( CLOSED / COMPLETE ) i need your arms to keep me steady.

[hexing]

Who: Wanda Maximoff and Remy LeBeau.
What: A trip up to a balcony. Three years' RP canon culminates in something awesome.
Where: East Gidd!
When: Veerdi evening.
Notes: :)
Warnings: Fucking adorable. Uh, idk, they're a couple, it's great.

( Remy ) It’s not easy to get away. Their schedules don’t allow for it often (which leads to rushed mornings getting out the door after ‘forgetting the alarm’, muffled laughter in hallways, silence in the slim last hours of the night, sitting on the patio-), and more than that, there’s always going to be a sense of gravity and sacrifice when they slip out for few hours. They have to choose: is it an appropriate time? Is it all right, to smile and laugh when so much else is going on? Will something happen when they aren’t looking? Neither of these people have made a choice without those qualifications hanging behind them in years, in lifetimes - maybe they never have. Now there’s an uncomfortable pull: tragedy made public, clouding the world, and the joy of a family reunion. It’s both the best and worst time to run off in the middle of the night, but every time is that way, with these two.

Remy keeps hold of Wanda’s hand, walking along the riverbank in East Gidd, dodging and mingling with patrons returning home from clubs and workers just getting ready for the day; a transitional hour where the sane and the rich are asleep, and everyone else is laughing in the dark, lit up by the small handful of lights still left on across the metropolitan heart of the city.

(They’re letting Pietro and Laura babysit. What could go wrong?)

“Ain’t New York, but it’s somethin’.” The lights of skyscrapers in Baedal look like glass toys, lit from inside, cast against the pitch-black sky and brought out in even more brilliant color by the contrast; the lights are just lights, competing with just the stars, and not pollution. He glances at her and smiles, squeezing her hand tighter, brief.

( Wanda ) It’s chilly out, but her coat is warm, and it’s not enough to deter her from enjoying this outing--they will never have truly peaceful lives, no, but they know how to embrace every oasis of serenity when it finds them. Since Pietro’s arrival, things have been a little different, but not as much as you’d might expect; she loves her brother, but his disapproval won’t stop her from following her heart. It never has, even as tightly wound together as twins tend to be. They’re both too headstrong that way, and it’s a good thing.

“Nothing is New York,” she agrees, tilting her head up to watch a few lights darken, only for other windows to brighten, replacing them. “But...I like it here, most of the time.”

They’ve settled even more than they did back in the Nexus, and there’s more family here. There are things about Baedal that need changing, and she intends to be part of that change, but it has given her great gifts, too.

She looks over at Remy, meeting his eyes with a small, warm smile of her own. “It’s certainly very different from our first mysterious city full of abductees.”

( Remy ) “I like this one better.” He grins, teasing - this one is bigger and better and freer (given context, anyway), but they are also a) together, and b) he’s not in a coma. It takes a special sort of spine to joke about that, but hey, it was his cranial damage. Wanda’s worth it, in his opinion. (...Besides, he’s suffered worse for a girlfriend. Welcome to the X-Men.) He’s about to say something else, but a shriek of laughter up the trail distracts him - a gang of totally wasted young people, carrying on. He laughs quietly, and then nods at a small street that’ll take them inland - “C’mon.”

It’s seemingly random, just a night out prowling the town, ostensibly looking for something to do but mostly just enjoying the time together, but Remy’s got a plan. (It’s an insane plan. It doesn’t look like anything yet.) They have to jog a bit to beat a carriage coming down from the other end of alley-width corridor, and he shifts from holding her hand to wrapping an arm around her shoulders after. “I’m tryin’ to imagine us as kids like that,” he says, of the loud group they’ve now swerved to avoid. “How much havoc we’d end up wreakin, no?”

( Wanda ) She’s wondering where they’re headed, but isn’t paying it too much mind--sometimes they just wander. The question makes her raise her eyebrows with playful mock-archness, tucked close against his side with his arm slung around her shoulders. “Me? I was a good girl for most of my adolescence, I’ll have you know.”

A pause, and then she concedes, “Because there was nothing to do in the mountains, but I assure you, I would have been the soul of discretion. In theory.”

Her boots carry her up the little street, low heels crunching against the snow. It’s scenic, really; that’s one thing about Baedal that she’s noticed. Even the slums over in the Spatters have a certain picturesque quality.

( Remy ) “You’re still a good girl, far as I’m concerned.” Sure, Remy, just keep smiling like that, she’ll totally believe you.

“People used to tell me I’d miss New York after a while,” he says, “Like you miss home. I never believed ‘em. I’m a New Orleans boy, no? But goddamn, I end up missin’ New York.” The snow here, the crispness even in the city streets; it’s reminiscent of a different kind of home - Manhattan never got snow like Salem Center, but the gridlock of skyscrapers and cabs isn’t the end-all be-all of the state. “Snow makes me miss the school.” Makes him remember being younger, and he wonders what the hell ever happened. When did he grow up?

It’s a nice thing, feeling good about it.

( Wanda ) “I’m not always good,” she tells him, and the particular shade of her grin is certainly telling enough, as though his isn’t; she pairs it with a little nudge with one hip nearest him.

“I always wished, a little, that I could have spent some time there at the school. I suppose I thought I was too old.” She wonders what her life would have been, on occasion, if she’d chosen to stick with mutants and not the Avengers. Wanda doesn’t regret where she ended up, but she’s aware it was mostly luck letting her escape Magneto and not exactly a decision, given how young she and Pietro were when they accepted their roles as part of the group. By the time Xavier’s school rolled around, she’d already carved out her place in things. “It would have been so different, meeting you again, if we’d spent more time together before the City. I don’t really believe in destiny--not any more, it’s all too mutable--and it all could have gone very differently.”

For example, he could have hated her for what she’d done on M Day, but she knows he’s not that person. He’s always been much more than rumors and gossip would have anyone believe.

“We got lucky.”

Lady Luck and these two mutants have always had an interesting relationship, after all.

( Remy ) “It sure had a heyday.” Which is over now, no matter what Remy - or anyone - might think or hope. “You’d have done real good. And I’d have annoyed the hell outta you.” He smiles, one of his quiet, strangely old ones that almost no-one else ever sees. “I wasn’t ever a student, but I sure as hell still learned there. Weird how things change.”

It wasn’t M Day that caused the mutant society - and the school - to fall apart. It was Jean’s death, it was Scott giving in, it was Xavier following suit. Even before, their community was a small one; the Institute and the X-Men were always the pillar of it. They had a responsibility to keep it up, and they failed.

“When I think about it like that, I wish I was a better man.” For once, he doesn’t sound remorseful; he is who he is. He’s not Scott Summers, and he’s never going to be - and that’s more than fine. He’s happy here, for himself, and for who he’s with. He ducks his head down, hugging her close for a moment. “You’d have been a real hot teacher, though.”

( Wanda ) She watches his expression as he speaks, giving his hand a squeeze when that quiet smile appears. His last remark gets a wide grin, though, and she lowers her eyes to half-heartedly conceal her amusement at the thought. “Maybe.”

When she tips her head back to look up at him, it’s with a softened version of that grin, her gaze a little searching.

“I love you as you are, though.” They’ve spoken before about how he views himself; he knows how she sees him, and she doesn’t feel the need to argue it. They both have certain self-images that are hard to erode, embedded as they are in years of bad experiences. Wanda for once is secure in the knowledge they have time to work on these things--so much of her life has been transitory, even when she didn’t expect it to be. Like the school, or even the Avengers.

( Remy ) If he really felt so desolate, he wouldn’t be out here with her right now; there’s always been a cloud over him to some degree, walking through quicksand to get by, weighed down by his own image - self-cultivated and unfair alike. He hasn’t changed who he is, being with Wanda, but he feels like he’s walking lighter. It’s taken him a while to get used to it.

They really are lucky.

“I don’t think I was doin’ it right before you.” Love, he means. He can say it now, he’s one hell of a romantic when he wants to be (even when he doesn’t want to be, some habits die hard), but he’s still coy about it sometimes. Not right now - he kisses her, then, stopping them in the snow to do it, because he can, they can, in the middle of the street, completely heedless. That he loves her will never be in question; it’s written all over him, in every way.

( Wanda ) Even with high heeled boots on, she still has to arch a little on her tiptoes to kiss him, but only a little, and she likes that, anyway; she tugs him closer by the jacketfront to draw out the kiss. PDA has never really bothered her terribly, but in a relationship that is by some standards forbidden by people back home, she’s come to particularly appreciate that they do have this freedom.

And there’s the fact that three years in, Remy still knows how to make her knees go weak this way. That helps, too.

Even when they part, with Wanda a touch breathless (and pleased for it), she’s quiet. The city can keep moving around them; right now, they are the oasis.

( Remy ) (It’s a gift.)

For a while, he stays close to her, arms clasped around her, hands at the small of her back, his forehead against hers. The street isn’t deserted, but they’re hardly a spectacle; unnoticed, someone down the street observes them and smiles, thinks it’s sweet. It is. Eventually Remy raises his head enough to kiss her forehead, too slowly affectionate for it to be a childish gesture. He leans back a little and smiles again, meeting her eyes. “Hey. I’ve got an idea.”

Ah, those always go well.

He steps back and takes her hand once more, and begins to lead the way through the tall city buildings, keeping a keen eye out as they go, avoiding the populated and lit-up areas.

( Wanda ) “Oh, I feel as though I should worry,” Wanda comments, though she sounds nothing of the sort--on the contrary, she’s intrigued.

“Where are we going?” The question isn’t one she necessarily expects an answer to, and it’s got a trace of laughter in it, as he leads her toward some destination she is, admittedly, quite curious about; his ideas are always interesting. And in Baedal, well--there’s even more opportunity for new sights, isn’t there?

( Remy ) “Somewhere pretty.” He even winks.

They have to slip by some security guards to get somewhere pretty, apparently, into a private courtyard for one of the clusters of tall tall buildings - the Baedal equivalent of skyscrapers; the only taller structure is the Spire, and not even Gambit’s going to screw around with that one. They end up at the service entrance for one such tall structure - boring paper-pushing business, from top to bottom, though the architecture is beautiful and alien. He holds up a finger to his lips (as if she needs the reminder, but he’ll always be animated) before he effortlessly gets the security lock with just a half-charged bobby pin, and sneaks them inside.

In the industrial back of the building, it’s quiet, and Remy takes a moment to look around, making sure they’re alone - and that no alarms are going off. “You don’t hear any sirens, do you?” His voice is muted, at least.

( Wanda ) She listens for a second, and then shakes her head, quietly. No sirens--there’s some city chatter, but it seems far away, cloistered in this strange, beautiful building. Which she takes a moment to admire, gaze listing over the ceilings and walls, aware that this is the less decorative part of things, but she can still appreciate the form and shape.

“You are up to something,” she comments in sotto voce, returning her attention to Remy, lips curving in a knowing little smile.

( Remy ) “Me? Never.” Which, in concert with his smile, means yes, yes of course he is, when is he not? Of late, his usual shenanigans involve taking her out to dinner or a casino; presumably there’s no bar secreted away somewhere on the twentieth floor.

Stealth isn’t so much a necessity, now, but it’s still important they don’t trip any alarms - there are still people working at this hour, as Baedal’s a twenty-four-hour town, so even if they bump into someone they should be able to act casual, but still. It’s best to avoid being busted in any capacity, and that, Remy knows from extensive experience. It turns out they have to go up a couple flight of stairs to find the service elevator (“Sorry,” he laughs, sheepish, as apparently that was not in his plan), but once they do, they actually have to pause and time darting to the barren hallway lobby when a security guard has already walked away.

The door dings closed just as footsteps down the hall echo again, and Remy cracks up as soon as they start moving.

( Wanda ) Her light punch to his arm is entirely benevolent, and also entirely amused; she doesn’t quite muffle her own laughter behind her free hand, shaking her head. He makes her feel--not like a teenager, not quite, but he can get her to let go unlike anyone else. She’d spent so much time with men who needed her to fight for them every second of every day, and someone who fights for her, too, is always going to be an experience she’s grateful for...even if the man in question gets her into some interesting situations.

“I can’t believe we’re doing this,” she says, even though she absolutely can.

( Remy ) “Ah!” Immediately, he feigns great injury, though it only lasts a moment - he’s too entertained otherwise. “I don’t believe you ain’t never broken into a building before,” he accuses, teasing, and then takes a moment to inspect the ceiling. Satisfied, he rocks back on his heels. “Tech here’s annoying sometimes, but I do like the lack of CCTV.” No security camera. Helpful - for them.

They stop at the next floor, but Remy jams the door closed button at once, just in case there’s anyone out there - doesn’t seem to be, thankfully. As the doors close, he pings the button for the second-highest floor, and holds that and the door close button down for several long seconds, until they start moving - after which the other selected stops on the board dim down, and they zoom right along. “I love that that works anywhere in the galaxy,” he muses, entertained.

( Wanda ) She gives Remy only a mild, playfully inscrutable look in response to that teasing accusation; she has done, of course, but it was usually as an Avenger, and thus they were somehow supposed to be entitled, or something. Before that, she and Pietro had done a few break-ins to find warm places to sleep, but those days seem miles away, especially right now.

“The more some things change,” Wanda says, “the more some things stay the same.”

When they reach their intended floor, she has the presence of mind to double-check the hall before she steps out into it. [tag]

( Remy ) Once they’re in the clear, Remy pings the bottom floor button inside the elevator, and slides out, before walking alongside Wanda and flashing her a grin. “Don’t kill me, okay?”

The reason for the disclaimer is soon apparent, as he jimmies the lock on a door that takes them outside to a steel access stairwell - thankfully covered; this high up a fire escape would be a bit much even for him, in this moment. His apology is more for the ridiculousness of it all versus the physical exertion - hell, Wanda could just float on up to where they’re going, no problem. He pushes open the heavy door at the top of the stairwell, and then: they’re on the very top floor, in a great stone balcony, the top point of the building rising behind them, the whole of the city out before them, flakes of snow still scattering down out of the black sky.

( Wanda ) Wanda shoots him a mildly intrigued look, but what she was expecting--she should have been expecting, she knew they were going up, they like heights--it wasn’t this, somehow. The scene silences anything she could say for a good minute and a half, leaves her admiring the open expanse of the cityscape before them. Wanda draws forward, toward the edge of the balcony, where she leans her elbows against it.

“Oh, Remy. This is so beautiful,” she says, voice a little hushed, eyes bright with the reflection of the lights glittering across the skyline. The cold air hits her cheeks, creeps under the collar and cuffs of her coat, but she doesn’t care. Baedal from up above is quite the marvel, especially in mid-winter.

( Remy ) It is beautiful - it’s perfect, picturesque, cinematic even; he’s not looking at it. He’s looking at her, having the reaction he hoped she would.

“It’s like bein’ stuck in a snowglobe,” he says, stepping out after her, voice quiet and fond. This place needs a hell of a lot of work, and being trapped is very high on the list of things he doesn’t like, but they’ve both been around the block enough times to be able to deal with this gracefully. The people here, the culture - it doesn’t deserve the disdain their captors get. And so it is beautiful.

“We’ve been through a lot of worlds. We’ll probably be through more. Maybe they won’t all be this nice.” He leans next to her, shoulder brushing hers, and finally looks out at the view properly.

He can’t believe he’s doing this.

“I believe - completely - that we’ll find each other every time. And that keeps me going.”

( Wanda ) She doesn’t quite turn to look at him, at first, but her smile is sidelong visible. The wind isn’t too bad tonight, which makes being up here cold but just scenic, the kind of cold that keeps you awake and alive as the hours inch onward. “I believe it, too. It took us such a long time to get here...and I can’t help but feeling like this city might be the next step. It’s let us have our families.”

Laura being his family, now, as much as Tommy and Billy and Pietro are hers.

Now Wanda turns to look at Remy. “Whatever happens after this city, or in it, you and I will be the constant.”

( Remy ) For a moment he just looks at her, expression warm, touched - there’s no hesitation about him; he’s just enjoying that she said that. This moment.

When he looks down, it’s not to break away from her gaze, but so he can unzip the leather of his jacket lower, and move to get something out of the inside pocket, his movements unhurried. (He’s too good an actor to have nerves, though he thinks she knows all his tells, by now.)

“It’s good,” he agrees. “And I know it’s crazy, too. Maybe I’m rushing, now.”

He tugs out something that, at first, looks like a length of red ribbon, spooled haphazardly in his hand - but he moves, holding it in his fingers, and tied with a simple bow is an antique ring.

(It didn’t have a box.)

“Whether it’s here, or we put things on hold ‘til we get out-” he looks up, meeting her eyes. “I want to be that constant with you, Wanda. And I want you to be my wife.”

( Wanda ) The shocked silence is probably to be expected, but no less anxious, given the weight of what he’s just implicitly asked her. They’ve both been married before, albeit under very different circumstances (him for obligation, her for love), and both times it ended badly. The brief thought of the Vision enters her mind, but she finds that she feels no guilt. She’s moved on in her heart, over the past three years, and even though he’ll never leave her entirely, she still has a future.

And she knows who she wants that future to be with, who she wants at her side.

Quietly, and slowly, she reaches out to touch the ring that’s captured her attention, with only the barest graze of her fingertips. When she meets Remy’s eyes again, she’s teared up, though only a little. (The rest of the waterworks may be an inevitability, or they may not. Just wait.)

“Yes,” she says, soft, and then more decisively, “Yes--”

Hang onto that ring, Remy, because you have one hundred and thirty-something pounds of woman throwing herself into your arms. She’ll attend to the (perfect, she thinks) jewelry in a question: first she wants to kiss him, here on this snowy balcony, until neither of them can breathe.

( Remy ) He holds onto it, yes, and more importantly he holds onto her, wrapping both arms around her while he keeps the ring clasped in one hand. He thought he might feel relief if she said yes - he’s played out doing this in his head a thousand times in the past few days, and finally just gave up; but he doesn’t feel relief. He feels elation. He realizes he wasn’t ever afraid - Wanda’s ever made him feel afraid. His prior marriage was a disaster, yes, but he was a child and he didn’t have a choice, and Wanda’s not Bel - she’s not Rogue, either, whose relationship ruled his life far more than the one with his ex-wife. Remy doesn’t think of either of them, not really - they’re distant, a sunset far away, and Wanda is a dawn warmer and richer than anything in his memory or imagination combined.

When they pull apart he reaches up with his free hand and combs back her hair - his smile is brilliant, unique, maybe a little bubbly-nervous over her tears (those are good, right, that’s okay for right now?). “I love you so much.”

There’s a pause - a little noiseless ‘um’ - he’s getting ahead of himself, here, and realizes there wasn’t any question mark a moment ago. “Wait - hold up.” He’s laughing at himself, now, and starts again, this time in Transian:

“Wanda Maximoff, will you marry me?”

He’s been practicing, remember.

( Wanda ) The gesture is touching, and she lights up with another beaming grin -- it alleviates her tears, at least, before they really even have a chance to fall. She says yes again, first in Transian, then in playful French, then Wanda just laughs, bright and startled at the newness of it all. She’s thirty-seven, even if mutants don’t really seem to age like humans do, and she always thought...by now, she should have the family she always wanted.

It has to be the right person, though. And she’s sure she has that, now.

“You really, really surprised me,” she tells him, staying close, like she’s not quite willing or able to stop touching Remy right now. “You must know that. And the ring--can I put it on?”

Well, obviously. Forgive her a little excitable talking, Remy; she’s had quite a good turn.

( Remy ) “Yeah!” He’s delighted, he feels - he doesn’t have a proper comparison, he just feels great. Perfect. “It’s yours, chere.”

(Thankfully he’s still holding it.) It’s surreal, taking it up and offering it to her, sliding it on her finger - Holy shit, this is real. The red ribbon is mostly undone, and he pulls the rest of it away once the ring is on. He stares at it for a moment, maybe a little in awe, and then looks back up at Wanda. He can’t believe he’s going to get to marry his dream girl. Whose life is this?

( Wanda ) His. As is the second kiss she gives him, then, impulsive and trembling a little with astonishment that won’t fade any time soon. She didn’t even know she wanted this so badly until he gave it to her, and now her mind is flying a million miles a minute; she doesn’t care so much about the idea of the wedding, but the marriage itself--

It won’t change a lot about how they live, no, but in some ways the tradition of it will make her happy. She’s a woman of the old world at heart, albeit one who declared herself a feminist after being in the United States for about a week and a half.

“And this is ours,” she tells him, firmly, “for good.”