Catching Up

Characters: Wanda Maximoff Jean Grey
Rated: PG
Summary: Jean and Wanda meet to discuss her return
OOC Date: January 22nd, 2018 (IC: December 27th, 2017)
IC Date: December 27th, 2017
Where: Hunter Mountain - Upstate New York

A day after the X-Men's resident wind-rider brought word of Jean Grey's resurrection and approximate whereabouts to members of the team, Jean Grey reached out to the only other person in Westchester with something approaching concrete proof of, at least, the former:

"Wanda?" she quietly hazards after dialing the Witch's phone from a 917 number. "Look, I know I should've done this ages ago, and I'm sorry, but— can we maybe meet somewhere? Anywhere, other than the mansion. Or the other place. Or, ideally, anywhere too densely populated, but. Anywhere else you want."

Wanda blinks at the call, then says softly, "Jean… anywhere you need." She considers, thinking for a moment before saying, "How about that small upstate town where we had the skiing holiday, right after I joined?" It doesn't take a telepath to hear the worry in Wanda's voice as she talks to Jean.

For better or worse, it doesn't take a telepath to catch the anxious, guilty energy in Jean's, either.

Green eyes close, numbers are run, and in short order, a time is set.

A brief spell spent waiting and an afterhours flight later, she's touching down near the indicated town's outskirts. Rippling red hair and matching scarf settle into place after a beat, leaving the former only slightly mussed. A black coat, matching slacks, and black cap round out the rest of her attire as she waits for - or approaches, depending on her timing - her fellow mutant.

Wanda was already there, as the thing about being able to teleport makes traveling a breeze. She's wearing much the same outfit she wore that first day, a grey sweater and long black skirt with matching leggings for warmth beneath. A crimson scarf adorns her neck, matching the small knit hat she has on to help cover her ears a bit from the winter chill. When she sees Jean, she can't help but smile and move towards her, looking to engulf her in a massive hug. At least she's not shouting out Jean's name, though!

The redhead's shoulders loosen upon landing and a broad, close-mouthed flashes Wanda's way once she's spotted. A black gloved hand shoots up as Jean takes brisk steps towards the other woman, only to wind up draped over a shoulder when Wanda and her breath-stealing bearhug beat her to the punch.

"I'm sorry I didn't call sooner," she hastens to murmur as her arms shift to wrap around Wanda in turn, "and that I ran away and put you in a shitty position, I just— everything's been so strange…"

A shuddering breath flees her lungs and she squeezes as if she's just fled hungry wolves for the safety of a formerly terroristic tree.

"It's so good to see you again," she then adds. "Thank you for coming."

Wanda smiles, "Of course I came. It's you… I mean, if it weren't for you, I might still be Magneto's lackey." She makes a bit of a face at that, releasing the hug, though she places her hands on Jean's, squeezing them with her fingers. "Sounds like you have quite a story to tell." Her lips curve into a slight smile, as she seems perfectly willing to listen.

"I followed someone home after that robbery," Jean quietly replies as her fingers close around Wanda's and her eyes don't quite make it back to the other mutant's. "I'd been staying on people's couches, using my powers to keep them from noticing me. But I made a mistake with the last guy, and he called - actual, altruistic human being's name ahead, here - a 'Sorceress Supreme' because he thought he was haunted. She offered me a place to stay in Greenwich Village, because I guess she doesn't really use it? So I've been there since then, just— " Another, heavier breath is pushed out as she forces her gaze upwards. "— I dunno, trying to sort things out. I— called Ororo not that long afterwards because I thought— well—"

Her hands slide free so that her arms can fold tightly across her chest. Dry lips work silently a time or two and green eyes instinctively fall.

"— there was a psych clinic in Queens," she softly picks up, eventually. "'Was'. When I first woke up, it was on fire, because I'd…" Her eyes flick Wandawards for just a moment. "… and I knew she'd understand what it was like to lose control. And I didn't know what to say to you, exactly— how to even proceed in, just, a general life sense, as long as there was a chance of tracking some kind of trouble back to the rest of you."

After a beat, she appends, "Clearly, I kinda still don't."

Wanda Maximoff smiles slightly, "Wait, the Sorceress Supreme? Sofia Strange?" She gives Jean a sly look, "I know you don't believe in fate, but… that's my girlfriend's daughter." Squeezing Jean's hands in hers, she sighs at the description of what happened at the clinic, looking at Jean with concern as she says, simply, "I know what it's like to not be in control."

That said, she then continues, "You actually prompted us to look deeper into these clinics. It does look like there might be something… wrong, with those places. Perhaps that's something you picked up, and your subconscious mind decided to do something about it?" She tilts her head, looking at Jean with concern… not necessarily for those other clinics, so much as it is for Jean.

"Your what's what?" Jean blurts with arching eyebrows. The woman she met wasn't all that far off in age from she and Wanda, but whatever questions this might raise remain seated firmly in her incredulous tone and expression for now. Indeed, the incredulity's gone without a trace by the time Wanda's moved on to positing hypotheses.

"Maybe," she offers with a small nod. "I could feel some kind of… scarring, astrally, in the region. But - moral issues aside for a second - I could've never— my powers don't— didn't work like that, with that level of granularity: burning down a whole building? With my brain? Never; and yet…" Shaking her head, she finally refocuses upon Wanda, then murmurs, "It doesn't feel— it's very strange, is all. I'm torn between wanting to know more and wanting to've never known about any of this to begin with, which is kinda, sorta life-affirming, in its way."

The last bit is accompanied by a renewed, if tight smile. It lingers through a lengthy sigh, after which she decides to attempt a sharp, if convenient segue: "Speaking of strange things… I mean, you know this person who's definitely not a supervillain?"

Wanda blushes a bit at that, "Yeah, well, when you're dating a nigh-immortal sorceress…" She grins sheepishly at Jean, and quickly switches tracks as well to talk about, "It might be something… I mean, I'm no scientist, but if you used telekinesis at like, the molecular level, or even lower… maybe it's possible for your powers to do that? I mean, if we're talking about your subconscious self taking action independently, it might use your powers to their full extent." She hrms, and looks at Jean, "I think we definitely need to know more, though. If only so we know what's happening to you."

She gives Jean's hand another squeeze, and tilts her head at the segue, "Oh?" Her lips curl into a wry smile, waiting for more from Jean about that.

"Right, that's what's happening," Jean quietly says of the molecular explanation. Her right hand slips free to linger before her and green eyes drift between it and Wanda as she continues to theorize.

Her eyes begin to fall once Wanda finishes. A deep, measured breath is drawn; she wonders, "Well, you're apparently dating her mom, so— I mean, have you not met her, yet?" before exhaling, allowing warm air to billow forth as flames begin growing into existence around her extended digits. "She seemed busy," the redhead continues as air and smoke mingle in the space above psychokinetic fire dances, "so I wouldn't exactly be shocked…"

Her eyes return to Wanda after a lengthy break as fingers slowly writhe, sending flames rolling harmlessly across more of her skin. "It's not, like, second-nature or anything, yet, but… like I said: it's, uh, weird. But maybe Freshly Returned, Lizard Brain me, just… just made it work, instinctively. I don't really…"

A bit of vigorous shaking extinguishes the flames as she briskly shrugs. "I made arrangements to see Hank, and he's already suggesting I get a second opinion from Reed Richards, so we'll see… something, hopefully." With that said, she pushes a fresh smile on and retakes Wanda's hands. The right is still a little warm.

"How did you manage to meet a nigh-immortal sorceress, exactly?" she wonders with an arching brow and a gentle squeeze.

Wanda smiles a bit, "I met Sofia once, at a party she was hosting with her boyfriend, I think it was. Clea made sure to introduce us." She chuckles, "Jean, I'm a witch… I'd think it more strange if I didn't meet immortal sorceresses from time to time, though Clea is very special. And would be, even if she wasn't."

She squeezes Jean's hand in hers, "And yes, we'll get to the bottom of this, Jean. You're an X-Man, one of the first ones, and we look after our own. Besides, even if you weren't my best friend, I owe you." Because Wanda is pretty serious about paying debts, and thus, she draws Jean along, "Come on, I think the coffeehouse we hung out at is open now. I bet they still have those butterscotch mochas…" She winks, intending to draw Jean into a mundane escape from the deluge of subconscious personalities with godlike powers and immortal sorceress girlfriends.

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