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unhexed.livejournal.com) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
tampered2008-11-19 06:08 pm
with some free association, and a hole in her head [complete?]
Rating; PG
Characters; Wanda Maximoff (
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hexless) and Remy LeBeau (bangyoudead)Summary; Wanda lands in the City, disoriented, and finds a face that should be more familiar than it actually is.
Log;
It's a simple household task, running out to the shed once per season to switch in the old necessities for the new. Late in the evening like this, she doesn't bother putting on a jacket over her long red dress, doesn't worry herself with switching on the lights out back because this is Wanda's home, and she knows it so well she doesn't need the light. She never seems to wander off the path accidentally like other people might do. Maybe it's just luck.
Except--
Her luck takes a strange and unsettling turn when she steps out of the shed again, arms emptied of the kindling she was bringing out back. That's good, because if they were still in hand she would certainly drop them all over the ground, the ground that looks totally different to what it was two minutes ago. A tiny ticking part in the back of her mind is indignant, thinking things like this don't happen to me of all people, but she dismisses it in favor of quiet, initial wariness. This has happened, after all. She must try to keep herself together. A thousand plausible but unlikely answers flit through her mind: maybe she had an episode of some kind and missed chunks of time (she's never done so before, but one never knows when that might develop), maybe it's an elaborate practical joke (but who would perpetuate that sort of thing against her?), maybe it's...
"Oh, my," Wanda breathes, stepping forward and tilting her head back to look around with wide eyes.
Someone slightly more battle-scarred and jaded wouldn't take the time to be openly amazed at their surroundings, and in truth they'll disorient and disconcert her more than anything else in a few moments, but for now she's just staring, lower lip briefly caught between her teeth.
This is no rural mountain village. Give the girl a second to acclimate.
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It's not terribly uncommon, but he still stops and raises his eyebrows. Red dress, curly hair - nice ass. Very nice ass, actually, so much that even if she's busted when she turns around this can't be that bad of an idea-
"Bonjor cheri, got yourself pretty well an' lost, no?"
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She turns, startled in a subdued, careful kind of way at the sound of a man's voice. The accent isn't one she knows, but she's going to guess American by most of it. Maybe French-Canadian or something. Wanda looks at Remy for a second, one hand flat over her rapidly-beating heart as if she can slow its pace by will alone (and maybe she can), and nods a little.
"Oh, yes, I'm sorry," she says, earnestly, "I don't think I--well, I don't exactly know how I got here, but I definitely, definitely took a wrong turn somewhere."
Her expression, though not unfriendly, is tinged with a little bit of concern. This has never happened to her before, and she knows the village too well for something to have simply escaped her notice. She's also got the blankness of unfamiliarity. He's a stranger with a cigarette, that's all--and eyes like she's never seen before, but in this day and age people know better than to gape at the unusual, so it doesn't bother her...except when they abruptly find themselves transported to unfamiliar locations, of course.
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He tags a drag as she speaks; red-on-black eyes study her and process this information in a handful of seconds. He can't tell how old she is (you never can, with some people). There's no flicker of recognition from her - and the Avengers, no matter what lineup, would know the X-Men - no, in fact, she's staring at him like he's a bit odd.
"Everybody takes a wrong turn here," he says with a languid shrug, gesturing with one hand at the buildings around them. "Nobody quite knows how we all end up here, but we do."
Remy drops his cigarette and crushes it out under his shoe. Suddenly he needs one desperately, which means he shouldn't be smoking.
"Welcome to de City, belle."
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Wanda tips her head back to glance around again, processing this information, and then looks back at Remy. She isn't sure what to make of this explanation, because to her, a woman raised with Jesus hanging on the cross and a Bible in the bookshelf (she believes), it sounds sort of like the afterlife. But she'd know if she were dead, and this is not the fate that would await her if she were, she believes most ardently.
"Is it--" She struggles for a word, clearly unacquainted with this kind of situation. "Magic? Something like that? ...how long have you been here?"
She takes a half-step nearer. He doesn't look bothered by the situation, his or hers, and that reassures her minutely, inclined to be trusting as she is.
(Then again--some people are just gifted with an unassailable cool that she lacks.)
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Oh, man. He really wants a cigarette. But the slight nagging friction keeps him sharper - and he's going to need to be awake for a few minutes here to asses this situation. Is she just very young? This this a doppleganger? No, he thinks, her voice even sounds the same. Remy is very good with remembering people.
"Kind of a pain, really," he continues with a shrug. "Maybe I should be more concerned, but panic ain't gon' make a difference so I don't bother." Also, I've been to different dimensions before, and this one is ultimately kind of benign... "What's your name?"
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Her eyes narrow. Another Avenger would know the expression (she was always tactically talented, to make up for the lack of physical strength), one of calculating the odds, but right now it's on a purely human level. Besides, either she'll wake up from a truly bizarre dream, or this is really happening to her and has happened to God only knows how many other people before. It's not as if she thinks her world is perfectly normal, so maybe she's better prepared to accept this than some.
"You're right, about the panic. I'm not going to bother with it, myself, I've just decided." She smiles a little, bracing herself and resettling her nerves. Wanda can cope with this. It's not too much stress. "Ah, I should have said before--it's Wanda Maximoff. And you are?"
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"Wanda Maximoff," he repeats, "S'very beautiful name. Enchanté, Wanda. I'm Remy LeBeau." He extends his hand, smiling, all charm and harmless grace. It can't hurt to try and put her at ease, so he makes sure to maintain eye contact. "You know, Wanda, you remind me of someone. My girl back home, who didn't get stuck in this place wit me - she got green eyes like that. You could do a man in with that stare, cheri."
He chuckles, smooth and a bit humble. "Qu'est-ce que je dis? Ah, I'm goin' on an' you're still reelin', no? Why don't we go sit down at a cafe. I'll get you some coffee, maybe you feel a bit better."
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He is smooth, and she knows it, but she also recognizes that he presumably doesn't want her to freak out, and that's something she files away mentally. It's really quite conscientious of him, if she's correct. Wanda shakes his hand, with a smile that's too broad to be called demure. She feels a little better, though she's not exactly sure what's changed between the last moment and this one. Maybe it doesn't matter.
"That's kind of you to say--all of it. It's nice to meet you, Remy." She's more than amenable to the idea of a cafe. Standing here is starting to make her head spin for reasons of curiosity, not shock. From another point of view, maybe it'll be easier to sort through. "Sure, that sounds good. What's her name? Your girl's, that is."
Another one of those little things Wanda likes to file away. Girlfriends' names and favorite foods and other miscellaneous tiny details that, to her, seem as important as religious and political affiliation.
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Hell, he'll even take Bishop, at this point. So he smiles and offers her his arm as they go, happy she's relaxed. The don't worry, I've got a girlfriend line tends to put women at ease around him if he comes on a little strong (and he knows he does, but what can he say? he's a man of passion, fire, and bio-kinetic metabolism).
"Rogue," he says, "her name is Rogue. Funny name, ah? She got my heart all de same."
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Much of her will certainly seem familiar--if specific world events come up that correspond to her time period, she'd know about them in the sense that she does, in fact, watch the news sometimes, despite her refusal to read newspapers until years afterward. Wanda takes his arm and lets herself be led, since she doesn't know this place at all. That more than anything annoys her--she's used to being familiar with her surroundings.
At least that can be fixed, since apparently she's not going anywhere too soon.
"It's unique," she says, firmly, because no matter what you do to this particular Maximoff she's still going say 'unique' as a compliment every time. "I'm sorry, this might be a silly question, but where are you from? I've never heard an accent like yours before, and I don't get out much, so I'm a little provincial about these things. I'm guessing American?"
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"Yep. New Orleans Louisiana. I'm what we call Cajun. Mos' people don't actually recognize my accent even in America. Ain't many of us about. Keep asking if I'm from France, an' you know how French people feel about that sort of thing, no?" He grins. "I gon' guess you from Europe - eastern central, maybe?"
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"And now I can consider myself educated," she fairly beams. "You're the second American I've met lately, although he was visiting my home, looking for someone, poor man--that's Transia, yes. I live in a village at the bottom of the mountains."
Wanda knows the States are huge, with all kinds of people living there, so she doesn't commit the silly rube error of earnestly asking if maybe Remy knows him (although it occurs to her, so possibly she's deserving of the title anyway). It's very unlikely, and she's pretty sure Clint was from nowhere near Louisiana.
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"You always live there?" he asks as they shuffle into a little cafe and to a table. "Your English is better than mine."
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Wanda situates herself at her chosen chair, nodding as she does so. Her penchant for long skirts and dresses does necessitate paying a bit more attention to her clothing than jeans might require, but she's so used to it at this point it's done routinely.
"Thank you! I like yours, though, it's more colloquial." She rests her hands on the table top, but is mindful of her elbows for now. That might not last. "I've never even been anywhere else. But now I'm here, and that's got to count for something, in regards to travel, doesn't it?"
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"It sure does, fille," he agrees, smoothing along over that point with her. "People from everywhere show up here, like I said. You want somethin' to eat?"
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The question seems to surprise her for some reason, like maybe her thoughts drifted elsewhere. This place, for example, is full of things that could derail her for hours--she's a very cerebral person, which doesn't surprise anyone, and the simple quality of her existence these days gives her plenty of time and mental space to get absorbed in any given subject that strikes her fancy.
Mostly she's just half-fascinated, half-unnerved by the City. "Oh--no, thank you. It was actually not long after dinner that I ended up...well, here. Coffee would be nice, though, please?"
Caffeine probably won't do her nerves any favors, but it will help keep her alert.
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"You gon' have a bit to adjust to, here. Fortunately mos' people are friendly. Lotso places to stay - you just go pick someplace out an' it's yours. Easy that way. Kinda lonely, kinda distant. But everybody's in de same boat."
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She's attentive and thoughtful, considering the description. Friendly, distant, lonely--and apparently terribly casual with housing. Wanda always thought places without rules about that sort of thing would end up too chaotic to survive, but maybe she was wrong.
"So it's very cosmopolitan, in that way," she notes, "Small towns aren't quite like that. I'll do my best to adapt, although honestly at this point I think that's easier said than done, since I don't know what all is required yet. What have you ended up doing, since you've been here?"
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"Well," she says, with a sidelong, contemplative look his way, "Not to take a rhetorical question too far, but I think it's possible. Most people would just avoid thinking about it as much as they could. From what I've observed back home--not personal experience."
Since she's never gone anywhere, she's never really had the occasion to worry about it. The vagueness of his answer doesn't escape her, but she accepts it's not really her place to pry, as a newcomer. "Is it dangerous here?"
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"Sometimes, sometimes." He shrugs. "De things that control this place, they put us through some shit. Pardon. Locals call 'em curses. Every few days, somethin' crazy happens."
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"You're right, of course." But she suspects as much regarding the green-eyed girl with the unique name, and that was a roundabout way of noting it without directly calling him out--it wouldn't be fair to do that, especially with as nice as he's been. Wanda glances up when the coffee comes, and makes sure they've got cream and sugar (not substitute, she hates that stuff) to mix in.
She half-smiles, looking back at Remy when he sort of apologizes for his language without skipping a beat.
"To everyone? That must be exhausting after a while. High stress situations are good once in a while, but so often..." Wanda trails off, a touch more serious than she was a few seconds ago. "Bad for one's mental health, isn't it? People must get tired."
That is so guilelessly poised, that question.
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"Oh, yeah." Slightly deflated at that. "It's rough. But I try to keep positive. Lots'o kids here from home. Tryin' to keep a good outlook for 'em. They don' wanna see de adults upset."
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"Hmm." She's contemplative for a second, during which she takes advantage of the lapse to lift her coffee and blow gently on the surface to cool it off. It's not too terribly hot, she thinks, so she sets it back down again.
"That's good of you! I can't believe this place takes kids." Wanda tilts her head to one side, smile broadening hopefully. "Do you think I could help with that, Remy? Since I--guess I'm going to be here a little while. And it would be better to stay distracted."
She takes to this stuff weirdly well. It never occurs to her to question why that is.
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