Who: wanda and others When: november-december Where: solvunn, nocwich, horizon What: catch-all for both months! closed and open prompts within. Warnings: none at the moment, will mark as needed.
[this awkward, almost atypical way of starting a conversation fits wanda just fine. she's not one for small talk, and she appreciates how there's no expectation for it with this man. there is no peek of a smile nor amusement in her expression, though; she knew that he would be interested in her collection of spiders, but she didn't do it with the expectation of anything in return.
not really.
which is why, silently, she pulls out one of the jars from the basket. the glass reflects some of the sun's rays, but there is a long-legged arachnid trying to find purchase on the walls of its confined space. wanda offers it to henry, her fingers embellished with rings, but they don't hide the dirt under her nails and between her fingers. she's certainly finished getting the last of the spiders into a jar before immediately setting off to find him.]
[Small talk is an easy art, but not one that he finds any true pleasure in. When she has his attention hooked—and it is keenly hooked, in that borderline childlike way she saw the first day they met, finding an arachnid in the garden—he would do away with all of it, besides, and he hardly minds when she unearths a jar to show him.
He takes it in his hands, holding it up to see the long-legged spider within. This one is earthen-colored and rather large, a much more impressive specimen than the poor little thing they found nearly swept away by the rain. The way Henry’s gaze fixates on its form inside is strangely earnest in interest and curiosity, and he nearly doesn’t notice the dirt beneath her fingernails in the interim.
Nearly.
One hand is already hovering near the lid, but he finally pulls his gaze away to look at her properly.]
Why did you go out of your way to do this?
[I got you spiders plays in his mind again. It sounds purposeful.]
[there is something familiar about the way he acts, about the way he hesitates and stops, all to warily question her intent and words. he has not pulled away though, seeming to care enough for the spiders that he isn't about to ignore them over his own concerns over it.]
You said they were something from your childhood.
[something he really cherished. wanda can't exactly remember what he told her himself and what she was able to gleam from his mind. a young boy in a big, old house, with too many dark corners, and a space under the flooring, dust particles visible with the sunlight pushing through the window.
there was a loneliness there, too, like this child knew he was too different to belong with his family and those around him.
but not when it came to the spiders.]
I thought it'd help you get started. [in his... collecting, or whatever.] Familiarity can make it easier to adjust here.
[that's what wanda says, but part of her feels something deeper about him, something she can't exactly place.]
[Yes, something from his childhood. Anything deeper than that—the kinship he felt with spiders, where he could feel none with the rest of those around him, not even his family—was gleaned from his memories and certainly not shared aloud. How he’d take to this “invasion” is up for debate; Henry’s powers are on the cusp of returning, but not quite at that point, so he remains blissfully ignorant of anyone else skimming over the top of his thoughts in the interim.
But for now, the spider in the jar.
He twists the lid open, moving it under the opposite arm to hold it there, and freeing up his hand to dip it into the jar and ease the spider out. Its long, long legs prick at his palms, testing.]
You still have dirt under your nails.
[Out comes his hand, with a large, fuzzy, brown spider perched on it. It remains still, splayed out across Henry’s long fingers.]
How long have you been working on giving me something “familiar”?
[He can’t imagine he left that much of an impression. As always, Henry suspects something else — but he can’t seem to fully pull his attention away from the arachnid in his hand.]
[wanda sees it here again just how easily he takes on to the spider. she isn't personally bothered by the arachnids, but his lack of being fazed by them really speaks to his prevalent they were to him from a very young age.
but then, as if realizing that she must have spent a while at this, he asks for the details of her endeavor undertaking this task.]
The morning. [she's honest, at least.] Finding new things to do in Solvunn can be an art, you know. Takes a special skill.
[she takes the jar from him, and the lid, and sets it back gently onto her basket.
(it sounds like she may be joking a bit.)]
Before you ask, I'm not expecting anything in return.
[Then that thought is hidden away for now — the expectation that she did want something in return. Her reassurance doesn’t completely eschew it completely, but that’s just Henry’s nature.
Though, again, it’s hard to pull his eyes away from the spider. He lowers his hand, holding it chest-level, unbothered by how it pricks at his fingers, turns around to test the solidity of his wrist.]
So you were bored.
[He says blandly, though he seems to remember his politeness, adding softer intonations to his next few lines as he looks at her properly now.]
Not many people would do this to kill time. Collect spiders, I mean. Too many fear them.
[he's not wrong in thinking that this charitable action from her was mostly in part by, yes, being bored. wanda has no reason to let him know otherwise, so she just offers a shrug. the lack of politeness is not particularly alarming, but there seems to be an obvious difference—between his initial tone and the one he corrects with afterwards.
wanda watches the spider moving along his wrist.]
There are worse things to be scared of.
[and, when you're at the top of the pyramid of 'apex predators', there's hardly anything that can scare her.]
I'd think they're more scared of us than we are of them. [she motions at her basket, at the jars that bump against each other with a sharp clink sound.] Do you want to keep the rest?
[He agrees with that — there are far, far worse things to be afraid. More monstrous things found in day-to-day life, hidden by polite smiles; he does not twig the irony of this own thought, however, as it would apply to himself.
Eyes flicker down to the clinking jars. There are so many; he’d like to see them all.]
I’m not going to let all the trouble you went to be for nothing.
[The truth is: his curiosity gnaws at him, the fascination burgeoning in his eyes. He wants to see the spiders she’s caught — are any of them different in this world? Would he even know, trapped as he was for twenty years in a lab?
Henry finally eases the large spider back into its jar, nudging it forward gently with a thumb so that it finds purchase again on a twig. He moves to close the lid.]
I want to at least look at them. And I guess I should thank you for your effort. Maybe I'll think of names, too.
[speaking of names... they don't know each other's...]
[he's going to name them? well, isn't that precious. wanda can't hide her smile, taking this moment after he's done closing the lid to hand over the basket. it's the next natural step in this exchange, she thinks, especially if he'd like to look at them and (maybe) name them.
oh, that's right.]
As long as you don't name any of them Wanda, I think it'll be alright.
[that is to say— she pulls her hands back onto herself, tucking them to her sides.]
[He allows the basket to hang at the crook of his arm, as though he were carrying around loaves of freshly baked bread and not jars clinking with live spiders.
A glance down at her hand, then back up to her face. Again, a brow rises, and Henry urges some of his usual politeness back to his features, covering the sincerity of his previous curiosities. It is by no means strained, though, given how much practice he has.]
If I named one "Wanda", wouldn't that be a compliment?
[But he reaches out with his hand and completes the shake.]
My name's Henry. We've been overdue for a proper introduction.
[a quick and simple shake, if only to showcase an olive branch being extended between two individuals that would rather just keep to themselves—as if the offering of a basketful of spiders wasn't enough.
she takes her hand back, tucking hands to her sides.]
I can't exactly stop you. [from naming a spider like her.] Down the path this way is Gardsbruk farm. If you ever want to collect more spiders — there are many more there.
[these names might mean nothing to henry, but— this is just so he knows that it's a summoned-friendly place, if nothing else. the twins who own the farm are very open and warm towards them.
also, it's not an invitation for him to move in now or any time in the future. (something tells wanda he's not going to read it that way.)]
I'll leave you to your spiders.
[because she is not up for small talk, even if she went through all this effort. surely he would feel the same.]
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cw: spiders / spider images
not really.
which is why, silently, she pulls out one of the jars from the basket. the glass reflects some of the sun's rays, but there is a long-legged arachnid trying to find purchase on the walls of its confined space. wanda offers it to henry, her fingers embellished with rings, but they don't hide the dirt under her nails and between her fingers. she's certainly finished getting the last of the spiders into a jar before immediately setting off to find him.]
Here's one.
no subject
He takes it in his hands, holding it up to see the long-legged spider within. This one is earthen-colored and rather large, a much more impressive specimen than the poor little thing they found nearly swept away by the rain. The way Henry’s gaze fixates on its form inside is strangely earnest in interest and curiosity, and he nearly doesn’t notice the dirt beneath her fingernails in the interim.
Nearly.
One hand is already hovering near the lid, but he finally pulls his gaze away to look at her properly.]
Why did you go out of your way to do this?
[I got you spiders plays in his mind again. It sounds purposeful.]
Because of the garden?
no subject
You said they were something from your childhood.
[something he really cherished. wanda can't exactly remember what he told her himself and what she was able to gleam from his mind. a young boy in a big, old house, with too many dark corners, and a space under the flooring, dust particles visible with the sunlight pushing through the window.
there was a loneliness there, too, like this child knew he was too different to belong with his family and those around him.
but not when it came to the spiders.]
I thought it'd help you get started. [in his... collecting, or whatever.] Familiarity can make it easier to adjust here.
[that's what wanda says, but part of her feels something deeper about him, something she can't exactly place.]
no subject
But for now, the spider in the jar.
He twists the lid open, moving it under the opposite arm to hold it there, and freeing up his hand to dip it into the jar and ease the spider out. Its long, long legs prick at his palms, testing.]
You still have dirt under your nails.
[Out comes his hand, with a large, fuzzy, brown spider perched on it. It remains still, splayed out across Henry’s long fingers.]
How long have you been working on giving me something “familiar”?
[He can’t imagine he left that much of an impression. As always, Henry suspects something else — but he can’t seem to fully pull his attention away from the arachnid in his hand.]
no subject
but then, as if realizing that she must have spent a while at this, he asks for the details of her endeavor undertaking this task.]
The morning. [she's honest, at least.] Finding new things to do in Solvunn can be an art, you know. Takes a special skill.
[she takes the jar from him, and the lid, and sets it back gently onto her basket.
(it sounds like she may be joking a bit.)]
Before you ask, I'm not expecting anything in return.
no subject
Though, again, it’s hard to pull his eyes away from the spider. He lowers his hand, holding it chest-level, unbothered by how it pricks at his fingers, turns around to test the solidity of his wrist.]
So you were bored.
[He says blandly, though he seems to remember his politeness, adding softer intonations to his next few lines as he looks at her properly now.]
Not many people would do this to kill time. Collect spiders, I mean. Too many fear them.
[He imagines it’s no different in this world.]
no subject
wanda watches the spider moving along his wrist.]
There are worse things to be scared of.
[and, when you're at the top of the pyramid of 'apex predators', there's hardly anything that can scare her.]
I'd think they're more scared of us than we are of them. [she motions at her basket, at the jars that bump against each other with a sharp clink sound.] Do you want to keep the rest?
no subject
Eyes flicker down to the clinking jars. There are so many; he’d like to see them all.]
I’m not going to let all the trouble you went to be for nothing.
[The truth is: his curiosity gnaws at him, the fascination burgeoning in his eyes. He wants to see the spiders she’s caught — are any of them different in this world? Would he even know, trapped as he was for twenty years in a lab?
Henry finally eases the large spider back into its jar, nudging it forward gently with a thumb so that it finds purchase again on a twig. He moves to close the lid.]
I want to at least look at them. And I guess I should thank you for your effort. Maybe I'll think of names, too.
[speaking of names... they don't know each other's...]
no subject
oh, that's right.]
As long as you don't name any of them Wanda, I think it'll be alright.
[that is to say— she pulls her hands back onto herself, tucking them to her sides.]
Wanda Maximoff.
no subject
A glance down at her hand, then back up to her face. Again, a brow rises, and Henry urges some of his usual politeness back to his features, covering the sincerity of his previous curiosities. It is by no means strained, though, given how much practice he has.]
If I named one "Wanda", wouldn't that be a compliment?
[But he reaches out with his hand and completes the shake.]
My name's Henry. We've been overdue for a proper introduction.
no subject
she takes her hand back, tucking hands to her sides.]
I can't exactly stop you. [from naming a spider like her.] Down the path this way is Gardsbruk farm. If you ever want to collect more spiders — there are many more there.
no subject
Basket of spiders hanging on one arm, he casts his gaze down the path she's indicating.]
Is that where you're staying?
[Gardsbruk farm.]
no subject
[these names might mean nothing to henry, but— this is just so he knows that it's a summoned-friendly place, if nothing else. the twins who own the farm are very open and warm towards them.
also, it's not an invitation for him to move in now or any time in the future. (something tells wanda he's not going to read it that way.)]
I'll leave you to your spiders.
[because she is not up for small talk, even if she went through all this effort. surely he would feel the same.]