You never did any of those things? It sounds a little lonely in my experience.
[even when there were priorities, a big one for her was to have the time to sit down and eat with pietro, even if it was just some snacks or a sandwich from the deli. even after she had absconded with steve and the rest, she always tried to have someone with her when she ate.]
It just never occurred to me that you were an actual doctor until now. It clicked when you said "before I studied magic". I thought you were always a sorcerer, and went to magic school for it.
Kathmandu. You remember me mentioning Nepal when we first ran into each other?
The version with all the drama cut out of it, then:
I was in a car accident, and I injured my hands. Badly. Bones, tendons, ligaments, nerves. I couldnât exactly operate anymore, so I spent all my time and money looking for a miracle fix to heal them.
Eventually, I found Kamar-Taj. Heal the spirit to better mend the body, and all that.
[an actual tormented story. she cannot imagine "the drama", but imagines that the journey from new york to nepal must have been full of pain, both physically and of the spiritual kind.]
And after finding the fix, you decided to continue as a sorcerer.
[It had been the lowest point in his life. When desperation had taken hold of him, and he would have done anything to gain a degree of control again â anything to heal his hands.
Drama to be skipped over for now.]
I found a purpose after I had lost my old one. Or I guess you could say I rediscovered it after letting go of some old, unflattering habits. Besides, all I did was go from one form of saving lives to another.
No. Theyâre weak and they still shake. But I donât need perfect hands to be a competent sorcerer.
[And he will be, footsteps heralding his presence before he enters the common area. His clothes are decidedly more normal today â casual, even, given the later hour.]
[more casual than what she expected, only familiar with stephen wearing the sorcerer's drab in the few instances she's gotten to interact with him. there is already cups and a tea pot set on the table, wanda sitting on an armchair with a cup in her hands, legs crossed and feet off the floor.
things don't have to be a serious meeting all the time.]
Chamomile tea. I might need to shop for better options tomorrow.
[can't complain for what's in the cupboards. she takes a sip.]
[Itâs cozy in the common room, which he supposes is better than nothing, so used to his own space in the Sanctum to wander about as he likes. Living in the flophouse reminds him a bit of his quarters as a student at Kamar-Taj, which is not necessarily a bad thing â just nostalgia that harkens back to more humble (and humbling) times.
Speaking of humblingâ]
Have enough pocket change to go shopping already?
[He makes an amused sound, then crosses over to the pot of tea, pouring himself a cup.]
You know, despite everything I learned in Kathmandu, I never missed being broke. And yetâ
There are always coins under the cushions of a couch.
[and there were a few couches in the common area, though clearly she also jests. she has her ways, even if it means small fluxes of transmutation magic to save up money on things, such as clothes.
she watches his hands as he pours himself a cup, noting the minute shaking of them, despite managing control enough to not spill things everywhere. funny how she had not noticed beforeâthe scar lines that mar the skin.]
Money was never a worry for me and my brother, not even after I was in America.
[twirling her hand, the motion roused in scarlet red between her fingers, a chair moves closer to where she sits, adjacent from her, an invitation to sit.]
It doesn't feel important here either, in my opinion.
[He turns around to find himself a seat, but it seems like Wanda has that covered for him. Stephen huffs, but leashes his tongue on commenting for now.]
Iâm not going to go cushion-diving for coins.
[He settles into the chair, hands still cupping his mug while an elbow presses into the armrest.]
I do have a little bit of pride. Youâll have to share you and your brotherâs tricks for being as frugal as possible, otherwise how am I supposed to survive?
[Heâs exaggerating. Stephen learned to live without a bank account bolstering his days after he had run it dry looking for a way to heal his hands. And when he was a student of the mystic arts, Kamar-Taj had provided what he needed to thrive, but never in excess. Money is not a priority â but here, at least, itâs a foundation for them all going forward. Sorcerer or not, a manâs gotta eat.]
[before this time, perhaps wanda would have found offense in his words: having enough pride to not have to go cushion-diving for coins, tricks to live as frugal as possible, the thought of survival.
but she's come to learn, despite her losses, that comments may not necessarily be said to try and put insult to injury. it is quite the private affairâto lose a home, to live without parents from a young age due to an attack.]
Pride was never a choice we had.
[to do what one must do to survive.]
We survived in community. Before that, orphans were not expected to pay for expenses. [she takes a sip of her cup, keeps it close to her lips as the steam rises from it. her voice breaks away from the american accent she can so easily emulate, her homeland's accent seeping into her spoken words.] Someone from Sokovia with no legal papers would never have a bank account. The Avengers made sure I was kept fed and had a roof over my head, so that much was enough.
[It hadnÊŒt meant to offend, only be as flippantly ironic as possible. But what Wanda says almost twists it into a foot-in-mouth moment; who is he to commentâa man who once spent money as fast as he could make it, on too-many expensive thingsâwhen Wanda had learned to survive long before he did?
He takes a sip of his tea. He likes the taste, and how it warms him.
That was thoughtful of them, is the vapid response, and Stephen has enough social awareness to not say it.]
You and your brother were close. Even before the Avengers, it sounds as though youÊŒd been through a lot together.
[that's as close as one could get, certainly, to a family member. from the start of life to however long they'd goâwanda had certainly never even entertained the idea that her life could ever be lacking pietro. it's an empty feeling that is still within. like being lost, sometimes, a missing part of the puzzle that can never be returned again.]
We lost our parents when we were ten, so it was just the two of us from then on. I expect you know about Sokovia.
[its history blemished in war and destruction.]
He was... [a deep breath, her teacup close to her lips] the world to me.
[and she drinks, to wash down the bitterness that come with those words: what ifs, regrets.]
[He does know about Sokovia. Who from their Earth wouldnât? The destruction of its capital wasnât exactly low-profile, not with the Avengers name headlining every news story that circulated about it at the time. But even before that, it had never been known for its peaceful history â the air raids made sure of that.
Parents lost, home destroyed, brother dead â Wandaâs been through so much, having lost nearly everything, and he wonders if itâs a stretch to empathize. He, too, had felt like everything had slipped through his fingers, but with retrospect, it had been a perspective twisted by ego. War and strife had not stripped him of the people that mattered, not like her.]
Iâve heard about twins having a particularly close bond with each other. [Heâs even read about it in a medical journal or two.] Maybe I canât relate completely, but I had a sister once, too. I know how difficult it can be.
[To lose them, he means.]
Not to sound overly sentimental- [He doesnât know if he has that privilege with her. He doesnât know if he likes to linger on sentimentality at all.] -but the people weâve lost would be proud of how weâve survived without them. What weâve done with what weâve been given.
[...strangely enough, wanda appreciates that stephen echoes what she says, brings validity to her words, and tries to gently procure his own spin to the circumstances. gently is the keywordâit reminds her of the hesitancy that vision had when approaching her (even before love bloomed between them), trying to figure out the entanglement of human emotion he could never quite experience, in an attempt to understand, to appease her pain in whatever way he could.
she appreciates it enough, and it's not quite a privilege but a showcase of her growth in allowing the sentimentality to wash over her than to snap back in grief-stricken anger.
bringing the cup down so that it rests over her hands, wanda rests her elbows on her knees, leaning forwardâa sign of willingness in this conversation.]
Grief is love persevering.
[her words are quiet, but it brings a light smile to her face. vision had told her as much before, and after everything she went through and sacrificed when she could have had it all, it feels even more meaningful.
(she likes sentimentality; she likes not being the only one left vulnerable in the conversation.)]
[Love persevering. He supposes it is â love, like all human emotion, is a multi-faceted gem. Different at every angle, sometimes wonderful, sometimes heart-wrenching. And often cumbersome to process, which is why he doesnât focus on them overlong, not in conversation or outward appearances.
Which means the subject of his sister is encroaching upon very rarely tread territory.]
Her name was Donna. We were both just children when she died.
[Which means his memory is based on the nature of that childish relationship between siblings at a young age, and nothing more â like her existence was frozen in amber, never fated to have grown or matured.]
She was full of energy, hardly ever shy about anything. Embarrassed about nothing. Always called me a ânerdâ because my grades were consistently better.
[He grips his mug for that steadying warmth.]
We picked on each other, I guess, the way all brothers and sisters do. She always had to be active, hated staying still. And I was happy to be a wallflower at that age.
[the way doctor strange describes his sister as unable to stay still reminds her of pietro. though the way he tells her about donna makes wanda wonder how rehearsed this conversation may have been, or how unusual it is for him to have had it at all.
it is also telling, a little, the fact that she died when they were children. a memory that is sometimes so far off one can only rely on general statements for things that are much more nuanced in memory. nowadays, when she thinks of pietro, sometimes she can't bring herself to think of the details.]
How did she die?
[comes the quiet question. she can't imagine it would be prudent to ask under any other circumstanceâexcept she's in the same position and can gauge more accurately what is proper and what isn't. her eyes are on him, curious, having finally found a connection, of someone who may come to understand the kind of pain that comes from a lost sibling.]
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no subject
You never did any of those things? It sounds a little lonely in my experience.
[even when there were priorities, a big one for her was to have the time to sit down and eat with pietro, even if it was just some snacks or a sandwich from the deli. even after she had absconded with steve and the rest, she always tried to have someone with her when she ate.]
You are a doctor, right?
[lol]
no subject
What does any of that have to do with being a doctor?
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It just never occurred to me that you were an actual doctor until now. It clicked when you said "before I studied magic". I thought you were always a sorcerer, and went to magic school for it.
[she's joking a little]
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Did you think I just refer to myself as a doctor for fun?
Before âmagic schoolâ, there was med school. I was as a neurosurgeon, a man of science, unconcerned with any and all forms of mysticism.
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How did you go from neurosurgeon to magic school?
[she will keep calling it magic school.]
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[Not magic school. Who is he, Harry Potter?]
Thereâs a long version of that story and a short version. Which do you want?
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Whatever version is easiest through text.
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The version with all the drama cut out of it, then:
I was in a car accident, and I injured my hands. Badly. Bones, tendons, ligaments, nerves. I couldnât exactly operate anymore, so I spent all my time and money looking for a miracle fix to heal them.
Eventually, I found Kamar-Taj. Heal the spirit to better mend the body, and all that.
no subject
And after finding the fix, you decided to continue as a sorcerer.
Did it heal your hands?
no subject
Drama to be skipped over for now.]
I found a purpose after I had lost my old one. Or I guess you could say I rediscovered it after letting go of some old, unflattering habits. Besides, all I did was go from one form of saving lives to another.
No. Theyâre weak and they still shake. But I donât need perfect hands to be a competent sorcerer.
no subject
Maybe I can offer you a cup of tea, Doctor.
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Instead:]
Iâd like that.
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Downstairs. The common room is empty.
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Be down in a minute.
[And he will be, footsteps heralding his presence before he enters the common area. His clothes are decidedly more normal today â casual, even, given the later hour.]
no subject
things don't have to be a serious meeting all the time.]
Chamomile tea. I might need to shop for better options tomorrow.
[can't complain for what's in the cupboards. she takes a sip.]
no subject
Speaking of humblingâ]
Have enough pocket change to go shopping already?
[He makes an amused sound, then crosses over to the pot of tea, pouring himself a cup.]
You know, despite everything I learned in Kathmandu, I never missed being broke. And yetâ
[He straightens, the tea mug warm and steaming.]
âhere I am again.
no subject
[and there were a few couches in the common area, though clearly she also jests. she has her ways, even if it means small fluxes of transmutation magic to save up money on things, such as clothes.
she watches his hands as he pours himself a cup, noting the minute shaking of them, despite managing control enough to not spill things everywhere. funny how she had not noticed beforeâthe scar lines that mar the skin.]
Money was never a worry for me and my brother, not even after I was in America.
[twirling her hand, the motion roused in scarlet red between her fingers, a chair moves closer to where she sits, adjacent from her, an invitation to sit.]
It doesn't feel important here either, in my opinion.
no subject
Iâm not going to go cushion-diving for coins.
[He settles into the chair, hands still cupping his mug while an elbow presses into the armrest.]
I do have a little bit of pride. Youâll have to share you and your brotherâs tricks for being as frugal as possible, otherwise how am I supposed to survive?
[Heâs exaggerating. Stephen learned to live without a bank account bolstering his days after he had run it dry looking for a way to heal his hands. And when he was a student of the mystic arts, Kamar-Taj had provided what he needed to thrive, but never in excess. Money is not a priority â but here, at least, itâs a foundation for them all going forward. Sorcerer or not, a manâs gotta eat.]
no subject
but she's come to learn, despite her losses, that comments may not necessarily be said to try and put insult to injury. it is quite the private affairâto lose a home, to live without parents from a young age due to an attack.]
Pride was never a choice we had.
[to do what one must do to survive.]
We survived in community. Before that, orphans were not expected to pay for expenses. [she takes a sip of her cup, keeps it close to her lips as the steam rises from it. her voice breaks away from the american accent she can so easily emulate, her homeland's accent seeping into her spoken words.] Someone from Sokovia with no legal papers would never have a bank account. The Avengers made sure I was kept fed and had a roof over my head, so that much was enough.
They even paid for my brother's burial.
no subject
He takes a sip of his tea. He likes the taste, and how it warms him.
That was thoughtful of them, is the vapid response, and Stephen has enough social awareness to not say it.]
You and your brother were close. Even before the Avengers, it sounds as though youÊŒd been through a lot together.
no subject
[that's as close as one could get, certainly, to a family member. from the start of life to however long they'd goâwanda had certainly never even entertained the idea that her life could ever be lacking pietro. it's an empty feeling that is still within. like being lost, sometimes, a missing part of the puzzle that can never be returned again.]
We lost our parents when we were ten, so it was just the two of us from then on. I expect you know about Sokovia.
[its history blemished in war and destruction.]
He was... [a deep breath, her teacup close to her lips] the world to me.
[and she drinks, to wash down the bitterness that come with those words: what ifs, regrets.]
no subject
Parents lost, home destroyed, brother dead â Wandaâs been through so much, having lost nearly everything, and he wonders if itâs a stretch to empathize. He, too, had felt like everything had slipped through his fingers, but with retrospect, it had been a perspective twisted by ego. War and strife had not stripped him of the people that mattered, not like her.]
Iâve heard about twins having a particularly close bond with each other. [Heâs even read about it in a medical journal or two.] Maybe I canât relate completely, but I had a sister once, too. I know how difficult it can be.
[To lose them, he means.]
Not to sound overly sentimental- [He doesnât know if he has that privilege with her. He doesnât know if he likes to linger on sentimentality at all.] -but the people weâve lost would be proud of how weâve survived without them. What weâve done with what weâve been given.
no subject
she appreciates it enough, and it's not quite a privilege but a showcase of her growth in allowing the sentimentality to wash over her than to snap back in grief-stricken anger.
bringing the cup down so that it rests over her hands, wanda rests her elbows on her knees, leaning forwardâa sign of willingness in this conversation.]
Grief is love persevering.
[her words are quiet, but it brings a light smile to her face. vision had told her as much before, and after everything she went through and sacrificed when she could have had it all, it feels even more meaningful.
(she likes sentimentality; she likes not being the only one left vulnerable in the conversation.)]
Would you tell me about your sister?
no subject
Which means the subject of his sister is encroaching upon very rarely tread territory.]
Her name was Donna. We were both just children when she died.
[Which means his memory is based on the nature of that childish relationship between siblings at a young age, and nothing more â like her existence was frozen in amber, never fated to have grown or matured.]
She was full of energy, hardly ever shy about anything. Embarrassed about nothing. Always called me a ânerdâ because my grades were consistently better.
[He grips his mug for that steadying warmth.]
We picked on each other, I guess, the way all brothers and sisters do. She always had to be active, hated staying still. And I was happy to be a wallflower at that age.
no subject
it is also telling, a little, the fact that she died when they were children. a memory that is sometimes so far off one can only rely on general statements for things that are much more nuanced in memory. nowadays, when she thinks of pietro, sometimes she can't bring herself to think of the details.]
How did she die?
[comes the quiet question. she can't imagine it would be prudent to ask under any other circumstanceâexcept she's in the same position and can gauge more accurately what is proper and what isn't. her eyes are on him, curious, having finally found a connection, of someone who may come to understand the kind of pain that comes from a lost sibling.]
cw: drowning
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look at you using buzzwords.. i hate it
Donât act like youâre not ten times worse
hmph đȘ