Erik Magnus Lehnsherr.

:)

"My problem," Turning to face him, pressing her lips to a tight line as she looked him over carefully. "Is people getting in my way."

Closing the door to the manor, she had engulfed them in a world of her own making. A limbo of possibilities waiting to be bought with heartbreaking prices.

She could already feel the faintest of caresses against her mind, like a moth against a window pane. Whoever had been trying to worm their way in already knew what was happening, but they couldn't reach her here.

This was her territory, her own realm carved out within the seams of their world. At most, they could only stare at the thick red scar in her assigned room. The greatest minds in the world would unite multiple times to make sense of it, but chaos did not rely on rules or order, it's limitation seemed to be her imagination only.

"What was it you wanted to talk about?"

There seemed to be no limitation on what she could do. What she could create. The possibilities were endless.

That was not what he had asked her to bring them there to discuss however and he would remain on task and in the present, despite nearly being transported backwards into the past.

“I believe it was you who seemed like they had things they wished to discuss. We can do so here freely and safely.

Unless you would prefer to pop some corn and shelter away in the den with the children to watch some cartoons.

"Where to start..."

Exhaling hard, her cheeks puffing from the action as she moved to adjust the small wooden miniatures in the crooked doll house. Balancing the father figurine on the seat in the dining room once more.

Despite her back to him, she could catch glimpses of his face in the speckled mirror on her wall, careful to keep an eye for any hint of discomfort or regret.

"How long have you known?"

A simple question, yet the answer was one she worried about. Had he always known and bid his time well? Waiting for his biological weapon to develop to full destruction mode. Perhaps he found out this morning and rushed in haste without any thought for what next? Not fully realising the burden knowing her can be.

"I'm curious as to how you even found out? How reliable is the source?"

The last part felt stupid voicing. Had Pietro and her not been twins, had it not felt like an older Pietro was sitting on her bed talking to her now, she would have a harder time trusting it.

Shaking her head, her thoughts crashing into each other with a pace she couldn't keep up with.

He had not spent weeks trying to locate the highly secure government facility, risked his own life and safety to recover her and brought her to the one person he would have rather avoided for a few more years, to dance around facts and hide from reality.

An ironic thought, considering that they were sitting in a version of Wanda’s own childhood bedroom created and sustained by nothing but her mind.

“A while.”

After a few seconds of silence, he realized his answer was much too vague and lacked any kind of conviction or detail. He would need to give her a little more than simply the truth.

“I found out when I went looking for your mother. The midwife who birthed you was very forthcoming. Which is likely only because by the time I made it there, you were already gone.

I did not even know she was pregnant. Though I cannot say with confidence that the knowledge would have changed anything.”

The truth wasn’t always pretty.

“It was not my place to intervene. You had your own life. Your own goals. Ones that did not exactly align with mine. If I had shown up at Stark Tower to talk, you know exactly what would have happened.

We have never been great friends. Mister Stark and myself.

It seems as though he wasn’t really one of yours either.

At the mention of that word alone, her eyes would widen for a fraction. Easily missed with how she distracted herself once more with the doll house, straightening the kitchen as though preparing it for her younger self returning from school. The reality that this room and everything within it would fold away from existence once they stepped out from it was lost entirely to her.

"That is a while..."

She couldn't help the heavy feeling in her heart. The complexity of life was something she suffered too much to throw judgement or accusation to others. She too hold guilt for not voicing her suspicious sooner.

"Stark is a narcissist." The name itself bitter on her tongue as she frowns. "He finds smoke and smoulders and does nothing about it till it's a wildfire and he has an audience. He would do anything for the title hero."

Fotgetting the anger of such a name being mentioned in her room of all places, she focuses on the memory of seeing Erik and her brother standing side by side for the first time. Like a mirror into the future. Even their temperament matched, an unmovable object creating an unstoppable force, they could turn the world to sand if they stopped trying to wear the other down.

"Anyone would think you were his twin. I knew- I think, for sometime."

A pause as she stepped away from the small house, satisfied in its image before she take a seat on her old bed, her hand reaching for a favoured soft toy, the fabirc worn out from years of love.

For the first time it was as though he was finally getting to see the real Wanda. The version that was not bound by expectation or dampened by insecurity and fear.

Stark was a narcissist.

And a self righteous one at that. The most dangerous type of creature. One that always needed to be considered with caution.

“The mark of a coward. A man who is only brave when people are watching. Like a loyal hound doing tricks, he acts for the sake of reward and almost always out of fear.

For someone who is so worried about not being able to decipher reality from fantasy, you seem to have a very firm grasp on the former from what I can see.”

He watched as she fussed with the dollhouse. A mindless task to keep her hands occupied so her mind could focus. Afraid of being swept up by the current of emotion, even in her own realm. A fear that he understood all too well.

He had never been the best at offering comfort, but he had noticed that honesty and vulnerability seemed to work with her. A path he would continue to tread. For as long as he could manage.

“Many times I have wished that things were not real. I cannot imagine the kind of monster I would become if I had the power to will it all away. Intention is what shows a persons character most. I think.

It was almost comical. How often time itself even seemed to obey the laws of magnetism. Repel and attract. Different particles all derived from the same source.

Xavier had told him. Of course he had. The seemingly secret origin of the young man now standing before him.

His fingers flexed at his sides, muscle memory reaching for power that wouldn't come. The absence of it left him raw, peeled back, and he didn't like how exposed that made him feel. Not with Magneto watching like he could see straight through to the parts Gabriel kept buried under rage and stubborn pride.

Unimpressed.

Arms crossed. Brows furrowed. Chest puffed up.

Every one of the Summer’s brood was the same and it was the very reason they all held a fervent dislike for each other.

It was a tragedy that could have been plucked right from the script of a Shakespearean play.

It was more than enough to make Erik laugh. The sound of it starting deep within his chest, rumbling in his throat and easily filling the small holding cell.

"It's quite bold of you to believe you occupy some space in my mind."

His eyes tracked the ceiling, following cracks in the concrete like they were more interesting than the old man across the cell. He did have a plan—half a plan, anyway—but he'd be damned if he'd hand it over just to get slashed at with words. Erik could chew on his own pride for a while. Gabriel had spent too many years being told what to do, being used, being someone else's weapon. He wasn't about to start cooperating now just because the scenery changed.

He certainly wasn’t as ignorant as his captors. Who likely assumed they held all the cards and expected he would stay there until they decided what to do with him. A fact that gave him the slight edge he would need in order to escape.

His unbearable cell mate was the worst part. He couldn’t help but wonder if perhaps shoving them together had been a tactical move. If they killed each other there would be no need to decide anything and they could easily wash their hands of any guilt.

A possibility that he could not allow to happen. No matter how insufferable Gabriel tried to be.

“Do not fool yourself. I would never assume such a thing. I know how thoughtless your blood line can be. That is likely how you wound up here. Some prideful and reckless endeavour.”

Although his tone of voice was completely casual, his eyes never wavered from the form of the other. Observing and assessing from where he sat on the floor at the opposite end of the small holding cell.

“I do hope you put more thought into your next move. The Shi’ar do not make easy opponents. They have spent decades learning us. Trading information with extremely educated sources.

From the mundane to the dramatic and everything in between! Sometimes we want random characters to interact with but don’t need a blog to do it!

It was almost comical. How often time itself even seemed to obey the laws of magnetism. Repel and attract. Different particles all derived from the same source.

Xavier had told him. Of course he had. The seemingly secret origin of the young man now standing before him.

His fingers flexed at his sides, muscle memory reaching for power that wouldn't come. The absence of it left him raw, peeled back, and he didn't like how exposed that made him feel. Not with Magneto watching like he could see straight through to the parts Gabriel kept buried under rage and stubborn pride.

Unimpressed.

Arms crossed. Brows furrowed. Chest puffed up.

Every one of the Summer’s brood was the same and it was the very reason they all held a fervent dislike for each other.

It was a tragedy that could have been plucked right from the script of a Shakespearean play.

It was more than enough to make Erik laugh. The sound of it starting deep within his chest, rumbling in his throat and easily filling the small holding cell.