abraxaslogs | ( open — august catchall )

Hey, I'm not that bad with runes.

( she'd given him a silver star for his efforts but matt sighs and leans forward, reaching for the pad and paper again. when he leans back, he props the pad on his knee and starts writing.

this takes a little while because he has to draw out the braille and then underneath, the letter that it corresponds too. the office is quiet, no ambient sounds of new york filtering in though he can hear her breathing and he listens to it while he writes.

once he's done, he hands it back to her. )

It's going to take you awhile to write letters like this but you can at least get familiar with some things. You can write your name and mine or whatever else you want.

[though matt sighs, wanda smiles—because he acquiesces and pulls the pad back toward himself. he sits, all nonchalant and careful as he indulges her request. wanda leans against the table, just watching him work; the way his brow creases in concentration, how he pauses and tries to find the right place to put the tip of the pen.

all the while, she's quiet, and happily takes the pad back when he's done.]

I'm sure my magic will help me get it right.

[is this cheating? it doesn't matter, because wanda's ripping off the page from the pad and looking them over, thumbing over the print of matt's handwriting.]

I'll practice, and then you'll just have to wait for the mail, I guess.

[she won't be able to take this page out of the horizon with her, but she can use her magic to recall his writing. speaking of—]

Would you send me letters, some time?

I don't think I've written a letter in...years.

( he sounds a little amused at the concept but he supposes, with the way things are here, mail and written letters are still important. so, he nods. )

I'll write you some letters and send them to you. Hopefully my handwriting isn't too terrible and I don't bore you with what I decide to write about but — yeah, I can write you.

( regale her with stories about his fun life in cadens. )

[wanda's delight for something as silly as being able to send mail to others is perhaps one of the more trivial points of joy she's found in abraxas; the moment she realized it was possible, there was no coming back from it.

she hasn't really received anything back yet—not that she's expecting it—so matt saying he would—

well, it has her scooting to the edge of the chair and leaning on the table, arms crossed, in excitement.]

I've never gotten mail before.

[—geez]

I can send you something that's closer to Abraxan fashion too, by the way. I can't imagine you aren't drawing attention with your ties.

( well, now he's going to have to send her all kinds of letters when he hearse the excitement in her voice and can imagine her leaning forward, anticipation in every line of her body. he kind of wishes he could send her something right now.

but he was definitely going to write a letter after they left each other this time. )

Abraxan fashion? ( he's not sure he wants to know. he sits back and smooths a hand down his tie. ) This isn't fashionable?

It looks very good on you. [the combination of a simple tie on a white shirt, it's ridiculous how much matt makes it work.] But you can try blending in a little more.

It's very dry in Cadens, isn't it?

[with the desert and all that.]

I can send you a — [she gestures, putting her hands up around her head] a big hat.

[she's joking right now.]

I don't think I'd look very good in a hat, big or otherwise.

( he was more of a scarf or armored helmet around the head kind of guy. hat would just make him look foolish, he thinks. )

I think I'd stick with the suit and tie over a hat. I wear it better.

( maybe there was someone out there that could wear a hat well but he was not that person. )

[she tilts her head at that, because—]

A scarf?

[sometimes, matt lets down his mental defenses enough for wanda to be able to hear his thoughts, and that (and or armored helmet) sticks out to her. she pulls away from the chair, standing and walking around the table, to stand by him, her hands on his head, fingers brushing his hair down.

she leans down a bit.]

Do you want a scarf?

Edited 2022-08-10 14:07 (UTC)

( he doesn't think anyone's ever asked him that before because he's never let on that he's the one underneath the scarf or rag or whatever else he can find to hide his face.

but, she's not just anyone so he just blinks when he feels her closer, hands sliding into his hair to fix it. )

You don't need to do that.

( he's sure that he can find a scarf or something similar in cadens. )

[she pulls her hands away from his hair so she can rest her weight on his shoulder with one arm, the other hand pressing onto the arm of the chair.]

I want to.

[and matt should know by now that wanda can be pretty stubborn about this kind of thing.]

Tell me about it.

About what? The scarf?

( he doesn't really know what there is to tell there but maybe she means something else. he shrugs a shoulder, the one she's placed her hand on and gestures to his face. )

I just — use it so people can't see who I am.

( not much to it. )

[he's imagining what he uses it for and so, in this proximity, wanda can take note of what it is he is thinking about a little more clearly. she moves to sit on his lap, just so she has the leverage to turn to him cover his face with her hands—like she's done before.]

So, like a mask?

[it's totally a mask.]

Mm hm.

( he winds an arm around her waist when she sits down, the hold loose enough that she can move but easy enough to brace her so she doesn't slide off.

her hands come up to cover his face and he blinks a few times, lashes brushing against her skin. )

It's like a mask, yeah. I just cover the top half of my face.

Hm.

[she pulls her hands back, and—easily enough—conjures a series of fabrics onto her hands: cotton, rayon, silk, denim. reaching for his free hand, wanda leads it so he's aware of what she's doing here.]

What material feels best for you?

[if food and drink tastes different for him, it must be the same—with this.]

( matt reaches out, letting his fingers brush against the fabrics she's conjured. he picks them up and holds them before he puts them down and does the same thing to the next one. )

I think — really, anything works for me. Denim might be the only one that's too abrasive and silk tears easily. I've always gone for cotton since I try and not let people get close enough to me to grab at it.

( and no one had tried. )

And honestly, I don't really think about it once I put it on. I'm focused elsewhere.

[wanda considers his words for a moment, nodding her head and then— making all the fabrics but the cotton one disappear. with a little more thought, she turns it into a scarf.

she tries winding it over his eyes, around his head.]

Try it. I want to get the measurements right.

Wanda, I can just tie any scarf around my head and make it work.

( not that he doesn't appreciate the effort but he doesn't want her going through so much just for something fairly simple.

still, he reaches for the scarf and winds it around his head, pulling it down over his eyes and the bridge of his nose before tying it at the back to keep it in place.

then, he spread his arms and says: )

Do I look suitably terrifying?

[he says those words, almost sound dismissive at her efforts, but she can feels his emotions; he does appreciate what she's doing here. she sits a little closer to his knees, watching as he adjusts it over himself. it's practiced—the way he put it on—and he somehow seems more comfortable in it than anything else; even more than the tie and suit.

she isn't sure on the 'terrifying', but—]

I'm trying to see where the Devil Boy comes from.

[well, it's probably just more to do with attitude than looks, right? wanda leans in close, a hand on his chest, and presses a kiss to his lips.]

Let me send you a scarf, okay? Even if you could just get any old scarf you find around.

Edited 2022-08-10 17:16 (UTC)

( laughing, matt lifts his fingers and puts them behind his head, two makeshift devil horns before he shrugs. he knows where it comes from and though he doesn't try and encourage it, he doesn't discourage it either.

hands coming back down to rest against her waist, he reaches to adjust the scarf around his eyes and then waves a hand in front of him. )

You can send me a scarf. I'd like a scarf from you, Wanda. I just —

( he shrugs. )

Don't want to put you out.

You know that I just do these things with my magic, don't you?

[no actual sewing involved. it's surprisingly easy; the only part that is really difficult is having to trust the caravans will make it in time—two whole weeks of waiting.]

I could make it so it never tears, no matter how much trouble you get into. I know you probably don't care, but it would be important to me.

( he had known that but maybe he'd just forgotten in the span of their conversation. he laughs and then shrugs a shoulder. )

That might be a good addition to things. People don't tend to reach for my face to try and tear it off me but —

( just because it hadn't happened doesn't mean it wouldn't. )

I could do something for you in return.

[she leans into him, enjoying how—gentle, easy, this whole thing is. a hand at her waist, their conversation being open and casual, the way his laughs lead to smiles. wanda perches elbow against his shoulder, holds at his tie with her other hand.]

Like what?

[it's a lot different to talk to matt when half his face is hidden.]

I already told you that you do plenty.

I don't know but something.

( he doesn't have magic the way she does and most of his talents lend itself to other avenues of work so he can't really knit her anything or cook or something especially since she lives in a completely different area.

he frowns, working his jaw back and forth. )

It'll be something that I have to think about before I actually do it. It's not like you need legal advice or other help that I can provide. So, I'll have to think about it.

[the way he's thinking about, it makes wanda smile—it's her turn to laugh, leaning back. she takes a moment to fix the collar of his shirt, then moving her hands upwards to remove the scarf from his head. his hair's a mess, but—]

I already told you that you do enough.

Don't worry about it, Matt.

[her hands go back to fixing his hair.]

Edited 2022-08-10 20:04 (UTC)

Don't tell me what to do.

( if he wants to worry about it, he'll worry about it. and he's not going to just forget it either. he'd figure out something though he doesn't really know what. he'd just wait to figure it out when she wasn't around him and couldn't read his mind.

yes, that's right, he wants it to be a surprise. )

Just — let me figure something out.

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