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"Thisisaterribleideawhatifhehatesuswhatifoneofusscrewsitupwhatifhesajerkanddoesntwantanythingtodowithusweveonlygotonechanceastthisvandawhatifitgoeswrong--"
Petro is talking at the speed of light, fidgeting and bouncing off the walls of their American hotel room. Vanda can only keep track - barely - because she's used to this.
She clutches her hands at the sides of her head. "Petro, slow down! You're giving me a headache!" she shouts.
But Petro can't stop zipping around the room, making enough wind that he's upsetting objects and NO, everything has to be just so because Vanda's nerves are frayed as it is!
He gets like this when he's nervous, unable to control his powers. Vanda just lets it all build up in hopes that it will go away. Right now Petro is not helping. With a flick of her hand, she summons a hex sphere and slows his powers down so that instead of a headache inducing blur he's now just looking very uncomfortable at a normal speed. And glaring at Vanda. She rolls her eyes at him.
They're meeting their father today. After so long of believing he was dead or beyond reach, they've finally learned otherwise. Erik Magnus Lensherr, otherwise known as Magneto of the Brotherhood of Mutants. After Vanda's letter to him in careful, studied English, they'd corresponded for a few months until all three of them were convinced of their relationship, and now they were to meet in person for the first time.
"We're going to be fine," she says. "He's our father, he's a mutant too, it's not like he's going to be afraid of us."
Her words are for herself and Petro equally. She knows he wants to see them - he wrote as much, and he paid to fly them here and for their hotel room. But in a strange city, full of people and noise of expectation, her nerves are more than a bit frayed, and she can't help but worry, however irrationally.
---
They sit in silence along most of the train ride to the location where they are supposed to meet with Magneto. It feels like an eternity even to Vanda - Petro, who is trying and failing to keep himself moving at normal speed, looks exhausted by the time they finally reach the cafe.
A man with silver-black hair sits at a table by the door, contemplating a mug of coffee.
"Is that him?" Vanda lowers her voice. He sent pictures, and they to him, but at this angle and in this lighting, well.
"Yes." Petro fidgets rapidly beside her. "I'm,uh,goingtogotothemen'sroom--I'llberightback--hey!"
Vanda grabs his arm before he can run off. "I can't do this alone, Petro," she hisses, her palms growing warm as she summons her powers. She knows it's mean, but she can already feel her voice catching in her throat and if she has to face their father alone she doesn't know what will happen.
Would it be unfair if she used her powers to wish for the best possible outcome?
They approach.
"Mister Lensherr?" Petro switches to English, speaking as Vanda jabs him in his side. The grey-haired man looks up. "I'm Petro Maksimov, and this is my sister Vanda." His words are rushed but intelligible.
"Please, sit down," the man -- their father -- says. He sounds more like her and Petro than the Americans she's spoken to.
It's a bit frustrating that this is the only language they have to communicate in at the moment, but Vanda and Petro don't speak German, and their father doesn't speak Bulgarian or Russian, so there's not much that can be done.
They sit opposite from him. "It's good to finally meet you." Vanda pitches her voice up delicately, as she's used to doing around anyone who didn't know her before she started living as a girl.
Magneto nods and taps a finger on the side of his coffee mug. "You too." He pauses. "I understand you couldn't reach your mother."
"Yeah, we couldn't," Petro answers.
"I very much want to see her again."
"We also want to see her again," Petro points out. "We haven't seen her in a long time."
"It hasn't been as long a time," Vanda adds. "Of course."
"We… left, when our powers came to us," Petro continues. "People were angry. We wanted to be safe, and we wanted her to be safe, so we left." It had been a terrifying time for both of them - living in a small mountain village they'd barely heard of mutants outside the occasional fear mongering news reports, and worse, neither had their neighbors. It didn't take much to make the majority of Wungadore turn on the Rroma families who lived there. Harboring mutants only made it worse.
Magneto bows his head. "It pains me to hear that. All mutants deserve better than to be run out of their homes for what they are."