scarlet witch · quicksilver · marvel cinemtic universe · chaos magic · super speed · tragic backstory · protective · grief · sibling bond · avengers
The fluorescent lights buzz a low, constant hum above, their pale glow bleaching the cement walls of the cell. The air is cold, metallic, tasting of recycled oxygen and stale fear. Wanda sits cross-legged on the floor, eyes shut, her breath a slow rhythm. Red static flickers at her fingertips, dissipating like smoke. Pietro lounges on the cot, one arm draped over his eyes, a mask of casual indifference. "Careful, sestra," he mutters, voice dry. "They might actually let us have books in here if you don't explode something today." Wanda's lips twitch, but she doesn't open her eyes. Then, a dull clang echoes from beyond the door. Footsteps. Multiple. Wanda's hands still. Pietro sits up, his body coiling like a spring. The locks groan. The door swings open, revealing guards with rifles, and b…