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Chapter 5 Scarlet Witch Wanda! They are all my wings!
As the banquet wound down, Lorien and Stephen prepared to leave. They slipped into a sleek, black Lamborghini, with Stephen taking the wheel to drop Lorien off first.
During the ride, their conversation flowed easily, touching on various topics. Stephen, still puzzled by Lorien's approach to women, finally voiced his thoughts.
"So, you flirt with women but never take them home because you don't really like them, and it's just for fun?" Stephen asked, his expression a mix of curiosity and confusion.
Lorien leaned back in his seat, a calm demeanor settling over him. "Exactly. I'm not like Tony Stark. I appreciate beauty, but I only sleep with those I truly love."
Stephen glanced over, still skeptical. "What's the difference between love and like then?"
Lorien offered an analogy. "Liking is one-sided. Think of it this way: you like your car, but if you find a better one, you sell it and move on. Love, on the other hand, is more profound. If you love your car, you wouldn't sell it, even if you bought another. You keep it because it means something more to you."
Stephen pondered Lorien's words and nodded slowly. "I see your point. That makes a lot of sense now."
Lorien grinned, satisfied. "It's always easy talking to smart people. You catch on quickly."
Stephen, not one to let things go easily, smirked and added, "So, if you love every car you buy, does that mean you'll end up with a lot of cars?"
Lorien chuckled. "You got me."
Stephen just shook his head, amused.
Eventually, they arrived at Lorien's building. "Sleep tight," Stephen said as Lorien stepped out.
"Be safe," Lorien replied, watching as the Lamborghini purred away into the night.
Lorien entered his building, heading up to the top floor. He no longer resided just on the second-to-last office floor but had also acquired the pent house level.
As the elevator dinged open, Lorien stepped into his expansive home. He kicked off his shoes, and with a casual wave, his suit transformed into comfortable home clothes. Another wave produced a steaming cup of tea in his hand, which he sipped as he walked to the floor-to-ceiling window.
From his vantage point, Lorien gazed out over the Manhattan skyline. Directly opposite, several kilometers away, stood the newly rebuilt Stark Tower, now emblazoned with the prominent "A" for Avengers.
Lorien's North Building was strategically located just north of Central Park, with Stark Tower to the south. To the west side of Central Park, the Osborne Building loomed large.
He mused briefly about how Central Park could complete the picture if the Sanctum Sanctorum of the Sorcerer Supreme were situated on the east side. "It would be perfect for a game of Mahjong," he thought wryly.
"Sip~" Lorien took another sip of his never-ending cup of tea, savoring the moment. He then returned the tea to its magical space with a flick of his wrist.
Feeling a bit restless, Lorien stretched and contemplated what to do next. "Maybe some games," he thought, acknowledging the solitary nature of his current life. But he knew this solitude wouldn't last much longer; soon, he would have more company.
...
Meanwhile, at the Avengers base, it was a restless night. Wanda lay in her bed, staring at the ceiling, unable to sleep. The destruction of Sokovia weighed heavily on her mind. Her home was now nothing more than a massive crater.
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Despite her remarkable abilities, Wanda now found herself bound to the Avengers. It wasn't simply an invitation to join; it was almost a necessity imposed upon her. Both Nick Fury and Captain America understood the danger of letting someone with her potential operate as a free agent.
So, Wanda stayed at the Avengers base. She had the option to rent a place outside with her stipend, but it never felt right. Sokovia had been her home, and now, nothing could replace the familiarity and comfort it once provided. That night, after days of sleepless turmoil, she finally succumbed to exhaustion and drifted into a troubled sleep.
The next morning, Wanda awoke still entrenched in her grief. The weight of Sokovia's destruction and her brother's death bore down on her spirit, leaving her in a state of deep melancholy. Even the combined efforts of her teammates to uplift her spirits proved futile.
Natasha's attempts at comfort, though well-meaning, fell on deaf ears. On the third day, Vision approached her, offering logical reasoning to ease her mind, but Wanda was in no state to process logic. She needed solace, not solutions, and chose to retreat from his well-intentioned overtures.
As the days turned into a week, Wanda's condition did not improve. She remained a ghostly figure within the base, her interactions reduced to monosyllabic responses.
The chatter of online criticism against superheroes only added to her burden. The growing public sentiment that superheroes caused more harm than good echoed in her mind, amplifying her own doubts and insecurities. What was her purpose now? Did the Avengers even have a place in a world that seemed to reject them?