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

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

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. ]

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Although she wishes to press—it seems like the thing someone should do, even if Wanda knows that's not what everyone needs—she follows his lead. Sips from her wine glass contemplatively as she mulls over his question. It's almost second nature to wonder if she should tell the truth or lie, even though she knows exactly what she'll give him. The truth. Sam doesn't deserve a lie.

"I've been... okay."

It's strange; it feels truthful for once.

Debating for only a second whether or not she expands on that, she chooses to. She doesn't wish to come across as tone-deaf, but perhaps Sam will glean that she understands more than she'd like what it's like to be the younger sibling left behind.

Holding her wine glass between both hands, she swirls it gently with her palms. She peers down at it like it's a Pensieve. "My brother is here. He's been dead for around ten years," she says. It like she's reciting from a textbook. But the corners of her lips curve upward; she feels happy, hopeful. "I keep waiting for it to be a dream, but... it's very much real."

"No, that's amazing," Sam answers, perking up a little bit. He understands all too well, and while he literally couldn't give a rat's ass right now, he's invested in Wanda.

"I feel like you've mentioned him before... what was his name? Is he here?"

"Pietro," she smiles. It's impossible not to. Pietro, despite seemingly tugging at her heart over the last handful of years, will always be something warm to her. She's grateful and a little bewildered that he's here.

"He's not at the house. I sent him away. Sometimes he can act like a child that's crawling up the walls," she says fondly and with a wide smile. She's missed his boundless energy, the way he ruins her arrangements of flowers and how she's lined her knickknacks on cupboards and tables. "He has a lot of energy so I gave him a few impossible tasks to complete for me."

Knowing Pietro, he'll complete them. He'd break the Multiverse to do so.

A laugh.

"I know the ones. Find me a rock both perfectly round and perfectly flat. My dad used to do that to me. Joke's on him,"

A sip.

"I did. But you figure we'll be alone tonight?"

"Most likely. Sometimes Pietro is like the bird that gets distracted by shiny things."

And she'd hope that he'd enjoy the city, even if she wasn't by his side. Wanda's trying to learn that she doesn't need to be with him twenty-four seven. Pietro's a big boy. If he gets shot again, she'll resurrect him and murder him herself.

"You can stay as long as you like."

Good, darling cockblock is out of the picture for now. Sam can work with this.

"Well.. I don't want to intrude. I just. You make me feel safe. Is that stupid?"

That's the last thing Wanda would ever describe herself as. It takes her aback, although she does her best to hide it behind her wine glass.

It's nice. More than nice.

"No."

She doesn't want to make him feel silly for such a confession. She knows what it means to be in a safe space. How rare it can be to feel that way.

"You make me feel safe, too. And it's not just because you're so tall."

She can be so funny sometimes.

She can. And he laughs softly, shifting his chair a little closer so he can rest his arm and glass on the table. shifting ever closer into Wanda's space.

"It's a weird thing.. always being the one who saves people but never feeling safe, yourself. We're the same, you and me."

She chuckles softly, cocking her brow in interest. "Are we?"

Wanda's a little jealous of the differences she's been able to note. Sam's put together and he's never alone. Having people in Deerington and in the Trench from home is something she thinks is a blessing, even if it's as much of a curse. But she can see some of their similarities. She thinks he escapes into fictional worlds just as much as she does.

The only thing Sam Winchester has put together is an incredible facade to deflect from the dumpster fire behind it. Watch out, Wanda, his powers of denial might rival even your own. Throw some magic into the mix and he might be a real contender.

He is a paleblood, after all. It would be a pity if someone taught him how to really use those abilities.

"I think so," but he shrugs a little. It comes off as boyish. Maybe slightly bashful, realizing it's a bold statement to make to someone so powerful.

"For better or worse. I dunno. I just feel like there's this... connection. Maybe I'm wrong."

Maybe he's just upset and wants comfort. How the turns have tabled. He's the one alone, now. Oh woe, poor him, wah wah.

Even though the loss of Dean has to be ripe, Wanda knows that Sam is like an onion. There's more to him than meets the eye. The type of life he's lived is one she thinks she'd easily slip into for all the destruction and darkness. Trying to live in a world that has slips of it has to be hard. Wanda knows how lonely it can be to try and remain strong in the face of everything.

She could pry, but she doesn't. Wanda doesn't want to control anyone anymore. She doesn't want to slip in and try and make things better with a tweak or two, despite how tempting it may be.

"I'm always here for you, Sam. I won't judge you for anything you feel. You've never done that to me."

And it's a kindness Wanda still struggles to accept.

"No, I never will." Soft. Tender. Like he gives a shit.

Sam should be beside himself right now, but his heartbeat and emotions are as steady as his hands, which sit perfectly as they're meant.

If she were to pry, just a second, just a hair of a second, there would be nothing to find. Just darkness. A void shooed this way and that by basic principles but no complex, human web of emotion. No soul.

He takes another sip. It's not bad, this stuff. Wine for Women. Deep and complex with beautiful results. Red like the blood of every woman he's known and lost. Huh. Maybe there's something to that.

"I like you, Wanda," Sam says and briefly bites his bottom lip.

"I don't like most people.. can't stand them actually, but I like you."

Sometimes she wishes the people in Trench would follow the lead of those in Westview and Lagos and hate her. It's easier. Having people be terrified of her is a lot easier than the latter. Wanda had been terrified of herself for a very long time until recently. It's comfortable.

But so is being accepted and seen.

"Because they're not as funny as me?"

She's as hilarious as Ant-Man is blue. It's nice to be liked and it's nice to be liked by Sam. She does wish he would talk about himself, but she's happier to follow his lead if this is a distraction he needs from the loss of Dean.

"It's okay. No one is as funny as me."

A snort.

"You're about as funny as I am, and that's not saying very much, but I like it," he teases. He can be downright hilarious, but don't ask Dean. He doesn't appreciate Sam's frankly professional level of humor.

"But I have to call you out for it. Takes a bullshitter to know when a bullshitter is deflecting."

She smiles, shaking her head incredulously. "I'm not deflecting."

If anyone's deflecting, well... it's the one with the broad shoulders and the nice smile. She's glad that he's feeling so heavy from a loss that he can't move. It's promising, at least. Dean will be back. And if he isn't, Trench will learn what the scorn of the Scarlet Witch feels like.

"I think you are deflecting, but as you're a guest in my house, I thought I wouldn't tell you I know." She scrunches up her face in a tease.

He laughs again, not expecting but loving the cut of Wanda's wit, and tosses back the rest of his glass before pressing his first two fingers into the table like they're walking - soon to be joined by the fingers of his other hand in the same position.

"So this is us, in an I'm Okay stand off. And it's going to go around and around and around in circles. If we're going to be dancing there's a better one we could distract ourselves with."

He's funny. She can't help herself: she laughs.

"Sam..." Wanda tilts her head to the side and gives him a rather pointed look. But despite that pointed look, she's smiling in amusement. "I doubt you could actually dance."

And just to prove it, she points her finger at the makeshift legs his fingers make, sending a thin twine of red to wrap around a pair of feet and make his hand slip against the table. "See?"

Weird flex but ok. It's charming, though. Exciting. He wonders if she could do that with her clothes. Just.. tear them off like nothing.

He wonders what would be more fun, that or him ripping them off in a very visceral way.

The latter, he decides.

Sam leaves his fingers where they are, lassoed into submission.

"Well that's okay. I dance better laying down," he suggests, eyes bright.

It's been a long, long time since Wanda's been flirted with by a man. A real man, one with flesh and bone and who isn't hiding a hard Synthezoid body and wires beneath the facade. She's used to Vision's fumbling and bumbling and the red blush only she can see on his already red cheeks.

It's never been a secret that Sam's confident and handsome (she has eyes). She doesn't want to blush, but she knows that she is.

There's been something dark and endless inside of Sam for a while now, but Wanda's done her best to remain steady and there, available to be his friend when he needs it so that he can somehow resurface and be whole again. She remembers feeling that emptiness for so long. She can't quite recall when she's filled it. But she thinks him doing so this way may only end in him hating himself, just like she did in Westview.

She doesn't try and read his mind—doesn't want to broach that—but she doesn't think that's what Sam needs. His brother's gone.

"Sam," she says gently. "I don't think that's what you really want right now."

... oh.

Sam's face drops.

It's going to be like that, huh.

Damn it, Dean. Even Dead you're blocking his cock, for fuck's sake. You just can't let him have any fun.

He takes a breath and lets it out through his nose. Just like that the moment is gone. He thought it was going pretty well this time, too. Maybe this is what he gets for trying to sleep with people he knows. Mental note to stick to the bunny girls at Earworm.

"I really do."

Leaning back, Sam thumbs his nose dismissively and frees his fingers from Wanda's little rope trick.

"But. Dead brother and you're being polite. It's fine. I can respect that."

She thinks under different circumstances, her answer would be very different. But something is off about Sam in a way that leaves her unsettled. Being intimate with him doesn't seem like a solution. It shouldn't be a solution. It should be something more than that.

Wanda narrows her eyes slightly, tilting her head to the side as she regards him curiously. "Why do you want to sleep with me?" She can't help but cock her brow. "To feel something?"

All she can feel from him is nothing. And she doesn't want to be someone that he uses to try and fill that void. She thinks she respects him and herself a lot more than that.

"No," and the answer is honest.

He wets his lips.

"I don't care about that. I want to sleep with you because I think it would be fun, and I'd like to suffocate myself between your thighs while you scream my name."

Well, at least he's a giver.

Wanda shakes her head. She doesn't think the man sitting before her is Sam, not truly. It's him in pieces like he's been through the shredder and come out with all the good parts missing. She doesn't like how she feels nothing come from him.

"And I like being eaten out by men who don't feel like a void is inside of them."

With her eyes narrowed, they flash red as she looks him over. He looks like him, but appearances have been so utterly deceiving. What she knows of Sam feels like it's missing. There's no warmth.

"What's happened to you?"

"Oh God, not this again," he groans, though it's more to himself. He looks away, dropping the pretense of sadness but missing the change in her eyes. The display of power as she looks into him.

Wanda will find what Castiel found.

Nothing.

Absolutely nothing.

No fear, no weariness, no human condition. Sam hasn't slept since he arrived in Trench, the memories are there. He barely eats, he doesn't need it. He's fought and hunted and fought some more, facing monsters he's never seen before without fear. He's killed innocent people who got in the way. He doesn't feel it. He doesn't feel anything. No cold or heat or disappointment.

Not a numbness to protect himself, but a numbness born of having nothing to protect at all.

Yet here he is acting like everything is fine. Flirting and claiming space in Wanda's safety. Trying to get her into bed for fun when just that day he retrieved his brother's body from the end of Anakin Skywalker's saber. The corpse still not dealt with, abandoned to answer Wanda's invitation.

The man simply, and very literally, has no soul.

"I told you, I'm fine."

This feeling of emptiness is so close to what she's felt of death. Pietro had been empty and clammy, but Sam is merely... It's like what's inside of him that makes him Sam has been Blipped from his body. She doesn't remember what it had been like to be snapped by Thanos, but she knows she had vacated the world as if she had never been there in the first place.

It's eery and she doesn't like it. It's like he's barely present at all. She understands burying denial and grief into the very depths of one's very soul, but she doesn't understand this. It's like he's succumbed to a wave and has allowed himself to sink to the very depths of a dark ocean.

Her brows furrow as she regards him, her eyes still burning red.

"Your brother is dead and you're here trying to get into my pants." It doesn't track with what she thinks of Sam. He's emotional. He's someone who burns with it. "Something inside of you is gone."

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

i know you are 😔

The audacity of you, quit my sight

😭😭😭😭😭😭

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