Poison | Wanda Maximoff

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Ivy Stark stands in front of the bathroom mirror, applying a final touch of lipstick. She examines her reflection, a perfect picture of grace and elegance. Her black curls are neatly arranged in a vintage style, and her dress, a soft shade of pink, hugs her figure in all the right places. Satisfied with her appearance, Ivy steps out of the bathroom and into the hallway of their quaint suburban home.

Ivy, although dazed and lacking memories, plays her part to perfection, embracing the role she has been assigned.

She enters the kitchen, where Wanda is busily preparing breakfast. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee fills the air, mingling with the sound of sizzling bacon on the stove. Wanda, wearing a pastel-colored dress and a warm smile, looks up as Ivy enters the room.

"Good morning, darling," Wanda greets, her voice a melodic lilt, "Sleep well?"

Ivy returns the smile, her eyes sparkling with an affection that transcends the amnesia that clouds her mind.

"Like a princess, my love," She replies, her voice filled with warmth, "And you?"

Wanda's smile widens, a twinkle of playfulness in her eyes.

"Like a true queen, Ivy," She smiles, the fondness evident in her tone, "Now, why don't you take a seat? Breakfast will be ready in no time."

Ivy obliges, gliding gracefully into the cozy dining area. She settles into one of the plush chairs, marveling at the pristine perfection of their home. The atmosphere is infused with a delightful simplicity, an innocence that transports them to a bygone era. Ivy casts her gaze toward the living room, where a television set flickers with black and white images, the sound of laughter echoing from its speakers.

As Ivy waits, her eyes drift to a framed photograph on the wall. It captures a moment frozen in time—a happy couple, their smiles radiant and genuine. Ivy studies the photograph intently, a yearning stirring within her. There is something familiar in their eyes, a connection that transcends the boundaries of this fabricated reality.

Just then, the sound of a laugh track fills the air, accompanied by the cheery voice of the television host. Ivy tears her gaze away from the photograph and turns her attention to the television. Wanda enters the room, carrying a tray laden with plates of bacon and eggs, setting it down on the table with practiced ease.

They settle in to enjoy their breakfast, their laughter harmonizing with the sounds emanating from the television. Ivy finds herself engrossed in the sitcom unfolding before her eyes, the witty banter and slapstick humor eliciting genuine amusement. It's a comforting sensation, a respite from the lingering confusion that haunts her.

As Ivy takes another bite of her breakfast, she catches a glimpse of Wanda's expression. There is a fleeting moment of vulnerability in her eyes, a hint of sorrow hidden beneath her bright smile. Her head turns just the slightest to glance at the calender, only to see no events for the entire month. The entire page is empty.

The sun shines brightly over the streets of Westview, casting a warm glow on the picture-perfect neighborhood. Ivy steps outside, the click-clack of her heels resonating against the pavement as she joins the flow of other townsfolk bustling about their daily routines. She doesn't even think to question where she needs to be or why she needs to leave the house. Her body operates completely on autopilot as her wife stays at home.

Wanda, now assuming the role of a dutiful stay-at-home wife, watches Ivy depart with a mixture of fondness and concern in her eyes. She closes the door behind her, the silence of the empty house enveloping her. Wanda takes a moment to collect herself before focusing on her own tasks for the day.

As Wanda putters around the house, tidying up and attending to chores, a sense of restlessness gnaws at her.

Lost in her thoughts, Wanda is interrupted by a knock at the front door. She opens it to find her neighbor, standing there with a bright smile, perfectly coiffed hair, and an apron wrapped around her waist.