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It’s different for everyone. Wanda doesn’t intend to pry, but like the cat, curiosity always gets the better of her. She doesn’t take notice, if anything, she tries to help. With the Avengers, she was surprised to see high pain levels. She had expected Stark to be at most a three, he lived the rick playboy life. He was a genius. Imagine Wanda’s shock when she sees a nine that no one else can. So she made it her mission to help him, to respect him, to forgive him, but more importantly, to understand the man behind the Iron Man.
It wasn’t easy, but in the end, they had become friends, often sharing little inside jokes, ticking each other off, teaming up against the Captain, all fun stuff.
Another shocker was the Captain. The Captain was always looked at as a beacon of hope, confidence, reassurance, safety, and happiness, all rolled into one incredible being. She had expected his pain to be at tops, a five. But seeing the man who had always made it his duty to make everyone smile with an eight, it made Wanda sad.
A man who had put everyone’s needs, happiness, safety, above his. She had confided in him, without trying to give him the impression that she was reading his mind. And the two became mutuals. Wanda comforts Steve whenever his emotions bend, and Steve when Wanda physically bends. They keep each other safe and balanced.
The Widow was also interesting. She knew very little of the Widow, only knowing that she was a top spy and one of the most skilled people at combat on the planet, if not the universe. She was thought of as an emotionless robot, incapable of feeling anything, but causing pain to whomever the hell she desired. She didn’t mean to intrude into her thoughts. But something inside of her was telling her to, that she should, so she did.
There was a lot of numbness, but it was forced. She went a little deeper, and only felt pain. Wanda would never tell, but it was a nine. Very close to a ten. The Widow had the calmest composure, despite the fact that it could change within a second. What had hurt her so badly?
Then it hit her, how had the Widow become her namesake? She didn’t ask her, the Widow was not the most open person, she hardly spoke to anyone. She didn’t want to give Widow more of a reason to dislike her. So she asked around, being as blunt as possible.
After learning her whole history, she pieced the puzzle together. No wonder she was in such pain. Being abandoned from her parents at the age of six, being trained to be perfect, ridden of any humane parts, losing the ability to bear a child, basically being tortured in a mental state. No wonder the Widow wasn’t open. From that moment on, she would be extra nicer to her, be more open, let her know that she wasn’t alone.
The most shocking was Thor. Thor, the god of thunder who was always smiling over the top, happy and joyous for every damn thing. Was he ever not smiling? If he wasn’t, a simple pop tart fixed the problem.
So when Wanda saw the seven, she was beyond confused. She had indirectly asked the gullible god. Turns out, he lost a lot. He lost his brother, not once, but three times, his mother, and his father didn’t seem to share the same fondness of him than ten years prior.
She’s learned not to judge based on appearance, but seeing the tiny child, at most thirteen years old with a burning fifteen, she feels scared. But curious. She has questions, which require answers.
She kindly approaches the child, not to scare her. She flashes a kind smile, showing her perfect white teeth, “Hi! My name is Wanda, what’s your name?” The child piped up with intense enthusiasm in her voice, “My name is Lizzie.” Wanda smiles, “Is something bothering you? Is something hurting you?” Her tone is lightweight to explain to the child, “I usually get hunches, like guesses y’ know?” The girl nods, “Yeah. Just those kids. They don’t really like me.”
Wanda’s face scrunches, “Why do you say that?” Lizzie explains, “See, my sister passed from cancer when I was three. She was ten.” Wanda’s face falls into a sympathetic expression. Lizzie continues, “My father, he joined my sister when I was five.” Lizzie holds her fingers out to dramatize the five years. Wanda nods, a deeper sympathetic look inscribed on her face.
Lizzie continued, “And then my mom, she stopped caring about me after he was gone. So the child protectors took me somewhere else. But they don’t let me go home. Which means that mama doesn’t want me anymore. And I don’t know why I tried. I did so good, I listened to her, I did all my homework, got all hundreds. What more did she want?” Tears began to form in her eyes as she whispered sadly, “Was, was I not good enough?”
Wanda shakes her head as she holds her arm out to invite the child into a hug. She whispers, “No, she loves you, trust me. I know.” Wanda was right, you never should judge on appearances.
The girl whispered, “How do you know?”
Wanda whispered earnestly, “Keep a secret?”
Lizzie nodded.
Wanda whispered as red swirled around her extended fingertips, “I’m the Scarlet Witch.” She flashed Lizzie an inspiring smile with a finger pressed to her lips, hiding the amused grin with the child’s amusement as the laced red turned into small firm red balls of energy pushed her up into the atmosphere.
She checked on the little Lizzie periodically every now and then. She was doing good, she even “teased” her bullies letting them know that by bothering Lizzie, they were bothering the Scarlet Witch.
She was going to help everyone she could, every little step at a time.