Red like roses

fills my dreams
and brings me to the place you rest

Wanda lay curled on her bed, sealed away in her room as she had been for days. With no Steve left to gently knock on the door, no kind voice insisting that she eat something. No one tell her it wasn't all her fault.
It was her actions that fueled the metaphorical fire that burnt Sokovia. It was Sokovia's destruction that brought on the creation of the Accords. So it was she who brought about the Civil War, and ultimately she who caused the deaths of Rhodes and Steve and... and Vision. Wanda sobbed harder as she recalled the way she had twisted and crumpled his body―not discerning metal from flesh as her rage drove her to rip him apart and crush him together over and over again. She remembered the Mind Stone flying from his body, straight into the hand of that... thing. That alien. Thanos.
Whatever happened next would be her fault as well. Whoever's blood was spilled―heroes and villains and civilians alike―would be on her hands. The bloody sorceress. The Scarlet Witch.

White is cold
and always yearning
burdened by a royal test
Bucky icily glared down at his metal arm. Growling, he stood up and punched a hole through the wall, which was not out of place beside the other gaping gaps that were also the result of his sorrowful rage. He sucked in sharp breaths and punched the wall over and over, dark hair flying as he tossed furniture and slammed his fists into the ground, splintering the wooden floor.
"Why does everyone always die around me?" his roared. "What the hell is wrong with me?! I can't save anyone. All I do is get them killed. I couldn't keep (y/n) safe and I couldn't even keep Steve safe." He bit his lip. Steve had begged him to join the Avengers―ha, like they'd want him. Bucky knew he'd have to face them, but how could he? How could he look into the eyes of the people whose friend he'd gotten killed?
Bucky smashed the floor again. He breathed heavily and silently cursed his situation. His best friend was dead and that was his dying wish. Steve wanted him to join the Avengers, so he'd do it. He'd face that trial and he'd do everything that he could to redeem himself in Steve's honour.
Bucky stood up, moving shakily but with resolve. He'd do it, but he would never let himself get close to another person again. He would never hurt another innocent, or break another heart. He would be the White Winter Soldier. He would be cold, and he would be alone.

Black the beast
descends from shadows

Natasha stared straight ahead, in total silence. She didn't glance around or admire the view from the bus window like the other passengers. She didn't smiled or chat or listen to music. She stared at the back of the seat in front of her with dead, emotionless eyes. In her bag beside her she'd packed essentials: cash, clothing, food and half a dozen passports. All she needed to disappear for good.
Natasha Romanoff hadn't spoken a word since Steve's death. She hadn't looked into the eyes of her former allies―those who were still alive. She'd turned her back on the look of betrayal that Clint had fixed her with, Steve's sobbing girlfriend with her burned right side, Tony's look of shock, Captain America's corpse...
She never intended to see any of them again. She'd supported the Accords and now any of her friends that were still alive hated her. The only other ones that were still around she hated. But most of all she hated herself. Once again, she'd become that heartless killer that she had been in her past. She didn't deserve to see Bruce again, so she wouldn't look. She didn't want to see the Avengers again, so she wouldn't let them find her.
She was an animal born in shadows. The murderous Black Widow. And it was time to return to the darkness where she belonged.

Yellow beauty burns gold

(y/n) stared at her reflection. The girl that stared back at her was broken, tortured, and dead inside. Burned, too. The right side of her face was half melted. It was red and black, crusted and rugged, and even with the medication she'd been forced to take it still throbbed. The same went for the right of her neck, shoulder, arm and side, although the damage to her face was most severe. Her right eye was scalded red and vision from it was hazy to say the least.
But the loss of her boyfriend Steve Rogers caused her more agony than any physical wound. (y/n) had seen him on the ground, bleeding out and whispering something to Bucky, and she'd sprinted over. She's listened to him tell her he loved her and watched him die. And just like that, he was gone.
A tear from her left eye slipped down her face as she stared at herself in the mirror. She bit her lip to hold back a sob: ever since Tony's missile had done this to her, had mutilated her the right side of her face, tears had only fallen from her left eye. She couldn't even properly weep at Steve's death.
She'd been careless and naïve, thinking she and Steve had a chance at a happy life. She'd never make that mistake again. The fallen super soldier's flame had been burnt beyond recognition.

Tony sat alone in his bedroom, staring blankly at the wall. Thinking. Regretting.
He buried his head in his hands and wept.