He is already feeling uprooted with the unreliability of his own magic. Testy when he used to be more patient, helpless when his abilities slip away from him altogether, anxious and frustrated when they spike in full force, and everything backfires. Attempting to cast, groping for an anchor point to guide his magic again โ when in reality, he can grasp nothing. It is like trying to hold onto something unseen, and it has made him agitated. Skewed the world in an unflattering light, centered it on himself again.
And now? Now, he feels her presence like a dread thing, and up the stairs heโs walked in trying to pin her down. Shoo her out, would it be so easy. But the way the whole Sanctum darkens until there is nothing but her, cast in impossible, barely-there silhouette despite the void encroaching all around, tells him that he will not be seeing this unwanted guest out as quickly as heโd like.
Sheโs notโ somethingโs off. Dimly, some small fragment of awareness that knows the same applies to him, informs of this fact. She is as wavering and unsteady as his magic, as the state of his hands, now.
Still, turns to face her. The skylight jitters and becomes static. Despite everything, Stephen still sounds annoyed.]
Wanda. I donโt have whatever it is youโre here for.
[In normal circumstances, untouched by the Singularityโs influence, he should offer kinder words. More questioning ones. Not now.]
no subject
He is already feeling uprooted with the unreliability of his own magic. Testy when he used to be more patient, helpless when his abilities slip away from him altogether, anxious and frustrated when they spike in full force, and everything backfires. Attempting to cast, groping for an anchor point to guide his magic again โ when in reality, he can grasp nothing. It is like trying to hold onto something unseen, and it has made him agitated. Skewed the world in an unflattering light, centered it on himself again.
And now? Now, he feels her presence like a dread thing, and up the stairs heโs walked in trying to pin her down. Shoo her out, would it be so easy. But the way the whole Sanctum darkens until there is nothing but her, cast in impossible, barely-there silhouette despite the void encroaching all around, tells him that he will not be seeing this unwanted guest out as quickly as heโd like.
Sheโs notโ somethingโs off. Dimly, some small fragment of awareness that knows the same applies to him, informs of this fact. She is as wavering and unsteady as his magic, as the state of his hands, now.
Still, turns to face her. The skylight jitters and becomes static. Despite everything, Stephen still sounds annoyed.]
Wanda. I donโt have whatever it is youโre here for.
[In normal circumstances, untouched by the Singularityโs influence, he should offer kinder words. More questioning ones. Not now.]