abraxaslogs | ( open — august catchall )

[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.

Is it? I had no idea.

( matt laughs a bit, nodding against her cheek, stubble brushing against her soft skin. )

But yeah, yeah it is. I —

( he laughs a bit, closing his eyes again while he nuzzles into her hand. this revelation, it's not hugely personal or something he's kept secret but still. it's another step. )

The other thing, the scarf and all, it wasn't very protective. A lot of the scars that you've seen on me, they come from before the suit.

[what wanda doesn't say is that it's a little funny—for a man who seems to dislike the avengers and what they do, he wears a suit. dresses up to stalk into the night, to fight against crime and for justice, no matter what it is it does to him—no matter that he loses himself in this role.

she tilts her head downwards, so she can press her forehead against his chin for a moment.

—turns out, the suit is a necessity not because he wants to be like the avengers, but because it protects him. it's a measure of anonymity while keeping himself safe.]

The man in your memories... He made the suit?

He did. His name's Melvin. A good name dragged into a bad situation.

( and matt knows that he hadn't really helped but he'd needed the assistance and he'd done his best to protect melvin. he doesn't know if he'd done a good job but he'd tried.

he swallows, adding yet another name to the list of people that he'd used and otherwise put in danger. he blows out a breath and tips his head more towards her. )

The suit he made me probably saved my life a few times.

[as he tips his head towards her, wanda tilts her own to meet him halfway, glancing over at his eyes, though he doesn't really connect them in return.]

It sounds like you're trying to convince me of something.

[like the suit was a necessity? or something along those lines. his bruises and scars are there, there's no dying that, but she somehow feels that he's somewhat proud of their existence. it's not her place to tell him what to or not to do—

his path has been set a while ago, before her own presence being part of his cognizant mind.

it's dangerous, what they do—what he does.]

I'm not going to tell you to not do this.

( maybe he'd been doing that without even realizing, the instinct to explain what he does ingrained in him. when she tells him that she's not going to talk him out of it, he blinks a few times, surprise in his expression before he shakes it away. she's said that to him before, that she wanted him to be careful but she wasn't going to stop him. )

I — maybe I was without knowing.

( he laughs apologetically. )

It wouldn't be the first time I've had to do it so I guess it's just something that I expect.

[heroes will always — be heroes, no matter what labels they want to give themselves, avengers or not. wanda had often pushed, been so careful, especially with pietro, always warning him that if he did these dangerous stunts—like robbing places for items of luxury and medicine for their people in sokovia—that he would get shot one day.

she had held on so tightly, worried herself sick. what good did it do in the end? he never listened. pietro, at least, never tried to justify himself with anything other than a scowl and calling her an annoying little sister, he's the older one, remember? —as if she could ever forget.

matt laughs, apologetically, and wanda sighs quietly.]

It doesn't mean that I won't worry, but... I'm done fighting guys who feel strongly about what it is they have to do.

[vision, too, with deciding that there was no more time to waste—that it was his time, and wanda thinks perhaps he always knew it would come down to it. just—borrowed time.

she presses instead against him, resting her head against his shoulder.]

Will you consider getting something similar here?

Edited 2022-08-12 12:43 (UTC)

I don't know.

( it's a very visible thing, that suit, and if he wears it, it'll be one of those things that people can pick out and recognize. he doesn't know if he wants to that far just yet especially when he doesn't know exactly what he's dealing with here. )

Maybe in the future but I don't know about anytime soon.

( if he does, he knows who he'll be able to seek out as those he trusts to make him something like that but doing that opens him up to the fact that he is something other than he's said.

he's quiet before he looks down at where she's resting her head against him. )

I think I'll just do the scarf and my own clothes for awhile.

[just the scarf and his own clothes—yeah, wanda kind of felt that one before he even said it. it would seem a little ridiculous to don a superhero look out here in abraxas, or even in cadens. it's probably a little more ridiculous considering all the heroes that are already there.

wanda tightens her arms around him a little more.]

I like the horns.

[there's no point to them, but it's the aesthetic, isn't it?]

I guess if people were already going to call me a devil, might as well lean into that.

( there was no point to them except giving people like jessica jones fodder to make fun of him but he liked them well enough.

sighing, he tips his head and kisses her hair. )

Give them a reason to call me what they do.

Really puts a spin on being raised Catholic and what it is you do.

[look, she's just looking at the irony of it all, but by now she knows that it's not quite as black or white for matt. there's complexity here—complexity he hasn't quite allowed her to roam into, nor has expressed that much of.

in time, though. he's clearly been alone through this since he was a kid.]

What's that saying, about Murdock boys?

[anyway, she remembers.]

( that she remembers that makes him laugh. it's a very appropriately timed memory and one that evokes the image of his father, clad in his ring robe on his way down the aisle to another match. even when he hadn't been able to see, he could hear and he'd always enjoyed hearing people cheer for him. )

They got the devil in them.

( that's the saying about the murdock boys. )

Guess I've always been on that path.

[he laughs, and wanda smiles—the flow of the sound thrumming on his skin, from his chest. if she could keep that feeling with her, perhaps she could properly find a way to dull many of the sharp thorns that hold her hostage to her grief.

and it's funny, too, how she takes note of his thoughts so starkly—the image of his father, clad in his ring robe to head to another match. the cheering, loud, the emotion, excitement.

wanda pulls back, her hands on his arms, and reaches to remove his hands from around her, holding to them on her lap.]

Tell me about your dad.

Edited 2022-08-12 16:54 (UTC)

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