driftfleet | "My mind's like a deadly disease..."

Who: Wanda Maximoff
Broadcast: Fleetwide
Action: Starstruck
When: Now

Broadcast - Text

[Wanda's presence, both in the Fleet's comms and aboard its vessels, has dwindled, slowly but surely, over the course of the past month. There was period of time, around the beginning of the month, when she couldn't be found or reached at all--save for by Misty, Vision and Pietro. More perceptive fleet members might recall that her disappearance occurred around the time that rumors of a dragon and its rider terrorizing Solrius were circulating about. However, she did pop back up a little while later, seemingly as though nothing was wrong. However, those that know her well may have picked up the subtle tells that there was something she was not saying. Something that she was trying to bury. And so, she became more and more scarce around the Fleet. At least, until now...]

What do you think happens after death?

[The message is short and simple. Anyone familiar with the festivities of the month of October, perhaps this is simply her way of trying to get into the spirit of things?]

Starstruck - Action

[Friends and shipmates of Wanda's, if they want to go looking for her, will find her either holed up in her bunkroom aboard the Starstruck, or in a corner of the ship's kitchen or shuttle bay at times she thinks no one would typically wander in. By the look on her face, it is clear something is troubling her.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[A pause before the next question, as Wanda knows this one might be hardest to answer.]

Do you remember pain? Before or after?

Before. It was quick, but not quick enough. What about you?

You guessed?

[She supposes it would be rather obvious for someone else who'd gone through it, too.]

People don't tend to ask questions like this and make the conversation private if they haven't gone through it.

I suppose it was rather obvious... I just wanted answers. I hoped I wouldn't need to explain why. Perhaps that was too foolish of me.

[A pause. She knows she hasn't yet answered his question. A second message follows.]

Yes, I remember the pain. Very well.

You don't have to tell me what happened if you don't want to. I know how intensely personal it is, and how hard it is to deal with coming back. You're braver than me, asking about it. I never did.

It wasn't pretty. Though, I suppose death never is.

I don't feel brave.

[It had really been the opposite that had brought her to this point. Fear. Fear of what she'd experienced, and fear of what it means for her going forward.]

Not the ways we died, I suppose, no. And I still think you are. I don't think people feel brave when they're being brave. You're usually scared shitless in my experience. But you do it anyways.

I only wanted answers. But I think now, I asked the wrong question.

[She still isn't chalking it up to bravery.]

What do you think the question should be now?

[A pause. The words typed out slowly.]

Should I still be alive?

Should. Should not. It doesn't matter now. You ARE. Don't spend the rest of your life looking back. You have to move forward, otherwise you might as well be dead anyways. Don't waste this second chance.

["Otherwise you might as well be dead anyways." Those words... how true, how poignant. She feels she has only one last question.]

Am I monster?

No. And screw anyone who tells you that.

[Kirk obviously can't tell from his side of the communicator screen, but a few drops of water have fallen on Wanda's.]

Thank you.

You can talk to me anytime, okay? My name's Jim Kirk, on the Tourist.

Wanda Maximoff. Starstruck.

[A short pause before a following message.]

Thank you, Jim Kirk.

[It seemed important to her that the sentiment be repeated. And personalized.]

Anytime, Wanda. And I mean that.

"My mind's like a deadly disease..."

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