☑ THE SHADOW | Peter Maximoff

s i x

~ 𝐀𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐚 ~

Amara woke with a small groan and a pounding headache. She inhaled sharply and brought a hand up to rub her temple, but her eyebrows furrowed when she realized the extreme uncomfort her body felt.

Her eyes slowly blinked open, only to see that it was almost pitch black in the room she was laying in. She sat up carefully. The room was made of pure stone from floor to ceiling, with a small barred up window on the wall behind her about seven feet in the air. The wall in front of her was made of rusted metal bars, and so was the wall to her left.

She called on her mutation instantly, but when she couldn't feel the usual energy tingle her fingertips, she froze. No sound from It. No black smoke around her hands. And it was difficult to see in the dark.

Her panic finally began settling in, and she looked around the cell frantically. When she saw Peter laying on the ground a few feet from her, she immediately crawled across the moist floor.

"Peter? Peter, wake up," she called. Her hands raised up to his shoulder to try shaking him awake, and she couldn't find it in herself to care that it was probably a little more aggressive than it should have been.

He stirred after a minute, sending the smallest bit of relief through her, and rubbed at his eyes. It was only then that she noticed the clothes they were wearing - old, baggy, torn up pants and shirts, with their suits nowhere in sight. Her rings weren't on her fingers anymore, and her bracelets weren't on her wrists.

"What the hell?" Peter groaned, rubbing at his chest and taking a look around, and she frowned when his eyes widened as he glanced her way. "Ah!"

"What?"

"No, your... your makeup's a little..." He circled his face with his hand and scrunched his face. "Scary."

Amara scoffed and rubbed at her eyes. "You should see you! You've got dirt all over your face!"

"At least I don't look like a raccoon!"

"Oh, my apologies," she growled, "next time we're trapped in a dungeon I'll make sure to ask my captors to leave my face alone so I look presentable enough for you."

Peter rolled his eyes and stood up. "We're not trapped, Aya, don't be so extreme."

She chose to stay silent and watch him pad over in his bare feet to the barred wall of the cell. He raised his hands and gripped the bars tightly, and she gulped, keeping a close eye on what he was doing.

It didn't take long for him to become frustrated, and for her insides to deflate.

"What the hell!" he shouted angrily, trying to shake the bars open in a last desperate attempt.

Amara stood up after and looked down at her hands. She had felt the effects of not having her mutation before, and as much as she hated It, It would have been pretty damn useful in a situation like this. 

Peter swore under his breath and rested his head against the inch-thick bars of the cell.

The room was suddenly beginning to feel a lot smaller to Amara, and she nervously scratched her arm and looked around again. Even though she had a pretty good idea of what her outcome would be, she closed her eyes to see if she could hear Charles. Nothing came.

She could admit that she was a girl that liked silence - but this time, it was only making her hyperventilate more.

Amara trembled as her legs moved her backwards until she hit the wall, where she slid down to the floor and brought her knees up to her chest. Her fingers wrung together nervously as she tried to think of what to do, but she was coming up blank. She was trapped in a stone, wet, cold dungeon with the person she hated more than anything, and absolutely nothing else. Her mutation wasn't working. And she couldn't hear Charles.