𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒆 𝒎𝒂𝒈𝒊𝒄 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒏 𝒃𝒍𝒐𝒐𝒅 𝒊𝒏 𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒗𝒆𝒊𝒏𝒔.
Maev Barebone never meant to get entangled with humans and their (seemingly) silly fights, but when her neighbor-turned-friend in Bucharest is arrested for a crime he didn't comm...
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blackened eyes
THE WITCH SAT in a chair with a rigid back, her arms crossed over her chest, waiting with minimal patience as Everet Ross struggled to clean up the bomb she'd dropped on everyone in the room. She'd agreed to let them complete the psych evaluation, mainly because the psychologist was already there and it was a timid olive branch she could afford to extend. But she'd made it very clear that once the psychologist was done, both she and James were walking out.
Everet pinched the bridge of his nose, a headache forming from the assault of questions flung his way, most by T'Challa who was infuriated at the outcome. Though the prince kept a calm manner about him, it was clear this was the last thing he wanted to happen.
"I understand your frustration, but I cannot tell you why she's allowed to take him. All I can tell you is that she's very important and I'd be breaking laws I can't afford to break if she doesn't walk out of here with Barnes."
"Then who can tell me these things?" T'Challa felt his hands curl into fists and he took a deep breath, knowing the best thing he could do was to remain logical during this time.
"I can," Maev finally spoke, moving her eyes from Steve Rogers sitting in a separate room with a man she vaguely recognized as Tony Stark, "once you're crowned king." She met T'Challa's gaze with a steady one of her own, her temper finally reigned in. "I know this is less than ideal, but I can promise you it will make sense once that crown touches your head."
"Your words do little to comfort me that justice will be served to my father's murderer," T'Challa said, a frown on his lips.
"James didn't kill your father." Came the calm reply, a stark contrast to the rage she'd displayed earlier.
"Then who did?" His voice was equally as calm, but it hid an anger that had only continued to grow. This day had been particularly trying for many, many reasons, and the witch only served to aggravate him more.
She opened her mouth to reply but stopped, rising from her seat and nearing the screen that flickered to life. It showed James restrained in a glass box, his face eerily blank. Worry flashed over her face, too quick for most to notice, and she gently reached for that tether between them, tugging on it lightly to send a wave of reassurance.
The psychologist sat down and Maev frowned slightly, tilting her head as she watched the exchange. Something felt... off. As a witch she'd grown accustomed to the gut-wrenching feelings that would hit her without warning, serving to tell her to pay attention, to be wary. She looked around the room, frowning as she searched for the source of her unease.
"What's wrong, Maev?" Everet Ross asked her, knowing better than anyone else the peculiar behaviors of the witch.
"Something's not right." She murmured, her eyebrows furrowed.
