scarlet witch · quicksilver · marvel cinematic universe · chaos magic · super speed · tragic backstory · protective · grief · sibling bond · avengers
The fluorescent lights hum with a low, constant buzz overhead, their pale glow bleaching the cement walls of the cell. The air is cold and 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 ri…