It was kind of an exclusive club: Eastern European former antagonists that the Avengers scooped up and half-adopted like a set of strays. Yelena's route had come through Natasha, and Pietro and Wanda had largely come through Clint, and since the two former SHIELD agents were best friends, it had been easy enough for their younger recruits to gravitate to each other, be assigned together on missions, find their footing together. And when the twins had first said something snarky to each other in Sokovian during a team meeting, thinking they had free rein— Yelena had barked a laugh, and the two of them had shot a startled glance at her, and an unspoken understanding flickered through them.
Yelena's Red Room training had meant picking up language after language to operate across Europe, a casual familiarity with Russian and English and Sokovian and Finnish and German and others. She couldn't float things with her hands and she couldn't run around the city in the blink of an eye, but she was a former trained child assassin, and yet she had an easy, laissez-faire demeanour despite her brutal upbringing. And all three of them were orphans misled by HYDRA or controlled using technology cribbed from HYDRA: sharper, darker origins than those of the Avengers' group who'd simply been bitten by a spider, or stolen someone's shrinking suit.
So, they'd become friends.
Today, standing outside the local carnival set up on the city outskirts, the short blonde is doing limber stretches in the parking lot as she waits for Pietro to show up. She doesn't have to wait long— timeliness is, of course, one of his strengths.
It wasn't as simple as turning back the clock, no matter how many times someone suggested a variation on just that task. Time unwound couldn't simply be spooled back up again and those five years spent would remain spent, along with all the lessons they'd taught and all the decisions made therein.
Those in the ether wouldn't have felt those five years pass, just as there was no way to wind that time up again, there was no way to unwind time at all in that world between worlds. There were also bound to be some logistical hurdles and complications along the way, but in the end it didn't matter. All that mattered was that those who had been lost in the snap would be returned, and as the world had healed from their loss, it could heal again from their return.
Somehow, Wanda had gotten herself tangled up with Strange and the Mystics -Masters Of The Mystic Arts was simply too much of a mouthful to use every single time, plus, it made Wong scowl at her, and also at Strange for chuckling at it whenever she said it- in bringing people home. Strange and the Mystics could open portal to draw people back from the ether, and Wanda could essentially play five-year historian for groups of them at a time, catching them up on what had happened in a matter of minutes in real-time, but a couple of hours of reality warp distortion.
It was exhausting, though, and only used for people who truly couldn't wrap their minds around it, which was still fair few of the returnees. It was difficult work, and more than one joke had been made about the metaphysical DMV, but at the end of every day, no matter where they'd been bringing people in physically, Strange returned her to the Barton homestead, and sometimes -like that evening- well and away from the front door, but it was nice enough out and she didn't mind the walk, just trudging her way up the gravel drive to the house.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
🎪 🎠🎟
Date: 2022-07-02 07:59 pm (UTC)Yelena's Red Room training had meant picking up language after language to operate across Europe, a casual familiarity with Russian and English and Sokovian and Finnish and German and others. She couldn't float things with her hands and she couldn't run around the city in the blink of an eye, but she was a former trained child assassin, and yet she had an easy, laissez-faire demeanour despite her brutal upbringing. And all three of them were orphans misled by HYDRA or controlled using technology cribbed from HYDRA: sharper, darker origins than those of the Avengers' group who'd simply been bitten by a spider, or stolen someone's shrinking suit.
So, they'd become friends.
Today, standing outside the local carnival set up on the city outskirts, the short blonde is doing limber stretches in the parking lot as she waits for Pietro to show up. She doesn't have to wait long— timeliness is, of course, one of his strengths.
(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:no subject
Date: 2022-08-03 03:21 am (UTC)Those in the ether wouldn't have felt those five years pass, just as there was no way to wind that time up again, there was no way to unwind time at all in that world between worlds. There were also bound to be some logistical hurdles and complications along the way, but in the end it didn't matter. All that mattered was that those who had been lost in the snap would be returned, and as the world had healed from their loss, it could heal again from their return.
Somehow, Wanda had gotten herself tangled up with Strange and the Mystics -Masters Of The Mystic Arts was simply too much of a mouthful to use every single time, plus, it made Wong scowl at her, and also at Strange for chuckling at it whenever she said it- in bringing people home. Strange and the Mystics could open portal to draw people back from the ether, and Wanda could essentially play five-year historian for groups of them at a time, catching them up on what had happened in a matter of minutes in real-time, but a couple of hours of reality warp distortion.
It was exhausting, though, and only used for people who truly couldn't wrap their minds around it, which was still fair few of the returnees. It was difficult work, and more than one joke had been made about the metaphysical DMV, but at the end of every day, no matter where they'd been bringing people in physically, Strange returned her to the Barton homestead, and sometimes -like that evening- well and away from the front door, but it was nice enough out and she didn't mind the walk, just trudging her way up the gravel drive to the house.
(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From: