[it is far too soon for wanda to be able to graciously deal with thisโwhat it means to tap into the love she has for her children, a love she hid into a prism of obsidian rock, a tomb for all that she's lost. she's promised others to not leave again without warning, as much as she wants to just go and hideโ go away so that this billy could get to not have to do that for her.
she feels the pulse of his magic, raising her eyes as she stares in nothing short of awe that someone else can cast hexes so similar to her own. it's still so bizarre to her, so out of place.
her eyes are damp, welling with tears that stain her cheeks, as she looks at his face. what she wants are so many different things entirelyโshe is not equipped to withstand this on her own, not after all she's undergone. she's lost too recently, her nightmares continue every night, and her heart has not yet mended.]
Iโ I don't know. [she admits, a mutter, at the inquiry of what she wants. hesitantly, sitting up on her knees, she reaches up a hand to grab at his arm. it's a careful, scared touch. she's so afraid, and so overwhelmed, the frantic beating of her heart pulling at the stitching of wounds that have had no time to healโwounds she didn't know were there at all. and she can't help but be fascinated, because though he looks different, she can sense it under the thrum of her fingertips: this is her son. and he's older, so handsome, wielding her magicโso perfect.] Billy...?
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she feels the pulse of his magic, raising her eyes as she stares in nothing short of awe that someone else can cast hexes so similar to her own. it's still so bizarre to her, so out of place.
her eyes are damp, welling with tears that stain her cheeks, as she looks at his face. what she wants are so many different things entirelyโshe is not equipped to withstand this on her own, not after all she's undergone. she's lost too recently, her nightmares continue every night, and her heart has not yet mended.]
Iโ I don't know. [she admits, a mutter, at the inquiry of what she wants. hesitantly, sitting up on her knees, she reaches up a hand to grab at his arm. it's a careful, scared touch. she's so afraid, and so overwhelmed, the frantic beating of her heart pulling at the stitching of wounds that have had no time to healโwounds she didn't know were there at all. and she can't help but be fascinated, because though he looks different, she can sense it under the thrum of her fingertips: this is her son. and he's older, so handsome, wielding her magicโso perfect.] Billy...?