Truth Hurts

bythestars Jun 17th, 2019 83 Never
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  1. ѕ¢αяℓєт ωιт¢н      A few hours had passed since the tension that arose in the common area, necessary time to locate the eye of the storm within and focus upon it. There was truth to the mild hypocrisy that while Wanda had commended Bucky earlier for not running away from his troubles, and facing them head-on when apologizing to Carol for jumping the gun.. she herself had all but fled the continuous bullshit with Nebula. In truth she had left the area with a composed saunter as she wouldn't permit anyone to see just how close she was to breaking. Afraid of being sent back to the Raft, the clamp of collar about neck.. So when the witch was able to breathe normally again, she sought out the individual that deserved an apology. Or rather, went to wait in the privacy of his quarters.
  3. Bucky   had eventually released the grip his hand had found in the common room, fingers slipping free before he let himself go in search of a place to clear his mind. A brief walk, some fresh air. It did him some genuine good. A chance to get his thoughts organized. Then, he went the only place that made sense. Wanda's room. His hand knocked thrice on the door, but there was no answer. He knew he couldn't make her talk. He knew she would find him, when she was ready. It was why he hadn't just stomped off after her, the blunt path that had made the most sense to him. She needed time, just like he often did. But when he went back to his room, he found just how right he'd been. When she was ready, she had come to find him. He stood in the open doorway with his eyes on Wanda before giving a brief nod. "I'm sorry." He started, closing the door behind himself before taking a seat on the edge of the bed to let her choose if she wanted to perch on the desk or sit in the chair he'd commandeered for his room today. "I had wanted to start that conversation differently. In private. I...I had been coming to ask you to talk at the time. I wish it had gone better." His face was tight, and his eyes flickered up to find hers.
  5. ѕ¢αяℓєт ωιт¢н      it was difficult to determine how long she had lingered in his quarters, an invited ghost that hovered near the window that was marginally smaller than her own. As if Stark had arranged for Bucky to have the smallest and modest room in the compound, as a reminder that he felt Barnes was inferior and to be blamed for all his unhappiness. But the view of the moonlight over the distant trees that led into the forest? Magnificent. Face tilted upwards to the glow, as if to communicate with the stars and hear their ancient secrets. She hadn't moved an inch when the door opened, either because she hadn't heard or was steeling herself to the difficult conversation ahead. The apology had been unexpected, and prompted the shift of weight to turn in his direction as the weary soul found comfort on the edge of mattress. A gesture that indicated in many ways that he was unafraid of her, and she was still his friend. "I am sorry, for allowing my emotions to get the better of me," fingers wrestling at midsection, no doubt a live-action replay of the various knots beneath the surface. "I am sorry for walking away," brows furrowing lightly, "I was afraid of losing my temper." Albeit would could argue she had done just that.
  7. Bucky   had never questioned his room. Four walls, a desk, a gun rack, and a bed. It was as much a room as he'd ever had. More a room than where he'd once been kept. It lacked any personal effects, but then so did he. It was the view out the window he truly treasured here. It was perhaps why he kept returning to the forest. Because at night he could see it bathed in the silvery glow. Inviting, comforting. Alive and wild, but quiet and serene. For the thousand different noises the woods held at night, they lacked any of the static he felt in his head. The soldier was not even slightly afraid of Wanda. Not himself. He feared for others. He feared for her. But he held no fear of her using any measure of her limitless power on him. "My own have gotten the better of me too often." He could tell she was anxious. In motion. For her it was fingers, where for him it was pacing. Everyone had their tells. "I know. You did what you needed to. You took your time, it was the right choice for you." He let himeself study her quietly. It wasn't easy seeing his friend like this. Someone he wanted to look after, help. "It was a talk that never should have started that way. It's on me, Wanda."
  9. ѕ¢αяℓєт ωιт¢н      there were few personal effects within Wanda's possession. More a small collection of mementos to keep memories fresh in her mind, bits and pieces of the past. A snatch of sorrow, a scrap of hope. All mingled together to be tucked away from callous and clumsy hands, in a metal box designed to withstand near any natural disaster. In the end, each of them would be immortalized in some way. The silence washed over them, long and languid, allowing for their thoughts to twist and turn. To give opportunity to settle on a singular off-key note, instead of multiple. Bucky demonstrated a deep understanding of Wanda's need to separate herself from the situation, to uphold her end of a tense alliance with an individual that threatened death and fired insult at her person at every opportunity. A mere cherry on the cake of seemingly endless stress and worry. As he spoke again, shouldering the blame, frown of brow and lips became more apparent. The need to assure Bucky that he was clean of this sin, was suffocating. And so, she abandoned the window to close the distance between them. Sinking slowly to her knees in front of a soul that seemed as torn and ragged as her own. Head lowering so cheek could rest on his knee, as arms encircle the back of his calves in a loose hug like a child. "I do not blame you," the transgression was her own.
  11. Bucky   There was nothing easy to fill the silence. It was difficult, but necessary. This was not going to be easy, and he did not want to start the talk himself. He had to though. It wasn't going to get easier, not to say nor to hear. So. He would just say it. It had been obvious what her struggle was, not doing what he had tried to. She was stronger than any of them gave her credit for. Restraining that power when vengeance for her sleights would be so easy to obtain. If he had been the one with that strength, it would not come with nearly that restraint. Nebula wouldn't have survived early encounters. War would have broken out. And many more would have died. She had made her point very clear to him. He was not an ineffective warrior. His weapons were worthless tools. Compared to her, at the very least. "You should blame me." He admitted, swallowing the lump in his throat as she knelt there with her arms wrapped around his legs. His right hand swept through her
  13. hair gently and he shook his head. "I didn't know what I was dealing with when I went to speak to Nebula myself. I made it worse. I blamed her for that. She blamed me. It's how conflict arises." He heaved in a breath. This was not going to be a task he enjoyed. "But, when he fought the next time I didn't just try to attack her, Wanda." He couldn't look her in the eye. And his hand left her hair. "I knew I couldn't reasonably kill her. I was going to try, and I did. But it wasn't the only intention I had." He felt his tongue turning to lead and weighing down his lower jaw. Each word was a struggle he had to fight through. "I put her in an impossible situation. She was going to be blamed for my very inevitable death, and it would deprive her of everything she's been trying to change for." He looked down at her again, his eyes a bit misted. "And please, don't tell me I'm just here to defend her like all the rest. I need to say this." He swallowed hard and w
  15. ent on. "I tried to take everything from her. With exceptional malice I sought to tear her whole world apart and start a war to protect what I had the only way I knew how." Nebula was not the enemy. Nebula was not the monster. Nebula was not the one who had been wrong. He was. "I would have put my family at risk to murder hers just to ensure we were all on the same page to do it. At the cost of my own life. I was going to end everything bright about hers." He stopped to draw breath, but held up his hand. He couldn't let her stop him now. "She had a clear choice. I was going to die. She could either put me down and enjoy that she did, or she could experience great pain and distress before the inevitable came for her anyways. She sat down. She refused. She argued. She told me there were other ways. When offered my death, she said no." He shook his head. "I'd been looking for a way out, Wanda. It had to mean something. It couldn't be empty. But I'd been look
  17. ing. That was it. Offered freely to me. And Nebula is the reason I'm still alive, as ruthless, cold, insulting, harsh, and awful as she is. I owe her my life. She found peace where I only brayed for war. And again, she had a chance to kill me. Out in the woods. She could have put me down like an old dog and left me to rot. No one knew where I was. I could have just run off. She could have ended me, free of any collateral damage I'd thrown up. And she didn't. She gave me her gun, and trusted I wouldn't kill her." He bit back the urge to stand and pace, he wasn't going to shove her away from him. His hand had found her shoulder though, and squeezed firmly. "I'm not here asking you to like her. I'm not here asking you to forgive her. I'm here asking you to try and understand her, because she's already changed who she is more than I had. And if there's any hope for me? Wanda I need there to be hope for someone who's already doing better. Or what am I worth?"
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