abraxaslogs | • OPEN •

[sit still—that's what she tries her hardest to do, closing her eyes in the process with a tight knit of her brow, trying to stop the world from spinning. without the visual information, she's able to process through touch that she is very firmly on the ground, unmoving.

her eyes do open when she hears the canteen of water being passed over, and she reaches for it with hesitant hands, the small sip of water she takes helping the dryness she feels in her throat. she tastes a little bit of the blood that frames her upper lip, and so wanda pools some of the water on a hand, using it to rub it over her lips and chin.]

—thanks. [quietly, wondering if there's any reason why she shouldn't feel up to telling claire — well, anything.] I came here to ... nurture the land with my magic. Like I always do. Except this time, it... started to hurt.

[like she was putting pressure over a bruise]

And then you were here.

[ Ever prepared, Claire brings a clean cloth from inside of her pockets, and gently tips Wanda's chin toward her with a soft, questioning look of permission to help finish cleaning her up. Admittedly, her knowledge of magic is still in development, ever evolving as she learns and practices. She may be out of her element, but she does listen. Nothing she's done with Himeka as far as her work on fostering plants has led to pain, but she doesn't have much power, either. ]

Has this ever happened to you before?

[wanda allows herself to be moved about under claire’s direction, shaking her head at the question. it’s comforting to have someone who knows what to do looking after her.

it’s the small things.]

First time.

[which should be worrying, but wanda doesn’t want to think too hard about it.]

Maybe I’m just — tired.

Maybe, Wanda.

[ Claire is sitting now, right beside Wanda once she's gently cleaned up. ]

And nothing else unusual in the last day or so?

[ She can't help worrying, but her tone has an edge of finality to it - she won't keep pressing after this. ]

[wanda doesn’t mind that claire asks and prods about the situation, because it’s just what a doctor does, and wanda’s found herself trusting the older woman for some aspects—for the small things she reminds her of, those motherly elements.

she is about to shake her head no, but stops herself.]

Other than being influenced by the monsters that attacked the commune? [a frown, then—quietly,] I know it’s magical in nature.

[ That makes her frown as well, but she doesn't know enough about magic yet to continue pressing. Instead, she simply sits against a tree, intending to stay with Wanda for a bit, offering her lap. ]

Would you like to rest your head for a bit?

[ Only if you need to, I can make sure you get home if you'd rather. ]

[the offer nearly takes wanda out of it. most everyone in the commune see her as someone of some kind of authority, someone who knows the answers to problems and questions, someone who is more likely to offer comfort than to be one to need it.

it's so easy for her to fall into the role of being the carer, after having become a mother herself.

(when did she stop seeking the comfort in others in earnest? was it after pietro was killed?)]

I— [it feels a smidge embarrassing, how tinny her voice becomes] —I'd like that.

[and it's with a similar sense of earnestness that she scoots closer, then lies down, resting her head on claire's lap. she feels a little awkward, folding her arms around her middle a bit tightly, letting her face gaze out towards the fields. she hadn't realized how lightheaded she was still feeling.]

[ Claire knows that feeling, and she's happy to give back because others have been looking after her. One hand rests in her lap, and the other soothingly runs through Wanda's hair. It's easy to remember doing this for Bree on the rare nights Claire was home after a bad dream, or during a particularly loud storm. ]

I'm glad you're resting, even if it's just for a little while. When do you ever let yourself relax and take a breath, Wanda?

[ She's the pot calling the kettle black here, but she does understand the other side of it, that if she runs herself ragged, she'll be no use to anyone. ]

[wanda doesn't answer the question because the answer is obvious: hardly is there a chance for wanda to let herself relax. there are moments, of course, but those are few and far between. when shit hits the fan—because of the singularity or otherwise—she expects herself to be on the pulse of what's happening.

she feels responsible for so much.

glancing upward, she turns her head to claire, asks a question so quietly it might almost be like she never asked it. wanda can't help it, when she just hears thoughts so, so clearly.]

Who is Bree?

[ Claire's breath catches, but her hand never falters in its soothing touch. Neither do her thoughts suddenly pause; instead she closes her eyes and rests her head back against the tree trunk. ]

My daughter, Brianna. I haven't seen her in nearly two years now, haven't heard her voice. I used to do this for her when she couldn't sleep.

[ And Claire misses her desperately, like an ache that won't stop even when she's at her happiest. That was going to be true whether here or back in North Carolina. ]

[that makes sense, doesn't it? that claire would have children of her own. except maybe just the one, brianna. wanda can understand a parent's desire to see their child—to just hear their voice one more time.

being stuck here probably doesn't help at all.]

...is there a reason why you haven't seen her in so long?

It was safer for her to stay in the 20th century than go back to the 18th. And at the time, I wasn't even sure if she could go through the same portal I did. Not everyone can, and so it wasn't an easy decision.

[ Claire lets out a quiet breath. ]

So, I went back to Jamie with Brianna's blessing, and now I'm here. Although a friend from my future arrived in the Free Cities, and apparently Bree can go through the portal; she's with Jamie right now.

[ And Claire's here, ten decades in the past, stuck and waiting. ]

[suddenly, there’s a lot of conversation about time travel and portals, and while wanda isn’t entirely too privvy about this, she thinks she remembers an off-hand mention of this all. letting go of children is never an easy choice, much less when caught in the limbo—of here—of waiting.]

She is safe, though. That’s what matters.

[that’s what wanda would ever want, for her kids. and, because she knows that it helps her when she is allowed to talk about her tommy and billy, wanda says,]

Tell me about her.

[ Claire's quiet for a few seconds, thinking back to the best of her time as a mother. ]

She's so incredibly smart, and funny. But it's a dry sort of wit. She loves to read, and she enjoys history and architecture. Bree has the most beautiful red hair, just like yours, actually. [ And her sister, Claire adds quietly to herself. She does that frequently, always starkly aware that there should be two. ] According to a friend from home in the Free Cities, she's made a grandmother twice over.

[ That fills her with a certain kind of elation that's enough to boost her heart. ]

I have an adopted son, Fergus, and apparently, he has more children than John could remember at the time. I must be busy.

[ She says this with fondness, as if she'd ever be idle anyway. ]

[the loss of a child—be it through distance or situations that are out of a parent's hands—is never quite something one wants to envision for themselves, when they hold the infant in their arms, so innocent and perfect. the retelling of her daughter's traits brings a swell of tears to wanda's eyes.

would that her mother have grown old, to tell stories about her like this. would that she could have seen her boys grow, to know about the things they love, what they would have become.

wanda sits up abruptly, but turns to claire and wraps her arms tightly around the older woman, a gasp of air escaping her—a sob, as she shakes her head against the curve of her neck.

she misses her mom desperately.]

I'm sorry you're not there with her.

[ Claire is so grateful for Wanda, for her kindness, her friendship, and for allowing herself to be taken care of, just a little. When they're suddenly embracing, Claire holds onto her tightly, cradling the back of her head with one hand. Gently, she rocks back and forth, just a subtle motion to soothe. ]

You've been patient enough to allow me to mother you, just a little, and being able to take care of you has been a balm to my heart Wanda, truly.

[ She means it, and her thoughts are openly free for Wanda to pick up, though she doesn't realize it. There's simply trust, and her caring for Wanda like a daughter runs deep. ]

I'm grateful to know you.

[that much? that much has wanda turning her head down, letting claire's shoulder catch any stray tears that now fall from her. iryna maximoff would never be replaced, but wanda wishes she wouldn't have to think of finding traces of her mother anywhere else but in herself.]

I don't have parents. They were killed.

[she says quietly, a whined kind of mutter, hands gripping tighter against the folds of claire's clothes.

her voice is shaky, and it's no one's fault, really, that this conversation has turned around to this form of lamenting.]

I miss my mom.

Edited 2023-11-10 17:05 (UTC)

Oh, darling.

[ She lets out a soft breath and just continues to rock. She remembers tying her wrist to the bedpost of her parent's bed, as if that would keep her uncle from taking her away, and all she needed to do was wait for their return. ]

I miss mine, still, nearly a half-century after losing her. Just so that you know it will always be normal, and you can always miss her, always cry for her. But as a mother, I think I can say she would want you to carry her with happiness, as often as you can.

[ For as long as Wanda wants to be held, Claire is willing to sit with her, to be whatever she needs in this moment. ]

• OPEN •

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

now with 40% fewer typos!

✨

😭

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject