4195/The Uncertainty Principle

The Uncertainty Principle
Date of Scene:	03 April 2018
Location:	Unknown
Synopsis:	Not quite a Knight in shining armour, Nolan comes to Wanda's rescue after she's committed to Bellvue psych ward.
Cast of Characters:	Scarlet Witch, Deadwatch

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Scarlet Witch has posed:
They'd found her wandering near Central Park, one foot bare, the other still clad in a shoe. Her skirt had ripped at some point, and her shirt was hanging askew from one shoulder, buttoned in a mismatched fashion so that there was a tail of two buttonless holes dangling at the bottom. Passers by had reported that she was talking to herself and brandishing the shoe like a weapon. When police came, they'd figured the heel wasn't deep enough to be considered a threat, but after considering the woman, her otherwise clean hair and body, and clothes that didn't scream homeless, they'd put her in the back of the cruiser and taken her to Bellvue for observation. Wanda, all the while claiming it was wrong. That they "weren't supposed to be here. To leave her alone before she killed them all" then whispering to herself small admonishments of things like "no, no, no no no.. we are not the darkness".

Bellvue admissions had taken one look at her, listened to five minutes of her garbled mutterings to herself, checked a few boxes on a data file, and admitted her to the observation ward.

"Listen honey," the nurse behind the desk had told the fresh faced policeman who was worried about Wanda, "Someone will miss her. We'll get her back on whatever meds she forgot to take and she'll be right as rain. Nothing a few days here won't clear up. You did the right thing."

Deadwatch has posed:
A few days ago Nolan Voight woke up with the weight of The Dark weighing slightly less on his shoulders and the weight of something, someone, warm pressed against his back. For the first time in as long as he could remember someone clung to /him/, both in need /and/ protectively, muting the voices of the the dead and the unliving.

Of course, that warmth slid from that small bed, quietly, just as the sinlight was creaping through the edges of the blackout curtains. He tried to stir but found hisbody unable to wake, like his mind.. And she left, only the echo of her scent on the pillow next to him and a note telling him she would contact him soon, but needed to think..To find her balance.

Which he understood, as he too was off balance, though for different reasons.

But a few days pass and he had heard nothing from her.. Not a word. He didn't even really know how to contact her since she had never left him a phone number and magical communication has requirements.. And he felt off. he couldn't put his finger on it.. Like some sort of resonance, subtle and faint, was out of whack.. Something not unlike the imblance he had percieved in her.. Was there something happening that went beyond just her having a crisis of identity. Was there some force at work here, causing this aberrant feeling, this worry for her?

Driven half to distraction he went against his promise to himself to not have his friends watch over her..

"Find her, please. Find Her for me... Ask everyone... Please.. I will pay the price.." He askes the silence around him.. Which answered him. Gossamer shades materializing for moments, each one nodding as they passed him to exit his sanctum and start their search.. passing word to other shades.. lost souls.. abstract spirits.. low demons.. unseen entities that hide from the eyes of man.. spreading their net outwards in search for Nolan.

Scarlet Witch has posed:
Wanda had left that morning, trying to reclaim a sense of self. Nolan had made her feel more grounded and centered than she had been feeling for days - but it wasn't a tenable thing. She could still *feel* the wrong. It was there at the edges pressing at her, threatening to get in. And as long as she was with him, she wouldn't be able to find what it was that she needed to fix. Beyond the obvious, of course.

When he'd said that she needed to learn to embrace her whole self, he had not been wrong. Wanda just didn't know how to do it.

And the further she'd moved from his side, the stranger she'd felt. Like she'd become a shadow in reality. And more than a shadow, a reflection of herself. Reflections, even, each pressing down on her scrabbling with hollow mouths and empty eyes and so many words trying to get in. To be the dominant. To be Wanda.

She remembered the brushing of fingers along her body and face - fingers she could not see, only feel, and turning this way and that, helpless..

After that, everything was a blur. A blur, that is until she woke in the grey. Darkness at the periphery of her vision, a perfect circle of difuse light panning over her, sitting crosslegged, knee to knee to knee with herself. All bent so that their foreheads touched.

"I want to go home," they all voiced in unison, different flavours of desperation colouring the words - and a singuler voice from the dark uttering, "Oh, but you're already there."

Wanda.

Deadwatch has posed:
Three days.. Four days.. They all blur together and Nolan is becoming more frantic. Surely she is just trying to find herself.. Needing her space. Surely there is nothing truly amiss happening.. He barely /knows/ her, after all. he's just blowing things out of proportion.

But he doesn't /believe/ that.

He knows something is wrong. He can feel it, deep down. It's not an artifact of his power. It's not a whispering in The Dark. It's something more personal.. A gut feeling. The longer time passes, the more he is SURE of it. Oh why didn't he press her? Why didn't he ask her to explain what was going on with her?

He picks up a bottle of cheap bourbon, angrily twisting off the cap and is about to swill down a good slug.. He is hurting, his damaged nerves aflame. He hasn't fulfilled his prescription yet, too busy trying to track her down.. With no words from his coterie of ghosts, from his spectral network, he turned to magick instead.. Using every spell he knows.. Going as far as to use a single strand of long hair her found on the pillow she used.. A violation of her mystical privacy, perhaps, but...

None of it worked.. Something was blocking him.. He tried harder, the pain wracking him, but failed..

Barely a drop of bourbon touches his lips before he tosses the bottle aside.. it shatters against the wall and he leans heavily on his table, panting in disgust with himself.. So weak.. So useless.. He is so useless.. She needs his help and he can't even..

Wait? What?

He quickly turns, looking to the door and rushes towards it with his heavey limp. "You found her?" He croaks, grabbing his coat.. his crutch.. "Where?!?"

Scarlet Witch has posed:
The drugs they had Wanda on were significant. And while under normal circumstances, she might possibly have ignored them, under current conditions, however, they offered peace. Oblivion. They'd reduced the roaring hordes down to a manageable few.

They left her isolated, however. Unable to reach out. There was the feeling of things soft and wet between herself and power. Worse, when she tried, the darkness closed in. The voice in the corner laughed.

"You can't do it that way, Wanda," Wanda told her. Mocking her.

Another Wanda whispering, "She hates us. Why does she hate us?"

Deadwatch has posed:
Whatever the spectral messenger, unseen and unheard by anyone else, told Nolan made him him blanche. Fear and anger washed through him as he nodded to the ghost and turned to grab his beat up messenger bag. "I see.." is all he offers, his vice coldly neutral. He then walks to the bedroom and kneels beside the bed, pain again coursing through his body as he bends his leg, the brace creaking. With some effort he pulls a box from beneath the bed and opens it.. Taking a breath he reaches into it and pulls out a watch.. an old divers watch, it's once gleaming surface dulled with the pantina of age and use. He takes a second breath and fits the strap over his wrist, the bad wrist of the bad hand.

"Okay.. I'm ready.. Take me to her..." he whispers.

There is no travel montage here. No intercut shots of Nolan taking the subway or the bus surrounded by fellow travelers who are ignorant of is very existence. No cut to a scene of him sitting in the back of a beat old cab. No long shot of him limping down the sidewalk, passing by blurred images of passersbys.

It is nearing midnight as he stands across from the Hospital, on the other side of the fence that seprates him from the grounds and the psychiatric wing. His mismatched eyes almost aglow as he looks at an echo from the past.

"Bellvue..." he whispers, his hand clenching into a fist.

Thirteen years. It has been Thirteen years since he was last here.. Thirteen years since in a moment of vengeance he looked into the deepest depths of The Dark.. Reached into the Dark deeper than Deeper than he ever had before.. And because of that he killed an entire gang and was found by the police ranting like a lunatic...And ended up here for a year before they sent him to prison.

That first terrible year...

And now /she/ is here...

Scarlet Witch has posed:
"I know," the most chipper of the Wandas suggested, "We should sit to face the dark."

And even as she says it, the quietest one, the one that never speaks, only shakes her head, and trembles, her lower lip quivering, the green of her eyes paling under a watery wash of terrified tears.

"No, no," Wanda says, the Wanda who thinks she remembers things best, "We are not the enemy."

The on in darkness laughing brusquely. "You forget so soon? How they would have taken you and burnt you?"

And while none of them can rightly feel power, still, all of them not only see, but feel the pressure around them of the sudden rise of bonfires. Torches lifted. The dull cacaphony of chanting growing until Wanda, Wanda who remembers, sends them away with a harshly bitten out "NO!"

The room collapsing in on silence. Dark now but for a muted swath of grey flitting from a 8X10 sqaure of light in an otherwise featureless wall in an otherwise featureless room, the edges of it brushing along the knee of a young woman who rocks silently back and forth. Back and forth. Back and forth. Back and..

Deadwatch has posed:
Sometimes the truth can only be seen best in The Dark.

Most people walking by this hospital would see an older but well maintained building that has been providing services to the New York area for decades. Those who are more sensitive would feel, perhaps, a chill of foreboding.. of fear. The hospital, even the psychiatric wing, are not in and of themselves evil. The hospital proper, to Nolan's eye, is a patchwork of light and shadow. The light of souls, of new births and people both saved and doing the saving, interspersed with the shadows of pain and trauma that occur within these walls. There is a lot of death there but not as many ghosts as one would think, only the few who had the misfortune of not passing over.

The psychiatric wing, though.. In The Dark its architecture is warped, It's shadows exaggerated. Windows like great eyes lit with insane light, flickering. The doors like gaping mouths. Ghosts bash at teh windows, unable to break them. More ghosts wander the grounds just within the fence, screaming or yelling, gutterally.. Some laugh, most cry.. Between them, around them a miasma of dark Spirit, born of the mental imbalance.. of fears and disease and lusts and insanity... These shadowy entities, born of abstract concepts and a thousand darker emotions and hungers, whip around the trapped souls and through the walls and hallways like a black wind.

Nolan takes a breath and steps to the fence... leaning heavily on his cane.

"You guys can't come with me..." he whispers, ad looks over his shoulder at the empty street behind him.. Seeing only what he can see.. a crowd of spirits from different eras in different states of appearance.. some haggard, some looking as crisp as the day they died. "It's easy to get in but there are too many memories feeding this place.. It has a will of it's own, fullfiling a prupose.. And that purpose is to keep the crazy locked in.." he explains and looks to the building again... "To keep the crazy in, where if festers and boils and feeds upon itself and others.. You would be ripped apart by the things in there.. And I can't ask that of you.." he whispers and looks at his watch... Seconds to 1am.....

He then raises a brow and looks back. "How do I mean to get in there?" he asks, as if answering a question with another?

He turns and looks at the tall wire fence and takes a deep breath. The watch seconds hand marches foreward...

12:59:55...

12:59:56...

12:59:57...

12:59:58...

12:59:59...

He steps foreward and the world around him dims as he pushes into The Dark, having chosen this exact moment for a reason..

The Watch's face shimmers and the numbers push aside as if something is squeezing them apart as the seconds hand hits 13 o'clock.

Scarlet Witch has posed:
Wanda steps from the shadows, now, and paces around the Wanda who is left, rocking.

"See?" it hisses at her. "You are why we're here. This is your fault. If you'd only have let me --"

Rocking Wanda looks up. "You don't hear them screaming?"

Dark Wanda glowers in self-satisfaction. "It's only sound, Wanda. You can turn it away." She leans in and brushes her lips against Wanda's cheek. "Don't you hear it? Wind in trees. Water on rocks. Gunshots.."

"No no nonono" Rocking Wanda cries. "You were there. You know how it was. I - I - I can't.."

Dark Wanda thrusts her fingers into Wanda's hair and tugs her head back. "Can't, Wanda? Or won't? You can. You know you can.." Her fingers keep their grip in the dirty reddish brown of Wanda's hair, the strands of it limp and greasy now from days of not washing. Days of not sleeping. Days of drugs keeping her in a stupor. "All you have to do is admit it.."

"Wh-what? What is it I do have to admit," Wanda asks in a whisper, knowing the answer. Afraid now of what she will hear, but needing to hear it anyway.

"All you have to do," Dark Wanda says, letting her fingers slide through the strands of Wanda's hair now, like a caress, letting her palm settle on the crown of the other's head, and slipping it along her skull in a manner that is both comforting and chill all at once. "All you have to do is admit you liked it."

There's a blaze of white light from Rocking Wanda, banishing the dark, the other laughing in shrill, pleased laughs that fill the room, leaving only Rocking Wanda behind with the sound of it, unaware that it is she filling the room with the triumphantly smug sound of victory.

Deadwatch has posed:
Seeing into that pseudo world between life and death which Nolan calls The Dark is like looking into the ocean through the surface of a shadowy water. Being /in/ The Dark is like stepping INTO that ocean and opening you eyes while submerged and looking back at the world ABOVE the surface. The psych wing's exagerated visage is no longer an illusion overlayed on reality but is real, and the original mundane image is but a shadow. Nolan passes through the fence, like a ghost (which he sort of is now that he has crossed into the land of the lost dead). The spirits and ghosts whom saw /him/ just as a ghostly image while he was out in The Real World now sense his presence as being like them.. And they start to converge on him.

But he has no time to wait on them. The 13th hour only lasts, well, an hour.

He limps quickly for the doors, brushing off entities as they get too close, cursing at them as the crazed ghosts try to grab him, lash at him, hug him hit kiss him eathimsucklehisbonespleasehelpmemommywhereareyoukeepawayfrommeyou..

He gahs and lashes out with a hand, a whip of Pure Dark slithering from his hand and slashing across the ghosts, sending a bunch of them reeling. A few dissipate.. Some are only stunned.. some are angered.. usually the dark whip is more powerful but the rules here are different.. the Sickness of this place making the usually powerful weapon less effective since the spirits and ghosts are too far gone to CARE.

Free of the fist small mob he pushes through the door way and limps quickly down the hall, past the frozen Shadows of the living occupants of the hospital... Staff members. Faculty.. To him THEY look like ghosts and are frozen in teh 13th hour as well

But the spirits aren't frozen, and shadowy horrors loom towards him like thuggish guards, gibbering as they try to cut him off..

Scarlet Witch has posed:
The laughter won't go away. Won't go away. Won't go away.

It rattles in Wanda's head until it pulses in time with the beat of her heart. It's so smug. So victorious. It knows her secret. Knows that there was a flutter of satisfaction as she remembered what it was she'd done. How she'd dealt with thos villagers, along with Pietro. How as much as she told herself it was him, that it was them or the villagers, it had still felt *good* to do that.

And so the laugh continues.

Wanda sitting in the middle of the room now. Two corners slowly taken by the others who had sat with her there.

"How long do you think she'll be like that," Chipper Wanda asks.

Silent Wanda spreads her hands and gestures a movement in the air from left to right. Left to right. Left to right. The arc of a celestial body travelling in the air. The third arc aborting as Silent Wanda shrugs and spreads her hands wide again in a helpless, unknowing gesture.

Down the hallway, the sound of sturdy, sensible shoes clipping along the tiles. Determined steps that lead to Wanda's door. A fist bangs on the window.

The alter Wandas turn and face their corners, blipping out in a macabre display of if I can't see you, you can't see me, leaving only Rocking Wanda in the middle of the room, her laughter unabated.

Out in the hallway, the nurse shakes her head and points with her chin, telling the Doctor, "She's been like that for almost a day now."

"Double her thorazine," he remarks without even looking at her file.

"As you wish doctor."

"And see if someone is missing her. Damn immigrants. Fucking clogging up the system with their charity cases. Damn well going to send the bill to someone..."

Deadwatch has posed:
The gibbering horrors, manifestations of the septic tank of neurosis that flow through this place, advance on Nolan. The cripple steps around a frozen ghostly orderly, ducking under one of the horror's limbs as it reaches for him, and thrusts with his palm outwards.. The darkwhip lashes out like a spear, skewering the entitie.. It screams, unable to escape.. like it is being tased.. "Oh no you don't, you son of a bitch.." Nolan growls as he burrows that tendril of pure DARK into the entities core.. the matrix of emotions that gave birth to it fill the cripple and Nolan gasps as FEARRAGEDISPAREHUNGER course through him. He screams and turns the whip into a sharp edge with a thought, rending the horror in twain.. where it spills to the ground like ooze.

The second horror is upon him in that moment and smacks him to the wall.. He slams against it, unable to pass through because of the psychic energy INFUSING the building with a threshold. He slids to teh floor, dazed, but as the creature jumps at him again he brings up his cane and mutters something in some strange language.. And a blast of energy the opposite of light tears it to shreds and ashes..

Panting, he stands up painfully and keeps limping foreward... upward.. the stairs to the next level.. He passes doors with their patients sitting in beds, or strapped to them.. all frozen in the 13th hour.. But while they are frozen, psychic echoes of them stan d at teh doors, slamming at the windows much as Wanda is..

Sometimes the only thing worsethen the ghosts of the dead arethe ghosts of the living..

"WANDA!" he yells. hoping she can hear him even in this state of being. "WANDA! WHERE ARe YOU!?"

Scarlet Witch has posed:
Chipper Wanda is in the common room, watching. Silent Wanda is at her side.

"Do you think he sees us?"

Silent Wanda shakes her head. A thumb sneaks stealthily into her mouth.

Chipper Wanda scolds. "You shouldn't. She wouldn't like it." But she nods. It's not certain if the crippled man can see or hear them. Not that Silent Wanda speaks. "Do you think she can hear him?"

Again, Silent Wanda shakes her head, the thumb popping out of her mouth, her mouth opening wide on silence. She shrugs and puts her thumb back in.

The nurse on duty has two orderlies with her. They march down the hallway towards Wanda's room. Wanda has refused medication - kicking and screaming, her fingernails - which had been trimmed upon her being admitted in, now talon claws that stuck out, leaving an angry red rake down the nurse's cheek. She's returning with reinforcements, now.

Wanda is being moved from the lockdown ward and her padded cell, to a more sterile environment, and a stainless steel table with leather restraints.

When they reach Wanda's door, it flies open, Wanda standing there, still inside the boundaries of the room, the laughter dying as she sees the three come to take her away.

For a heartbeat there is silence, and then the desperate whispers of, "Nononononononono!"

In the common room, Silent Wanda is at Nolan's side, tugging at his arm. And as he turns to her, she shrinks down, down, down.. until she is nothing more than a small barefoot child who gestures at him with the crook of a finger, beckoning him to bend down to her, where she whispers, "She's over there.."

That beckoning finger pointing down the hallway.

Behind Silent Wanda, Chipper Wanda stands, hands upon the other's shoulders. "You shouldn't have told him."

"I know," Silent Wanda says, in a deeply dark voice that sounds like it should be coming from the Dark Wanda's corner. Pleased with herself. Thumb popping back into her mouth. Waiting.

Deadwatch has posed:
It is like pushing against the current of a river, a flow of angry/crazy/desperate ghost and spirits flowing down the hall from their rooms, unleashed in a torrent,. They whip around and between and through Nolan, tugging at his clothes and his spiritual and his mind..

Memories of being tied to a bed screaming all that blood on the street killing each gang member an orderly holding him down pills and poison shadows

It all flows through him, no punctuation, many of the thoughts are his but just as many of them are not.. he can feel the source of the delude, the power that is driving the current he just has to push ahead.. He swers he can hear her over the deluge but he isn't sure yes he is sure it has to be her I am comming I promise I don;t know if I can make it...

Then a hand tugs at his arm.

It is like he is in the eye of the storm. He blinks and looks around, finding himself in a nicely lit common room, and A small young Wanda standing next to him.. tugging at his arm.

"She's over there.." CHild Wanda whispers, pointing down the hall. Nolan blinks again and looks around, spotting another Wanda.. and Another.. He knows they aren't her but at the same time they are.. He then looks back to child Wanda and nods, placing a hand on her head gently before limping down the hall, not hearing what comes after.

While 'Real' Wanda is screaming, the door opening to her room, Nolan is between moments.. To him the door is already open and frozen, the orderlies about to enter.. to take her to The Room.. He knows this because the (or orderlies like them) once did the same to him.. The frozen REAL Wanda is looking at them, her eyes alit with fear...And a rage burns inside Nolan.

He steps around the orderlies, into the room.. injecting himself into the frozen scene between them and her and takes a deep breath.

"Not on my fucking watch, assholes.." he growls and rests his hand on the timepeice on his wrist and turns it's bezel..

Time snaps back, flowing once more for the Cripple at the precise moment he lets his natural living 'bouyancy' push him out of the dark into the real world. To the orderlies it is like the air ripples with dark currents as Nolan breaches the surface of The Dark and becomes visible as if he were pushing himself out of a pool of inky water. The shadowy substance of the veil that seperates living from dead clings to him, soaking into his clothes..Turning them from dark brown to black.. A hooded leather jacket made of the Darkstuff forming over his sports coat.. A mask of black and bone white flowing over his face...His crutch elongating into a proper cane with a silver handle.

"Fuck off, boys.." he growls..

Scarlet Witch has posed:
No no no no no...

She sees them, and all around them is the dark. The dark that swallows her. Makes her unwhole.

When the door to her room opens, the air is different somehow. Real. Like a breeze has swept through, or perhaps that suddenly she can feel the stirring of her lungs and hear the sound of her own thoughts where for days she hasn't. Only Wanda knows if they take her, she won't be able to hear herself anymore. They were all gone now. Even the dark one, though she kept laughing.

Sometimes the sound of the laughter was a scream. Wanda wasn't sure. The sounds all were the same. Her throat raw and swollen from the constant distention of vocal chords.

When the door is thrown open - it seems to her to be happening over and over again and she can't stop it - she knows this time, this time she must make it stop, so she begins to beg. To beg them not to take her. She wants to plead that she'll stop. That she'll listen.

Only the darkness is there. It's welling about. It wears a face of pitchest black and bone white..

Something stirs. A memory:

A name. A name she's said before. It comes from far away. The welling of sound is growing in her ears again, threatening to spill over from her mouth. Wanda swallows. The gesture a ragged pain down her throat..

It is the growl that does it. A growl that casts fear into the heart of the orderlies, the nurse having already fled to pull the alarms and set the entire wing on lockdown, only to Wanda is it a sweet sound...

A flash of light.

A crash of sound. Thunder.

In the common room, the Child Wanda takes Chipper Wanda's hand and leads her off. The're not needed anymore. Wanda's features transform, and a breathed sigh of relief announces her saviour: "Nolan."

Thunder, Imagine Dragons - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fKopy74weus

Deadwatch has posed:
"Nolan..."

His name rolls off her lips and through him and at that moment he can feel things.. shift..Like something that had been askew is, if not back in place, at least not QUITE as askew as it was before..

He'll take it.

He looks over his shoulder, the orderlies stunned by his sudden appearence from literally nowhere, and nods to Wanda.. smiling despite himself behind his mask. "Heya, Babe. Sorry I'm late... Oh and by the way.. ix-nay on the Olan-Nay.." he says, then turns to look at the orderlies and smacks the handle of his cane into his open palm.

"Didn't I tell you to guys to fuck off?" he asks. They growl and lunge at him, then. Nolan sidesteps, moving with much more grace then usual, bringing the knee of his usually BAD leg up to connect the balls of one of the orderlies. There is a meaty sound and he the guy falls to his knees groaning..The other one, though, jumps over his colleage and slugs Nolan across the side of teh face, sending him staggering backwards.

Scarlet Witch has posed:
She's trying not to laugh. All Wanda knows is that the laughter she hears is the screaming. It has been for days: laughter and screaming mingled until she can't tell the sounds apart - all the while dwelling with her guilt, and this feeling of being cut off.

It all seems so far away. Like the wet spongey feel all around her where something else once was.

Still, the 'ix-nay' strikes her as absurd. It's all so absurd. Like.. shouldn't he be limping? She thinks she recalls that. Just like she thinks she recalls her hands once did things. Formed shapes - gestures that moved with her lips.

There's a low hum of sound she can't place. Her hands, fists before her. They seem like they belong to someone else. Seem buried in wet, black.

Or is it green?

It could be green. Green seems safe enough..

The meaty thunk of knee to groin mirrors the feel of damp within her. The sound a dull echo of clarity where it should not be. Only..

Only when the other strikes Nolan, and goes to again, there is no dull wetness in the rush of sound in Wanda's ears. There's a sharpness of light within her, a hand held out, fingers spread wide as she utters a single word, rolling like thunder, striking the orderly who goes to move to lunge for Nolan and finds himself frozen in midair.

"NO."

In the shadows...

Deadwatch has posed:
Nolan Voight groans and looks up to see the guy.. floating? He didn't do that, did he...? He quickly turns his head and for a moment he sees something in the shadows.. Not quite in The Dark.. Wanda? But she's standing...

The guy must have hit him Harder than he thought...He slowly pushes himself to his feet and looks at proper Wanda.. Bedraggled.. her hands bloody.. But looking as beautiful as ever.. No, MORE beautiful.

"I thought I was the one having /your/ back.." he says, huffing a little.. though it's not a critique.. there is relief in his voice. He makes a gesuture and his cane return to his hand JUST as another orderly comes into the room. WIthout thinking, Nolan flicks his free hand at the new arrival and a tendril of pure Dark lashes out, stabbing the man through the heart but.. there is no blood. He convulses, like being tazed, and for a momemnt the man's soul flows through Nolan and he tastes the man's measure.. Then Nolan releases with another flick of his wrist, the tendril slithering back up his sleeve. "More people are coming, Lovely..." he says and limps over to her, offering her his hand. "We need to get out of here.."

Scarlet Witch has posed:
It's as if she's not aware she'd even done it. All it takes is Nolan's pointing out the that he'd come to rescue her, and not the other way around, and a small, girlish, "oh" escapes her even as she drops her hand, and the man falls to the ground, twitching as Nolan has left him.

"I think they will yell?" Wanda says, confused. She doesn't want to be here. She wants to be anywhere but here. The obvious occurring to her:

They can't yell at her if she's not here.

Which seems to be all she needs. Even if she still can't think. And things still seem too clouded in a murky bog-like feel. Things still feel like they're coming too fast or too slow to be real.. but the air is still that same freshness of breeze, and when she touches his arm, Wanda's eyes widen, she seeing for the first time where she's been these past.. she thinks it must be days. How may days she does not know.

"You came," she breathes. "I..I can't feel to make us go." The words a near-plaintive sob of apology.

Deadwatch has posed:
Nolan Voight ignores the loud thump as the guy she drops to the floor.. well.. drops the to fucking floor. Asshole deserved it. Nolan isn't going to lose any sleep over it. He's more worried about the condistion she is in, and not just the bloody hands. HE is more worried by the confusion she exhibits but.. What should he expect...

"Yes, I came." he tells her, closing the distance between them.. An alarm going ff.. footsteps in the distance getting closer. "They have you doped up, Wanda.. that's probably whats putting you off your game.." Well that and the misery this place can generate.. the mental problems that echoe through the halls are hell on anyone with any sensitivity.. It makes you wonder if a good portion of these patients aren't just traumatized by their own mental health issues but by others...

"You just need to focus.. Think of the last place you felt safe.." he whispers. He slips his hand in hers and concentrates.. "Use me as your focus.. your anchor.. Because I can't get us out here alone.. I used up too much to get here..."

Scarlet Witch has posed:
Wanda listens, nodding absently. The words he speaks come from far away, but unlike the power, when she reaches to listen to him, the sounds come closer and closer still. Finally respite from the dull, wet black, and the incessant screaming laughter in her head. No more voices clamouring for her attention, only the so solid feel of his hand in hers and the gruff softness of his voice.

Where his fingers slip into hers, hers curl into his, and while she should care about the man on the floor, all she knows is that this place.. this place.. she doesn't belong here.

"Safe," her mouth echoes, the sound strange in her ears, almost not recognizing the hoarseness as herself. "The last place I felt safe.."

It was dark there too. And warm. Full of the richness of softly whispered words, and the closeness of another body. His body had been warm beside hers, if shyer than the comfortable fit of hand to her own now.

"I remember," she breathes out softly, her breath a curtained blur about them, slipping them between the here and the how, though they still stand in the hallway of the locked ward in a now locked down wing of Bellvue.

The distant sounds of alarms and voices crying out and booted feet on floor mingle with the cries of patients being taken down to floor, or locked in rooms while one patient in particular is sought out..

"Oh," Wanda says. "We can not be here anymore." Her lips forming a smallness of smile. "They will be so angry we are not here anymore."

Not that she sounds like she cares. Indeed, the words call forth a small tendril of laughter from the woman, that sound, and his touch, grounding her enough to draw them both through to the image in her mind:

The tiny and dishevelled space that passes for Nolan's apartment.

Once there, Wanda gives another of those soft "oh" sounds and sinks to the floor, sitting.

Deadwatch has posed:
For a moment, while her hand was in his, he could feel her distance.. his psychic shielding worn thin by the constant assault of all the emotions within this place.. But just as quickly he felt her become more focused.. and he himself become more focused as well... like she was anchoring /him/.

He remembers the sensation of her breath on his back as she held him..

And then they are In between.

It is not like traveling through the dark. He doesn't know what she experiences but..for an instant he feels EVERYTHING.. And then he lets out an OOF as he finds himself on his ass in his room, sitting across from her. He twists the bezel of the watch and his disguse slews away like dark steam and he gasps loudly as the pain returns.. and lays on his back panting.

"Well.. That was.. a thing..." he moans.

Scarlet Witch has posed:
It's a very small, plaintive question that comes from Wanda's lips, "We did it? We left?"

Now that she's free of that place, things feel somewhat more real again. To be certain, the drugs are in her system still - but they won't remain so long now; now that she's back from the constant suck at her soul that fed upon the wound that had left her in such a state as to be admitted, her body will do as it does and such a thing will merely cease to control her. They were never the panacea she needed.

There is still a dull ache of pain within her, but it's lessened now. Like a bruise that has healed enough that touching it no longer hurts - it's only the deepr touches and jars that remind it once was a wound.

Her magic, though, is still clouded by all those things combined. The only clarity and spark to it lying in her connection to the man lying on the floor beside her, in pain.

"I do not know how you did that?" She isn't sure, but did he knee someone? Did that happen? Only, he's in pain, regardless of why, and it isn't in her nature to let him be so.

"We," Wanda begins, the hilarity of it all hitting her, leaving her to offer a weak laugh. "We can not lie here. Only, I think you can not walk there." There likely being the bed. Or at least not the floor. "And I can not carry you."

She ponders the possibilities, and whether or not she has enough clarity to attempt the much shorter move from here to the bed where at least he can lie without having to move.