heavymetals | ( abraxas ) inbox

You think I would ask if I couldn't?

[she can do both, actually, but flying is more of a shared experience than teleporting is, and it's what would help give erik a sense of direction as to where the treehouse is.

taking a step back, hands at her back, she looks erik over for a moment.]

It's mostly levitating by means of my magic. I imagine yours has to do with the metals on the earth, or something like that?

[she's just a curious individual.]

I don't know. You could be asking for a lift.

[ Pun intended, the twitch of his lips makes that much clear. But no, he didn't think she would ask otherwise.

He tilts his head at her assumption, but nods once. ]

In a way. I can create magnetic fields and glide through them— effectively turning myself into a living magnet, if you'd like. Alternately, I can use whatever metal is on me to lift myself up in the air.

[ The latter tends to be a little more difficult to control though, and now that he has full mastery of his abilities, he vastly prefers the former. ]

[wanda hears the pun and she rolls her eyes, waving her hand over at him as she crouches down to pick at a yellow flower growing amidst the grass. she listens to erik's explanation, and she supposes that makes sense.]

I liked playing with magnets when I was a kid.

[the ones on the fridge in her family home, anyway. that is to say, it makes sense to her.

standing up again, she nods at erik—]

Follow me.

[—and tucks the flower into a pocket of her coat before taking a few steps forward and lifting off from the ground. it'll be a quick journey to the treehouse, if they can fly, and wanda only turns back once to make sure that erik follows.

not a few minutes later, and they're landing on the premises of said treehouse, just by the black eye lakes. wanda's landing is a little rough, but she manages to keep on her feet, a hand quickly making its way to her nose to check for any nosebleeds. luckily, no such thing.

with a sigh of relief, she turns back to him.]

The treehouse.

[ He smiles, gently amused. Actually, it's not a bad comparison, the way magnets can repel each other. But that's a science lesson for another time.

He's following her lead without needing any prompting, lifting himself off the ground easily and gliding across the air right behind her. His landing is much smoother, as seamless as the rest of the flight, and he does notice her checking her own nose, but says nothing to it.

Instead, he looks around, taking in the place. ]

Impressive. Did you build it from scratch? With magic?

It was actually a group effort between the locals and some of the Summoned. We just found a nice tree to build around.

[the commune had insisted in wanting to help them, and wanda—despite being able to put it all together with her magic—would not deny them of that joy. she pulls at the flower from her pocket and moves down the path towards the garden and, thus, one of the ground floor windows.

she stitches the flower together with the already growing vines with her magic.]

It's been a few months since, so it's not that bare anymore.

[with that, she moves on over to the door, pushes it open a bit.]

Come and see. We've got working pipes and a mirror to play TV shows on. That one is all magic.

Edited 2023-11-03 16:09 (UTC)

[ And yet, it doesn't seem to be used by the locals. They really are fond of the Summoned here, something he's still getting accustomed to. He'd probably be suspicious of anyone being this nice to him. Old habits.

He listens quietly, and watches the place, the details, how warm and cozy it is. It's wonderful. One of the locals has welcomed him into their home, but Erik is rarely ever there, the room lent to him bare of anything other than basic necessities, and it comes nowhere near this place.

Not that it seemed to matter, at the time. He didn't even think he would be staying here long. ]

I don't really watch television, [ He admits. He kind of prefers to avoid news sources, as he tends to appear in a number of them, sometimes more often than others. He suspects he's made more appearances as of late. ] But it must be an impressive feat of magic. Your doing?

[that's the idea—with exactly how erik is feeling regarding being welcomed into a local's home. it's not really home, especially when one, as a summoned, is treated as if they were above the rest in the commune. it can be uncomfortable and awkward to shuffle around those kinds of conceptions, and one of the main things that they had wanted wit the treehouse was for it to become a space away from all that.

a space where they could just be themselves.]

You're the newspaper kind of old man, aren't you?

[wanda jests, finally pushing the door open to its entirety, leading the way into the kitchen area.]

There is obviously no reception, so it just plays the things I remember. Mostly American sitcoms. [she goes around the island in the middle the kitchen, appreciative that her roommates are conscientious about cleaning up after themselves. there's a plate there, and wanda pulls at the kitchen towel covering it.] It's nice to get to watch them with others again. Piroška ?

[that's what sits on the plate, having been a late night cooking venture. wanda grabs at one.]

Cheese filling. They're good.

[ He lets out a faint huff, but doesn't answer the remark, not aside from a flat stare leveled her way. Well, if he had to choose, he would probably prefer the newspaper, so it's not like he's in a position to feel affronted by the truth. ]

All true quality programming, then.

[ Two can play this game. Still, it beats seeing his own face on the news, usually with less than pleasant words framing it.

His eyebrows go up at the offer, and he takes one with an appreciative dip of his head. ] You're a skilled cook. I'm impressed.

[ He is assuming she also made these. Which, unsurprisingly, are delicious. ]

—have you ever seen The Dick Van Dyke Show? It's my favorite.

[maybe—jokes of his age aside—he's familiar with it. wanda's definitely younger, and her claiming that such an old show is her favorite draws no embarrassment from her. it would probably make her thing better of erik, but it's not like he needs any help in that department.

she reaches for one of the pasties herself, leaning back against the counter.]

If you think I'm good, you should stick around for when Himeka cooks. She's a lot better. [but there's a shrug] My brother would get the ingredients, and I would cook. I got good at it pretty quickly. Feel free to take as many as you like.

[ Erik smiles faintly, shooting her an amused look. ]

I was a little busy at the time, I'm afraid.

[ You know, murder and revenge, all of that. Anyway, he at least knows of it, so there's that. ]

It's not the same. [ The kind of food she cooks is more familiar, comforting and nostalgic. It draws him closer to simpler, happier memories he thought long gone. ] I only know some basic dishes, myself. Never had the time to learn properly. Maybe you can teach me sometime.

[she wouldn't know what people his age were doing at the time that sitcom was airing, but all wanda can do is give him a look to depict feigned, mild offense.]

I can teach you.

[—daunting as it may be, since she isn't sure if he is any good in the kitchen—]

But you'll have to pay me back. [and would that she could ask for material gains. alas,] You'll stick around now and then to watch episodes of The Dick Van Dyke Show. You can't go about your life skipping a classic.

[she sounds awfully serious about it.]

[ To be fair, Erik also doesn't know what people his age were up to. He had very different priorities at the time.

Anyway, she needn't worry. He's not about to burn down any kitchens in the process of learning more about cooking, she can rest assured.

Her conditions, however, are met with a narrowed gaze. ]

You drive a hard bargain. [ She is probably serious, too. He's not sure whether or not this is a good thing for him. Who knows? Maybe he will be entertained. ] Very well. I agree to your terms.

[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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