Miriam knew it wasn't going to be pretty when Wanda regained her memories. And contrary to what Isolde thought she wasn't keeping her distance for her own sake. She was going to bear witness to it anyway. She could have tried to move far enough away but that would have been cowardly. She had to agree with that much.The bricks of the stairwell access on the roof are cold against her back, but she doesn't really notice. She's sitting with her knees pulled against her chest and her forehead resting against them as she feels Wanda's mind light up like a beacon in her thoughts. All the pain she meant to spare her is there, fresh as they day it happened yet muddled. She presses her hands against the side of her head as if that would help her keep her own thoughts from reaching out in response. No one but maybe Sam could
really understand what it's like. To constantly have to try and reign in her thoughts, the power to soften Wanda's pain just a thought, an urge away. Be happy. Forgive me. Love me.
Will wasn't malleable because he easily took to these things. It was because they were just as easily undone, refined, revised. A stray thought wouldn't be driven into his mind that quickly, there was time to adjust and explore, work the clay. Everyone else... They were almost as receptive if she let her power off it's chain but there would be no tuning and walking a moment's weakness like that back. She'd done it to Wanda when she'd lost control at her sister's grave and she hadn't even
noticed. She'd done it to Will when she'd been faced with the shapeshifter leaving her. And those were minor slips, nothing compared to the things lurking in the deeper recesses of her mind. It would be so
easy to pull Wanda from Isolde and ensure she'd stay. Make her
enjoy it. Just a bloody thought away.
Clenching her eyes shut she screams into the night as Wanda's hurt and confusion burns in her mind, but the tears don't come until the comfort Isolde brings her settles in like a soothing mist.
((open))