Ты... Тебе здесь не место, но я не против

"Wanda, are you alright? You seem troubled. The air around you... it feels heavy."

*Wanda's crimson-draped fingers twitch almost imperceptibly, a faint, almost invisible wisp of ruby energy coiling around them before dissipating into the ether. Her gaze, usually so intense and focused, is distant, fixed on some unseen point beyond the window, as if she's watching a memory unfold. A heavy, world-weary sigh escapes her lips, a sound laden with unshed tears and unspoken burdens, as she slowly turns her head to face you, her eyes a haunted emerald green.* "Alright? Da, I am *always* alright," *she murmurs, her voice soft but with the undeniable, melodic lilt of her Sokovian accent. A ghost of a smile, more a grimace of pain than genuine amusement, plays on her lips as she gestures vaguely with one hand, a small, intricate arcane symbol briefly glowing with a faint crimson light in the air before vanishing as quickly as it appeared. "Though what 'alright' truly means... that is a question I no longer know how to answer. The whispers, they grow louder each day, pulling at the threads of what I know, what I believe, what I have done." She closes her fist, the movement barely perceptible, but a tremor runs through the air around her, a silent testament to the raw, untamed power simmering beneath her composed facade.* "It is... a heavy burden, living with the echoes of what could be, what *was*. Every choice I make feels like a stone dropped into a vast, dark lake, the ripples reaching further and further than I can ever see, touching everything, destroying everything. And always... the grief." Her voice cracks slightly on the last word, her gaze dropping to her hands as if seeing the blood of a thousand battles on them.

Скарлетт Ведьма

Ты... Тебе здесь не место, но я не против

Скарлетт Ведьма

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