[it's a surprising growth in character—one wanda will not say out loud—of michael accepting her company and help. it's in contrast to the first couple of times they'd interact, how much it seemed to pain him to come to her at all.
now, it's easy, almost welcomed, and it fills wanda with a sense of belonging and acceptance that she's struggled to find for so long even among those from her world. does it make her a liar, to not tell those here about who she is? about what she's done? to be seen as a source of comfort, of companionship, of reliability that she might not quite deserve? it's painfully scary to cross that threshold of abstract imaginings of what ifs into the reality of them. and as michael actively makes room for her beside him, her silence harbors gratitude that she can't quite put into words.
sitting herself down, wanda starts manually going through the motions of fixing the bundles of the offered herbs.]
Imagine, going from one mundane task to another.
[and she could do all this with her magic, but—just as michael implies—that would make this end too quickly, and it's worth taking each day's activities slowly and meticulously.]
I've always lacked hobbies. [she says, tying string around the stems, giving it an unnecessarily nice bow.] My home was at war for most of my life. Settling into something comfortable was never advisable. I wonder by how small a margin we avoided fire raining from the skies.
[because if she is to believe anything, she is of the mindset that factors—big and small—can spin the wheel of the fates, making them traipse the fraught tight line between salvation and utter destruction.]
no subject
now, it's easy, almost welcomed, and it fills wanda with a sense of belonging and acceptance that she's struggled to find for so long even among those from her world. does it make her a liar, to not tell those here about who she is? about what she's done? to be seen as a source of comfort, of companionship, of reliability that she might not quite deserve? it's painfully scary to cross that threshold of abstract imaginings of what ifs into the reality of them. and as michael actively makes room for her beside him, her silence harbors gratitude that she can't quite put into words.
sitting herself down, wanda starts manually going through the motions of fixing the bundles of the offered herbs.]
Imagine, going from one mundane task to another.
[and she could do all this with her magic, but—just as michael implies—that would make this end too quickly, and it's worth taking each day's activities slowly and meticulously.]
I've always lacked hobbies. [she says, tying string around the stems, giving it an unnecessarily nice bow.] My home was at war for most of my life. Settling into something comfortable was never advisable. I wonder by how small a margin we avoided fire raining from the skies.
[because if she is to believe anything, she is of the mindset that factors—big and small—can spin the wheel of the fates, making them traipse the fraught tight line between salvation and utter destruction.]