Xaviers!

Wanda had been absent from Isolde's life for a couple of days. The expected call to go to the airport had never come. There'd been no sign of her on campus and their mostly-dulled connection was of minimal help, merely telling Isolde that Wanda was alive and not immediate physical distress.

Isolde has been increasingly frustrated and restless from the absence, a matter that has only slightly been helped by the headmistress finally relieving her of the monitoring anklet.

Wanda's roommate has been of no help, though if it's because Nailah simply doesn't remember or still considers Isolde a 'bad guy' is a nuance the werewolf isn't particularly cut out to parse of late.

Thus it is that Isolde is walking among one of the more run-down neighborhoods of Maldon with a persistent grumble under her breath.

As she walks by a small block of flats, she catches a hint of Wanda's scent. It's not terribly old, so she's been here recently.

Isolde stops, sniffing for a moment before she realizes she looks ridiculous and steps off to the side.

Her scent is definitely lingering around the entrance to the block of flats. Unfortunately, but not unexpectedly given the neighborhood, there's a door made out of iron bars blocking the way into the block. Next to the door is a panel with buzzer buttons and labels weathered into illegibility.

"...wouldn't be her name anyway," she mutters under her breath, ducking over to the side of the building, looking for windows and fire escapes.

There's a series of windows including a couple of sets accessible by a rickety fire escape. Light is coming out of several of the windows. It looks like there's about six flats in total, three on each side of the building.

She cants her head upward, trying to catch the scent again so she can figure out which buzzer to ring.

It's hard to tell. It's winter, so the windows are largely closed. She does catch sight of one on the top floor though. It's open a crack and the air is moving steadily out. The air definitely carries Wanda's scent on it. Assuming the buzzers are arranged like the flats, she's pretty certain which buzzer it is.

Isolde gives a pining look to that window, but doesn't immediately ring the buzzer.

Instead, she heads away from the building and out into the neighborhood for a kebab shop she noticed a few blocks back.

Some time later, Isolde returns with a greasy looking paper bag and rings the buzzer.

After a moment, a strange young woman's voice answers the buzzer. "Yes? Who is it?"

"...delivery for Miss Johannson?"

There's an inauspicious pause, followed by a slightly hesitant, "I think you have the wrong intercom. Are you sure you have the right flat number?"

She sighs.

"It's already paid for. I can leave it at the door."

"I..." There's some mumbled conversation that the intercom microphone is too bad to pick up, followed by the strange voice saying, "Are you sure?" More mumbled conversation. "Okay." The door buzzes and the latch disengages. "Come on up."

Her gaze lifts in confusion, but after a moment's hesitation she goes in and climbs the stairs.

The flats are obviously low rent, though it looks like the residents do their best to keep the hallways and stairwell clean. As she reaches the door, she can pick up Wanda's scent again around the door. There's also the scent of a variety of herbs and other plants.

Taking a deep breath, she walks up to the door and knocks.

After a moment, the door opens and she's greeted by a short-ish young woman with her hair dyed a violet-red. She's dressed in loose-fitting black pants and an equally-loose-fitting brown top that seems intended to disguise that she's expecting. The scent of herbs and plants get stronger and she catches sight of a crystal hanging off the entryway light. The young woman raises an expectant eyebrow at Isolde, a silent demand to explain herself.

"I... miss her," is all she manages to get out.

The young woman glances over her shoulder, "She says she misses you." She turns back to Isolde, "You hurt her, you know. She's been in a right state."

"I didn't... do what I said. I was willing to do what she asked. I was willing to follow her anywhere."

The young woman gives a small shrug before a gentle breeze blows from inside the apartment and she glances back and says, "Alright then." She steps out of Isolde's way and hold out her hand for the bag of food. "Landlord's tax."

"...as long as you like kebabs," she shrugs, handing over the greasy paper bag and stepping on through.

The woman rolls her eyes as she shuts the door behind Isolde and takes the bag, "Because we must all be vegan, right? She's in the living room, though that door." She indicates door on the left as she heads into another door on the right that smells like a kitchen.

"...no, the really old ones are rather carnivorous," she mutters before stepping up to the door, taking a deep breath, and opening it.

The flat's living room is alive with plants and as she moves deeper into the flat, she can tell that the energy in the flat is different. Not magical, but alive in that indefinable way that some wild spaces are. The plants also help to hide the low rent nature of the apartment. Wanda is sitting in what looks like a third-hand armchair, not looking at the door, but her vague reflection in the cheap TV. The armchair flanks a small loveseat that's patched in places. It only takes Isolde a moment to realize that even in Wanda's presence, she can still barely sense her through their connection.

"...if you wanted to hurt me back, you've succeeded," Isolde says as she approaches.

Wanda's gaze snaps to Isolde, "You think that's what I wanted?"

"I don't... know what you wanted. I know that it's torture to be cut off from you."

"But hurting me back seems... fair."

Wanda frowns, "I don't want to hurt you. You're the one who insists on reminding me who holds the cards in this... thing."

"It's the truth, though."

"I can offer counsel, but I can't deny you. That's what it is. That's what I signed on for."

"But it's not what *I* signed you up for. I didn't and don't want to control you. The fact that I continue to do so, whether I mean to or not..." She looks back at the TV.

"...then what do you want from me, Wanda? What do you need me to be?"

"I don't want a servant or an assassin." She leans forward, putting her head in her hands, "What I want... what I need... is a partner. But as you keep reminding me, this isn't that."

"You need to be protected. You're important. I've... tried to hold back. Let you live how you want. But sometimes it just rears up and..."

She sighs.

"I don't know how past guardians did it. I'm not them."

She looks at Isolde, "I know you're used to being a sword, but I don't need a sword. The university's full of swords. I need a shield. I need a safe place."

"I don't... know how to be that."

"But I suppose I'm learning a great many things of late."

"I'm not going to force you to do anything," Wanda says, "Even if I could, that's not fair to you, regardless of what you think you signed up for." She bites her lip, "If you really want, I'll figure out how to release you from this and you can do whatever you like. I won't be your problem anymore."

"...that's not what I want."

"I want to stay with you."