abraxaslogs | ( open — august catchall )

[every day he says, a vulnerability that feels almost empty with wistfulness and expectations. wanda can literally see his thoughts wander away as he puts more thought into the question.

she herself doesn't have the answer for him.

with each time they talk, with every little extra piece of their lives that they share, insecurities come to the surface, these pesky little weaknesses of the heart.

wanda kisses his cheek and caresses the back of his head with her hands, not minding if he leans into her for a little bit now.]

—I miss my parents every day. Sometimes... it's easy to think they would be, they have to be proud, right? But then I remember all I've done, and... I don't think they would be.

[she presses her head against his, gentle.]

You're a good man, Matt.

( he can't agree with that. he can accept that she thinks that but he doesn't think it'll ever be something that he can agree with. he manages to get a smile to appear on his face at her words before he leans closer to her and takes a slow breath. )

I think our parents....I think most of them will do everything they can to see the best in us. Even if we've done terrible things.

( he stays pressed against her for a moment before he picks his head up and looks in her direction. )

They'd still love you, Wanda. No matter what.

[it's that kind of very small comfort they can offer each other, isn't it? but wanda knows what self-delusion looks like, and now she tries to tread through her thoughts on wistful thinking a little more carefully than before.

an appreciated gesture nonetheless, fully conscious that certain things are just easy to accept with a smile.

wanda cranes her neck, leans towards him, and kisses him slow. as a mother—whether her children were real or not—she can understand that sentiment of always seeing the best in her boys, even if their time together had been so short and fractured. it's impossible to ask the dead how they feel, so there would always be a question in the back of their minds, forever unanswered. as she pulls away from the kiss, wanda smooths her thumb over his lips, letting her knuckles rest against the line of his jaw, touching her forehead with his.]

Can I show you what they were like?

( when she kisses him, matt's sure he makes some kind of quiet sound of pleasure, one that she might not even hear but he knows it's there as she leans in and finds his lips with hers.

he can't read her thoughts like she can read his but all he can think about right now is just her and how this feels and how it makes sense to him.

the kiss draws out, slow and assured, and when she pulls away to soothe him with her thumbs, he feels like he's panting. he doesn't think he is but it feels like it.

it takes him a second to answer her question but he nods. )

I'd like to see that.

[close your eyes, she asks of him, as it does not matter that he can't actually see. one of her hands press against his forehead, pulling back just so that she uses her magic to share these memories that have become so unfocused to her.

—but she adds bits and pieces with her imagination, the missing edges, lines that she thinks make sense. her magic has always been unable to accurately bring out her own memories, as it were. matt will get to see, though, like an eye-fish lens, through the eyes of wanda, the crude lines of the cold war aesthetic of her childhood home: her mother at the kitchen setting things up for dinner, while on the same table pietro sits, kicking his legs and getting wanda on the shins every other time—oh, sorry, whispered without much sense of apology—and trying to do his math homework—or was it reading? wanda's eyes pull downward to her own homework—ah, geometry, actually—only diverting her gaze elsewhere when her dad comes in from the front door, with his bags and jackets and lots of love to give—a kiss to the top of her head, then pietro's, before embracing his wife who tries to maneuver around his arms, playfully, a casserole in her hands.

the memory ebbs out, her hand returning towards her lap.]

I've forgotten so many things about them. [their faces were a little vague, uncertain at times.] But I will never forget how much they loved each other. How much my parents showed me and Pietro that they loved us.

Edited 2022-08-13 01:12 (UTC)

( they're a nice family is the first thing that matt thinks when everything unfurls in front of him. small, close, loving. it's what he'd almost imagined families to be like. his own was fractured, not quite with all its pieces but he loved his father with everything he had.

he can't help but smile at the image of a younger wanda, sitting with her brother, tolerating him as younger siblings do. even if her family weren't here, he thinks he would be able to feel their love for each other in way that everything looks homey and lived in.

but he can tell that the memories are shaky, that she's clinging to them tightly to make sure she doesn't lose more. he knows how that it. he has no memories of his own mother but he tries to conjure his father's face everyday to make sure doesn't forget.

still, the image gets blurrier and blurrier and he hates it.

when she brings him out of the memory, he reaches for her hand, fumbling a bit to try and find it before he grips it tightly. )

That's the most important part. Even when everything else is gone, that's still going to be there.

[matt doesn't het her hand fall back to her lap before he's fumbling about to find it. he holds tightly, enough to make wanda inhale sharply, almost surprised, like she is not deserving somehow of whatever he wants to give her right now.

—fortitude, company—

but he's already told her, that he will do what he wants, and she can't stop him from wanting to give her whatever he wants. even if it's something as ludicrous and impossible-sounding as a day in new york, together.

wanda holds tightly onto his hand in return.

abruptly,]

I got really lucky meeting you.

Edited 2022-08-13 03:25 (UTC)

( he thinks she gives him entirely too much credit but he doesn't argue, letting her have that. he turns their hands around in his grip, thumb rubbing against her skin before he kisses her knuckles. )

I think we both got lucky.

( she might talk about how he helps her but she's been helping him too though he knows that he's not as talkative with that, it's still there. he doesn't feel so alone when she's around. that chasm of darkness and emptiness inside of him eases, closes and he feels a little more like himself than he has in years. )

Goes both ways.

[to hear him say that certainly makes her happy. her hands tighten in his as he brings them up for a kiss, and she sighs—not unhappily or in discontent, but rather with how much those words make her feel. it's unfiltered, almost, how much he says with so little.

and wanda is all too content in her knowledge that matt feels similarly to her.]

I wish I could see you in person. [but she won't give up her goats and sheep!] I hate having to leave.

[—not right now (should she be leaving though?), but in general—]

( you'd better not give anything up for him, wanda.

her words make him smile though it's edged with sadness and he presses the top of her hand to his cheek, nuzzling against it for a second or two. )

I know. I hate it too.

( maybe they'd get lucky and be able to see each other in the future. or maybe they'd have to make due with these visits and times together. )

You can come back whenever you want to. And I'll come visit you when I can.

[this is why she likes coming to visit him at night, because it's— nighttime, and they're all expected to sleep. granted, today she thought he was not going to be in, doing his nightly whatever-it-is-he-does. what a pleasant surprise throughout.

wanda smiles a bit.]

I still haven't fixed my place. Maybe— one day soon, though. If you are threatening me with a visit some time.

I'm threatening.

( he smiles again before he drops their joined hands back into his lap and nods. )

Once you fix it, I can come by and see how it looks. Until then, you know you're always welcome to be here.

I keep getting this offended feeling every time you make a joke about your sight.

[she knows he can see things to an extent, and that's probably what he means, but it's still a bit of a reactionary response to—]

I think it's more because of the jokes than the subject itself. [hrm] I'm not going to describe anything for you.

[she will]

I don't need you to describe anything for me.

( he can get an idea of what things look like and how they're set up just fine without seeing. there's plenty of situations where he wishes he could see but he can deal without.

he picks her hand back up and kisses the top of it again. )

I can stop making jokes about being blind if you don't like them.

—they just sound a little lame. Because I can tell how much it amuses you.

[she can hear the emotion around your words so easily, and she is thoroughly unimpressed when she comes down to really pinpointing them. it's otherwise not upsetting to her, nor something she dislikes.

matt is just...]

I should have realized you're a big dork.

You're right, it does amuse me. But it also tends to throw other people off because they don't know whether to start immediately pitying me or to laugh along or to laugh and then worry that I'm testing them.

( so really, it was all amusing for him. he shrugs. )

Does that make me a big dork?

( matt laughs because who else would call the devil of hell's kitchen a dork? only her. )

[that's a pretty solid answer, she thinks, bemused by the thought he's put into it. that's one way to cope—but perhaps also a solid way of gauging the people around him.

it says a lot of a person if they make fun of a blind guy, doesn't it?]

I think so. According to the Maximoff standard.

[there's no such thing—

wanda leans in closer, a hand pressed to his thigh, the other on the floor beside him.]

I think I might actually have to leave soon. [she mutters, but she smiles up at him.] Gotta go be a greeter and scare the new people about losing their arms, you know.

You do have a very important job and I wouldn't want to hold you back from it.

( not that he wants her to leave either. he reaches up and brushes her hair back behind her ears, holding to her cheeks and returning her smile. )

You can come back later, if you want to. Or tomorrow. Or whenever. I'm not going anywhere.

( they couldn't see each other in person but they could do this and he'd do this just as often as they could. )

[there it is, that smile of his. wanda's smile grows bigger—especially at the easy, amusing way he shows his understanding to her having to leave. it still sucks that she has to, that he can't come with her, but it helps a little—

knowing it doesn't have to be weird or abrupt or awkward.]

I'll see how tired I'm feeling.

[craning up to meet him halfway, she kisses him for a moment.

and—] So, very productive meeting today. Thank you for your consultation on [uh, what was it] maritime law and walking on planks. [she kisses him again, slowly picking herself up to stand, taking his hands along to help him up.]I learned a lot about my options.

Well, I am an expert on maritime law.

( not even close.

he murmurs the words against her lips as she kisses him, feeling a smile there even after her lips leave him. he's still smiling when she helps him to his feet.

matt reaches out and curls an arm around her shoulders to pull her into a hug. )

I liked seeing you today.

[she—really like this, being pulled into a hug with all the certainty of allowance to such an action. it eases some of the bruises in her heart, being like this, and so she hugs him in return, craning her neck to look up at him.]

You find it funny, don't you? [the seeing jokes— but, she rubs her hand up and down his back for a moment, smoothly] Me too.

[as she pulls away, she reminds him,]

Don't forget you promised to write me a letter, okay?

Edited 2022-08-14 00:45 (UTC)

I promise, I will write you a letter.

( he pats his heart as she pulls away from him, making sure she knows that he'll definitely do it. it'll be one of the first letters he's written in, he's sure, a decade but he'll write it for her. )

Have fun being a greeter. Don't forget to wave as people come up to you.

( he can't help but laugh at the thought, just picturing her waving and smiling and wishing people well as they show up. )

Yeah, I'll wave at them.

[that's definitely not going to happen, but the suggestion and him laughing about it is enough to amuse wanda in return. she grabs at the paper where he wrote down the braille alphabet, lets it disappear in a plume of scarlet magic.

she turns, smiling at him—]

Bye, Matt.

[—and, as much as she hates the instantaneity of it, the next second she is waking up again in solvunn.]

( open — august catchall )

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