Owner	Pose
Pietro Maximoff	Wanda's rooms in the Mansion were very ... plain. Utilitarian. This would _never_ do. So Pietro, in true Pietro fashion, took it upon himself to redecorate. Just a little. She needed silks - red, of course, as her chosen color. Maybe some blue-and-silver hidden away in there somewhere - they were twins, after all. Her furniture was almost Soviet, he noted. Stodgy and thick and could probably deflect artillery. He chose to leave it, just because he was feeling a little puck-ish. Her wardrobe was a _disaster_. Not a single suitably Romany dress in her entire closet. Was she ashamed, he wondered. Her shoes were in slightly better shape, but she needed some proper sandals. Heels, at least, she had. Thank goodness. He was a blue blur as he raced around her chamber, delving into every drawer, poking into every closet. At least he was only in the planning stage and didn't have any of the things he wanted to put in her chamber to recall her Romany heritage. Yet.
Wanda Maximoff	Wanda sat cross-legged in the middle of her bed, engrossed in an ancient tome. She watched out of the corner of her eye as Pietro zipped around her room, redecorating with his usual enthusiasm. She knew better than to try and stop him; it would be a futile effort. Instead, she focused on her reading, letting him do his Pietro thing.----When he started rifling through her wardrobe, she finally spoke up, her tone firm, "Do NOT change my clothes, Pietro."----There was a small silence, filled only by the sound of Pietro's rapid movements. Wanda's frown deepened, and she glanced up from her book. "I'm not sure about the traditional meal and entertainment," she confessed, her voice tinged with worry. "What if Stephen doesn't like it? What if I get the meal wrong, or something else goes disastrously wrong? You know as well as I do that disaster seems to follow me around."----She sighed, closing her book and looking at Pietro with concern. "Do you really think this is a good idea?"
Pietro Maximoff	"Yes." Pietro said simply. "Your decor is abysmal and boring and your wardrobe is a disaster. Fortunately for you, these are fixable problems. I have a list." he said. "Your Stephen needs to know what he is in for, courting a Romany woman." he pointed out sharply. "We already know that he knows nothing of our ways, but as you're willing to overlook that, so too shall I." he said as he buzzed about her room more. "Are you trying to tell me you've forgotten our childhood entirely? You used to spend hours with Mama, learning what you needed to know. Is all of that forgotten in your hurry to toady up to ... him?" he said, refusing to actually name Magneto.
Wanda Maximoff	Wanda pursed her lips, her eyes narrowing slightly as she watched Pietro buzz around her room. "Of course I haven't forgotten everything I learned from Mama," she said, her voice edged with frustration. She set the ancient tome aside, the heavy book making a soft thud against the bed.----She sighed deeply, running a hand through her dark hair, pushing a few errant strands away from her face. "But it has been a long time, Pietro. We've both been through so much," she continued, her tone softening for a moment before the irritation crept back in. "And I'm a bit out of practice."----Wanda's eyes glinted with a mix of annoyance and sarcasm as she looked up at him, giving him a tight, challenging smile. "Since you're the aficionado, maybe you can plan it all out," she quipped, crossing her arms over her chest. "I'm sure Stephen will be thrilled with your impeccable taste."----She tilted her head slightly, raising an eyebrow as she waited for Pietro's response, her body language a blend of defiance and reluctant acceptance.
Pietro Maximoff	"Conceding the bet already?" he asked, needling her pride just a bit. "You need to plan, prepare, and execute. For someone who can navigate the ever-changing waves of chaos, who can bend the multiverse to her will, you're being a scared little bitch about this whole thing." he pointed out. "You know our people. Our history. Our traditions. You don't need me to come and bail you out from your own consequences." he said, and then muttered something under his breath about oil spills and sand traps. "Put the Scarlet Witch aside for just a moment." he said. "And remember Wanda Maximoff."
Wanda Maximoff	Wanda gasped, her eyes widening in shock at Pietro's blunt words. Her expression quickly shifted to one of stern disapproval, her gaze like daggers. Frustration bubbled up within her, and she threw her hands up in exasperation. "Alright, alright, fine!" she shouted, her voice betraying her nervousness. The depth of her feelings for Stephen was apparent in her outburst.----She fixed Pietro with a narrow-eyed look, her voice trembling slightly with both frustration and vulnerability. "You have it so easy, Pietro. You have no idea what it's like to be a woman, especially a Romany woman."----Her expression shifted to a mischievous grin, chaos magic flickering to life in her hands. "But I could change your perspective through a week of firsthand experience. All it takes is a few flicks of my fingers. Pietro to Petra in under 60 seconds," she teased, though there was a hint of seriousness in her tone.
Pietro Maximoff	"You're right. I don't." he said plainly, acknowledging her note. "Our people are not perfect. They do, as you may recall, fear mutants." he pointed out. "But all people have their flaws. You _rise above them_." he said, in what could be construed as a gigantic act of hypocrisy. "I spent a lot of time on the outside. Not accepted fully by the men and shunned by the women. I listened, Wanda. I learned. It's not like I didn't have the time." he pointed out sourly. Talking about his feelings and his experiences was always difficult, even if it was just to Wanda. "You are a Romany woman." he told her. "But you're also a modern woman. Capable. Not needin' no man." he said, mocking entire waves of feminism. "Be what you are. In total." he told her.
Wanda Maximoff	Wanda's expression softened as she let go of her playful idea of turning Pietro into a girl. She sighed, looking at him with a mixture of nostalgia and sadness. "Pietro, the world we came from was not kind to women. Women were considered 'marime,' and in the home, they weren't even allowed to eat from the same dishes as their husbands or children." Her voice wavered slightly, but she continued, "I'm glad you don't treat me that way, but the world we live in now isn't as severe to women as that."----She took a deep breath, steadying herself. "We can't go back to the world we came from, it's gone. We have to learn to live in the world we have come to, like you said."----Wanda stood up from her bed and walked over to Pietro, wrapping her arms around him in a tight hug. "I haven't felt this way in so long," she confessed, her voice filled with emotion. "Stephen teleported us all the way to Milan, just to dance with me. He treats me like the most beautiful treasure he has ever seen."----She pulled back slightly, looking up at her brother with a tender smile. "I want to show him my appreciation in a more modern way. I will honor the bet, but I don't want to live the way a Romany woman would. I want to keep our traditions in memory, but I need to live in the present."----She rested her head against his shoulder for a moment, drawing strength from their bond. "Thank you for understanding, Pietro. It means a lot to me."
Pietro Maximoff	Pietro hugged his sister back, and then heaved out a sigh. "You're still weaselling out of our bet, but seeing as how you're my sister and I feel a certain degree of responsibility for you, I _suppose_ just this once I can let you out." he said. "But I'm surprised by one thing - you do remember the traditions of how unwed women are to treat those they have an interest in, yes? To entice, to show the glimpse of future treasures beyond compare? I would have thought you'd welcome the chance to, as the say, go all out?" he said with a crooked smile and a quirked eyebrow.
Wanda Maximoff	Wanda smirked at Pietro, a playful glint in her eyes. "Why do you think I haven't done that already?" she teased. "I told you, I'm a modern woman, but I haven't forgotten the appeal of Romany fashion."----With a graceful step back, Wanda raised her hands and twirled, ribbons of chaos magic swirling around her. The shimmering energy enveloped her, transforming her clothing into a vision of elegance and sophistication. The dress that emerged was crafted from the finest scarlet silk, shimmering with every movement. The bodice hugged her figure perfectly, featuring intricate lace detailing and a subtle sweetheart neckline that added a touch of timeless romance. The waistline was cinched gracefully, flowing into a full, floor-length skirt that cascaded like a waterfall of rich crimson hues. Dangling metallic charms and bangles hung at her waist, jingling softly with each motion.----It was a perfect replica of her favorite dress of their mother's, one she had often admired in the back of the closet. Their mother had promised to gift it to her when she grew into a woman, and now, here it was, brought to life through Wanda's magic.----And she has been the splitting image of their mother before, now she embodied that dazzling and goddess-like woman their mother had been, as if she were standing before him rather than Wanda. She struck a pose, modeling the dress for her brother. "What I wore the night he took me to Milan. Stephen couldn't resist staring at me when I wore this," she said with a knowing smile. "I'm sure he was hooked at that very moment."
Pietro Maximoff	Wanda's physical charms were lost on Pietro, this not being the Ultimate Universe. Still, she was demonstrating that she knew _exactly_ what she was doing then and that she hadn't forgotten. "Well-done." he finally said after a moment, then averted his eyes a little. "I am not a Stephen, and I am certainly not _your_ Stephen. Feel free to change back any time." he told her.
Wanda Maximoff	Wanda rolled her eyes at Pietro, a playful smirk tugging at her lips. "Of course the dress wasn't for YOU, Pietro," she retorted. "I thought you would appreciate that I was finally able to wear the dress that our mother cherished and promised to me."----With a snap of her fingers, the elegant dress vanished, replaced by her previous attire. "Father would have appreciated it," she said, her voice softening with a touch of nostalgia. "He would have been proud of what I've grown into."----Her expression turned dry as she pursed her lips, "And he would probably intend to stab Stephen for even THINKING about his daughter in that dress. Or make you dispose of him," she added with a wry grin.
Pietro Maximoff	"Do not mistake me. I am proud of you." he said. "But as you love to remind me, I am not the boss of you. You are a strong independent woman. Etc, etc, etc, words." he said with a small smirk. "I remember Mama wearing it. Once." he said. "Django was so proud. He lorded it over the other men for _months_." he said. "Sexist, I'm aware, but the _pride_ he felt in her. That she'd chosen _him_. It's something I carry with me to this day." he admitted, but then they were fast approaching talking about Feelings, more specifically, His Feelings, and that was just not going to lead anywhere good.
Wanda Maximoff	Wanda saw where the conversation was heading and knew it would lead Pietro down an emotional path that could trip him up worse than a physical misstep at superspeed. With a tender, patronizing smile, she leaned in and placed a gentle kiss on his forehead, ruffling his hair affectionately. "Never change, Pietro," she murmured, her voice filled with sisterly warmth.----Turning away, she added with a playful tone, "If you're done messing with my room, get out. I'm going to take a bath and eat chocolates to relax." She gave him a light push towards the door, her eyes sparkling with amusement and fondness.
Pietro Maximoff	"Remind someone of her worth and standing and then she's all like "Get out"." he mock-grumbled and then with a sudden whoosh and a blue blur, he was gone. But he did take his redecoration list with him...