[ Steve watches as Wanda shifts the color of the walls to an entirely different shade and back again without even needing to think about it. This comes as little surprise to him, though, given the scant information he has of what she'd accomplished in Westview. Wanda's magic is really on a whole other level, and adjusting the Horizon may as well be child's play for her.
He appreciates her patience with him, though, and can only hope that he'd been as patient when he was the one training her. What she's saying makes sense. The Singularity is the source of all magic here, so this plane which is its realm naturally allows for the closest connection with that wellspring.
Steve blinks at Wanda's approach, but doesn't flinch or pull back when she grabs for his hands. There's a trust between them that means he doesn't think twice about it. Despite everything, he's still comfortable in her presence.
A... tennis ball. Right. He can do this. He's messed around in his own domain.
Still, his brow furrows and he works at his bottom lip with his teeth as he focuses. He's handled a tennis ball. He knows the color, the weight, the texture. She's counting down, and at around "two," a tennis ball appears between their hands. ]
There you go, Miss Maximoff.
[ Addressing her as if she's a teacher. Still, he grins at her, relieved that he's been able to complete her assignments so far. ]
no subject
He appreciates her patience with him, though, and can only hope that he'd been as patient when he was the one training her. What she's saying makes sense. The Singularity is the source of all magic here, so this plane which is its realm naturally allows for the closest connection with that wellspring.
Steve blinks at Wanda's approach, but doesn't flinch or pull back when she grabs for his hands. There's a trust between them that means he doesn't think twice about it. Despite everything, he's still comfortable in her presence.
A... tennis ball. Right. He can do this. He's messed around in his own domain.
Still, his brow furrows and he works at his bottom lip with his teeth as he focuses. He's handled a tennis ball. He knows the color, the weight, the texture. She's counting down, and at around "two," a tennis ball appears between their hands. ]
There you go, Miss Maximoff.
[ Addressing her as if she's a teacher. Still, he grins at her, relieved that he's been able to complete her assignments so far. ]