( OPEN ) THE DAY YOU DUG MY HEART'S GRAVE

[explosion]

Who: Katherine Pierce, Wanda Maximoff + anyone!
What: A catchall for event shenanigans (memory share and hunting) and some other things.
When: December.
Where: The Trench and memories.

Content Warnings: Mind control, murder, suicide, vampirism, violence.



1. WINTER MOURNING

KATHERINE

---

[ the winter mournings around the town are beautiful. katherine, despite knowing what they do, can't help but reach out and touch one—or be in the vicinity of someone who does. remina is her patron, and even if she doesn't want to admit it, she does feel somewhat encouraged to honour her.

it doesn't matter if it's you or her—when that winter mourning is touched, a memory unfolds:

a) the world around them turns into a small, dank and dark tomb. katherine leans against the wall, appearing weak and pale as she sips a plastic cup of blood. dressed in a black dress, she talks to a woman who might as well be her reflection—elena's bright-eyed and bushy-tailed and wears a serious furrow to her brow as she listens to katherine's deep voice as she recalls the story of being hunted for her blood.

b) the kitchen's clean and empty, save for a man with blonde hair who walks about unguarded. the memory unfolds when katherine appears from behind the fridge, spooking john. he thinks she's someone else. what unravels next loses john some fingers.

c) the masquerade is prettily lit with men and women fancily dressed. katherine's in a black dress, wearing a black mask and her hair straight. she appears instantly behind stefan for some spine snapping fun. he looks handsome, doesn't he?

d) katherine's dressed in a corset. it's clear by the fashion and style that this is set one hundred years in the past. a man circles her, clearly stinking of wolf. she sips her alcohol and appears nonplussed as she threatens george lockwood with murder. but despite that, hey, why not take advantage of the surroundings and drink? ]

WANDA

---

[ the winter mournings are pretty, even if they are a little creepy. wanda likes them as decorations, though. it's best to try and get into the swing of the trench's traditions. considering she hasn't celebrated christmas in over five years thanks to the blip, she'll take what she can get to try and dig herself deeper into her pit of denial that she's alone.

it doesn't matter if it's you or her—when that winter mourning is touched, a memory unfolds:

a) wakanda is green despite the destruction occurring outside and within its barrier. it's loud, war thundering beyond the trees. but for her, it's quiet. wanda turns around, her expression pinched with fear. a red man—a synthezoid—sits on the ground before her. he peers up at her pleading, his expression pinched with heartbreak. he reaches out for her, begging her to kill him.

b) the world is destroyed. aliens fly in the sky, the clouds burn. strange contraptions fling to and fro, and men and women and aliens fight within a dark crater. but what lights up the crater is wanda landing and her facing a giant purple alien in gold armour who looks as intimidating as he is tall.

c) this would've been a nice town if the plot of land they find themselves on actually housed a home. it's empty, merely a bare skeleton that's halfway built. weeds grow from the dry ground. wanda stands with her hands clutching her chest, her demeanour flat. she looks at the plot of land and falls to the ground, and with her comes a wave of overpowering, thick red.

d) people mill about outside of a great field. the world is dark and blue, but then it begins to flicker like white noise across a television. wanda appears in a thick of red, easily passing through a barrier. the weapon in her hands glints red as she tosses it at hayward's feet.

e) you tumble, almost falling to your death. and then you're flying, up in an arena of red. the clouds burst like blood. a woman in dark purple blends in with the black. you're flying. wanda flies, pushing vision down—and it's very clear this is a fight in the sky. watch your step—the scarlet witch is here.

f) the house is dark and quiet. the outside hums with magic, burning a bright red as the hex's thick walls begin to unravel and pull itself away from the buildings and residents of westview. it's coming. wanda stands with her hands cupping vision as the world around them begins to pull itself apart. ]

2. RUN, RABBIT, RUN.

KATHERINE

---

[ being hunted isn't new to katherine. in fact, it's a well-worn pair of shoes where the sole's coming off at this point.

quick to figure out what's happening this month, katherine doesn't waste a moment to collect her own traps. those animals won't get her. if the biggest and baddest wolf in the entire history of werewolves can't catch her, neither can these beasts.

she waits around a corner, panting softly. listens carefully with both her ears and the blood magic she's beginning to learn to wield. the creature that's following her is going to get a nasty surprise with a bear trap on the ground.

when she hears footsteps—quiet, soft, human-like—she turns her head sharply and shushes you.

quietly, ] There's a creature around the corner.

WANDA

---

[ it's with an easy flick of her wrist that she lays out the traps. they glow red before they ease, settling into their new location and existence. the animals hunting sleepers will need to be stopped, even though she knows that's easier than done.

even though she feels some desire to hunt herself, wanda buries it deep. she'll save everyone. she'll do what she couldn't do five years ago.

wanda stands in the middle of the street, her hands on her hips. she appears brave or stupid—it depends on your perspective. she brushes her hair from her eyes and listens intently for the undead hunters. while a lot of them appear to be hunting specific sleepers, she won't let them win. sleepers need to be protected. she'll save her kind this time.

when someone seems close to stepping in one of the traps, they glow a bright red and become docile beneath their feet. ]

Watch your step.

[ she's so cute sometimes. ]

OOC

---

[ for memory sharing, please feel free to toss in your own memories, too! i'd love for katherine and wanda to experience others' memories as well as have their memories experienced.

for run, rabbit, run, katherine is a vileblood and can be hunted and wanda is a darkblood who can hunt if you want to pursue that! i don't want katherine to die and i don't want wanda to kill anyone. (harming, sure.)

as wanda is a telepath, please let me know if you're okay with her reading your character's mind! otherwise, i'll have her ignore the thoughts and not acknowledge them.

if you want to plot anything out specific, please pm me or hit up my plotting comment. ]

Comments

[ FOR BLUE ] | FLYING HIGH.

[explosion]

For the last few days, Wanda's been looking forward to flying with Blue. Although she'd flown a little yesterday to get a good look at her gutters (all clean), she knew it wouldn't be the same. Flying with someone was special. She's never flown with anyone before save for Sam and his brilliant falcon wings.

There's something about being able to fly with someone so similar to her that makes it special. More special than anything she could ever think to conjure.

When she invites him over to her house, she ensures to pick the best side. (The backyard is the better flying arena with a lot of soft grass to fall onto.)

Standing now in her backyard, she looks him up and down, hands on her hips as she smiles. She does her best not to appear excited, although, she fails spectacularly. For someone who is able to control so much, she barely can control herself.

Did you bring your kneepads?

She's joking. They won't need them.

Hopefully.

[firstroar]

It's a short walk from the nearest lantern, but even short walks take a while for Blue. He arrives eventually, hand on the omen lion moving at his side to keep balance. Feeling Wanda's anticipation well before spotting her...it warms him. Of those he's connected to in this land, Wanda conveys an energy closest to that of a Mu, and for that, he can't help but be eager to be near.

Wanda can try all she wants: Excitement radiates off of her, plain to be perceived, and it pulls a smile from Blue so easily.

You assured me that you would be the cushion, he replies, eyes crinkling with some mirth. Should I have prepared contingencies?

[explosion]

She laughs.

Despite her tease, she's fully confident that no one will lose a limb or break one. Although she hasn't exactly sent someone flying before, Blue doesn't seem as heavy as a group of broken rocks sitting astray within a crater. He seems light like a feather.

And he trusts her. That's something Wanda holds dear. She doesn't wish to do anything that could splinter that trust.

There are many contingencies to prepare for. What if you have too much fun? We need a contingency for that.

[firstroar]

In lieu of a laugh from Blue, the lion chuffs, headbutting her leg gently in big cat fashion. The Mu's smile broadens a bit, endeared by her confidence.

While bowing his head: I'll risk it this time, if only to not delay the flight. I've been anticipating it since the moment you offered.

Antsiness really isn't new to him, but his impatience has grown this month under the effects of this new moon; the prospect to fly would be exciting at any time of the year, but doubly so right now!

[explosion]

She holds her hand down for the lion, watching it curiously. It doesn't behave like a normal lion would... not that Wanda has ever met a real lion before. Her omen remains tucked somewhere on her property, too busy to be polite and make itself known. She thinks that her cheetah is very much the opposite of her brother sometimes. He'd thrive in the company of another.

Will it like to fly, too?

[firstroar]

Good question. Blue tilts his head and fixes the lion with a curious look, one that is exchanged only after Wanda's hand gets affectionately nosed at.

I think...he likes to have his feet on the ground. Perhaps the lion has a bit more of the level-headed qualities the Mu carries than the free-wheeling joy of just indulging in his powers, the way he had when he was much younger.

Blue looks back up at Wanda, nodding.

Just you and me, then.

[explosion]

Unfortunate for the lion, but perhaps for the best. Wanda's not quite sure if she'd be able to focus if a lion was flying, too.

The lion can be their spotter.

She keeps her hand where it is, not wanting the lion to feel as though it's not a part of what's about to transpire.

I was thinking that you would do what you usually do when you flew and I would…

She lifts her hands up to gesture that she'd lift him up.

Give you a boost.

[firstroar]

"Hmm..."

So not unlike how she had supported him when they burst out of that underwater cave. She's something of an amplifier, then? With a red aura, instead of green. Makes enough sense to Blue.

After a little consideration, Blue nods. He closes his eyes, dipping his head a little as he concentrates. It takes a substantial amount of energy to lift himself up by telekinesis, but if it's just a matter of thinking on it? Maybe...

After a few seconds, a pale blue color glows around him, some of his clothing flutters as though submerged in water with the want to float.

[explosion]

The only blue Wanda is used to seeing is that of Pietro's. This shade feels different. It feels magically charged like hers, but skewed a little differently, similar to how Agatha's magic had felt.

She watches Blue for a moment before she very gently reaches out with her magic to pick up the slack. She doesn't want to exert himself at all, but she wants his magic to still be there, to still give him the comfort of being in control.

The blue sparkles with red. Even if Wanda tried, she doesn't think she'd be able to remove the tint of red from his blue hue. He may find it feels a touch easier to lift himself up little by little. Wanda supports him with her telekinesis, almost giving him the energy to manipulate to send himself up higher.

How are you feeling?

[ FOR SAMUEL ] | JUST A BAD MEMORY

[explosion]

When Wanda invites Sam over again, it's for no other reason than to see him. Although he had felt a little off the last time they'd met, he's still her friend. No matter what he's going through, that doesn't change for her. After all, she's been in strange emotional places before. All she wants to do is be there.

She's learning how to appreciate people's company. It's easy to appreciate his.

Once he arrives via the lantern, she cocks her head and leads him along the familiar path to the house. Hanging on her front and back doors is antler bone. Although Wanda knows not to trust everything that the Trench gives them, she much likes it. It looks festive and special, and it glows a pretty red as holly appears around it to finish off its decoration.

At the front door, she gestures to it. "Do you have any winter mournings up at the cabin?"

The Winchesters don't strike her as the festive type, but Wanda's been surprised before. If anything, she thinks festive decorations would be more Sam's thing.

[family_remains]

She would be, in fact, wrong in the exact opposite. But her assumption isn't unfounded.

You'd look at Sam and his soft smile and floppy hair and think him sentimental. You'd think him family focused with dreams of a white picket fence and a regular poker night with buddies every Friday. You'd observe his intelligence and bookishness and think he might be an older grad student or a young teacher who lives to inspire the coming generation. Maybe an archivist with a million stories about men long dead. You can imagine him laughing in the kitchen with a wife and child as they decorate gingerbread houses and wrap gifts to go under a tree he cut himself. You can see him panicking in the kitchen attempting to help and dancing around his long suffering partner as she gets on with things before his brother arrives for dinner.

Sam Winchester is not that man. Not anymore. And those dreams? They aren't his. They're his brother's. Dean who remembers what family Christmas is like. Dean who longs for a life where he can Be Something. Be worth something. Dean who would be an excellent father, which Sam knows because Dean raised him more than their own dad ever did. Dean who has carved the arc of his life around the shape of his brother and shielded him from reality as long as he could. Dean deserves that real life. With Christmas and warmth and trivial drama in flavors like which kind of power tool he should buy- corded or battery? When should he start saving for his son's college? Is thirty too old to go to a pride parade and if not then what the hell should he wear? And where the hell do you buy a pink and blue button up anyway?

He'll never get that.

Neither will Sam.

The difference is that Sam genuinely doesn't want it anymore. He's surrendered. And as far as he's concerned he's already finished his ride. All this? Deerington and Trench? It's just bonus. So it doesn't matter what he wanted in life because he isn't that person anymore..in so many, many ways.

Christmas doesn't mean anything to him. It's hundreds of years of Christianity taking over Pagan ritual and two hundred years more of Capitalist guilt on top, to which he owes nothing. Christmas for Sam is last minute thieving in a gas station to exchange in the morning with his brother over a microwave breakfast in a shitty motel before they move on and go to work. He doesn't remember the tree and stockings and bedtime stories. He doesn't know the woman who told them or the man at her side before he became John Winchester. Dean remembers the delight of Christmas morning. Sam doesn't want the heartache.

Still, he likes Wanda and so he comes when summoned, a bottle of red tucked under his arm which he intends to share and see where the night goes. It's a nice December as far as he's concerned. The weather is nice and whilst it's early on in the month everything seems to be fine so far.

"A few," he answers and comes up the steps to inspect her offering. It's far more elegantly made than the ones they have, crafted by blunt, rough hands and liquor fueled seriousness that can only be found in Dean making Christmas decor like a man possessed by Martha Stewart. Winter Mournings are talismans and so Sam takes them seriously - the wreath and tree and garlands that accompany them...not so much.

"If they're as strong against monsters here as they were in Deerington then what's the harm."

[explosion]

That's interesting. She regards the Winter Mourning a little differently now. If it's warded against monsters before, she can only hope it'll fall back into step and do it once more. She doesn't particularly want this December to be ruined, for Pietro to leave, for herself to back to where it's utterly too quiet and deserted. Even though she deserves that cabin tucked far, far away without anyone but the birds for company, Wanda's become a little too used to bustle in the Trench.

"You really are a veteran." She smiles, "Does it ward away Santa, too?"

Hopefully not. She intends to put out carrots for Rudolph and his friends. It's one of the very few things she ever got to do in Sokovia, even if Santa never did ride his sleigh over the war-torn country.

With a little flick of her finger, the door opens. She pulls it back and gestures with her hand for him to step through. "After you."

Although Wanda had wanted to bury her house in tinsel and holly until the wooden floor was invisible, she's kept it simple this year. There's a few lights hanging along the staircase railing and some tinsel outlining the doors. It's the perfect home for a mother with two young kids.

And there's a few Winter Mournings on display—one on the wall like it's a decorative piece, another on the back door. She hadn't thought it would be wise to leave them when they seemed to put in place for her to find. The last thing she wanted to do was insult any of the Patrons.

[family_remains]

Sam very wisely decides not to shit all over the concept of Christmas and hurt his chances with Wanda, so he presses his lips into a thin smile and shrugs boyishly.

If a cryptid crawled down his chimney (what motel has chimneys?) he'd greet with with two rounds of rocksalt in the face. So he probably isn't the best person to ask about holiday cheer.

Sam also highly doubts that Dorothea cares much about Winter Mournings if at all.

But does it really matter? No.

"I like what you've done with the place. Dean would have approved."

Past tense.

"Decorations were always more his thing."

[explosion]

Wanda leads him through the long hallway to the kitchen. Her house is bright—bright as it was in Westview when the world was filled with colour. She imagines this is what her kitchen had looked like in that very special premiere episode of WandaVision.

Her brows furrow, but she keeps smiling. Sam's choice of words feels very intentional. She has to wonder if Dean's upset him again. Older brothers have a tendency to do that, even if it wasn't their initial intention.

"Aren't they now?" She glances at him from over her shoulder, brow cocked and smile in place.

She doesn't stop walking towards her kitchen and to her set of cupboards. Standing on the tips of her toes, she grabs two glasses and flicks her fingers to open the back doors and windows for the breeze to filter in.

"Make yourself at home." She frowns in amusement. "That's what people say when they have someone over, isn't it?"

[family_remains]

[Oh Wanda. The picture perfect housewife in your picture perfect home. Sam can't help but feel a little out of place, it's almost like being on a move set. Everything in it's proper home. Dusted and curated.

He follows and sets down the wine, supposing it doesn't matter if she has a corkscrew or not and a little in awe of her powers so on display.

He supposes also that there isn't such a stigma where she's from. Or maybe Sam is just used to dealing with particularly nasty witches.]

Yeah, I think so. I never really had one.

[And, on the subject of his brother,]

I'm not sure about Dean. He's dead. I'll have to ask him when he comes back.

[explosion]

[ sam, you can't just say shit like that.

wanda frowns deeply and regards him incredulously for a moment. dead brother. the nonchalance. the one thing that's surreal to her is the fact that he'll be back. despite being in deerington before, she still hasn't quite wrapped her head around the concept of dying and returning. death is final. it's easier to think that when she has wished for resurrection since she was eleven years old. ]

Sam—

[ she's a little lost for words. she doesn't quite know how to comfort him—this is the part she buries deep down so not even she can feel it—but she figures he's here for a reason. maybe for a distraction. maybe to think about something that isn't dean. ]

Are you okay? You should've told me. I would've...

[ brought him back? like that worked so well the last time she tried to resurrect someone from the dead. ]

[family_remains]

[If only he cared. There's no great sadness hanging over Sam's shoulders like a shroud. No wailing storm of agony in his heart. Where there should be a thousand clashing emotions there lies only a void of nothing.

He doesn't feel anything. At all.

Not by choice but he isn't thinking about it too deeply.]

No, it's fine. [He waves off her concern like she's suggested he forgot to mention he doesn't eat something she's prepared for dinner.]

I've had time to adjust.

winter mourning (a)

[zoomzoomzip]

[ while there's no denying that this town has its treacherous shadows ( and inexplicable instances of being teleported into dank and dangerous situations ), the atmosphere at wanda's house is nothing short of homey. perhaps it's wanda's presence that truly makes it so comforting, but he returns there gladly at the end of each day ( if he's not out and about, throughout the night, in which case, he simply returns in the morning ).

christmas had barely been an afterthought at the base, and he can't remember the last time they had a place to really call home. a place to be safe, and to be able to afford to celebrate. to let down their guard, enough to celebrate.

there are things that wanda does not tell him, things that he has not yet gathered the courage to pry into. the contentment is too addictive, in this white picket fence house, with his sister and only the worries of the towns unsettling nature to dwell on. but there's no denying that she's changed, that she is different. so different that it makes him feel different.

when he touches the winter mourning he's surprised to find himself in a lush forest, looking at the synthezoid he remembers clearly as if it had only been a few months ago ( which, for him, it had ). what he does not remember, however, is the familiarity and love in vision's eyes when he looks at wanda, nor wanda's fragile resolve as she looks down at him.

the synthezoid loves her, and yet wanda destroys him -- they have not broached the subject of what has happened yet, and seeing the proof of just one moment sends a chill down pietro's spine. makes his heart crack painfully at the sound of her profound grief and sorrow. with nothing to the contrary, he'd been able to believe that whatever had happened, it had been okay. tolerable.

what he is seeing is intolerable. and so there is no way to ignore it any longer. the memory doesn't last long, and he finds himself back in the foyer, tears gathered but refusing to fall.

she'd been in so much pain. ]

Wanda!

[explosion]

[ when pietro calls, wanda doesn't run through the house as she normally would. out in the garden, she furrows her brows, feels her heart restrict, and she's materialising in the foyer with an easy click of her hands. her forearms are raised, arms bent at the elbows. her eyes widen as she quickly glances around the foyer and determines that he is safe.

pietro is safe. that's all that matters to her.

but he looks and feels so despondent. wanda takes a step forward towards him and strips her hands of her dirty gardening gloves, pocketing them in the back of her pants. one falls to the ground, but she pays it no mind. it's not important; what's important—and always has been—is pietro.

standing in front of him, she tentatively reaches out to touch his bicep. ]

What's wrong?

[ she won't pry into his mind, no matter how tempting it is. instead, she looks him over, perhaps subconsciously, trying to peek for any gaping bullet wounds that have reopened without her permission. ]

[zoomzoomzip]

[ wanda arrives not with a patter of feet, but within an instant, materializing so quickly that even he cannot see her. empty space one moment, and wanda there the next. something she had never done, yet another sign that he's been willfully ignoring. now he can ignore it no longer.

intently, he peers into her face, trying to see if it's still there. that pain, that sorrow. the sadness that wrenched at his heart so deeply it rattled his bones.

his heart sinks when he realizes that it is still there. not as apparently or raw, but lingering, like the shadow of a ghost. so much pain, and here he's been, taking bliss in decided ignorance. it's devastating.

his fingers slip around hers with a desperate grip, shaking his head helplessly at her question. there is so much wrong. so much he has avoided uncovering. guilt at it burdens him, his gaze melancholic. the question forms quickly, as his other hand reaches out to cup her face, thumb caressing her cheek. she doesn't need to pry, he will always tell her, ]

I saw you in a forest. Another war. You were killing the Vision - Wanda... how long has it been?

[ he's not completely oblivious. she is older, stronger, different. there are only stories that he remembers. some in this place come from different times, but the only stories they share are ones that he remembers. ]

[explosion]

[ in westview, this is the moment where she would rewind him by just a fraction of a second. the scene would play out differently with her director's note and a quick revision of the script. vision had been easy to manipulate in westview; she thinks it had been partly due to his origins, him being an integral piece of herself. she knows she could easily do it to pietro: retweak his character, his lines, and his story arc to properly fit with the season unfolding...

but she has waited so long to have him back. there had been moments where she had lost hope, believing herself to truly be lost without a home and a heart. but westview had shown her that he was close. the trench has proven that he is here, that he is somewhere within her orbit to tug him back into the same atmosphere she's in.

looking down at his hand, hers is slack in his. wanda watches herself move and grip his hand. she wants to run away, to smile brightly and tell him it's only been a few minutes since she last saw him—taking his question literally is easier than taking it for what it truly means—but she doesn't want to insult him. it's been a long, long time. she'll figure out a way to have the distance between them not be a burden for him.

she doesn't look up.

quietly, with her sokovian accent thick and her american one gone: ] It's a very long story, Pietro.

[ even when she wishes to lift her gaze, she doesn't. she looks at his fingers and likes not seeing blood stain them. ]

Let's not have it here.

[zoomzoomzip]

[ she's been avoiding this moment just as much as he has - perhaps even more. no, he's certain that it's been more. patiently he waits, his heart sinking the longer it takes, like the weight of her grief and her pain will grow proportionally with time. perhaps it has. he's been an happily ignorant dolt, what does he know?

the fight has gone out of her now that the only danger is of their own manifestation.

it's not quite relief to hear those words, but a bit of tension is released, his shoulders falling downwards, and curling protectively towards her.

tell us a bedtime story! -- it feels as though they've never been further from those children they used to be. pietro no longer wishes for the life they may have had, but he does cherish those memories. how simple things were. ]

Then it's fortunate we have so much time. [ he says it gently, slows his movements as he reaches down to lift her into his arms.

he will take her wherever she wants. finally, he will finally be there for her. ]

[explosion]

[ pietro isn't flinching. deep down, she knows that's not what pietro would do. pietro is accepting and he is kind, and he has a whole deep well of patience for her. but she remembers how vision had looked at her, at how vision would flinch and flicker out of the scene, and she expects pietro to. but the rewind doesn't come, nor does the rewrite.

wrapping her arms around his neck, wanda feels comfortable for the first time in a long time. she peers up at him and gives him a small smile. it's impossible to look away from him; wanda doesn't want to. ]

Will you take me to the garden?

[ she loves the backyard, all the plants blooming. it almost makes her feel normal to be out there. and it's bigger and less claustrophobic than the house. ]

[zoomzoomzip]

[ it is always a reassurance, to have her in his arms like this. to have her arms wrap around his neck, sturdy and solid. like this he has the ability to protect her, to ensure that no danger can come to them. physically, at least.

the smile settles his flopping heart, the distress of what's to come. what she will tell him, he will have no ability to fix or affect. there is no going back in time, even when one possessed the speed he did. ]

Yes, [ he answers, and in the same breath they are in the backyard, surrounded by the trees, plants, winter flowers. out in the open air, though there is a chill to the air, she is warm in his arms and he hesitates to let her down. she may want to go somewhere specific, he justifies; but really he doesn't want to set her down yet, wants to hold onto her a little longer. ]

[explosion]

[ she smiles when she feels that familiar rush of wind and energy. it's been too long. when tommy had zipped by her in westview, wanda had been overcome with elation and grief. his speed felt slightly different, but it had still made her heart flutter and hope bubble warmly in her chest.

she places her feet down on the ground, but she takes pietro's hands in hers. replacing the chill in the air with something slightly warm, she gently tugs on his hands to encourage him to sit. being outside feels freeing. being out where it's green and lively is so different to what pietro had seen last in sokovia. ]

I don't know how to start—or even where. [ she gives him a small smile and squeezes his hands. ] I don't want to hurt you or make you sad.

[ selfishly, wanda likes pietro happy as he has been here. ]