[They part with one last warm smile and Wanda turns to head into the kitchen to do something about feeding herself. Almost immediately she feels the lack of his presence - the fire keeps this room warmer than the loft but something in her feels colder already. Loneliness, she decides. How long has it been since she last had a real friend around? It must be at least a month, maybe two.
And it's been a year since the...incident. A year since she decided she could never truly belong anywhere. She can't be herself around other humans (if she even counts as human anymore) and while the fae princes would gladly have allowed her to remain with them, she doesn't really fit in there either. It's nice to visit. But not to stay.
And Vision's the first person she's met who she thinks might understand. Wanda sees a kindred need for a place to belong in him, and clearly the world hasn't been particularly kind to either of them. Maybe for a little while, they can soothe each other's desperate need for companionship.
...until he breaks her heart when he leaves. Wanda's no child; she knows what she feels for him could easily grow into love if properly cultivated. She's only setting herself up for pain by wondering if he can or might begin to feel the same way for her, if there's any chance he might decide to stay for good...but as she picks at her dinner she can't stop her imagination from wandering.
It's the purity of his heart and mind, his smile, those eyes she could get lost in, and his surprisingly lovely voice. Wanda just...doesn't want to lose them, even if she masters her feelings enough to keep them from growing beyond the softer side of platonic.
She's still lost in thought as she goes through her nightly routine and even her bath, her favorite indulgence, does little to comfort her. She settles into bed with a book and a cup of tea, hoping that maybe this will get her mind to behave, when she hears a soft knock.
The Wanda who answers the door seems much more vulnerable - the lacy silken shift doesn't leave a single curve to the imagination and all of her jewelry's gone. This is Wanda the woman, not Wanda the Scarlet Witch.]
It is not as easy as it sounds. [Her smile's sympathetic, one insomniac to another.] Come in.
[She leads him through an L-shaped room that is clearly part study, part workshop, and her (much smaller) magical library. It curls around her actual bedroom, and in the dim light soft sigils to ward off psychic attacks and encourage peaceful sleep pulse on the shared exterior walls. Questions for another time, perhaps, because Wanda pays them no mind.
The small fire in her bedroom still gives enough light to see, but barely. Which Wanda is thankful for. This room is truly made for comfort but not necessarily to be seen - her makeup and jewelry are disorganized and strewn across a dresser and today's outfit is on the floor where she'd left it.
Oops.
But again, Wanda has other, more pressing, things on her mind. She takes a seat on the side of the bed and gently pats the area next to her.]
Do you want to talk about it? Maybe there's some way I can help.
no subject
And it's been a year since the...incident. A year since she decided she could never truly belong anywhere. She can't be herself around other humans (if she even counts as human anymore) and while the fae princes would gladly have allowed her to remain with them, she doesn't really fit in there either. It's nice to visit. But not to stay.
And Vision's the first person she's met who she thinks might understand. Wanda sees a kindred need for a place to belong in him, and clearly the world hasn't been particularly kind to either of them. Maybe for a little while, they can soothe each other's desperate need for companionship.
...until he breaks her heart when he leaves. Wanda's no child; she knows what she feels for him could easily grow into love if properly cultivated. She's only setting herself up for pain by wondering if he can or might begin to feel the same way for her, if there's any chance he might decide to stay for good...but as she picks at her dinner she can't stop her imagination from wandering.
It's the purity of his heart and mind, his smile, those eyes she could get lost in, and his surprisingly lovely voice. Wanda just...doesn't want to lose them, even if she masters her feelings enough to keep them from growing beyond the softer side of platonic.
She's still lost in thought as she goes through her nightly routine and even her bath, her favorite indulgence, does little to comfort her. She settles into bed with a book and a cup of tea, hoping that maybe this will get her mind to behave, when she hears a soft knock.
The Wanda who answers the door seems much more vulnerable - the lacy silken shift doesn't leave a single curve to the imagination and all of her jewelry's gone. This is Wanda the woman, not Wanda the Scarlet Witch.]
It is not as easy as it sounds. [Her smile's sympathetic, one insomniac to another.] Come in.
[She leads him through an L-shaped room that is clearly part study, part workshop, and her (much smaller) magical library. It curls around her actual bedroom, and in the dim light soft sigils to ward off psychic attacks and encourage peaceful sleep pulse on the shared exterior walls. Questions for another time, perhaps, because Wanda pays them no mind.
The small fire in her bedroom still gives enough light to see, but barely. Which Wanda is thankful for. This room is truly made for comfort but not necessarily to be seen - her makeup and jewelry are disorganized and strewn across a dresser and today's outfit is on the floor where she'd left it.
Oops.
But again, Wanda has other, more pressing, things on her mind. She takes a seat on the side of the bed and gently pats the area next to her.]
Do you want to talk about it? Maybe there's some way I can help.