heavymetals | ( abraxas ) inbox

[knowing that she's got a win, wanda can't help but smile, the seriousness presented prior turning into happy delight, regardless of his narrowed gaze. she leans back against the counter, hands braced over the edge of it.

spirits seem lifted, after what was the situation with the horizon and a core memory of erik's self.

her smile grows smaller, but remains just the same.]

Their names were Tommy and Billy. [her sons, whom she had mentioned before.] I lost them and their father at the same time. [it's a little more complicated than that, but she doesn't want to spill into details.] I know it's hardly any comfort, and, even under the circumstances, our pain is vastly different.

[this much she has come to understand. her hands move from the counter, and she tucks them instead at her sides, crossing her arms.]

You can talk to me about them whenever you want.

[about his daughter, about the wife that is very likely also part of that sentiment of loss. this feeling of drowning—]

Especially when it gets hard to breathe.

[ Erik listens to her, quiet. He isn't always good at speaking up about intimate thoughts, or personal issues. Not for the first time, it occurs to him how much he has shared with Wanda so far, particularly when he's met her such a short while ago. There are people he's known for years, even decades, and wouldn't feel so comfortable with. ]

Our pain is not so different.

[ Because the loss is still there. The circumstances don't matter. Losing a loved one, a significant other or a child, it's an indescribable pain that only those who've gone through it could truly understand. She is so young too, much too young to have lost her own children. The details of that loss are virtually unimportant. ]

Thank you. [ Just for an excuse to have something to do, he takes another of the pastries from the plate, but doesn't actually seem interested on eating it. ] It's... recent. I think I need to process it, myself.

[ And Erik has never been one to share his pain, either. He keeps it, carries the weight on his own, lets it linger and weigh in deep. Sometimes, it comes out in ugly ways. ]

[wanda nods, feeling that the admittance of something being ‘recent’ and there being a need to process it, at all, is perhaps a healthy step in the right direction. no momentary lapses of judgement caused by a book of evil that promised certainty when everything was lost.

almost as if on cue, the orange cat that lives in the treehouse makes his appearance, rubbing against erik’s ankles.]

Ah. [she points] That’s Dot. He likes meeting new people.

[crouching, she reaches her arm out for the cat to come to her hand to receive scritches.]

I could show you the rest of the treehouse if you’re feeling up for it.

[ Well, the momentary lapse in judgment has already passed. Erik chooses not to talk about En Sabah Nur, about the factory, Auschwitz, any of it. That was a lot of lapses of judgment strung together there.

But the anger and violence did not heal the pain. They didn't wash away the grief. If anything, it only made it worse. Now, he has guilt and regret mounting on top of it all.

He watches Wanda and the cat. Skipping on petting the animal for now, he nods. ]

I'd like that. Please.

[with a knowing glance—those surface-level feelings not lost on her—wanda proceeds to motion towards the open door with a nod of her head.]

Four different people live here, so it’s a little hard for our preferences to not overlap. [there are, hanging from the ceilings, some things that look like cables, stringy and messy, and a messy set of tools on the side of the hall.

wanda pushes at them with her boot, to make some space, and leads the way out into the living room area. here, there is a wide, tall-ceiling space, with a large couch and whatever comfort one is able to find in such a space.] This is the central hub sort of space.

[she points at the space, and then !! at the mirror.]

That’s where we watch sitcoms.

[the most important part of the room!]

[ Erik doesn't think there's really anything wrong with decoration clashing, in a house. It's what makes this a home, and a full and lively one at that.

He looks around the room, then to the mirror when she points it out especially, an amused smile pulling at his lips. ]

Ah. Right.

[ The sitcoms he's going to be roped into watching. He doesn't dislike the thought as much as he thought he might. ]

It looks like one of your housemates is very technologically inclined.

That'd be Rocket.

[wanda leans forward against the back of the couch, and uses her hand to sweep through the screen of the mirror from a distance—as if she were swiping over a touch screen—visages of her scarlet magic on the edges of the mirror as it turns on, pulses over a familiar background, before the image settles on a high-definition reel of one of the many sitcoms she can replicate with her magic.]

He doesn't like that it works without cables, but I don't really feel like explaining the details. [the sound is clear as are the images... standing back up, she turns to face erik, allowing the episode to play on its own.] Unfortunately for some, it only has the one channel. We get wrestling shows when Eddie comes around, though. It's easy enough to tune into the minds of others that let me do it.

[just for tv, of course.]

I know far too much about wrestling lore at this point if you ask me, though.

You know there are a lot of people entirely unfamiliar with magic.

[ And there is always that divide, isn't there? The more technologically inclined, and those leaning on the magical and otherwise superhuman. It's not even something Erik deals with on a daily basis, back in his world, but even he has that idea. So he expects this Rocket to be more comfortable with technology. An engineer perhaps, or something similar. Erik will say that a lack of cables would be more practical and aesthetically pleasing, at least.

He chuckles when she mentions wrestling, shaking his head. ]

I wasn't even aware there were wrestling shows on television. [ Must be another future thing. Either that, or he's just been out of the loop for a while. It's not impossible. He can certainly imagine a few of the younger mutants in Charles's school enjoying that sort of thing. ] I'm fond of old movies. If you can find them in my mind, maybe we can see one someday.

[ Definitely not now. He needs the open wounds to at least stop bleeding, his mind to be more prepared for something like that again. But she was gentle in her approach when they were in the Horizon, so it's something he can see himself trusting her with, at some point. ]

[wanda can understand there being too many more important things to worry about than what is new on tv. wanda herself didn't really get much of a chance to keep up with tv guides. the suggestion for an old movie, though?

that sounds like an idea.]

I just hope we won't need subtitles for them.

[although... even if a movie was in german, or some other language, wanda thinks she could watch it just for what it is, rather than needing to understand it. new content is always welcome, after all.

for now, wanda will continue showing him around the treehouse, into the different rooms and the balcony. it's a small space for them, the summoned, and wanda truly hopes others can come and see it as a place they can feel comfortable in just coming in and out of—or just being in. things don't have to be super complicated, now, not after having gotten his share of pain from his first experience in the horizon. it is certainly something they can play blissful ignorance to, for now, and ail the heart instead with quiet company and easy banter.]

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