abraxaslogs | ( open — august catchall )

Honestly, it happened because I didn't understand this... sentence? I thought to 'pop a vein' meant cutting an arm off.

[wanda and her esl. she literally just went, okay, and created an axe.]

So, I just created an axe and everyone went with it.

[which already says a lot about the type of people in solvunn. hmm. she raises an eyebrow in thought. then, her brow pinches and she shakes her head slightly.]

Maybe I won't open with that.

( matt starts to laugh because...that's cute, all right. she'd thought pop a vein meant to just cut someone's limb off. good thing that the person they'd chosen had the ability to grow it back. )

I don't know if I'm going to be really all that helpful. I'm not the most welcoming person. No one's going to set me up as the tour guide and greeter at the local store.

( he could garner sympathy just fine but he'd probably get bored easily when it came to something like welcoming people over and over. )

Just go with something simple. 'Welcome to Solvunn, we have a farm and absolutely no sacrifices, really.'

Imagine having you, a blind man, as a tour guide.

[that would be funny. wanda's turning on her chair, legs crossed, elbows on the arm of it as she straightens her arms out in front of her.]

I would want my money back.

[threading her fingers unto themselves, she realizes that she really, really hates having to do this job for their little greet and meet, even if she had promised.]

After ten minutes, I'm putting up a note that says just that and walking away. You know that, right?

[#antisocial]

You don't think I could make it interesting?

( that sounds like a challenge, he turns towards her and smirks a bit. )

I'd show you around New York if we ever got that chance. I know that you've been there but you haven't been where I've been and you haven't been there as long as I've been there.

( he shrugs like...he's not just making offers to find her in their world. maybe he is. he doesn't know. shut up. )

Just make sure to credit me if you do use that.

[wanda feels elated at that— at something that isn't quite a promise, but could very well be one. of showing her around new york — and her heart aches a bit, because she really... doesn't think that'll be a possibility for her anymore. whatever her fate is back in their world, chances are he'd forget her—she'd forget him, and it's not like she can go back to normalcy.

right?

drawing a shaky breath, she hates that it's that which upsets her. it's fine—they have the present right now, she shouldn't—]

It would be really nice if we could do that.

[wouldn't it? together? vision had asked her before to stay, he had promised her that they would grow old together.]

Don't make promises to a witch, Matt.

[she repeats this, from a previous conversation, but she may as well be telling him to not make promises he can't keep.]

Edited 2022-08-11 16:35 (UTC)

Or what?

( no no, he's gonna make this promise. he's going to say this and hold onto it and talk about it so she can't forget that he did. that he wants to. that he'd want to see even outside of this world. )

I'm allowed to make promises and you're allowed to want what's promised, Wanda. So, I'm doing it. I wasn't just...throwing words into the air with that. I'd do it and I'd figure out a way to make it happen.

( does he know how? no. but what he knows about himself is that he is relentless and absolutely focused when he wants something done. usually those things fall into the categories of his various avenues of work but he can add this in there too. )

You can't stop me from wanting these things.

[he sounds so reassured, like none of this magical bullshit can get in his way. wanda doesn't want to be upset about this, but she feels—she is feeling so much, and it's a little too overwhelming. when's the last time someone promised her something like this, only for it to result in her losing everything that was once promised to her?

wanda can't bear losing anything—anyone—again. she can't put this on matt.]

You can want them, but—

[but what? she tugs at her sleeves, nervous, worried. he's stubborn, but she'll be equally stubborn—voice quiet.]

It's not worth it, Matt.

[i'm not worth this.]

Edited 2022-08-11 17:22 (UTC)

( it's not the answer that he wants to hear but it's, unfortunately, the one that he expects. he could relent but he doesn't want to. )

You can't decide what I think is worth it, Wanda.

( as soon as he says it, he feels something twist in his stomach because he knows that he's one to do that. he would do it to her if their positions were reversed but he's more than willing to admit that he's a hypocrite.

and he's going to be a hypocrite about this. )

I disagree.

( he thinks she is worth it. )

[her heart aches, knowing what he says—what he wants from her. she can tell that he isn't saying things for the sake of saying them: he means them.

but it's because he hasn't seen, not really, what she's capable of. though he knows what she's done, it's different to see it when you're emotionally invested on the other person—and thus subjective about the whole ordeal. she is a threat; she had told stephen strange as much. she feels like one, worse of all. she wants this that she has with matt, she wants to be selfish—and she is being selfish, but—

but it's not something she deserves in the long term.]

Couldn't I?

[decide what he thinks is worth it for him? she could easily change his mind with a flick of her wrist, though it's pretty much an empty threat, considering how actions in the horizon don't affect them in the real world.]

—I don't even know if there's a future for me past 2025, Matt. I'm not normal. I can't just — quit who I am. I can't undo the murders I've committed. I can't— I can't have my happy ending.

You could but you won't.

( and he does trust that. that she won't try and manipulate him in that way. it's a threat but it's not one that she'll follow through on. she's using it as shield to make him back off and it might have worked if he didn't know her better than that. she has her ways of reading him and he has his ways.

he swallows, wondering if he should back off this. is it really worth it to press something that might not even happen? he doesn't know his own future. the last thing he remembers is the midland circle falling down around him because he'd just given up.

he might go back to new york and just be dead. wouldn't that be a surprise? he's quiet for a few seconds, still. he doesn't know what he wants to do here, how he wants to take this. because he could argue and risk upsetting her, sending her away. or he could relent and just let it go and give her the impression that he really hadn't meant anything.

nothing says attractive. )

No one knows if they have a future, Wanda. Not when you do the things we do. There's no guarantee of that. I'm not asking you to change anything. All I'm asking for is —

( what? he doesn't know. )

All I'm asking for is a day in New York. That's it.

[it's funny, how matt is so grounded in reality—and one could say it is because of how untouched he is by magic. meanwhile, wanda's mind spirals to conclusions and assumptions, because anything is possible for her—even if those things are, in fact, those that always end with sacrifice.

she breathes in a shaky breath, because she catches something within matt, something unrelenting yet uncertain, like collapsing rocks. she tries to hold fast onto it to discern more, but just as quickly it's locked away in the vault of his innermost thoughts.

her expression pinches, her trembling lips trying to drag in short breaths.

a day in new york.

closing on herself, pressing back to the chair and drawing her legs up to curl up, wanda brings her hands to her face, covering it.]

—I'm sorry, I'm always just...

[crumbling down in tears over pretty much anything, even when being with matt brings her such joy amidst all the noise.]

It's all right.

( he says it quietly, still looking in her direction and, once again, wishing that he could see her even if he knows that wouldn't help anything. he just wants to see her. he wants to reach out to her but he can tell she's folded in on herself and he's not sure anything like that would be welcome so he keeps his hands to himself.

he's quiet for a few moments, gathering his thoughts before he says: )

You don't need to apologize to me. If you need to cry, you can cry. I'm not going to say anything.

[when she surfaces again from her small chasm of her own grief and dilapidated trust in anything the world may or may not have ready for her, wanda feels — exactly how she expects to feel.

tired.

it's never not this exhaustion that just pushes back down to the ground, keeps her trapped.

eventually her feet slide off the chair, landing lightly on the floor as she slumps on the chair. with a shaky sigh, she pushes herself upright again, pressing her hand to her face, brush off any tear stains.]

I'd like to see New York with you. [quietly, because—she would, she really would.] Even if it was just one day.

Okay.

( it's just one day. more than that might be tempting fate and he doesn't want to do that. he doesn't want to try for too much when this world likes taking taking taking. he sighs and leans forward, closing some distance between them but still not touching her. )

It's just one day.

( and if it worked out, they could do another day. just like they were here. he finally does reach out, sliding his hand over one of hers and giving it a gentle squeeze. )

That's enough.

[grounding words, like most anything that matt has ever said or done for her. his hand in hers is welcome—and she doesn't retract away from it, tightening her hold on him.

just one day, it would be enough.

for someone who feels she is undeserving of asking for anything more, after all she's done, the words are somehow exactly what she needs to hear. one day, she is allowed that, isn't she?

though she sniffles, wanda tries laughing, a little breathlessly; there's very little humor in it.]

There's something about us and waterworks, isn't there? [between the rain and her tears—it's a common variable. wanda tugs at his hand.] Can you come closer?

Yeah, I guess.

( matt's tone is even and easy and he rubs his thumb against her hand before he moves out of his seat and down onto his knees in front of her since there wasn't much space for him to join her in her seat. he keeps his hand in hers as he does and then tips his head up to peer at her. )

I should have thought of a couch for my office too.

( instead of just a bunch of single chairs. he smiles at her lightly and sighs, bringing her hand up to kiss her knuckles. )

I could totally carry you.

[she mutters, trying to be funny. he gets on his knees for her, smiles, kisses her knuckles, and wanda can't help it— how much this meddling feeling just encompasses her entirely.

she puffs up her cheeks, trying to discern where her feelings stand.

leaning down, wanda presses a kiss to the top of his head, lingers there for a moment, and ultimately decides to get down on the floor to join him. carefully, a press of her hand to the floor to harbor her weight, tugging him closer and, as he does so, wrapping her arms around him.]

Maybe for next time.

Edited 2022-08-11 20:13 (UTC)

Maybe. Knowing my luck, I'd probably create one and it would be soaking wet.

( he says it lightly, falling back to sit down on the flour and pulling her into the bracket his legs make. he folds his arms around her and pulls her against his chest, letting her lay against him. )

A perfectly good couch somehow showing up covered in water just because I'm not good with magic.

You must really like water, in that case.

[it's a little messy, a little spontaneous—definitely—how they get to sit on the floor like this, but in all this chaos, it makes sense. and that's what wanda means, how being around him silences the noise; it's control, it's a balance; it's the steady earth to the flighty skies.

and it's definitely comfortable, not so much because of the solid floor or the lack of couch, but because of how warm and cared for she feels, held in his arms.]

I like it here, anyway.

[she always says that, wherever they are, because they could be in the middle of the ocean—as would be their luck—but as long as matt is there, she can't imagine that she would not feel safe, she can't imagine that she wouldn't break into laughter.]

One day in New York?

[she fishes a bit, whispered, in the silence of their embrace—] The meal of the day would be hot dogs, I bet.

Yeah, just one day.

( he can't help but laugh at the hot dog quip because yeah. he winds his arms tighter around her, fingers stroking her back idly. )

One of the meals would definitely have to be hot dogs though from a vendor on the street because that's where they're best.

( he hums a bit and sighs. )

I don't have a car so we'd have to walk but I like walking. We could find our way to Central Park and just kind of sit on the bench there, watching people around us.

( well — )

You could watch them and tell me about them. Maybe find a dive bar to get a drink in, listen to some music. I could buy you something that's expensive but ultimately not something you would ever use but you'd still keep it.

( some weird little nick nack that she'd keep but it wouldn't be useful for anything but remembering their day. )

[it's nice to imagine, all these things that she's never actively had in her life before. images moving on the tv, portraying a life she wishes had been hers, of no worries other than that the next weekend's activity to do with friends would be. to have had her life surrendered as some kind of sacrifice to forces beyond her understanding, little wanda would never have imagined that all paths would have led her to this—

no family, no friends to call her own, nothing normal the way the world is supposed to be, the way media portrays it to be.

and yet, matt sits here, indulging her with painting a picture of something that could fall under the category of normal. she has to imagine, of course, certain aspects of it, and she genuinely thinks that this, in particular, will give her something nice to occupy her mind when she is on her own, letting the day droll on.]

It does sound like a nice day.

[she curls her legs up, allowing herself to just rest here. she hates ever having to leave—she wishes these visits would be permanent. no, don't think about that right now.]

I've never been to Central Park. I only ever saw it on... Friends? Not my favorite sitcom, but I thought it would help me understand New York a little better when I first moved to America.

I'd say I've seen a few episodes of that one but —

( he gestures to his eyes before he laughs. he wasn't really one for watching television. he settles his arm back around her and rests his chin atop her head, thoughtful. )

Maybe it'd rain. Wouldn't surprise me, knowing my luck. But that might be nice too. Walk in the rain, step in puddles, save me from stepping into a gutter full of water.

( a smile flickers across matt's face and he rubs his cheek against her hair. )

We could stay out until the moon was in the sky and it was starting to get cold. On the way back to my apartment, we could get a bunch of junk food in a convenience store that will absolutely give one of us — probably me — heartburn and then just sit on my couch all night.

[she doesn't have to see him gesturing at his eyes to know what he's talking about. it's plain and obvious what he's referring to. matt falls back to being thought—and it's... nice, when he continues to talk, to describe what that one day would look like.

she really doesn't think he would step into a gutter, truth be told.]

You have a very simple idea about what to do in a day, don't you?

[walks in the rains, convenience stores, sitting on the couch all night. how quaint, how peaceful, how everything she would love.]

And then you with a scarf covering half of your face, right?

( he shrugs. he wouldn't say he has a normal life or anything like that but he doesn't need to be constantly in motion to be happy especially if there was someone he was just happy to be with.

and he's happy to be with her. )

Not...always.

( it's one of the many things he hasn't really hold her and as he says it, he gestures for her hand. it's much easier to just show her so he presses her hand against his head and closes his eyes, letting his memories of melvin slowly come to the forefront of his mind. it's probably not obvious right away what he's trying to show her but eventually —

eventually, he does find a way to show her the outfit by stepping in front of a mirror in one of his memories to allow her a look. )

[matt hesitates and wanda glances up in time to see him gesture for her hand. sitting up a little, she lets him put her hand on his head, just over his brow. it's so reminiscent—this—of when vision would want her to have a read on the stone that made him who he was.

and then, when matt closes his eyes, looks at ease, she uses her telepathy to read through his thoughts—the images that spin from his memory.

wanda sees the world a lot in the same way as he does, but there are instances of clarity, like an outsider's view; perhaps a mix of imagination and truth? no matter, for he is showing her something specific, for a reason, maybe. a suit of leather, red, and his face covered in a mask with the horns she assumes give him the 'devil boy' name.

her fingers linger for a moment before she brings her hand down to press against his cheek.]

That's a suit, Matt.

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