the mattress of nero's bed, and soon enough it is remade, sitting flat on the floor. wanda, too, sits on it. you'll have to carry it up the loft, nero! she tugs at the sleeves at her wrists.]
Do you ever... think, that if you had had the powers that you do now, that maybe you could have... saved him? [because nero is stronger, if the memory is anything to go by. her gaze moves upwards to him.] What is it, anyway? Your power?
[Credo hadn't, either. Just felt like it. Somehow it's what he remembered the most. It was... it was something no one could replicate. The way he could make Nero feel like a fuckin' hero, or like the biggest fuckup, with a few choice words.
At least the bed's fixed. He flops back on it, finally letting her go now that she's at least back to semi-normal-moody-Wanda.
Seriously. Whoever she got in a fight with, he's gonna kick their ass. For making her upset, sure, but for getting his room to take the brunt of the response.
He sighs.] I try not to think about it. Doesn't change anything, even if I think I could have. [His fingers curl into fists, body tight. Yeah. He knows he could have. If he'd known... this shit. Everything he did now.] I just made a promise it wouldn't happen again. That I'd never be too weak to stop it.
[Credo hadn't had time to ask him, but he would've. He would've asked Nero to keep Kyrie safe. Of course, he'd die for her. Die to keep her safe. But here he fuckin' is, on a completely different plane? Planet? Galaxy? And she... she and Nico have, what?
Well. Each other. The kids. It's just --]
Oh. Uh. [He sits up, leaning back on his arms. He didn't really go around super trying to keep it a secret, but with the thought reading, the memory walking... you know, not much point. He rubs the back of his neck, voice unsure.
Kyrie hadn't really always known -- neither had he -- but she'd, like. You know. Been a part of the Order.
And he still doesn't really know, you know? What it makes him. A monster? A real demon? Something never meant to be?] I'm a demon. Part demon. I guess. [Nero throws his head back.] Look, I know it sounds stupid.
[much like peter parker, nero's thoughts are sometimes a little too loud. in this proximity, wanda can completely make out the thoughts and emotions in his head—and heart. it feels like he also maneuvers through some intense emotions of repulsion that she, too, butts heads with time and time again.
she looks back at him as he sits up against his elbows.]
I always felt there was something... different about you. Like you're fighting something, inside, and it is—complicated. [it feels a lot like struggling with acceptance; of a wound too new, and perhaps nero hasn't allowed himself the time (hasn't had the time) to sit with those feelings.] It's not stupid.
[her breath hitches into a sigh as she also flops down onto the bed. arms at her side—one totally atop him, move—wanda stares up at the ceiling.]
Back home, there is a prophecy about me. How I am to destroy the world. I've lost control of my magic before, and it created a world where I didn't have to think about what was hurting anymore. I've often wondered if I really own this magic, or if it controls me, instead.
[having lost control with goro the way she did, it's difficult—it's scary—it's terrifying to think where she stands amidst it all. she turns to nero, and thinks about what she would like to hear in these situations of uncertainty about her own sense of self.]
You're Nero, and even when you are a demon... Well, you're the nicest demon I've met. [but, quietly:] It doesn't make you the bad guy, does it?
[He thinks "it's complicated" is about the most charitable anyone has ever been with it, or could ever be with it. He peeks an eye over to her face and doesn't find surprise -- which in itself isn't surprising after the weird memory shit -- but thankfully does he neither find disgust.
That one he's much more used to.
He doesn't move. She's half on his chest and she's just gonna have to live with it. It's his bed, after all.
Her turns to her.] The scarlet thing? [Something as wild as "prophesized to destroy the world" doesn't really faze him now. Not after learning about -- ugh. Redgrave shit.
Nice, huh?]
I don't wanna be the bad guy. And I've met some pretty shitty guys. They sucked. [Thanks, dad.] And, you know, I've got pretty awesome people who like me, and I don't think any of them are bad. [Kyrie, of course. Nico. Hell. Maybe even Dante. And the woman laying next to him, asking a question he can guess isn't completely about him.] So maybe that's all that matters sometimes, huh?
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Of course, demonic energy isn't... this. And they don't just pop out of nowhere into his room.
The bed shakes around him, cracking, and he rolls off the side with a "whoa!" landing on his feet.
Just in time for this pulse to shock through him, hitting him like a brick wall. He hears Wanda before he sees her, the center of this red magic that's flicking out like a solar flare. He sputters a curse, planting his feet down, magic crackling across his skin. For only a second, he feels it trigger his power, skin turning to scales on his right arm before he tamps it down. She might know he isn't exactly human, but she doesn't need -- that -- approaching her right now.]
Wanda! Come on, man, I don't need you destroying my place --
[Probably way too late for that. Fuck. He shoves a fallen beam out of his way with a grunt, arms turning demonic as he grows claws, scraping them across the floorboards to crawl towards her. The magic is trying to push him back, but luckily, he's fucking Nero.
And he's not letting this place fall on top of her.
He makes a last jump to grab her shoulder, not light but not rough enough to hurt her, either. Unfortunately, the claws are still there.] Hey. Hey. You're safe. Can you chill, please?
[Look. He's even being polite. He just... really liked that bed.]
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a voice cuts through the noise.
wanda! come on, man, i don't need you destroying my place—
it grounds her even as her magic pushes against her attempts to contain it; it keeps her from getting lost in the past, what ifs, the anger and the resentment that goro's thoughts and words had brought to the forefront of her mind. when she opens her eyes again, she doesn't see dead bodies staring back at her. she sees nero, instead, looking down at her with concern, reminding her that she's safe.
the glaze over her eyes disappears as she blinks away at the tears that had formed, and suddenly she's profusely aware of their surroundings falling apart. she spares the clawed hand a bewildered, momentary look, before she's sitting up and reigning in her magic. her hands raise, keeping the barn from falling flat to the ground.
everything floats, suspended in space. wanda's eyes are wide, looking at nero.]
I'm sorry. [she whispers; she's always apologizing after doing something horrible, isn't she?] I'll fix it. I promise.
[with a twirl of her wrists, everything starts getting situated back in place—fallen beams, broken items, the broken foundations of the walls. she focuses her attention on the details, fortifies what she broke. and even when she presents such easy comfort in using her magic, there are times when it just takes so much from her—like right now.
sorry, nero. your bed is not fixed, yet, as wanda drops her hands, as if weighed down by them, breathing heavily, trying to catch her breath. at least the world isn't falling around them anymore, and her magic seems to have stopped flaring out of her.
and yet—]
—I'm sorry. I'm sorry.
[—she keeps muttering apologies, breathless as she is, and will not stop repeating them ad nauseum until told so.]
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Luckily for her, he's really hardy. The whole place being held up only by her magic isn't freaking him out as much as whatever made her this way. Besides, pretty sure he could grab her and get her out before it all came crashing down. Not a splinter or cut on her.]
Don't worry about it, all right? Nothing that can't be rebuilt. [Except she -- okay. There she goes. Well, it's not the worst thing that's happened to him.
(Shit. He's gonna have to sleep somewhere else tonight, huh?)
He sits down next to her, hand on her arm, as if to say, you good now? Seems... better. Not great.]
Seriously, quit that. I don't care. It's not even my place, really. [Okay, that's probably not helpful. Moving on.
But she keeps going. Apologizing. Since it's not the first time he's done so, he leans in and gives her a squeeze of a hug.] Like I said, you're all right now. You can tell me whatever the hell happened later. [He pulls his hands away, more aware of his own slip.] Sorry about the -- you know. [He wiggles his fingers. They're human now, at least.] Oh, great, now it's my turn to do it. [Apologize for nothing, he means.] I think you're rubbing off on me.
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he seems to get it, anyway; posits that whatever the hell happened, she can tell him later. not a demand for answers, just concern. he jokes, even, like he always does, trying to bring levity to the situation.
wanda raises her eyes to look at him, at his hand.]
I'm sorry.
[she whispers her final apology, taking his words to heart. quit it. he doesn't need apologies from her—he never asks for her to be anyone but herself. she should know this by now, shouldn't she?]
—I've always known your hand was weird. [echoing back to the memory they had seen before of him getting his arm ripped right off; of it growing back. she has questions, but she can't formulate them right now. instead, as he pulls away, she leans forward, her forehead against his shoulder.] Stay a moment.
[her plea is muttered, reaching with her hand to hold onto his. just like with pietro, whose hand she would hold to ground herself. just for a moment she can pretend that this is her brother, a quiet, stalwart presence in her life, giving her a place of respite.
the explanation for what happened will come as soon as she has taken a moment to gather her thoughts.]
Please.
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Not important right now. Anyway, this kind of shit hurts way worse than an arm. She moves against him, and he parks his ass right where it is, hand moving to her back. Giving it a rub. His other holding the one she reached him with.] Yeah. Not goin' anywhere, don't worry.
[He's not about to jet and leave her alone looking like a wreck. Er. Literally being surrounded by one, even. Mostly fixed, but. He hasn't missed his bed was collateral.
Something fucked up definitely happened. Wanda's not exactly the most unstable person he's met, so what was it? Another memory? But he hadn't heard of it happening to anyone again. And it's not happening now, as he holds her up, their palms together.
And he's sure she'd know, if it did happen again. Cause right now, holding her up, he -- he's been here. With Kyrie. After the forest. Holding her, making sure she was okay. Telling her she was safe, that he wouldn't let a damn thing happen to her.]
I was readin' up on those weeds. You know, the ones we massively fucked up with. [He emphasizes the we, 'cause it's funny as hell looking back.] I never really asked why they were so important, but apparently it's like, a good luck thing? Like having a lawn gnome. Supposed to keep your plants safe and your crops healthy. You think they would've picked something a little nicer for that, huh?
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(it is funny as hell, looking back.)]
In what world are lawn gnomes good luck? [her brows furrow, questioning. it's not tradition in sokovia, but she doesn't know if it's tradition anywhere else either. except maybe nero's world, looks like.] —where did you read that from?
[leaning into him a bit more, and using him as support, wanda pushes herself up and onto her feet. she feels a little... wobbly, but she's managing.]
I got into a fight. [she starts. granted, getting into a fight in the horizon is debatable, considering how particular things are within it. still.] He made me remember — Vis. That I lost him. [she squeezes his hand tightly,] And I... I let my powers...
[she shakes her head slightly, trying to pull away now. she can stand on her own two feet. her voice is quiet, heavy with emotion—sorrowful, pained.]
I almost lost control again.
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Luckily she made sure it was not because he has little demon fingers. Mostly because he forgets to wash his hands.]
A fight? The Horizon? [He doesn't need to look her over to know she's not hurt here. He'd smell the blood alone.
His face softens. Vis. Vision. It's not hard to tap back into what he'd felt in that memory of hers. Love. Fear. They really went well together, huh?]
I get it. [It's all he says about that. He gets it. Fear and love had made him lose control of his own, once. He'd almost gotten himself killed. Probably would've killed Agnus, if he could've gotten his hands on him.
Nero lets her hand go, but he's still helping her up until she's all but shoving him away.] It doesn't say anything about you. Just says what a dick the other guy is for making you feel that way. I hope you fucked 'em up, honestly. It's the only way some guys learn.
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she still dreams of a life where she can be with her children, with her family, but having something akin to a family in the real world, away from her dreams, it helps anchor her.
the same way nero's words are anchoring her now.
wanda would laugh if she didn't feel so overwhelmed by what the psychic connection with goro brought forth. it felt similar to when she read into ultron's thoughts, and ended with a cataclysmic desire for the destruction of the world. this time had felt so personal, too. when that had happened, pietro had been there to hold her; now that it's happened again, nero is here.]
I had a twin brother. [she starts, quietly, her hands holding onto nero's arms momentarily. she glances at him.] His name was Pietro. [there's a pause, a painful note to the way she says his name.] He was killed fixing a mistake we made, and, ever since, I've blamed myself— [and has been lost, losing herself to the despair of grief and pain so unbearable, had it not been for vision, she would never have gotten back up on her feet.] You remind me of him, and it— [her voice cracks] it hurts, but I'm glad you're here.
[pietro was much taller than her, but it never stopped her from worrying over him. wanda reaches up to nero's hair, brushes it back lightly with her hands, because she will always be peitro's little sister, even if he is no longer here. before she was vision's lover, before she was her kids' mother, she was—and will always be—a sister that frets.
she pulls her hands away, stepping back.]
I'll fix your bed. I just need a moment.
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He was just. Not built for this. Kyrie and Nero both shared the same sorrow -- the loss of a brother -- but maybe Kyrie could make memories into strength rather than weakness. And Nero always took his pain and carried it, sometimes for years, let it tug him in a thousand directions, let it tear him apart, until he could refine it into violence towards something that deserved it.
Nero shakes his head. How fucking close it comes to him, too. Pietro. Credo. Were they just too weak? Maybe in his case. He knew way better to think Wanda was weak, even beyond her magic.
Somehow it digs at him, deep in his chest, to hear it. You remind me of him. Because whether she's read his head or not, he's had the same damn thought.]
Yeah. Me too. [His hold is still gently firm on her, and though the touch she gives him is surprising, he just sort of. Blinks.
S'been a while. Maybe not even since their mom died. She might've been the last person to do that.
Forget the bed, already.] I mean... I had a brother. Credo. [Adoptive, yeah, but Nero had never cared about blood. Not until recently, huh?] He was killed. [Because I wasn't strong enough.] And it's funny you say that, 'cause you remind me of him. [Nero sniffs, nudging his nose with a fist. An old tick from a younger version of himself, when all he'd known was Credo, Kyrie, and the Order, never quite grown out of.] He never missed a chance to give me shit, either.
[Maybe his tone says enough that he doesn't mind it. That he's glad she's here, too. That he can have those memories and not be torn apart by them.]
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I don't always give you shit.
[it's easy, now, at least, with him here. it's not awkward, it's not... weird.
her magic starts working away at stitching the fabric and threads of the mattress of nero's bed, and soon enough it is remade, sitting flat on the floor. wanda, too, sits on it. you'll have to carry it up the loft, nero! she tugs at the sleeves at her wrists.]
Do you ever... think, that if you had had the powers that you do now, that maybe you could have... saved him? [because nero is stronger, if the memory is anything to go by. her gaze moves upwards to him.] What is it, anyway? Your power?
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All right. Most of the time.
[Credo hadn't, either. Just felt like it. Somehow it's what he remembered the most. It was... it was something no one could replicate. The way he could make Nero feel like a fuckin' hero, or like the biggest fuckup, with a few choice words.
At least the bed's fixed. He flops back on it, finally letting her go now that she's at least back to semi-normal-moody-Wanda.
Seriously. Whoever she got in a fight with, he's gonna kick their ass. For making her upset, sure, but for getting his room to take the brunt of the response.
He sighs.] I try not to think about it. Doesn't change anything, even if I think I could have. [His fingers curl into fists, body tight. Yeah. He knows he could have. If he'd known... this shit. Everything he did now.] I just made a promise it wouldn't happen again. That I'd never be too weak to stop it.
[Credo hadn't had time to ask him, but he would've. He would've asked Nero to keep Kyrie safe. Of course, he'd die for her. Die to keep her safe. But here he fuckin' is, on a completely different plane? Planet? Galaxy? And she... she and Nico have, what?
Well. Each other. The kids. It's just --]
Oh. Uh. [He sits up, leaning back on his arms. He didn't really go around super trying to keep it a secret, but with the thought reading, the memory walking... you know, not much point. He rubs the back of his neck, voice unsure.
Kyrie hadn't really always known -- neither had he -- but she'd, like. You know. Been a part of the Order.
And he still doesn't really know, you know? What it makes him. A monster? A real demon? Something never meant to be?] I'm a demon. Part demon. I guess. [Nero throws his head back.] Look, I know it sounds stupid.
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she looks back at him as he sits up against his elbows.]
I always felt there was something... different about you. Like you're fighting something, inside, and it is—complicated. [it feels a lot like struggling with acceptance; of a wound too new, and perhaps nero hasn't allowed himself the time (hasn't had the time) to sit with those feelings.] It's not stupid.
[her breath hitches into a sigh as she also flops down onto the bed. arms at her side—one totally atop him, move—wanda stares up at the ceiling.]
Back home, there is a prophecy about me. How I am to destroy the world. I've lost control of my magic before, and it created a world where I didn't have to think about what was hurting anymore. I've often wondered if I really own this magic, or if it controls me, instead.
[having lost control with goro the way she did, it's difficult—it's scary—it's terrifying to think where she stands amidst it all. she turns to nero, and thinks about what she would like to hear in these situations of uncertainty about her own sense of self.]
You're Nero, and even when you are a demon... Well, you're the nicest demon I've met. [but, quietly:] It doesn't make you the bad guy, does it?
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That one he's much more used to.
He doesn't move. She's half on his chest and she's just gonna have to live with it. It's his bed, after all.
Her turns to her.] The scarlet thing? [Something as wild as "prophesized to destroy the world" doesn't really faze him now. Not after learning about -- ugh. Redgrave shit.
Nice, huh?]
I don't wanna be the bad guy. And I've met some pretty shitty guys. They sucked. [Thanks, dad.] And, you know, I've got pretty awesome people who like me, and I don't think any of them are bad. [Kyrie, of course. Nico. Hell. Maybe even Dante. And the woman laying next to him, asking a question he can guess isn't completely about him.] So maybe that's all that matters sometimes, huh?