abraxaslogs | • OPEN •

( and wanda gets the impression that they hate pretty much everything that goes against their political agenda. she can't say she's too comfortable with having some people she considers friends stuck there.

well, they are probably the ones who can handle the prim-and-proper fucker better than she ever could. )

I've not interacted with it myself, but I heard that they practice that kind of magic in Nott. It's meant to be magic more closely in tune with your emotions rather than academic snobbery.

( she turns her gaze towards him, waiting for the adequate time for their teas to steep. )

You would have to be open to it.

[ They might have the same level of tolerance when it comes to prim and proper authoritative figures. The only reason Cassian has kept himself on leash thus far is because he's still convinced that he can avoid becoming entangled in a fight that isn't his own.

(It's only a matter of time that he realizes that in itself is a foolish thought on his part.)

As she looks him up and down he does everything in his power not to straighten his posture inadvertently. Instead he offers her a raised eyebrow. What's that look supposed to mean? ]

Do you know what kind of things can be done with it?

[ Because he can barely cast a "simple" light spell. ]

It really depends.

( she looks down her shoulder to their cups, and figures another minute will do before the leaves will make the water too bitter. )

My magic helped me keep a bomb from exploding when my brother and I were kids. I wouldn't say it's the same as Wild Magic, but the hex was born from a need to be safe. It is what we needed in the moment.

You should try training your magical attributes, in any case.

( she shrugs )

Then you can control it all a bit better.

[ The news of a possibly traumatic childhood is met with nothing more than a shift of his weight and a glance towards her as the steam wafts into the air.

It's enough for it to dawn on him that Wanda was probably telling him not for pity, but as a lesson. ]

Controlling it feels like a lofty goal when I can't make a cup of tea or conjure a light.

[ But it isn't a no.

He nods at the tea. ]

I think these are ready. You call your magic a hex then?

You'll get there.

( is all she offers, as a guarantee, in a quiet mutter as she turns around and starts scooping out the leaves from her tea. she does him the favor of doing the same with his, with a small spoon.

it does seem that his understanding of when tea is ready is better than his magical abilities. )

My magic is called Chaos Magic. I draw it from a realm that's — far too dark to delve into, at times, but Chaos manipulates probabilities. 'You'll get there', I say, and the world rolls a magical die on whether you will or won't succeed. I'm not actively casting it, though, but if I'm not careful enough, more often than not, things do come true.

( the singularity, of course, messes with her casts for probability, however. )

It's hard to explain, I guess.

I appreciate the vote of confidence.

[ And despite the wryness, maybe a part of him means that. Or at the very least, will remember it when and if he he wishes he could actually use magic.

He watches her quietly scoop the leaves out, giving her a nod of thanks as he takes the mug from her. ]

It does sound complicated. But it comes down to chance, doesn't it? Like gambling.

[ Something that he was intimately familiar with. After blowing on the tea he takes a tentative sip, hoping he won't burn his tongue in the process. ]

So that means it isn't as ominous as it sounds?

Sure— you could say that.

( gambling, that is. wanda raises her cup lightly for a quiet cheers without actively touching cups. she takes a sip herself, knowing that she can contorl the temperature of the tea to make sure it won't burn her.

hopefully he knows he can do that, too. )

Until I warn my brother that he'll get shot if he continues to steal, only for him to — well, be shot, despite his speed. ( listen, maybe this is getting a little personal. wanda takes a deep breath; they did just meet. ) Hypothetically, anyway.

( quick save, that. )

Do you want it to be less ominous?

[ What bit about not being great at magic didn't she hear? Wanda will be treated to a full view of him wince slightly as he - she guessed - is burned by his tea. There's a quiet sigh under his breath before he returns to blowing on the liquid waiting for several more minutes to pass before he tries again.

The anecdote about her brother doesn't sound hypothetical but he's not about to call her out as much. He'd broken into her apartment and she'd not only not kicked him out but she had made him tea too. Maarva raised him better than to call someone out like that - but the look he gives her over his glass says it all. ]

Do I have a choice?

( wanda shrugs at his question.

hardly anyone gets to have a choice about anything—not her, anyway. maybe cassian is a little bit luckier than her. she just waves her hand in front of herself, trying to dismiss the otherwise quiet lull of the conversation. )

Well, if you ever need any help with magic, you let me know. That you can have a choice on.

Edited 2024-06-17 02:46 (UTC)

[ If he believed in luck, it had always seemed to follow him in strange ways in the sense that he was still somehow alive after everything he's experienced in his short 28 solar cycles cycles.

Was it still luck if you looked around you and all you saw was hurt and destruction in your wake? Also probably not a very good topic of conversation for a first meeting.

Her offer surprises him, and perhaps for the first time that evening, something genuine slips past his otherwise difficult to read facade. As easy as it is to tell her that he doesn't plan on it and that it's a waste of effort on her part, he takes a sip instead. Somehow, he doesn't burn his tongue. ]

Thank you. And if you want help thinking of a better cover name next time, you know where to find me.

• OPEN •

in a few days they'll think back on this conversation

have a that's so raven flashback moment

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