#avengingwidow.

There were things she had come to learn of the world she watched from crumbling cracks. Firstly, it was okay to have differing points of views as long as they did no harm. Secondly, if you need to do harm, do it in the name of good. No, perhaps that’s not exactly the correct translation but she was getting better with translations at least. Each member of the Avengers had their own stories; each walked their own path with little branches that intersected here, in this very hub of madness considered to be the headquarters for the time being. She didn’t have to work for a few hours, even though Tony would surely argue she didn’t have to work at all... What could she possibly want much less need out there in that big world? Freedom would be one thing. Besides Pietro, freedom had been the only thing she had wanted since long before she could remember. She remembered her parents, though less and less these days, and even still there was a particular taste in her mouth at said memories. Wanda could smell raspberries in the air. Something meant for lunch, perhaps? Or some smoothie Natasha was drinking that week... and as if right on cue, she’s pulled out of her thoughts by the familiar voice.

“Natasha,” Wanda spoke softly though there’s a quirk of a smile on her lips, “is this a training thing?” she wondered curiously, eyes narrowing. If there’s anything she had come to learn about the woman in question, it was that she never knew just what her words entailed.