Melissa

Fashionably Late: A Crime Thriller Roleplay

█ SCARLETT WREN

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█ ███ ██ █ S U M M A R Y █ ██ ███ █ SCARLETT AMELIA WREN AGE 27 GENDER Female ETHNICITY/RACE White MARTIAL STATUS Single SEXUALITY Heterosexual ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔

▅BIOGRAPHY▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅ Scarlett Wren grew up in a quiet Midwestern town, the kind of place where people planned their lives early and followed through without much detour. She did well in school and was relatively involved, though she always felt a low hum of restlessness beneath the routine. After high school, she attended a state university a few hours from home and studied communications, choosing a field that felt flexible enough to keep her options open. When she graduated, she returned home and took a series of sensible jobs that left her feeling as though she was marking time, simply waiting for something to shift. She began posting on social media casually, sharing pieces of her life that felt small and mundane - outfits, routines, the weekends that broke up her boring work week - but it wasn’t until a casting producer from The Bachelor reached out that she felt a real interruption in the trajectory she’d been following. Scarlett went on the show at 26 and, to her own surprise, became a favorite with viewers. She was steady, warm, and self-possessed, never loud enough to dominate the screen but present enough to stand out. When she was sent home halfway through the season, the reaction was immediate and outsized, and for the first time she understood what it meant to be noticed by people who didn’t know her at all. The experience didn’t give her the ending the show promised, but it gave her something more durable: momentum, and the sense that her life no longer had to remain exactly where it had started. ▅CAREER▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅ After her season of The Bachelor aired, Scarlett rode the wave of attention, sharing reflections, behind-the-scenes glimpses, and small slices of her life that felt relatable and grounded. On the After the Final Rose special, she announced that although she was approached to be the next Bachelorette, she declined, citing she wanted to return to a sense of normalcy and build a life that existed outside the structure of reality television. The decision was framed as thoughtful rather than dramatic, reinforcing the impression that she was levelheaded and sincere, someone more interested in long-term stability than quick fame. It wasn't long before she decided to make the jump and move to New York City, which gave her content an aspirational edge - coffee runs in SoHo, Pilates classes in Flatiron, rooftop parties - but as her following grew, so did the polish. Her signature “day in my life” videos became highly curated, featuring friends who were also well known influencers, brand collaborations, and city adventures that felt exciting but increasingly unattainable to the average viewer. Over time, the charm that had made her seem approachable began to fade. Her posts, once casual and personal, now emphasized aesthetics, access, and status. She became known less for her humor or warmth and more for her image, perfectly framed shots, and the constant suggestion that her life was just out of reach - beautiful, busy, and enviable. Brands flocked to her, collaborations multiplied, and Scarlett adapted seamlessly, but the relatability that had initially drawn her followers quietly slipped away, leaving a version of herself that was admired, envied, and followed - but increasingly distant from the girl viewers had first connected with. ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔

▅_{SUPPORTING CAST}▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅

▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔	JULIAN REED Julian found Scarlett shortly after her season aired and helped her transition from “Bachelor alum” to lifestyle influencer, serving as her talent manager. He’s always thinking two steps ahead, often encouraging Scarlett to lean further into aspirational content even when it costs her relatability. He keeps her calendar full and her image clean, but his loyalty is conditional - tied closely to her growth and relevance. He knows where the skeletons are because he helped hide them.	▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔	ELENA TRAN Elena moved to New York around the same time as Scarlett and was with her before the influencer lifestyle fully took over. She works in brand partnerships at a mid-size agency and understands the industry from the business side rather than the spotlight. Elena is practical, observant, and increasingly uneasy with how curated Scarlett’s life has become. She knows Scarlett’s original numbers, the early brand rejections, the panic behind certain posts - and she remembers who Scarlett used to be before everything became content.
▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔	LILY CALDWELL Lily was on the same season of The Bachelor as Scarlett and became her closest friend during filming, bonding over the long hours and a shared sense of humor about the process. After the season aired, both women leaned into the attention and built influencer careers, frequently appearing in each other’s content and benefiting from the audience’s attachment to their friendship. Now based in New York as well, Lily is a constant presence in Scarlett’s life - at events, on trips, and in everyday routines - often providing balance where Scarlett is more controlled. Their friendship is public, profitable, and genuinely close, rooted in a shared experience that few others understand.

Fashionably Late: A Crime Thriller Roleplay

█ SCARLETT WREN

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█ ███ ██ █ S U M M A R Y █ ██ ███ █ SCARLETT AMELIA WREN AGE 27 GENDER Female ETHNICITY/RACE White MARTIAL STATUS Single SEXUALITY Heterosexual ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔

▅BIOGRAPHY▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅ Scarlett Wren grew up in a quiet Midwestern town, the kind of place where people planned their lives early and followed through without much detour. She did well in school and was relatively involved, though she always felt a low hum of restlessness beneath the routine. After high school, she attended a state university a few hours from home and studied communications, choosing a field that felt flexible enough to keep her options open. When she graduated, she returned home and took a series of sensible jobs that left her feeling as though she was marking time, simply waiting for something to shift. She began posting on social media casually, sharing pieces of her life that felt small and mundane - outfits, routines, the weekends that broke up her boring work week - but it wasn’t until a casting producer from The Bachelor reached out that she felt a real interruption in the trajectory she’d been following. Scarlett went on the show at 26 and, to her own surprise, became a favorite with viewers. She was steady, warm, and self-possessed, never loud enough to dominate the screen but present enough to stand out. When she was sent home halfway through the season, the reaction was immediate and outsized, and for the first time she understood what it meant to be noticed by people who didn’t know her at all. The experience didn’t give her the ending the show promised, but it gave her something more durable: momentum, and the sense that her life no longer had to remain exactly where it had started. ▅CAREER▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅ After her season of The Bachelor aired, Scarlett rode the wave of attention, sharing reflections, behind-the-scenes glimpses, and small slices of her life that felt relatable and grounded. On the After the Final Rose special, she announced that although she was approached to be the next Bachelorette, she declined, citing she wanted to return to a sense of normalcy and build a life that existed outside the structure of reality television. The decision was framed as thoughtful rather than dramatic, reinforcing the impression that she was levelheaded and sincere, someone more interested in long-term stability than quick fame. It wasn't long before she decided to make the jump and move to New York City, which gave her content an aspirational edge - coffee runs in SoHo, Pilates classes in Flatiron, rooftop parties - but as her following grew, so did the polish. Her signature “day in my life” videos became highly curated, featuring friends who were also well known influencers, brand collaborations, and city adventures that felt exciting but increasingly unattainable to the average viewer. Over time, the charm that had made her seem approachable began to fade. Her posts, once casual and personal, now emphasized aesthetics, access, and status. She became known less for her humor or warmth and more for her image, perfectly framed shots, and the constant suggestion that her life was just out of reach - beautiful, busy, and enviable. Brands flocked to her, collaborations multiplied, and Scarlett adapted seamlessly, but the relatability that had initially drawn her followers quietly slipped away, leaving a version of herself that was admired, envied, and followed - but increasingly distant from the girl viewers had first connected with. ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔

▅_{SUPPORTING CAST}▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅

▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔	JULIAN REED Julian found Scarlett shortly after her season aired and helped her transition from “Bachelor alum” to lifestyle influencer, serving as her talent manager. He’s always thinking two steps ahead, often encouraging Scarlett to lean further into aspirational content even when it costs her relatability. He keeps her calendar full and her image clean, but his loyalty is conditional - tied closely to her growth and relevance. He knows where the skeletons are because he helped hide them.	▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔	ELENA TRAN Elena moved to New York around the same time as Scarlett and was with her before the influencer lifestyle fully took over. She works in brand partnerships at a mid-size agency and understands the industry from the business side rather than the spotlight. Elena is practical, observant, and increasingly uneasy with how curated Scarlett’s life has become. She knows Scarlett’s original numbers, the early brand rejections, the panic behind certain posts - and she remembers who Scarlett used to be before everything became content.
▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔	LILY CALDWELL Lily was on the same season of The Bachelor as Scarlett and became her closest friend during filming, bonding over the long hours and a shared sense of humor about the process. After the season aired, both women leaned into the attention and built influencer careers, frequently appearing in each other’s content and benefiting from the audience’s attachment to their friendship. Now based in New York as well, Lily is a constant presence in Scarlett’s life - at events, on trips, and in everyday routines - often providing balance where Scarlett is more controlled. Their friendship is public, profitable, and genuinely close, rooted in a shared experience that few others understand.

Fashionably Late // The Wild Hunt

Another vote for ‘Fashionably Late’ here!

Absolute Comics: Odyssey [Invite Only]

Dawn crept in slowly, bleeding pale light across the apartment.

Wanda hadn’t slept. She’d tried - curled on the thin mattress with her back to the wall, facing the door as though it might open again if she let her guard down. Every creak of the building, every distant siren had pulled her halfway back to waking and by the time the sky outside shifted from black to gray, she’d stopped pretending rest was possible.

Across the room, Pietro was equally still. Not sleeping either - just lying with his hands behind his head, staring at the water-stained ceiling. Wanda could tell by the way his foot tapped against the floorboards that his mind was moving as fast as his body normally could. The silence between them was heavy, stretched thin by everything they hadn’t said in the hours since Strange left.

He’d made them an offer.

An invitation, delivered with quiet certainty as though chaos were simply another problem to be solved with the right tools and enough patience. He hadn’t crossed the threshold. Hadn’t raised his voice or made any threats. Hadn’t even insisted they come with him. He’d simply left them with the weight of the choice and the knowledge that waiting carried its own consequences.

The Sanctum, he’d called it - a place that sounded more like a concept than a building. Somewhere safe. Somewhere that promised answers Wanda wasn’t sure she wanted, and control she wasn’t convinced she even deserved.

In the quiet of morning, the offer felt heavier than it had the night before. Less theoretical and easy to dismiss. The darkness had softened it, made it feel like just another encounter in a long line of chance meetings. Daylight stripped that illusion away and in the wash of dawn, the choice sat between them, solid and immovable.

Wanda drew a slow breath through her nose and let it out just as carefully, sitting up. She drew her knees to her chest and rubbed her palms together, trying to chase away the chill that had nothing to do with the morning air. Her fingertips tingled with the faintest static - she hadn’t used her magic since Strange left, afraid to so much as breathe wrong for fear of someone else showing up uninvited at their door.

Pietro sat up as well, turning his head and glancing at his twin.

After a few moments, the quiet finally broke.

“We’re not going.”

Wanda blinked, not entirely surprised by his opinion, but certainly taken back by how definitive he made it sound.

“We’re not,” The brunette agreed softly, but the words didn’t settle. They seemed to float in the space between them, hollow around the edges. Pietro heard the uncertainty in her voice and turned his head sharply toward her.

“Wanda,” She kept her gaze directed toward the floor.

“Ne možeš biti ozbiljna.” He scoffed, “Čak ga ni ne poznaješ.”
You can’t be serious. You don’t even know him.

“What if I am?” Her eyes met Pietro’s, and he stared at her as though he hadn’t heard correctly. She didn’t repeat herself, and that somehow made it worse.

“Ne - listen to yourself. You’re considering going with - with that man? A complete stranger? He could be anyone, Wanda.” Her continued silence only unsettled him further. “Tell me why you’re even thinking about this. Tell me what he said that made you believe he’s any different from the last person who promised to help us.”

“Plašim se, Pietro.” The words slipped out before she could swallow them back, small and raw and horribly honest.

I’m scared, Pietro.

“I know.”

“I can feel it getting worse,” She whispered. “The magic. It’s louder. Every day, and I don’t know how to quiet it. I don’t know how to stop it.”

“I know,” He repeated, louder this time, frustrated - not at her, but at how helpless he truly felt. “But we’ll figure it out together. We don't need him.” She shook her head.

“You can’t fix this, Pietro.”

His mouth opened to reply but closed again, because he knew she was right. He couldn’t outrun it for her. Couldn’t shield her from herself.

“We trusted Sinister, and look where that got us.” Pietro’s voice was low, trembling with the anger he was still harboring. “We’re not doing that again,” He insisted, exhaling shakily, “I’m not letting us walk into something blind because someone sounds like they know what they’re talking about.”

She lifted her chin, meeting his eyes with a steadiness that made his heart sink.

“But doing nothing, staying here, pretending we’re fine… I’m fine… feels exactly like the same mistake all over again.”

Her voice softened, but it didn’t waver.

“Strange seems capable, and right now I don’t know anyone else who is.”

The room fell silent again.

Pietro broke eye contact first, jaw tight, eyes becoming fixed on the far wall for a beat. When he spoke again, his voice was lower, stripped of its edge.

“If we do this,” He stated, “We do it together.”

Wanda didn’t hesitate.

“Always.”

Pietro let out a slow breath, the fight draining from his shoulders.

“And if I sense something is off,” He added, glancing back at her, “We leave, no questions asked.”

“We’ll leave,” She agreed, “I promise.”

The city outside was fully awake now - voices drifting up through the cracked window, car horns blaring somewhere below. Life moved on, uncaring, as it always did. Pietro stood a moment later, rising to his feet. He took one last look around the room, committing the details to memory - the peeling paint, the bare floor, the place that had kept them hidden when nothing else could.

Then he nodded once, decision made.

“Alright,” He said quietly. “Idemo.”

Let’s go.

Absolute Comics: Odyssey [Invite Only]

The candle on the floor was burning too fast again.

Wanda watched as the wax pooled in frantic little rivulets, dripping down the side of the pillar as if they were outrunning something. Her fingers moved, and the flame danced with them - stretching, shrinking, leaning towards her as if caught on an invisible thread.

She exhaled slowly.

„Smiri se. Opusti se.”
^{Calm down. Relax.}

The flame steadied and the wax trails slowed.

She and Pietro had been living in the abandoned top-floor apartment of a run-down tenement on the Lower East Side for the past month. The building should have been condemned years ago - water damage stained the walls in long rust-colored streaks and half the windows were boarded with warped plywood that rattled whenever the wind changed direction. The hallway lights flickered so often that Wanda learned to walk by the rhythm of their stutter, and the elevator had died decades before they ever set foot inside.

Yet, all that mattered was that it was a shelter from the outside elements, and the landlord had no clue that they were there. Even more importantly, the twins were no longer at Sinister’s disposal.

Her brother came and went in streaks of wind, bringing scavenged supplies and food bought with money he never explained. Morally, his means of survival did not sit right with her, but they weren’t exactly in a situation to question his methods. He’d attempted to be responsible, scouting for a job that didn’t require documents they didn’t have, but none of his recent pursuits had been fruitful. So Wanda knew better than to ask questions - after all, he was keeping them alive. For now.

Tonight though, Pietro was late. Not dangerously late, just... longer than usual. Wanda tried not to let her mind wander down the familiar dark corridors - Pietro hurt, Pietro caught, Pietro alone - but worry crept in anyway, coiling tight beneath her ribs.

The candle wavered as her pulse stuttered. She pressed her palm over her sternum.

„Ne sada.” She murmured.
^{Not now.}

A draft slipped through the broken seal of the window, brushing cold fingers along the back of her neck. She pulled her sweater tighter and willed her thoughts to quiet but New York hummed around her, restless and uncaring. It was loud in ways that the Balkans never were. Distant sirens, honking taxis, muffled arguments through thin walls. But as she focused on the flame again, narrowing her attention to its center, the world softened around the edges - the noise of the city turning into a distant blur, the air thickening, reality bending into something more cooperative. The flame leaned toward her, eager, as though the smallest breath of her power was enough to call it to heel.

Her fingers twitched again.

The flame surged - but then immediately flattened, startled by the gust of air that swept suddenly beneath the door.

Wanda blinked and straightened, her breath hitching as three knocks sounded on the wood. They were deliberate, intentional, and the candle flickered violently as her heartbeat quickened. She stood slowly, her bare feet making no sound as she approached hesitantly.

“Pietro?”

No answer.

The knock came again. Same rhythm. Same unnerving cadence.

Before she could take another step, a thin gust of chilled air whisked across the room, and a blurry streak slipped in from the fire-escape with all the grace of a small hurricane. Pietro skidded to a stop beside her, hair wind-blown and eyes wide. He seemed to have a sixth sense when it came to things going awry where she was concerned.

“Who is that?” He hissed, breath sharp, and his jaw tightened as the knock sounded for the third time. It almost seemed to grow louder with each repetition, echoing off the bare walls of the apartment. Pietro stepped in front of his twin automatically, body angled toward the door and shoulders squared, every muscle tense. Wanda could practically feel the electricity humming under his skin - he was ready to grab her and bolt.

It was then that the person waiting behind the door spoke, calm as ever.

“I’m not here to harm you. And I will leave if you tell me to.” His tone was level, measured. “But I think you’d prefer we speak now rather than have me return at a less convenient time.”

Wanda watched as the candle flame bent sharply toward the door, like a compass needle snapping to true north. She looked down at her hands, her fingers completely steady.

Pietro glanced back at her and raised his eyebrows, understanding what she didn’t say.

“...Magic?” he mouthed.

Wanda nodded. His throat bobbed.

„Nije tvoj?”
^{Not yours?}

She shook her head before drawing a shaky breath and stepping out from behind her brother.

“Wanda-” Pietro stuck out his arm, blocking her path.

“If he was going to force his way in, he already would have.” She raised her hand in the direction of the knob, voice steady. “He chose to wait.”

With a subtle twist of her wrist, the lock clicked open, and the warped hinges groaned as the door eased inward.

Standing on the threshold was a tall man with dark hair, streaked grey at the temples, wearing a structured coat and a posture too straight for someone living in this part of town. His face was composed, unreadable, but the moment his eyes found Wanda, something in them came into focus.

Not on Pietro. On her.

“Wanda Maximoff,” he said, voice low and even, as if stating a fact he had already confirmed. Pietro’s response was instant, sharp, as he took a half-step forward and shielded his twin with his body.

“I think you have the wrong apartment,” He stated, and the man shook his head once.

“No, I don’t.”

“Then you have the wrong people.” Another slow shake of the head - unbearably calm.

“I really don’t.”

“How do you know my name?” Wanda asked softly, matching the controlled energy of the stranger.

The man’s eyes flicked briefly to Pietro, not dismissing him - just acknowledging the protective line he’d drawn - before returning to Wanda as though pulled there by instinct.

“I know a lot of things,” He replied simply. His voice wasn’t boastful, but matter-of-fact. His eyes slid over the peeling wallpaper, the boarded windows, the flickering hallway light, before landing back on the spot where the twins stood. His gaze wasn’t judgmental - just observant. Cataloguing. Wanda felt the hairs on her arms rise. “I know that this is your twin brother, Pietro Maximoff. I also know that you’ve both been squatting here for about a month.” Pietro stiffened, fingers curling at his sides.

“You don’t know anything about us.” The man’s head tilted slightly.

“If that were true, I wouldn’t be here.”

Wanda’s breath caught. She could feel Pietro ready to move but the man in the doorway didn’t so much as flinch. He kept a careful, almost courteous distance from the landing.

“And I know,” He went on, “that hiding this long has taken... creativity.” His gaze flicked to her twin for a beat. “Speed can only do so much to stock a kitchen. Especially without drawing attention.” Pietro’s jaw clenched.

“Watch yourself.”

The man didn’t react to the threat - he simply continued, eyes returning to Wanda with that unnervingly direct focus.

“I know your powers are unstable,” He said calmly, “and growing. I know they respond to your emotions more than your intentions. And-” his voice dipped, “-I know you’re afraid of what you might do next.”

The candle flame behind her trembled, straining toward the open doorway as though drawn to the stranger. His eyes tracked the motion with clinical precision.

“You’ve been very careful,” He added, “But magic leaves traces. Fingerprints. Especially magic like yours.”

Wanda’s fingernails dug into her palms, and a tremor raked through her she hoped neither man noticed.

“Who are you?”

He didn’t answer right away. Instead, the stranger studied her with a level of composure that made Wanda believe he’d already mapped the entire conversation before it began. His eyes flicked to the candle behind her, watching the faint red aura curling at its edges as though it were as legible as handwriting on a page. Then, slowly, his attention returned to her.

“My name is Doctor Stephen Strange.” He stayed rooted in the doorway, making no move to cross the threshold. Every step he didn’t take felt deliberate, as if respecting some unspoken boundary while asserting control over the space at the same time.

“I’ve been aware of you for weeks. Not watching,” he clarified, noting the way Pietro’s stance tightened. “Sensing. Your magic isn’t... subtle, Wanda. Not with the state it’s in.”

“It reaches. It calls. Whether you intend it to or not.”

Wanda swallowed hard.

“Calls to who?” Strange didn’t hesitate.

“Anyone with the ability to feel it. Anyone who would be drawn to that kind of power. Some out of curiosity.” His eyes darkened. “Some… out of desperation.”

“That’s why I’m here,” he went on. “Because the next person who answers that call may not knock first.”

“And you...” Wanda’s voice came out small, but pointed. “You’re… what? Some kind of hunter? Government agent? Someone who tracks people like us?”

“No, none of those things.” He replied, voice steady, “I’m the Sorcerer Supreme. It’s my responsibility to protect the world from threats. From danger.” Her brow furrowed.

“You think we’re dangerous.” Pietro gritted his teeth, taking a step towards him. Strange held his ground, hands relaxed at his sides, his gaze level and unwavering.

“Not intentionally. Not because you want to be. But power like yours is loud, Wanda.” His gaze dropped to the red energy now surging between her fingers freely, and his voice softened slightly, “I meant what I said before. I’m not here to harm you.”

A beat. The candle behind her crackled.

“I’m here to make sure you have a choice - before the world makes it for you.”

Absolute Comics: Odyssey [Invite Only]

W A N D A M A X I M O F F
W A N D A M A X I M O F F

^{"I am no stranger to pain. No stranger to ghosts."}

C H A R A C T E R P O R T R A I T C H A R A C T E R P O R T R A I T _________________________________________________________ _________________________________________________________ C H A R A C T E R S U M M A R Y C H A R A C T E R S U M M A R Y _________________________________________________________ Wanda Maximoff _________________________________________________________ 20 | Single _________________________________________________________ Romani | Serbian A L L I E S & A N T A G O N I S T S A L L I E S & A N T A G O N I S T S _________________________________________________________ [+] A L L I E S ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ ◼ Pietro Maximoff - Twin Brother ◼ Natalya Maximoff - Mother (Status Unknown) ◼ Django Maximoff - Uncle, Adoptive Father (Deceased) ◼ Marya Maximoff - Aunt, Adoptive Mother (Deceased) A N T A G O N I S T ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ ◼ Mister Sinister - Ex-Mentor - P O S T C A T A L O G U E P O S T C A T A L O G U E _________________________________________________________ XX - Post Name -

T H E S T O R Y S O F A R... T H E S T O R Y S O F A R... ___________________________________________________________________________________ Wanda Maximoff was born near Novi Pazar, Serbia, alongside her twin brother, Pietro, to a nomadic Romani witch named Natalya Maximoff. Natalya lived a dangerous life - one filled with mysticism and conflict. Knowing that her path could only bring danger to her children, she made the agonizing choice to leave them in the care of her brother, Django Maximoff, and his wife, Marya. Django and Marya raised Wanda and Pietro with gentleness and stability, despite the hardships of Romani life in the Balkans. Their small camp moved often, staying ahead of prejudice, poverty, and the shifting political tensions of the region. Wanda’s earliest memories are of Marya’s soft hands braiding her hair, Django carving wooden toys, and the rhythms of traditional songs around the fire at night. For a time, the twins were simply children - loved, protected, and unaware of the strange potential growing inside of them. Wanda’s powers surfaced early but quietly. When she became frightened, the air would ripple. When she grew upset, small accidents followed - dropped objects flying farther than they should, improbable events clustering around her. The adults whispered, not unkindly, that she might have inherited some of Natalya’s mystic touch. But Marya reminded Wanda always that power was not a curse; it was responsibility. Wanda treasured that lesson, even if she didn’t yet understand it. Tragedy struck when the camp was attacked during one of their moves through Central Europe. The circumstances remain unclear - chaos, flames, shouts in the dark - but in the end, Django and Marya were gone, and the twins were left alone. At barely their early teens, Wanda and Pietro wandered across Europe, carrying only memories of their adoptive parents and the cultural traditions they had passed down. Wanda held tightly to small rituals: quiet prayers, protective gestures, stories of their people. Pietro held tightly to Wanda. Their aimless journey eventually brought them to Transia, where they attempted to settle in a small, insular village. For a while, it seemed they might finally find peace. But Wanda’s abilities, growing stronger with adolescence, became volatile and frightening. A surge of emotion - panic, grief, or anger she couldn’t control - triggered a catastrophic burst of chaotic energy. Dry brush ignited, houses caught fire, and the village panicked. Fear turned quickly to fury. The locals dragged her into the square, shouting accusations of witchcraft - a word that carried its own ugly history for Romani people. One man in the crowd gave her a name spoken with venom: the Scarlet Witch. Pietro fought to shield her, but they were outnumbered. Wanda, terrified and powerless to stop what she’d started, believed she would die there. But the mob scattered when Mister Sinister appeared. His arrival was chillingly calm. With a single glare and an aura of authority that no villager dared challenge, he announced that he would remove the “witch” from their village. To the terrified crowd, he was a savior. To the twins, he was an inexplicable miracle. Desperate and homeless, they accepted Sinister’s offer of protection. He brought them to a remote research and training facility he operated in secrecy - a place he presented as a sanctuary for people with abilities. But beneath its clinical walls, Wanda quickly sensed something darker. Sinister studied her powers with obsessive fascination, pushing her to access more volatile aspects of her mutation. Pietro endured his own trials, forced to push his speed far beyond safe limits. Sinister praised their potential while subtly severing their ties to culture, emotion, and autonomy. Wanda was encouraged to suppress her Romani identity, told that attachments “complicated” her mutation. But she quietly held onto the rituals and stories Django and Marya taught her - the last pieces of herself that Sinister could not take. Everything changed when Wanda found files outlining Sinister’s intended plans to experiment on their DNA and force the next stage of their evolution. The illusion of safety shattered, she and Pietro fled in a frantic escape that left them bruised, terrified, and utterly determined to never be controlled again. Now, Wanda stands on uncertain ground. Her powers remain unpredictable and dangerously tied to emotion, and she is haunted by the guilt over the Transian fire and the name “Scarlet Witch”. But she is determined to reclaim her identity and to shape her destiny on her own terms. Pietro remains her fiercest protector and anchor, her one unbreakable connection to the life they lost. She is not yet a hero, nor the myth the villagers feared. But she is no one’s weapon - and she is finally beginning to choose who she will become. P L O T ( S ) & G O A L ( S ) P L O T ( S ) & G O A L ( S ) __________________________________________________________________________________ I want to play this younger version of Wanda because I’m really interested in exploring the space between who she was raised to be and who everyone tries to turn her into. Her backstory is full of culture, trauma, and survival, and I love the idea of writing someone who is still figuring herself out while carrying all of that weight. She’s not exactly the Scarlet Witch yet - she’s just a girl who’s been chased, manipulated, and misunderstood, trying to reclaim the parts of herself that people have tried to take away. I want to explore her connection to her Romani identity (which is criminally written out of most of her current stories), her bond with Pietro, and the complicated relationship she has with her own powers, especially after Sinister’s influence. My goal is to let her grow naturally, whether that leads her toward witchcraft, mutant communities or even darker temptations. I’d love to involve other players - mentors, teammates, antagonists, anyone who challenges or supports her - and let her story develop through those connections.

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Worlds Collide: A Merged Universe Superhero Roleplay

Power Rangers: Secret Force

<Snipped quote by Melissa>

How was the marathon?

@King Kindred

It went well, thank you! Finished in roughly 5 hours and 26 minutes. My legs are super sore today!

Power Rangers: Secret Force

My relations will be up by tonight - I ran the NYC Marathon over the weekend so I’ve been out of commission!

Power Rangers: Secret Force

@mickilennial when do you want relation sheets completed by?