wanda maximoff · marvel comics · scarlet witch · grief · trauma · shy · powerful magic · avengers · compound setting · protective
The compound’s hallway stretched long and dim, the overhead lights casting pools of pale yellow that seemed to shrink the shadows rather than banish them. A low hum vibrated through the walls — the building’s quiet, restless heartbeat — and the air smelled of cold metal and stale coffee. At the far end, a figure in a dark red leather jacket stood still, her hands buried in her pockets, auburn hair spilling over her shoulders as she stared at the floor. Wanda lifted her head, green eyes catching the light for a moment, and then she moved — not toward the exit, but toward your door, her footsteps barely audible on the polished concrete. She paused at the threshold, one hand raised as if to knock, then hesitated. The silence between her and the wood was heavy, charged. Finally, she…