[ If his adrenaline weren't running the show, he might have noticed the budding warmth in his chest responding to Wanda's efforts -- but when he sees how awfully her double's expression twists, his insides twist with it.
Like an imaginary line, the surroundings behind Wanda remain gold and splendid -- and beyond her further, shadowed -- but the walls crack and splinter into the harsh, frigid terrain of Jotunheim in front of her. Loki stares at her with bewildered red eyes, the lines on his face more than worry, but actual ridges traveling down his neck and torso. His helmet is the last to chip away, its golden flecks vanishing in the snow at his bare feet, leaving a stockier set of horns in its place.
When Wanda steps forward, his grip around the scepter tightens. Every muscle fiber in his body is screeching to flee, but instead he rises abruptly, upper lip curled into a snarl. ]
Who are you to make that judgment? This-- [ He angrily gestures to himself. ] This is real. [ Just as quickly, Loki rolls his shoulders back, smiling derisively. ] Oh, would you like me to apologize for it?
[She's concerned that he might be hurt, but not repulsed. There's a wild beauty to this form and Wanda's no less drawn to Loki like this than she was to his servant girl disguise. She wasn't raised on frightening tales of frost giants. If this is 'real' and part of him...what is it to her but just another form Loki wears?
Wanda only pauses briefly before starting to reach up to cup Loki's cheek if he'll let her. Weeks ago, it would have felt far too forward, but something has shifted in the way she sees him.]
[ She doesn't accept the challenge of argument like Sif readily would -- how Thor used to -- but parries his scorn with a soft serenity that shakes him at his very core. His heart lurches, the approach reminiscent of Frigga's gentle hand -- too gentle, perhaps -- but this haphazard state of emotions allows Wanda the opportunity to close the distance between them.
Uncertainty flickers across his face. Her palm molds to the angle of his cheeks and his next breath is drawn sharply in response to the heat of her skin. Jotun skin melts away into pale pink like the flow of watercolors as Loki parses her words.
Dreaming? Then she--
On the divan, Loki awakens with hitched breath and a stiff jolt. One glance at Wanda in his periphery is all that's necessary to launch himself from the seat and gain some distance -- any sort of distance. He stills just as abruptly, keeping his back to her as he scans over the backs of his hands, teeth clenching as the ridges fade into his skin.
There are too many issues at hand, even for a schemer like himself; he feels a writhing tangle of anger and shame coiling around his throat, threatening to burst from inside of him. Had she just-- truly, in his dream-- in his head--
Meanwhile, the areas where his hands had fallen during his impromptu nap shimmer with the dancing reflection of the brazier's flames against their jagged, icy surface. ]
[For a brief moment, Wanda smiles warmly, practically lovingly, at Loki before he forces himself awake and severs the connection. He leaves her slightly dazed with the suddenness of it, and for a moment she can't stand to follow him even though she wants to.
Had she crossed too great a line in trying to help him? Did the effect her touch had on him shock him awake? Perhaps it's some combination of both. They both seem to need a minute, and it's the brief brush of Wanda's hand against the ice on the cushions that snaps her out of it.]
...Loki?
[Her silks rustle as she rises and takes a few tentative steps towards him. It's not fear that keeps her from going to him again but respect that he may still need the distance.]
[ To describe his current state as exceedingly agitated is underplaying it. He rubs his index finger against his thumb without thought for they are all tangled in the mess of worst-case scenarios and the sting of betrayal. He chews his bottom lip and glares ahead, resisting the enormous pressure to act now, act now. Milliseconds feel like eternity.
He cants his head to reply, but finds himself needing to take a few breaths -- his heart's still pounding, blood still rushing -- he can't hear himself think.
But maybe she can.
The time in which he turns to face her feels sluggish, almost hesitant, and he meets her eyes with a touch of wildness in his own. ]
Why don't you tell me?
[ Not an invitation, but another challenge more dangerous than the first. ]
[Still Wanda holds her ground, but keeping this distance between them seems...better. Safer, except she doesn't think that Loki would actually try to hurt her.
She can feel his distress like pins and needles on the edges of her perception, almost like reality is warping and pressing in. Danger. She shakes her head, still trying to seem calm even though her stomach is in knots.]
Sometimes...I feel things even if I don't try, even if I don't want to. You were having a nightmare. I couldn't just try to go back to sleep.
[A breath. More than her raw power, this is the main reason people are afraid of her. Because she could be in their heads and they'd be none the wiser.] I wanted you to know what I was doing and what I was not.
[ Pause and breathe. Think rationally. That's all Loki has to do to explain Wanda's actions and, more importantly, lack of reaction. There's a shred of thought trying to impress this fact on him, but the paranoia and offense of invasion challenge it, threaten to suffocate it. The temptation to lash out draws him ever closer; to resist almost feels as physical as tearing himself away from it.
He sucks in air through gritted teeth, fingers clenching. ]
Then tell me. What did you do? [ Before he can stop himself, he adds, ] What did you see?
[ How can he know? Can he trust her word? She wouldn't be standing here with him right now if she knew of his deceit -- not unless she thinks she can face him one-on-one... No. No, she can't -- that isn't like her -- but. ]
[Wanda waits patiently while he tries to master his thoughts and emotions. Regardless of intentions, she pushed on a boundary and she needs to give Loki whatever time he needs.]
I made everyone go away. And then I went to you. That was all. [And whatever happened when she'd touched his cheek...it might have helped the problem but Wanda hadn't been trying.
A beat.] I haven't read your thoughts. Just the dream.
[ He thoughtlessly drops the snide remark with a sneer, but there's an expected degree of bite that's simply missing. It's an uneasy realization: he wants to believe her.
Another vulnerability. Wanda saw him in the most physically honest form he could ever be -- the one form that cursed him from birth -- and yet makes no mention of it. Is it avoidance? Pity?
Loki... [Her throat closes painfully.] I wouldn't lie to you.
[She can be a good actress when survival demands it, but it's not in her nature, especially not with someone she's meant to be so close to. That would be an unforgivable betrayal, especially about something this important.]
I didn't make it winter...and I didn't make you change.
[And unless Loki had asked her to change him back, Wanda wouldn't have consciously chosen to do it. She sees nothing wrong with his Jotun form, nothing at all for him to be ashamed of letting her see. Loki is still Loki, and their bond doesn't care what he looks like.]
Change. [ The word comes out like acid. ] Is that all?
[ Head cocked, he dares her to confess the revulsion he so stubbornly anticipates -- the disgust within the society he was raised -- within himself. The expected is a twisted comfort that provides him with excuses to lash out and think so poorly of others even as it stings -- no matter how much his pride would like to claim otherwise. ]
You were still yourself. And you are always beautiful to me.
[There's a quiet seriousness to her tone that leaves little room for deception and Wanda takes an unconscious step forward. She's not joking. His anger (and more importantly, his pain) has pushed her to reveal more of her own feelings than she might have otherwise. It hurts to see him like this. Wanda just wants to make it stop.]
[ Loki physically recoils, dumbstruck not by her words but the sincerity behind them. How quick he'd be to retort sarcastically if this were Sif; the sentiment would be different, barbed. He knows how to work with spite, flourishes in it -- but this. This vulnerability, this situation, this girl -- just a girl, just a Midgardian, an oddity, a soulmate, his soulmate--
The conflict is too potent to filter; it twists his features, brow furrowed, lips parted. There's something in his throat -- hope? Oh no, he can't-- Not now.
The smile he offers her is just as feeble as his rebuttal. ]
[Oh, Loki. He's lied so well and for so long he can't even tell when he's lying to himself.
Wanda takes another step forward, both hands tentatively extended. She doesn't need her powers to see how conflicted he is when it's so obvious in his demeanor, and the reciprocal ache she feels is relentlessly pulling her to him. Touch changed him back in the dream...maybe it will soothe him in the waking world.
It's always helped Wanda when she's been this worked up, anyway.]
[ He sucks in and holds his next breath, lips pressed together in an effort to steady himself. An edge has just been crossed, an inevitable fall he has resisted for years -- to trust, to expose. It doesn't feel right -- no, it fills him with an almost nauseating trepidation -- but it doesn't feel wrong. Oh, she could be playing him. She could be the one to take advantage. She could do this or that, but damn it he wants to believe her.
Exhaling, Loki cautiously extends his palm to meet her, fingers trembling. ]
[Wanda beams and squeezes his hand gently. It's a fragile, precious trust and a larger step than any they've taken since she decided not to tell Thor about him. But she cares for him (how, she's not sure) and this is enough.]
When Novi Grad fell, I was sure you were dead. So many were. [Her voice is quiet and her gaze has dropped to their joined hands. She had been in so much pain back then that she had been absolutely certain her soulmate's death had been part of the package. Where else would he have been?]
[ His heart lurches at their contact. Every fiber of his being had still expected rejection, ridicule, the basis of such fear steeped in both reality and perceived truth. He returns the squeeze with the sort of grip that isn't entirely certain of the situation and so holds on just a little tighter than necessary.
Loki could and would over-analyze every little detail moving forward, but he very desperately, very uncharacteristically wishes not to think at all right now. This development, this... thing happening here, between their touch, her smile, the mutual vulnerability -- it's simply overwhelming, and he is suddenly, keenly aware of how tired and mentally unequipped he is to rationally think through it.
But maybe with her, right here, right now, that's okay.
So he turns away from the tendrils of suspicion wondering what ulterior motive Wanda might have when she speaks. He doesn't try to predict where the conversation might go. He simply listens and cracks a faint smile after her question. ]
[It's easier to not think too much right now. Their bond has always remained an unspoken pull between them but nothing they've ever tried to discuss. Wanda's never even tried to classify her feelings. Is it love? It's certainly fondness, and it defies all reason, but up until now it's simply been. It never needed a name.]
I am on a different planet and you were supposed to be dead. It was...a lot, at first.
[She manages a faint smile. Loki's grip is almost painfully tight, but Wanda squeezes his hand again as she looks up to meet his gaze.]
But I...I am glad you found me.
[Some would call this madness, and Wanda has no way of knowing what might come of indulging it. But after everything she's lost, she can't lose him too. Not as long as there's even a tiny speck of hope.]
[ His intent was to tease, but the innocuous defense actually helps Loki to feel a bit more at ease. It means she honestly isn't in his head.
His grip relaxes. ]
You don't know how much that means to me, [ he murmurs, and there isn't a single lie in any of it -- the words, the raw sincerity, or the way he looks at her, brow furrowed just the titch. At this point in his life -- and possibly the remainder of it -- she might be the only one to feel that way. ]
[Wanda's smile softens and something in her heart she hadn't realized was tense relaxes. It's a different feeling, but a good one, like this is the way things should be.
She can't resist reaching up to cup his cheek again.]
I am not going to leave you, Loki.
[This is another truth - she'll oppose him if she has to, if he absolutely pushes her to the edge to make that choice, but she couldn't give up on him.]
[ The corners of his lips quirk with a fleeting smile. He appreciates the sentiment, but can't help immediately doubting it. Oh, she may completely mean it in the moment, in the upcoming days, maybe even weeks, but if there's one thing Loki can absolutely count on in anyone -- regardless of his faults, his pushing -- it is to leave him.
It's how he wound up in Asgard to begin with.
But there's no sense in verbalizing it. ]
Now, now, [ is what he says instead, taking a half step forward to place his palm against her shoulder blade and ignore the glimmering ice in his periphery, ] Let's take this step-wise. You, for instance, need to sleep.
So do you. [Especially when someone as tired as Wanda is can see it. She's sure it was a complete accident that he'd fallen asleep on her couch.
Wanda reluctantly lets her hand fall from Loki's cheek, but she knows he's right. She can't even stifle a yawn a few seconds later. Clearly she has more recovering to do before she'll be back to normal.
But at least he isn't so angry at her anymore, otherwise she'd likely spend all night staring at the ceiling and inwardly berating herself for ruining everything.]
We will finish this tomorrow, then?
[She waves a hand and floats the book they were discussing to safety from where it had fallen. Oops.]
[ His eyes follow the book's path and return to Wanda after it settles. With a gentle touch, he scoops her hand into his palm and gives her a reassuring squeeze. ]
Certainly.
[ Anxiety and doubt will rear their heads once he's got more wits about him, to be sure, but tonight has provided enough weight to keep him from jumping ship.
Both hands fall to his sides, fingers in a relaxed curl. ]
[She squeezes his hand gently in response. Baby steps. Tomorrow is another day, and maybe they'll both feel less awkward.]
Sleep well, Loki.
[She means it, and she wishes she could do something, anything, to keep his nightmares away if they come back tonight. But a line has already been crossed, so Wanda doesn't offer.
She falls asleep not long after her head hits the pillow.]
[ The following day brings new doubt nipping at his heels, but Wanda does him the courtesy of falling back to their normal routine and the whispers of suspicion fade just the more with every sunset. Neither party broaches the topic of what she witnessed in that dream. Loki isn't ungrateful, but the lack of resolution does gnaw at him. From the beginning, he'd assumed that all of his (known) faults had been exposed by Thor, but Wanda's lack of reaction to his jotun body called into question what she'd actually heard from Thor. Surely she would have been repulsed, if not by the image, then the history behind them.
So when, while waiting for Wanda to gather herself for a trip into the city, the sight of a tome on different worlds and races known intimately (and bitterly) to him catches his eye, his lips press into a thin line. He doesn't need to confirm what subject that ribbon is bookmarking, having revisited it several times himself. Of course she'd look into it -- and without him, at that. Still, it isn't betrayal he feels, but the ever-present bitterness associated with his ancestry and the sense of inevitability.
Yet he is the image of propriety when they depart, with a golden braid draped over one shoulder and an empty, woven bag over the other, and a polite smile fixed upon the slender face of Wanda Maximoff's handmaiden. As they pass beneath the last of the palace's arches, he asks, ] Have your tutors deemed you adequate enough to increase the pace, then?
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Like an imaginary line, the surroundings behind Wanda remain gold and splendid -- and beyond her further, shadowed -- but the walls crack and splinter into the harsh, frigid terrain of Jotunheim in front of her. Loki stares at her with bewildered red eyes, the lines on his face more than worry, but actual ridges traveling down his neck and torso. His helmet is the last to chip away, its golden flecks vanishing in the snow at his bare feet, leaving a stockier set of horns in its place.
When Wanda steps forward, his grip around the scepter tightens. Every muscle fiber in his body is screeching to flee, but instead he rises abruptly, upper lip curled into a snarl. ]
Who are you to make that judgment? This-- [ He angrily gestures to himself. ] This is real. [ Just as quickly, Loki rolls his shoulders back, smiling derisively. ] Oh, would you like me to apologize for it?
[ What is a cornered animal to do but lash out? ]
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[She's concerned that he might be hurt, but not repulsed. There's a wild beauty to this form and Wanda's no less drawn to Loki like this than she was to his servant girl disguise. She wasn't raised on frightening tales of frost giants. If this is 'real' and part of him...what is it to her but just another form Loki wears?
Wanda only pauses briefly before starting to reach up to cup Loki's cheek if he'll let her. Weeks ago, it would have felt far too forward, but something has shifted in the way she sees him.]
You're dreaming.
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Uncertainty flickers across his face. Her palm molds to the angle of his cheeks and his next breath is drawn sharply in response to the heat of her skin. Jotun skin melts away into pale pink like the flow of watercolors as Loki parses her words.
Dreaming? Then she--
On the divan, Loki awakens with hitched breath and a stiff jolt. One glance at Wanda in his periphery is all that's necessary to launch himself from the seat and gain some distance -- any sort of distance. He stills just as abruptly, keeping his back to her as he scans over the backs of his hands, teeth clenching as the ridges fade into his skin.
There are too many issues at hand, even for a schemer like himself; he feels a writhing tangle of anger and shame coiling around his throat, threatening to burst from inside of him. Had she just-- truly, in his dream-- in his head--
Meanwhile, the areas where his hands had fallen during his impromptu nap shimmer with the dancing reflection of the brazier's flames against their jagged, icy surface. ]
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Had she crossed too great a line in trying to help him? Did the effect her touch had on him shock him awake? Perhaps it's some combination of both. They both seem to need a minute, and it's the brief brush of Wanda's hand against the ice on the cushions that snaps her out of it.]
...Loki?
[Her silks rustle as she rises and takes a few tentative steps towards him. It's not fear that keeps her from going to him again but respect that he may still need the distance.]
Are you all right?
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He cants his head to reply, but finds himself needing to take a few breaths -- his heart's still pounding, blood still rushing -- he can't hear himself think.
But maybe she can.
The time in which he turns to face her feels sluggish, almost hesitant, and he meets her eyes with a touch of wildness in his own. ]
Why don't you tell me?
[ Not an invitation, but another challenge more dangerous than the first. ]
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She can feel his distress like pins and needles on the edges of her perception, almost like reality is warping and pressing in. Danger. She shakes her head, still trying to seem calm even though her stomach is in knots.]
Sometimes...I feel things even if I don't try, even if I don't want to. You were having a nightmare. I couldn't just try to go back to sleep.
[A breath. More than her raw power, this is the main reason people are afraid of her. Because she could be in their heads and they'd be none the wiser.] I wanted you to know what I was doing and what I was not.
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He sucks in air through gritted teeth, fingers clenching. ]
Then tell me. What did you do? [ Before he can stop himself, he adds, ] What did you see?
[ How can he know? Can he trust her word? She wouldn't be standing here with him right now if she knew of his deceit -- not unless she thinks she can face him one-on-one... No. No, she can't -- that isn't like her -- but. ]
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I made everyone go away. And then I went to you. That was all. [And whatever happened when she'd touched his cheek...it might have helped the problem but Wanda hadn't been trying.
A beat.] I haven't read your thoughts. Just the dream.
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[ He thoughtlessly drops the snide remark with a sneer, but there's an expected degree of bite that's simply missing. It's an uneasy realization: he wants to believe her.
Another vulnerability. Wanda saw him in the most physically honest form he could ever be -- the one form that cursed him from birth -- and yet makes no mention of it. Is it avoidance? Pity?
His hackles rise at the notion. ]
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[She can be a good actress when survival demands it, but it's not in her nature, especially not with someone she's meant to be so close to. That would be an unforgivable betrayal, especially about something this important.]
I didn't make it winter...and I didn't make you change.
[And unless Loki had asked her to change him back, Wanda wouldn't have consciously chosen to do it. She sees nothing wrong with his Jotun form, nothing at all for him to be ashamed of letting her see. Loki is still Loki, and their bond doesn't care what he looks like.]
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[ Head cocked, he dares her to confess the revulsion he so stubbornly anticipates -- the disgust within the society he was raised -- within himself. The expected is a twisted comfort that provides him with excuses to lash out and think so poorly of others even as it stings -- no matter how much his pride would like to claim otherwise. ]
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[There's a quiet seriousness to her tone that leaves little room for deception and Wanda takes an unconscious step forward. She's not joking. His anger (and more importantly, his pain) has pushed her to reveal more of her own feelings than she might have otherwise. It hurts to see him like this. Wanda just wants to make it stop.]
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The conflict is too potent to filter; it twists his features, brow furrowed, lips parted. There's something in his throat -- hope? Oh no, he can't-- Not now.
The smile he offers her is just as feeble as his rebuttal. ]
You think you can deceive the God of Lies.
[ Please. ]
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[Oh, Loki. He's lied so well and for so long he can't even tell when he's lying to himself.
Wanda takes another step forward, both hands tentatively extended. She doesn't need her powers to see how conflicted he is when it's so obvious in his demeanor, and the reciprocal ache she feels is relentlessly pulling her to him. Touch changed him back in the dream...maybe it will soothe him in the waking world.
It's always helped Wanda when she's been this worked up, anyway.]
You know better than that.
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Exhaling, Loki cautiously extends his palm to meet her, fingers trembling. ]
One would think.
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When Novi Grad fell, I was sure you were dead. So many were. [Her voice is quiet and her gaze has dropped to their joined hands. She had been in so much pain back then that she had been absolutely certain her soulmate's death had been part of the package. Where else would he have been?]
Do you know how happy I was to be wrong?
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Loki could and would over-analyze every little detail moving forward, but he very desperately, very uncharacteristically wishes not to think at all right now. This development, this... thing happening here, between their touch, her smile, the mutual vulnerability -- it's simply overwhelming, and he is suddenly, keenly aware of how tired and mentally unequipped he is to rationally think through it.
But maybe with her, right here, right now, that's okay.
So he turns away from the tendrils of suspicion wondering what ulterior motive Wanda might have when she speaks. He doesn't try to predict where the conversation might go. He simply listens and cracks a faint smile after her question. ]
You didn't seem particularly overjoyed.
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I am on a different planet and you were supposed to be dead. It was...a lot, at first.
[She manages a faint smile. Loki's grip is almost painfully tight, but Wanda squeezes his hand again as she looks up to meet his gaze.]
But I...I am glad you found me.
[Some would call this madness, and Wanda has no way of knowing what might come of indulging it. But after everything she's lost, she can't lose him too. Not as long as there's even a tiny speck of hope.]
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His grip relaxes. ]
You don't know how much that means to me, [ he murmurs, and there isn't a single lie in any of it -- the words, the raw sincerity, or the way he looks at her, brow furrowed just the titch. At this point in his life -- and possibly the remainder of it -- she might be the only one to feel that way. ]
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She can't resist reaching up to cup his cheek again.]
I am not going to leave you, Loki.
[This is another truth - she'll oppose him if she has to, if he absolutely pushes her to the edge to make that choice, but she couldn't give up on him.]
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It's how he wound up in Asgard to begin with.
But there's no sense in verbalizing it. ]
Now, now, [ is what he says instead, taking a half step forward to place his palm against her shoulder blade and ignore the glimmering ice in his periphery, ] Let's take this step-wise. You, for instance, need to sleep.
[ As does he. ]
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Wanda reluctantly lets her hand fall from Loki's cheek, but she knows he's right. She can't even stifle a yawn a few seconds later. Clearly she has more recovering to do before she'll be back to normal.
But at least he isn't so angry at her anymore, otherwise she'd likely spend all night staring at the ceiling and inwardly berating herself for ruining everything.]
We will finish this tomorrow, then?
[She waves a hand and floats the book they were discussing to safety from where it had fallen. Oops.]
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Certainly.
[ Anxiety and doubt will rear their heads once he's got more wits about him, to be sure, but tonight has provided enough weight to keep him from jumping ship.
Both hands fall to his sides, fingers in a relaxed curl. ]
Good night, Wanda.
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Sleep well, Loki.
[She means it, and she wishes she could do something, anything, to keep his nightmares away if they come back tonight. But a line has already been crossed, so Wanda doesn't offer.
She falls asleep not long after her head hits the pillow.]
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So when, while waiting for Wanda to gather herself for a trip into the city, the sight of a tome on different worlds and races known intimately (and bitterly) to him catches his eye, his lips press into a thin line. He doesn't need to confirm what subject that ribbon is bookmarking, having revisited it several times himself. Of course she'd look into it -- and without him, at that. Still, it isn't betrayal he feels, but the ever-present bitterness associated with his ancestry and the sense of inevitability.
Yet he is the image of propriety when they depart, with a golden braid draped over one shoulder and an empty, woven bag over the other, and a polite smile fixed upon the slender face of Wanda Maximoff's handmaiden. As they pass beneath the last of the palace's arches, he asks, ] Have your tutors deemed you adequate enough to increase the pace, then?
[ His tone is light, almost teasing. ]
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keywords super relevant
♥
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pity for anyone but himself? inconceivable
let her have her dreams
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I'm so sorry, I've either had migraine brain or soup for brains
no worries
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omg sorry!!!
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