Seeing Scarlet (Closed)

Participants: Wanda Maximoff and Anna Marie LeBeau
Open/Closed: Closed
Location(s): Wanda Maximoff's apartment, NYC
Time of Day: Morning
Weather: Partially cloudy
Summary: After being commissioned by Jean Grey to help in an unseen threat in Atlantis with the world's welfare in the balance, the X-Man Rogue is driven to seek the help of someone unexpected.

The apartment lay still and empty as the sun slowly climbed up over the rim of the sky. Shafts of golden light fattened by the minute, falling through the tall, mullioned windows of the Gothic-styled, ancient apartment penthouse. In the kitchen, a coffee maker on the counter chirped with the turn of the hour and hummed to life. Steam snaked out of its lid and, with a gurgle and sputter, it began dripping a fresh batch of coffee into the waiting pot below.

Ordinarily around this time, the woman who lived there would make an appearance, lured by the smell of it, draped in her shawl and rubbing sleep from her eyes. In some ways, that morning was very close to the norm; in others very different. The air in the kitchen wavered, turned crimson and split wide, like the yawn of the witch who stepped from nothingness into somethingness.

Wanda Maximoff waved a dismissive hand over her shoulder, using her other to cover her open mouth. The portal collapsed neatly in on itself and the woman sagged to the side to lean for a moment on the kitchen island. The business of being a witch, Wanda was afraid to admit, did not have an altogether enviable work schedule. Wanda reached up and unclasped the brooch of the chain that fastened her cloak to her shoulders. The fabric drooped to the floor, where she was happy to leave it just now.

Her mind was bent on the only thing that had given her strength, after the night she'd had, to knit together a portal back to her home: and that thing had just finished brewing on its burner. The Scarlet Witch fumbled for a mug and, supported heavily on the counter, cracked another yawn while she filled it generously to the brim with coffee. Wanda reached for the cup, shuddering in anticipation as the warmth pierced her fingers, when a sound of wind chimes danced through the air.

The witch paused, listening to the cadence of the tune: an unexpected visitor, but one that Wanda knew and that was welcome in her home. At least enough to not trigger the girdle of protective enchantments that she'd stitched into the seams of reality around it. Wanda's inquisitive look had just full formed when a shadow passed over the windows followed shortly by the sound of someone landing on her balcony.

Wanda quickly grabbed another cup and filled it. There was knocking coming from the french doors to the terrace now and Wanda quickened her pace, carrying both mugs with her. The sun was at the back of the visitor, and Wanda squinted against it, not able to make out their identity based on their silhouette. When she drew near, the doors swept open on their own and Wanda came to a stop, now able to see the white-bordered, emerald outfit of her caller.

"Rogue..." Wanda said, not able to hide her surprise. Not able to make that surprise sound more glad, rather than wary, either. She looked down at her laden hands and belatedly held out the cup that was less full. "Coffee?" she asked, not quite knowing what else to say.

As she descended through the thin, listless layer of cloud that stretched across the New York City skyline, she shrugged the leather jacket she wore higher about her shoulders, the extra layer offering warmth against the early morning's chill. Clad in the emerald and white-edged attire she'd taken to some years before, the brown overcoat was from an era long past – a relic dating back to her early days standing with the mutants of the Xavier Institute. While rarely worn on active duty, Rogue still donned the jacket occasionally, especially when taking to the air, flying at loftier altitudes where temperatures were significantly cooler.

Raising gloved hands to the brim of her hood, she adjusted it slightly, stopping a strong breeze from whipping her hair about her face, whilst also keeping the slowly rising sun's rays out of her eyes. Her vision unobscured, she looked about herself, before green eyes settled on her destination: a red brick low-rise – at least in comparison to most of New York's buildings - with vines creeping about arched windows, inkeeping with much of the architecture found in and around Greenwich Village. Starting toward it, she targeted one of the building's upper balconies for her landing, for the large apartment it jutted from was home to the individual she had travelled from Central Park to visit: Wanda Maximoff.

The pair were not exactly close friends. Once, their relationship could most easily have been described as a negative one, mired in mistrust and altercation. Things had most certainly improved, and Anna Marie felt much closer to the Scarlet Witch than she ever thought possible. However, that still didn't mean they were close: they worked well together and supported each other's decision-making when acting on the same roster – they rarely went for coffee and a catch up though, let alone anything more sociable.

This visit was no different. Tasked by Jean Grey to approach the Avengers for aid, Rogue had only chosen Maximoff for her magical expertise – something the X-Men's leader felt they would need. Touching down on the balcony's paved surface, Rogue reached up and removed her hood, shaking her hair free from the thick fabric. Then, she moved toward the french doors that led from the terrace within, and knocked firmly – three sharp raps.

A few moments passed before the double doors were drawn open, seemingly of their own accord, and from beyond, clad in robes of scarlet and black, came Wanda, baring two cups of steaming coffee. She greeted the mutant with a muted 'Rogue', then awkwardly offered her one of the drinks.
“Wanda,” she responded, offering a brief smile before reaching out to clasp the proffered beverage. “Ah most certainly wouldn't turn one down.” It wasn't quite iced tea, but it would suffice.

Wanda Maximoff

The smile was tight and hinted at an unfortunate purpose, but at least it existed. Rogue wasn't summoning her for some world-ending disaster or conflict; there hadn't been the death of a mutual friend or ally. In the lives that the two women lead, each was far more likely and commonplace than a heart could bear. Wanda returned it in a reassuring one of her own, beginning to recover from the surprise of seeing the X-Man.

Rogue took the cup and Wanda moved out onto the balcony, leaving the doors open. New York City sprawled away from the pair, and for a place that had a reputation for never sleeping, it was going through the metamorphosis of the night crowd passing the baton over to the day one.

The Scarlet Witch stopped at the railing, taking a sip of her coffee, holding the cup between both hands. Without looking at Rogue, she said, wanting to spare them awkward pleasantries, "While it's lovely to see you, the weight in your eyes makes me think this isn't a social call." Wanda's hazel eyes closed, taking in the warmth bleeding into her hands and beginning to bloom on her face as the sun slanted its rays onto the balcony.

Anna Marie LeBeau

Upon receiving the coffee, Rogue raised it to her lips and sipped it, letting Wanda walk past her to look out over the city at their back: a dawn-bathed New York, soaking in the early sun’s rays as night became day. For a long moment, the two women stood in silence, a mild air of unease between them; not because of past tensions or disagreements, but due to the knowledge that Anna Marie’s visit wasn’t a sociable one. Her arrival, from Wanda’s perspective, was likely to herald something negative, and in their line of work, negative was an impossibly vast spectrum.

"While it's lovely to see you, the weight in your eyes makes me think this isn't a social call."

The Scarlet Witch broke their strained silence first, pushing Rogue to explain the point of her visit, wasting little time with small talk. In some situations, the Anna Marie may have responded with some witty retort, poking fun at Wanda and her abruptness, and though a few came to mind, it wasn’t the time or place. Mutant-kind, and indeed mankind, needed the chaos witch, and the sooner she was on-side, willing to help them, the sooner the surface world would be safe from the terrors of the deep.

Sniffing a little, the mutant turned toward Wanda and sidled up to join her, taking a swig from her cup a second time, smacking her lips a little as it scorched her mouth. “Straight to the point…ah appreciate that.” Standing at her former teammate’s side, she gazed out at the horizon, focused on nothing in particular. “Jean sent me…we need your help, Wanda.” She let her words sink in for a moment before continuing.

“We got a problem. A kinda sizable one.”

And once she’d begun explaining said – telling Wanda of Namor’s plans for invading the surface world, and Jean’s theories upon what might be driving him toward such action – she didn’t let stop, even to let Wanda interject, until every detail she could remember had been spoken. She finished by shrugging half-heartedly, looking at the Witch sidelong, in a manner that was almost apologetic.

“Sorry for gettin’ you involved in all this…ah just figured, when Jean wanted me to get the Avengers in on it…you seemed like the person most suited for it…an’ maybe the one ah could trust the most.”

Wanda Maximoff