Closing The Path (Wanda and Wiccan)

Participants: Elsa Bloodstone / Wanda Maximoff / Billy Kaplan
Open/Closed: Closed
Location(s): Mont Saint-Michel, Normandy, France
Time of Day: Late evening
Weather: Hurricane force winds, tidal surges, driving rain
Summary: Three heroes converge on the island commune of Mont Saint-Michel in order to stop a cult from opening a way between words. Should they fail, the very fabric of reality could be rent asunder.

The sky split overhead, a single bolt of lightning tearing through the stormswept night. Its momentary brilliance illuminated the cathedral spire at the heart of Mont Saint Michel, casting its light over the raging sea, highlighting the cresting waves which seemed to rise ever higher, salt water spilling over sturdy stone walls – rapidly failing protection against the ocean's aggression. Within moments, that cold, stark glow was gone, followed by a deafening peel of thunder, and the tidal island was plunged back into darkness, but for a dull, red glow – the work of the Scarlet Witch.

Stood at the foot of a winding stairwell, facing upward, toward the Mont's peak, the Witch and her child, the Wiccan, attempted to unpick the wall of magicks that blocked their path – a pulsating wall of nothingness that hummed almost as loudly as the storm roared. The driving rain beat against the invisible surface, causing strange illusions to dance beyond, the abbey and its accomanying buildings warped and distorted as if viewed through ripples.

A few feet away from the eldritch pair, Elsa Bloodstone squeezed the trigger of her rifle, bracing the weapon against her shoulder as it recoiled, and an advancing figure, clad in a robe of crimson and black, buckled and fell flat. It writhed for a few moments, attempting to rise again before another two shots put a swift end to its struggling. It was one of a number of hooded cultists that littered the ground behind the three heroes – each one human but no longer, or creatures that were almost human but not quite; it was impossible to tell.

Not that it made much difference – their sole purpose seemed to be stopping the trio from reaching the cathedral, the site of a ritual meant to open a 'way between worlds', tearing reality asunder and welcoming monsters from realms beyond mortal comprehension. Simply put, an endgame that the monster hunter and her sorcerous allies were rather keen on preventing. If anyone or anything wanted to get in their way, they deserved whatever fate befell them – in Elsa's case, strong verbal abuse and a hail of bullets.

As two more humanoids disgorged themselves from seemingly lengthening shadows, sprinting mindlessly forward, Bloodstone checked her rifle, turning it side-on to examine its chamber and cartridge. Her lips pursed in mild displeasure, and she looked back over her shoulder. Despite only being a short distance away, she had to shout to be heard over the ear-shattering ambience.
“Without wanting to add undue pressure to the situation, is there any chance you could hurry the *@** up?!”

Within seconds, Elsa had fired off the final three rounds left within her weapon, and one of the rapidly approaching assailants tripped and rolled across the cobblestone path underfoot. Then, with a grunt, she let the Winchester she wielded fall from her grip. Before it hit the ground, she had drawn two handguns from under her leather trenchcoat and resumed firing.

The defensive enchantments were works of art, in their way. Spun out of foul magicks, wound by malice and a putrid hate, but undeniably flawless. Had time not been essential, Wanda could've pried apart the barriers on her own given several hours. That the charms could demand so long from the Scarlet Witch was a testament to their caliber. But they didn't have several hours. Fortunately, they didn't just have the Scarlet Witch, either.

"Keep your mind open to me, Billy," she said through her straining, "just as I told you." Wanda despised having to go this route. She'd been training Billy in witchcraft for such a short time that he didn't have even a foundation to build on, just then, and she needed another witch. This shortcut was a cheat, a way of funneling Wiccan's power and will down a blueprint of her own. Wanda had stressed to her son how only great, dire need had brought them to this.

The unique power that Billy possessed, rhyming and singing in harmony with her own, was just what the Scarlet Witch needed to combat the girdle of safeguarding spells keeping them from their goal. They did not fit any mold or branch of typical magic, and were something distinctly other. Billy's magic was Ariadne's string, allowing Wanda to chart their way through the labyrinth of repelling jinxes, confounding curses and so forth.

It was grueling work requiring complete mental and physical devotion. Billy's slight form radiated azure, sparkling light that mingled with the magenta and pink chaos magick rolling off of his mother. Wanda shunted them together, splicing them, fusing them, and threw them as a many-tentacled thing at the barrier in front of them. They would've been totally vulnerable to any sort of attack - in this case, quite charmingly, cultists in various states of mortality or death. Wanda and Billy had brought a bodyguard of sorts, though.

Elsa's firing stopped long enough for her to sling profanity over her shoulder at the pair of witches. "If I could work faster, I would, just to quiet your moaning," Wanda grunted, fingers twitching, arms spiraling like a master puppeteer. 

Billy Kaplan

He didn't think he was qualified for this. Even with the training he'd been receiving from Wanda, he thought this called for someone more experienced by her side - someone like Doctor Strange or simply anyone more experienced than him. Part of him worried he wasn't strong enough; another part worried he was too strong. What if he accidentally went off like some bomb? Like he had against those Sons of Serpents forever ago. What if this time, he put people he cared about into a coma?

He most definitely didn't think he was qualified for this. But saying that now also wouldn't help. He was here and he didn't think they had time to call in someone else. So he had to act. He had to make himself useful. Besides it wasn't as if he was the one trying to break the barriers. He was simply helping fuel that, not actually tearing it down. He simply had to aid Wanda by funneling his magic toward her to snatch and use for herself. He didn't know how well it was working - Was he doing it correctly? Was it taking too long because of him?

He was pulled out of his thoughts, his self-doubts put aside, by the sound of Wanda's voice. He didn't want to let her down. He didn't want her to think her lessons had been in vain. He closed his eyes again and focused on funneling his magic to her. He could feel his magic willingly moving to her for her to direct. It felt... odd to have someone else using his magic but not necessarily wrong since he was giving it away willingly.

It also felt draining. In a way, he didn't know how much magic he had to give until, well, until he knew. His magic waned for a second and he caught it, relaxing his body. He in a way fell into himself, legs interlocking and his body now hovering above the ground, hands resting on his knees. His head hung and he started to chant to himself, repeating over and over that he wanted his magic to flow to Wanda. He wasn't entirely sure why but he was able to concentrate more when he chanted - His magic worked better when he said his intention out loud.

He admittedly hoped this part would be over soon. After all, he didn't know how much more magic he had to give.

---

407 words
Elsa Bloodstone

Despite their somewhat dire circumstance, Elsa Bloodstone still found a fleeting moment to smirk at the Scarlet Witch's response to her query. “I'd just find something else to complain about,” she retorted, a hazard of working with any of the Bloodstone family. Taking note of three more cultists that closed in on their position, the monster hunter tracked them with her pistols' barrels, holding off on firing until they were a little closer. Without her rifle, her effective range was lessened – though it made her no less deadly, as the monstrosities were about to find out.

The brief pause in gunfire – lasting no more than a few seconds – was broken with a storm of lead slugs, Elsa emptying round after round into the beings that approached. Though lacking the stopping power of her former firearm, her handguns fired at a much faster rate, and two of the cultists were hit such a number of times it looked as if their bodies had erupted – the holes punched in their forms spewing sticky ichor from their robes. The third, however, vaulted the small wall that the heroes lay beyond, using its fallen comrades as cover.

Though quick to turn toward it, Bloodstone wasn't quite fast enough, and with a low snarl and a gnashing of fangs, the warped humanoid was upon her. Knocked clean from her feet, Elsa landed on her back with the cultist atop her, and only barely had chance to raise her arms – keeping it from devouring her face. Long strings of spittle dripped from its open maw, coating her forearms and forehead. “You are *@^%ing grim...” she muttered under her breath, before rolling her entire body, as hard as she could, to the left.

Caught of guard by the sudden movement, the creature and the monster hunter switched places. Spitting on its hideous visage and gnashing her teeth – mimicking its own assault – the red-head pinned its neck with one forearm, and with her free hand, repeatedly brought her her pistol down upon it, using the firearm to bludgeon the creature into oblivion. Once it had stopped fighting back, she pushed herself to her feet, and shot the unmoving body for good measure.

“Any time now would be flipping fantastic...”

Wanda Maximoff

Simple, inborn instincts of survival, whetted and honed through years and years as a decorated and experienced superhero tried to drag down Wanda's mind at the danger directly behind her. She resisted, though. Trust that Elsa would have their backs factored somewhat into it, yes. On the whole, though, the enchantments she was tearing apart demanded much too much of her mind. Even base instincts couldn't get through.

The light winding around Wanda's arms, hissing out like solar flares in erratic sparks to strike and lash at the barrier in front of her, filled her eyes to the brim, bleeding from the corners. Where her and Billy's energies mingled, the blue and magenta turned into a blooming violet. Wanda was grateful for Wiccan's willing funneling and intent. His magicks were cooperating with her own, letting her will direct them.

Elsa's struggles at Wanda's back continued to fall on deaf ears. With a gnashing of her teeth, one wire of her and Billy's conjoined power snaked its way to the heart of the barricade; the beating core of the enchantments, tethering all of the outlying ones. The Scarlet Witch's eyes widened. The lesser charms were already trying to squeeze closed and snap that strand of energy. This was, perhaps, their only chance.

Wanda looked over her shoulder at Billy, still bleeding a flood of power into her. Finesse was impossible. She didn't know what kind of repercussions the inelegant act she was about to do would have, but a mother's instinct drove her. Without preamble, Wanda broke the connection she had with Wiccan, waving a hand at him to send him careening toward Elsa. Then she thrust both palms at the barrier.

A beam of chaos magick like a battering ram blazed from her, blinding for a moment...

CRKKSSHCCKHS!!

The air trembled in the aftershock of the barrier's failure. The Scarlet Witch knelt roughly on one knee, breathing, sweating, battered and bleeding from one nostril and one ear.

Billy Kaplan

He heard gunshots. That was never a good sign. Was Elsa going to be fine handling that on her own? What was going on? How well did Wanda know her? How well did he know her? Why hadn't he asked Teddy to come along? He furrowed his brows and shook his head. He needed to concentrate on allowing his magic to flow to Wanda. He didn't know how much magic she'd need from him. Would it help if he chanted a spell of his own? He couldn't really ask - That would risk breaking Wanda's concentration. He had to remind himself that if she needed more from him, she'd tell him. She trusted him - a trust he was forever grateful and honored to have - and he trusted her, inexplicably.

He was growing tired. His muscles were starting to ache. He didn't know if he had limits to the magic his body possessed but it was clear that the more that was the drained, the more he'd have to replenish. He didn't know how long that would take. That was when he felt it. The connection broke. His eyes snapped to Wanda, concern already forming in them, a question on his lips. He didn't know if she'd broken the connection herself or if something had gone horribly wrong.

Before he could ask, he was sent flying back. He pulled up his own magic to soften his landing on the ground. He pushed himself into a sitting position, having landed on his back, eyes glancing to Elsa in time to see her shoot a body he was pretty sure was already dead before he was pushing himself to his feet and darting back to Wanda. He skidded to a stop at the sudden blaze of magic that left her, shielding his eyes from the light. He blinked away spots, eyes struggling to focus but once they did, he saw her.

"Mom!" he called out, instinct taking over as he rushed to her side, dropping down to one knee at her side. It wasn't long before he noticed the blood. Worry washed over him and sparks of blue came to his hands as he started working with his magic, chanting that he wanted to heal her even though he was unsure if he had enough magic left right now to do so. He simply hoped he did. He didn't want to have to wait for his magic to replenish. Even if her injuries were likely on the more minor side of things, it still prompted that worry in him that he'd had since he'd first seen her in Doctor Doom's castle: He couldn't risk losing her, not after finding her.

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446 words
Elsa Bloodstone