video; guess who's back, back again

[assembles]

[ The feed snaps on, and the frame is on the crowded side. In the foreground Steve and Wanda are seated, arranged on a couch in one of the mansion’s tea rooms, while Natasha stands behind them, leaning against the wall near the door. Steve has his phone tilted so that all of three them are visible, Wanda’s arm linked with his.

Steve’s in civilian wear, his expression composed and collected. He isn’t here to give out orders or make any speeches, though. ]

So it looks like Wonderland sent all three of us home at once. Sorry about that. [ As if they had any control over it. ] But we’re back now and more or less in one piece. [ Which isn’t the full story at all, but that isn’t something that needs to be shared with all of Wonderland.

Natasha pushes away from the wall at this and moves closer into the frame of the video, leaning on the back of the couch over Steve’s shoulder, expression mild. ] I don’t know if any others of us were sent home recently, but if so, letting us know would be greatly appreciated.

[ Her lips quirk briefly. ] Either way, I think some of us will need to be assembling for a SitRep soon regardless. But we wanted to let you know we were back to keep people from worrying.

[ Steve glances over his shoulder at Natasha, nods, and then returns to looking at his phone. ] Let us know if we’re needed anywhere.

[ With that, the feed cuts. ]


[ They’ve done their duty and reported their return, which means that it’s time for all three of them to go and lick their wounds. Steve returns to his room first and foremost, finding Bucky even sooner than he had expected when it turns out he’d camped in his room.

Once they’ve reunited, though, Steve laces up his shoes and goes for a run up and down the beach, needing some time to clear his head. Everything that happened back home has him on edge, searching for a way to take action, to do something, and yet none of it means a thing here in Wonderland. There are no Accords here, but a secret that had been revealed in the worst possible way back home remains a secret here, and it’s eating at him.

He also heads up to the roof, as if hoping that a bird’s eye view of everything will somehow cause it all to make more sense. Wonderland isn’t where he’s supposed to be, but at least some of his team is here. They maybe be prisoners, but they’re not caged and collared. It’s something. ]

[ Once Natasha parted ways with Wanda and Steve, having had a chance to - finally - compare information, she briefly stopped by her room upstairs, checking to make sure everything she'd accumulated here was as she'd left it. Then, after replying to a few text messages that had been waiting for her, she headed to the fifth floor. And the bar.

Because damn, did she ever need a drink. Or twenty. ]

[ For most of the day following their return to Wonderland, Wanda remains out of sight. There's no trace of her in either of her usual haunts, the training room or the magic study: she shuts herself away in her room for the better part of the afternoon, door locked tight, though she'll likely answer for those who seek her out. It's been months since she's been this withdrawn-- longer, considering how much time had passed during her trip home, but she finds herself feeling very much like the Wanda who had first come to Wonderland one year earlier, skittish and wary of human contact, unnerved by the idea of having to explain exactly what had changed to rob her of the confidence she had spent so many months building alongside her teammates and new friends alike.

Eventually, it's one of the most basic of human needs that forces her to emerge, hunger driving her to leave her room behind and make her way down to the communal kitchen. After spending time in government custody, the need for a real meal as opposed to whatever the closets might be able to supply is enough to make her brave the mansion beyond her room. She keeps her focus narrow at first, rummaging through the pantry to see what it might have to offer in the way of ingredients, occasionally turning her attention to the kitchen at large to see who else might have wandered in since her own arrival, an attempt to remain aware of her surroundings. House arrest followed by more severe isolation has done very little to put her at ease, and she finds herself unwilling to trust even the slightest creak of the floorboards, regardless of the fact that here, the word fugitive means very, very little. ]

[ OOC: One or all of them will respond to any network replies. If you reply to any of the action options, please specify who it’s for! ]

Comments

[mindbend]

[The message comes through, though she hesitates to call it loud and clear. There's obvious strain there, effort put forth, but the fact that he manages at all is impressive, given how little he'd claimed to know about the use of his own abilities. The faintest hint of a smile tugs at one side of her mouth for a moment as she marks her place in her book with her thumb, sitting cross-legged on her bed, having been intent on finding some way to distract herself, to let herself believe that Wonderland itself could offer reprieve.

As distractions went, this would do. A reminder that she'd made friends beyond the team that had torn itself apart.]

I can hear you. You're getting better.

[Even her mind sounds weary, and she frowns a little at the realization.]

Thank you. I'm glad to be back. Home was not so hospitable by the time we left again.

[radiopalkiller]

[ --There she is. The confirmation makes it a little easier, like a rail to follow along the side of a dark corridor. Even if- Jesus Christ, it feels bloody weird when she's not in the same room, it--

If feels like just a voice in his head again, and he wants to say that he can grasp the actual truth easily, that it doesn't clench his stomach, he wants to say that the years to work through this actually took, and that he's not a little colder and a little more nauseous than just before. He wants to-- He wants to take a deep breath, and pretend that it's fine, until it actually is. That he can do.

(Note to self though: Maybe don't do that to Alistair again. It's bloody creepy.) ]

Cheers. Not the sort of thing you can practice a lot without freaking people out, but I try.

[ But there's gonna be time for that. There is, at least, gonna be a little more time for that. ]

Heard that one today already, guess Wonderland's giving you all an official crap holiday season. Anything that'll improve if you talk about it? Talk, meet at the bar and drink half of it, one of those two.

[mindbend]

[Perhaps more structured lessons will help to ease the disconnect, help him to put distance between his past experiences and his current communications with Wanda, but at present, her voice remains a disembodied echo in his head, far too close and strangely distant at the same time.]

We will have to change that, now that I'm back. I did promise you, didn't I?

[It would help her, too. It would help to form a stronger bond with someone like herself, help to have a reminder that not everyone was afraid of what she was capable of-- or if Philip was, that he was still willing and even eager to learn from her regardless.]

Perhaps a bit of both. I find drinking and talking go quite well together.

[radiopalkiller]

[ Those words hit something bitter, far too old to still have anything to do with her. He almost thinks about it, but then she's so close, and for a little bit he might as well think about it. She probably doesn't even need to see his wry smile to picture it, either. ]

Right, Wonderland promises. That was before you left, and those are the sort of thing you're better off voiding at the exit.

[ Too many years of change you can miss in a week of absence. No promise about the new circumstances. No promise they'll remember you at all. He doesn't put that into words for her, but it's all but brushing against the surface.

The smile afterwards isn't genuine, but at least it genuinely tries to be. ]

--But since it was you who offered, I'm taking you up on that. And, let's say, a quarter of the bar. Plus, more talking. How does half an hour from now sound?

[mindbend]

They still mean something, even if time has passed.

[Promises are not something she forgets easily, no matter the circumstance. Someone else, she might have asked to wait, to give her time before she made good on any promises of her time, but perhaps she needed to connect with someone else like her now more than ever.]

It sounds perfect. I will be there. Save me a seat if you get there first.