[once she is done cleaning up in the kitchens, wanda starts to pack up all the leftover food to put in the fridge. she leaves a note where it states that it's there for anyone who is feeling hungry (to just mind cleaning up afterwards!). granted, this should be the end of her day, where she would head up to her apartment, maybe take a shower, and try to sleep.
wanda has got one more thing in mind.
she sets down a tupperware with a helping of stew and another with a few stuffed cabbages at the foot of stephen's door. there's a note that reads the names of the foods, sokovian in spelling and pronunciation, and W.M. at the bottom.
when she is at the stairs, wanda sends a pulse of magic to float down the corridor as she continues downstairs to her apartment, the magic knocking on the doctor's door.]
[The magical knock does its job, and Stephen opens up moments later to find neatly-packed food sitting there, waiting in a tupperware container. It’s not exactly what he expected, and he’s nearly clueless as to who could have offered him food, of all things, until he picks it up to examine the note and the initials.
He huffs a little in surprise, lips quirking. A moment later, and he’s returned inside — looks like dinner isn’t a meal he’s skipping today.
Wanda receives a text the next day, in the evening:]
You didn’t have to leave me anything, but because you did: thank you, by the way.
[it's as easy as that. but, truth be told, she wanted to have an excuse to show stephen that she really was thankful for his assistance the day before.]
It is a taste of home. Sokovia. Sharing was always very important when it came to meals.
I would be surprised if you did. No one really cared for Sokovia until it was no more, and then it was too late.
Resources were scarce. My brother and I shared with many families after we had left the orphanage. Even if there was little to go around, whatever anyone was willing to spare was enough to make a decent meal.
Next time I cook, you can find it in the kitchens downstairs.
[Orphanage? Ah, right. Though Stephen was hardly in the magic business at the time—and therefore not keeping a quiet track of who’s-who in the “hero” world—he knows now, glancingly, of Wanda’s background. Someone who lost their family, and found the Avengers to blame for it.
That part is not worth focusing on, of course.]
Circumstances aside, there’s something to be said about a sense of community. In New York, before I studied magic, I never shared a meal with anyone. I never cooked. Certain priorities were favored at the grave expense of the rest.
Will you be cooking for the whole flophouse often?
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 couldn’t 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 — 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. They’re weak and they still shake. But I don’t 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 — 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.]
[It’s 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 — just nostalgia that harkens back to more humble (and humbling) times.
Speaking of humbling—]
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 yet—
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 before—the 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.]
I’m 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. You’ll have to share you and your brother’s tricks for being as frugal as possible, otherwise how am I supposed to survive?
[He’s 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 — but here, at least, it’s a foundation for them all going forward. Sorcerer or not, a man’s 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 affair—to 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.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
delivery, the night after their meeting at the beach.
wanda has got one more thing in mind.
she sets down a tupperware with a helping of stew and another with a few stuffed cabbages at the foot of stephen's door. there's a note that reads the names of the foods, sokovian in spelling and pronunciation, and W.M. at the bottom.
when she is at the stairs, wanda sends a pulse of magic to float down the corridor as she continues downstairs to her apartment, the magic knocking on the doctor's door.]
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He huffs a little in surprise, lips quirking. A moment later, and he’s returned inside — looks like dinner isn’t a meal he’s skipping today.
Wanda receives a text the next day, in the evening:]
You didn’t have to leave me anything, but because you did: thank you, by the way.
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[it's as easy as that. but, truth be told, she wanted to have an excuse to show stephen that she really was thankful for his assistance the day before.]
It is a taste of home. Sokovia. Sharing was always very important when it came to meals.
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I’ve never had a proper, home-cooked Sokovian meal. It was good.
[The kind of good that makes a man realize how hungry he actually had been at the time.]
Sharing among the community, you mean?
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Resources were scarce. My brother and I shared with many families after we had left the orphanage. Even if there was little to go around, whatever anyone was willing to spare was enough to make a decent meal.
Next time I cook, you can find it in the kitchens downstairs.
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That part is not worth focusing on, of course.]
Circumstances aside, there’s something to be said about a sense of community. In New York, before I studied magic, I never shared a meal with anyone. I never cooked. Certain priorities were favored at the grave expense of the rest.
Will you be cooking for the whole flophouse often?
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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]
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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 “magic school”, 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?]
There’s 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 couldn’t 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.
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And after finding the fix, you decided to continue as a sorcerer.
Did it heal your hands?
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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. They’re weak and they still shake. But I don’t need perfect hands to be a competent sorcerer.
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Maybe I can offer you a cup of tea, Doctor.
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Instead:]
I’d 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 — casual, even, given the later hour.]
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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.]
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Speaking of humbling—]
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 yet—
[He straightens, the tea mug warm and steaming.]
—here I am again.
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[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 before—the 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.
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I’m 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. You’ll have to share you and your brother’s tricks for being as frugal as possible, otherwise how am I supposed to survive?
[He’s 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 — but here, at least, it’s a foundation for them all going forward. Sorcerer or not, a man’s gotta eat.]
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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 affair—to 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.
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cw: drowning
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look at you using buzzwords.. i hate it
Don’t act like you’re not ten times worse
hmph 🔪