(he'll come back to it. it's still in his hand, the balls finishing their imprecise, scattered fall from top to bottom, some collecting in the plastic semi-circles, others (most of them) falling to the bottom. it's childish, simple in a way that david hasn't experienced in a while, but not in a condescending way. it's — just silly.
her I wanted to is as much an answer as it is a non-answer; they're still in the learning phase, the getting to know each other stage of things — what they like, what they dislike, what rubs them the wrong way, what upsets them even if they don't acknowledge it. it doesn't escape david that he has no real awareness of how to reciprocate the gesture, and though he doesn't think it in any observable way, hhe does make a note to think of how to.
the waffle maker is old enough that heat emanates from it, warming the surrounding area subtly but noticeably, and david waits until she's finished pouring batter and is satisfied before moving, before continuing. )
Are you calling me old? ( he knows she's not. it's uttered with a lilt of a smile and a lean towards her, the plastic of the pinball toy banging momentarily against the countertop.
( wanda leans back from the counter. he knows she's not, calling him old, but he is the one who is constantly stating that he isn't a kid—don't treat me like one—so it's good knowing that this lands not on the condescending side of things. she returns his smile, glancing down at the toy as the balls scatter again, after being banged against the countertop. )
I did.
( she takes it from his hand, moving it about and having the balls return to their starting position. then, she pulls the lever— watches the little metal balls go. one lands on the 700 slot, atop the treasure, the others sinking down to the bottom. )
Not as a toy in a cereal box, but as something that we could buy at a fair or market. ( she hands it back over to him, but keeps her hold on the toy. ) I think it's a sweet idea for kids. Toys in food.
( sometimes, sentimentality, over the lack of a real childhood, seeing instead what it's like on american sitcoms and feeling some twisted way about it, even if it was an escape for her. it's hard for her to describe, but david just casually mentioning it or simply living in this small moment in time where he gets to be excited about her attempt at replicating it makes her feel like she's living that fantasy a bit, and it's nice.
as far as she is concerned, he doesn't need to reciprocate. this feeling is enough.
ultimately, wanda wraps her hand around david's, and she lets him have the toy. letting go, her attention returns to the waffle maker, opening it up slowly to see if the waffles are sticking to the top part— )
I hope you find the other ones fun whenever you open them.
( david had a very real, traditional, expected childhood up to a certain point — toys and experiences, trips, sports — and then it changed. there are certain things he considers to be usual, common, that through virtue of getting to know wanda, he's discovering aren't. discovering that, while lucky isn't necessarily the word, and neither is fortunate, there's an element of both to it all. he might be many things, and though there's an element of obliviousness to it, it's not what he's predisposed towards being.
so while he thinks that this, the waffle maker and the cereal and the toys, are all ostensibly for him, there's a part of it that's for wanda, too. he'd said she's enjoying this and she is, but that's not all it is. he doesn't know the extent of it, hasn't been able to collect enough of the puzzle pieces to form a picture that makes sense, but he thinks he has enough of one to at least understand the shape of it.
his gaze doesn't leave hers, not when she places the toy back in his grip, not when she wraps her hand around his. it only shifts when she pulls away to check on the waffles; his gaze follows, to where steam wafts and he tries to work out from his vantage point (as it were) if the waffles are cooked. he has no real idea. )
One at a time, ( he answers. ) It's not Christmas. I'm not going to open them all at once. ( a beat and a glance, lightly curious, assessing. ) There were some you had to collect.
(one at a time, and wanda hopes that he lets her know when he finds them. there were some you had to collect gives her an idea, but maybe for later, when she has more time to make something of it. )
Hannukah.
( said softly; her attention doesn't last long on the matter, even if she is just sharing with him another point of difference between them, this constant back-and-forth. grabbing a fork, she stabs it lightly into one of the waffles, solid, and wanda ushers him to get her a plate. plate on the side, as asked, she places the four (done) waffles on it. the first ones are never perfect, and she definitely could have put more of the mix and left it to cook for a bit longer. )
Mm... ( she breaks a slice off, warm still, and uses the fork to offer it to him. ) You're the expert.
( whether they're done or not, wanda will proceed to spray the waffle maker again to scoop some more. but, before she does, she pulls away from the counter and tugs at david to get closer to the waffle-making process. )
Are you going to eat a lot? I'll have—four, maybe. I found some fruit we can have with them.
( of the frozen variety, which has been sitting in the fridge to thaw since the afternoon. she'll chop, while he mans the waffle maker. )
( there's a moment when she says hannukah that his expression flickers, a once to her and then away and then back again that says he's heard her, even if he doesn't say anything. it clarifies her preference not to eat pork, even if david had drawn his own conclusions, even if she'd said habit about the matter.
he grabs a plate, as indicated, an easy kind of not-conversation bookended by her handing him a fork with some manner of cooked waffle on the end. his opinion is ultimately favourable, regardless of how she doesn't stop to wait to hear it before she's tugging him towards her and the waffle maker. his initial answer, then, is muffled, a little awkward, right up until she asks him if he's going to eat a lot and—
how do you answer that? objectively speaking. david likes waffles. he can and will eat them. he's reasonably hungry, as far as these things go. does this mean he'll eat a lot? maybe. he hasn't thought about it. four waffles is a reasonable starting point. (how much will the batter even make? he doesn't know.) he's partway through moving to scoop a spoonful into the waffle maker when she tells him not too much and he shoots her a glance, quizzical and affronted.
( at the quizzical and affronted glance, accompanied with a factual statement, wanda raises her hands in a 'my bad' gesture. eyebrows arch in amusement as she tries not to laugh. )
Oh, okay, I guess.
( she was just wanting him to be mindful that it wouldn't be so much of the batter that it would spill over once he closed the lid of the waffle maker. this, she keeps to herself, and will let him just figure it out. maybe he does know better, but...
wanda goes to the fridge and pulls out the bowl with thawed berries: strawberries and blueberries. she will make her way back to the counter, on the other end of the waffle-making, and start sorting out the fruit and chopping the bigger strawberries in half.
( she's right, of course. david is not, in any capacity, an expert on any of this. he might have helped his mom out a handful of times as a child, him solo, or him and amy, but not at any point when he'd been old enough for it to be something that stuck in terms of what should be done and what shouldn't.
he's aware of her watching him, even after she's grabbed the bowl of berries, even after she should be spending her time cutting them up into pieces. the silence, the lack of noise from knife against chopping board is enough to earn a glance up from david, over at her just as he closes the waffle maker. there is, this time (and perhaps for this time only), an adequate amount of batter in the waffle maker.
he eyes her, feigned challenge in the set of his expression and the raise of his eyebrows. an unasked well? as he leans over to, without asking, steal a strawberry. )
( she laughs, in an answer to his well? at the theft of a strawberry, wanda shoves him lightly; keep to your station, buddy. it's part of the learning from each other, really. wanda had no way of knowing whether he is good in the kitchen or not (she's still leaning on no), but he just might be capable enough to tackle some tasks. some things they happen to ask point blank; other things, they really just wait to envision.
(david is right. this all—the waffles, the cereal, the toys, stars—may be because of him, but this is just as fun and enriching for her. he makes it easy, strangely enough.)
wanda will continue chopping the bigger strawberries, before she has a bowlful of the fruit. this, along with mismatched plates and cutlery, she'll bring to the coffee table by the couch. she's still not convinced she wants it there (mostly because wanda wants to find a television), but it'll do. why have breakfast for dinner at the table, proper? they can eat while sitting on the floor like proper adults. when she returns to the kitchen to open up the fridge (stealing a glance to see how waffle making is going—) and take the syrup out, she's reminded, )
I brought your wine up from the car. Weren't you going to finish it?
( he doesn't have to, but it doesn't help how she phrases it. these back-and-forth challenges. wanda leans lightly on the fridge door, reaching over with a hand to poke at his back with her fingers, really just barely managing to scratch feebly at the cotton of his shirt (one, to get his attention; two, so he turns and she can see how he's doing with the waffles). )
( he huffs when she retaliates to his theft, a soft exhale through his nose. her reaction is about what he'd been expecting, and so for now, he does nothing in return, just refocuses on the waffles. this second batch cooks quicker and more consistently than the first, not through anything david does or has done, but simply because the heating element's had time to be at temperature for longer.
he plates them like the others, before his attention slides between the rest of the batter and the waffle maker, internally debating on how many waffles he's willing to eat in one sitting. the thought's there in his expression, the momentary scrunch of his mouth, before he decides that yeah, another batch would be good. even if they (he) don't eat all of them today, whatever's left over can be reheated in the morning.
this time, though, he's a touch overzealous with the batter, and he mutters a quiet fuck when it spills over as he closes the waffle maker, just in time for wanda to poke him. he stiffens, just momentarily, and then turns.
(he hadn't missed the implied challenge in her question about the wine, either.)
his mouth quirks and he concedes, ) Guess I'm having wine with my waffles. I'd offer you some, but—. ( he waves a hand. you don't like it.)
( at the sight of the spilt batter over the cooking surface, wanda snorts but makes no further comment on it. told you so hangs in the air, but not in any way that wanda is trying to make him feel bad about it. spilt batter is no big deal; he can figure it out. )
You could still have offered.
( she returns to the fridge, bringing out the bottle with what's left of the wine. wanda has no real desire to have wine for a third night in a row. out comes also a carton of milk along with the syrup. the fridge door is closed, the items placed on the table, and she returns to his side to see how bad the spill is (disguised in looking for glasses—two teacups, actually).
not bad, the look she gives him, teasing.
it's only but a few minutes later that they are done with the making of waffles and can sit to eat. wanda sits on her knees, dishing out a few waffles for herself and some fruit, her cup already filled with milk, thanks. sitting down cross-legged on the carpet proper, she uses her telekinesis to serve him what's left of the wine—a sparkly, red glow enveloping around the bottle as it moves about, fingers curling in the air. )
The official roommate welcome.
( red glow gone, the bottle back on the table, wanda raises her cup of milk over towards him. the music from the cassette she had chosen continues, a little drowned out in the background, cozy. this otherwise warm sentiment gets overlapped by a cheeky comment, )
May there be less spills on the waffle maker in the future.
( he could have, but they both know she's only saying that to make a point. and so the remark goes ignored, even as wanda spends her time getting first one thing from the fridge, and then a second, and then the syrup. his attention half shifts with the sound of each hitting the coffee table, and then more fully when wanda reappears and gives him a look that he still doesn't respond to.
not verbally, anyway.
a scrunch of a face, an expression that amounts, essentially, to shut up, and then they're on the floor. he starts to divide his waffles into vague, rough pieces when wanda uses her powers to pour his teacup of wine. it's fascinating, the way that it differs from what he does, how his appears look (or don't, as it were). the red, the precision. he reaches out with a hand to pluck the cup away from the tendrils, mouth quirking in a lopsided smile as she says official roommate welcome, before— )
—Spills are how you know it's being used. Do you want it to just sit and become decoration?
( said after he returns her loose gesture of cheers and has opted to nestle the teacup on the carpet next to him. he's in no hurry to drink it, certainly not interested in necking it in one go like wanda had the night previous.
a forkful of waffle punctuated by a flicker of thought and— ) —What's your favourite food?
( said with a bit of a playful tone of exasperation. no need to argue about the state of the waffle maker; spills will definitely continue to happen, especially if they do more home cooked waffles. for now, there's the pleasant comfort that david seems eager to tuck in to eating the waffles. he divides his own in vague, rough pieces, while wanda cuts along the lines of the squares.
it's also cozier still, the whole sharing a meal experience. it means a lot to wanda, even if she doesn't express it—not wanting this to be an unfair expectation of their arrangement as roommates. they had breakfast together, yes, and now dinner, but—
it's fine either way.
she stretches her legs under the table at the question, knee bumping against one of the legs of the table, socked feet against the carpet. she's halfway through chewing, so, eager to respond, she puts a hand over her mouth, )
Favorite? ( a beat, thinking, eyes looking up at the ceiling. ) I guess... cholent?
( preposterous, that she doesn't even have a favorite food that she can name quickly in a beat. )
Chicken paprikash, if I wanted spicy. Krofne, for something sweet.
( figures that none of these could be normal names that david (likely) recognizes. she shrugs. )
( sharing a meal is neither here nor there for david. it's one of those things that he can enjoy, does when the company's right, but it's not necessarily important except for when it's made to be important, or when he wants company. still, even if wanda does make a point of sharing what it means to her, even if she doesn't want that to be known, there's still a sliver of it. a hint, a quiet, subtle indication, and david—
—decides he won't ignore it.
(not feeling alone is important. not every night, or even every day, certainly, but— often enough.)
it doesn't escape him that she doesn't have an easy, immediate answer for his question; it doesn't escape him, either, that he doesn't know the foods she mentions. his upbringing hadn't been like that, and he hadn't travelled, so cholent. krofne. they're foreign in a way he can't begin to guess at, not without digging into wanda's mind which he wouldn't be opposed to if he knew wanda wouldn't know. but, because she would — well. there's a library. wanda had mentioned it. )
—We'll need a cooking thermometer to make jams. ( he knows that much. )
( it could be as easy as asking her what any of those foods that he doesn't recognize actually are, but it seems that david enjoys employing the most difficult ways to concert understanding. she uses her fork to take a four-squares piece from her waffles, stopping only when he mentions that they'll need a cooking thermometer to make jams.
we'll need.
it's not that they haven't been without their moments of suggesting they do one thing for the benefit of the other, or to do things together, in tandem. but — it's new, ultimately, this friend-whatever-it-is-ship; david isn't selfish, per se, but.
wanda tries her best to hide that it pleases her, him saying something like that, in a childish sort of way. same as with the stars, with the stickers, the breaking into the thrift store late at night. not feeling alone. )
We could pick up fruits in Acreage.
( she busies herself with these fruits, on the table, fork on a strawberry, bringing it closer to her plate. she also does not succeed in keeping her face from showing how she feels. )
We can take the train. A lot more convenient than driving the distance.
( he could ask, and perhaps he would if the circumstances were slightly different, if wanda hadn't taken it upon herself to find a book about the stars, if she hadn't thought of him and took them on a detour to get a waffle maker. asking is easy and, for now, that's why he doesn't do it. it's the surprise of it all.
he doesn't think there's anything different or special or unique about his use of we, and so while wanda's happiness over it isn't wholly missed, neither does david read into it. it's easy to assume that it's surface-level, that there's nothing deeper to it than someone being given a loose promise of something that they like — even if it doesn't escape david that there's a chance she mentioned jams only because they're something david would know.
—not that any of that stops the shift in wanda's expression, even as she semi-attempts to hide it by busying herself with fruit.
(he busies himself with waffle—.)
he half-pauses chewing, prepared to say something about how the train's unnecessary, too, but that's not quite true here, and so he continues chewing a moment later. train it is. it's not about convenience, per se, it's about preference, and he's not driving all that way. )
The countryside. ( a statement as much as it is a question; he still hasn't been. ) We can make a trip out of it. ( stargazing. fruit picking. whatever. )
( get a grip, david; it's not all about you. wanda does actually like fruit jams a lot for their multiple, potential uses. getting to make it fresh is just a plus when it comes to the kinds of foods one can get here. )
Hm— ( yes, the countryside. she picks up her teacup and takes a sip. ) It takes about six hours to get there from here, so. ( a shrug; making a trip out of it would be the way. it's tedious, she knows, especially considering how david will feel about things that aren't engaging, but the other option is several days by car. ) Make it a few days, until you've got your fill of the countryside.
( train tickets are also expensive. silvia might be able to sponsor one or two, but... it's definitely going to need some saving and planning ahead of time. or a little crime (she thinks) to make it possible. all these logistics, it reminds her—
she points at him with the hand that holds her cup. )
You get tired when you teleport, don't you? Or use your powers for too long?
( an observation she had made for herself the previous day. sure, maybe it's because of his horrible sleeping habits (not that wanda knows about that at this point), but what he mentioned, too. about this place, maybe it being her. she sets the cup down. )
I've had it happen sometimes. Not — the tired part, specifically. Mostly my powers not working too well.
I shouldn't. ( it's not irritable, but there's a palpable note of displeasure. ) I can't travel as far. If I try to do too much, I get — headaches. ( he doesn't mean just teleportation, but he also doesn't bother to clarify that for the moment. he hasn't tested it, not properly, hasn't tried to find what the exact limits are, how much he can do before it gets too much, if it progresses beyond a headache. he should — will — because it's better to know than to find out at the wrong time, but there'll be a better time for ...experimenting.
her admission that she's had something similar happen suggests it's this place and not a side-effect or whatever of them being together — or, he supposes, it could be both. for her, it could also be that she doesn't fully know her powers yet, and that has an affect. (where's cary when you need him—.) (does he know anyone to ask?) the only person that comes to mind is charles, and that's not a conversation he's willing to have with the guy. it'd open unwanted doors. but he can't be the only scientist—. )
A few hours cross-country should be nothing.
(should be.
he stabs another piece of waffle, chews as he thinks. he glances back to her, abrupt and interested. )
(i shouldn't, he says, with the confidence of someone who claimed just the night before i'm powerful. part arrogance, part truth. wanda has no reason to distrust him on the matter, and she also doesn't care to be better or stronger than him; there are already so many people with so many powers here in panorama and those without, why should it even matter? wanda decides to not try and answer that question.
instead, she reaches for the syrup bottle, serves herself some more. considers. )
There was — a cosmic storm that reached the train once. I broke an illusion it had put myself and someone else in, and that was... Felt like being strangled. ( wanda feels a lot with her powers. it did take a lot out of her at the time. ) The Cube distorted my powers, so it felt like I wasn't in control... ( a scrunch of her nose, the telltale sign of how unpleasant something was to her. ) When I'm far out in the Fringes for a while, my powers don't work properly.
( she raises her gaze up at him, brow furrowing momentarily. )
I haven't really gone out of my way to test it. I spent several months pretending I wasn't...
(this. 'special', 'magic', whatever he'd want to call it. it took her quite a long time to be alright with being open about herself. she had been perceived quite quickly by some, like charles, like erik, henry. it was only a matter of time before it felt foolish to try and hide what she is. david's the first one she feels incredibly comfortable with regarding her powers, but it's probably due to all these months of owning up to them than just he as a condition.
wanda tilts her head, setting the syrup bottle down, and lingering on him. )
Is there something you want to do? Other than leave this world? Go back home to your friends?
( who wouldn't? people like her, who don't want to face their own future; too cowardly yet comforted by some of the normalcy and routine in the diadem. it doesn't escape her, though, that while david has shared snippets of his life-before-the-diadem, he hasn't really painted a full picture. )
( it's not about being more powerful than anyone else, per se — while david enjoys his power, it's about control — even if that's not something he'll acknowledge in any way that really matters, in any way that accepts accountability. he's not interested in pissing matches, in proving himself; he is powerful. that's a statement of fact. it's not posturing, it's not ego. he's not going to pretend otherwise just because it sounds more humble.
but she doesn't comment on his I shouldn't, just answers his question, and so he doesn't return to it either. instead, she answers his question in a way that mostly amounts to 'it happens outside of the city', and — that's good to know. perhaps not a one-for-one of his experiences, but they're not one-for-one, either. )
—Charles mentioned the cube, ( he murmurs, a momentary interruption in-between mouthfuls of waffle. charles had mentioned it was strange, but it'd been a short-lived part of their conversation, and they'd quickly moved on. the cube being the cube hadn't really had any degree of relevance to anything else. he doesn't miss the scrunch of her nose, though, but she's moving on again before he can get a word (or thought) in edgeways.
did he ever say he wanted to leave this world? he's not sure he did. she's not wrong, but he's not necessarily in any hurry to do it. he's got things he wants (needs) to do, but there's no timeline he's working with. here, at least, there's no D3, to get in his way, to make assumptions about what he's doing and why. there's nothing to say that he can't achieve what he wants to from here, either, so—.
placing his knife and fork down on his plate, he has a sip of wine before offering an mm in response, light and thoughtful. )
I haven't thought about it.
( he doesn't need to guess at why she's spent time pretending she's not who and what she is, and while he could ask more, if there's anything else, he instead— )
What do you want to do?
( it'll give a similar impression, a similar answer, just in a different form. )
( wanda has a quiet feeling that it's not so much that david hasn't thought about it. maybe it's more that he's trying to find his bearings in this place, still, consider his options. he would seem like the type to do so. still, it's bouncing the question back to her, and now she has to actually put her thoughts into words; what she actually thinks about what she wants to do.
so, she chews on it, giving him a light shrug and tilt of her head as she worries herself with another bite of waffle and fruit and syrup. it's not dismissive, even if it appears to be, and david should be able to catch on to the way this pause is meaningful, won't last long if he gives her the chance to— )
I think I want to stay.
( (is it really that simply summed up?) wanda leans back, lets her hands press flat against the carpet. legs stretched out, elbows taut, she considers the lamp overhead. david changed it, and the design is— well, she rather likes it, actually. )
Maybe one day my brother will show up. If people from my future have, then it stands to reason those from my past might, too. ( it may never come to pass, but she seems okay with getting older just waiting on that very slim possibility. with a soft smile, she adds, ) If he ever did, I might have to ask you to leave. Take your room from you.
( —as if to drive home, with humor, how she considers it even happening an impossibility. just in case, though, )
Just kidding.
( the next she says after something of a pause. it sounds like she might be retelling some classic story. )
...some time ago, a man called Stephen arrived here. I met him in the Scrapyard and he was— Everything about him felt wrong. Cluttered, like so many different... creatures inside him. I was frightened of him, but he was scared of me. I sensed it. The way he spoke, the way he stepped around me. His hands became dark claws for a moment, suffocating, it was making me sick.
( a tilt of her head against her shoulder, eyes meeting his. )
He spoke of knowing me in other timelines. That there's a dark path ahead for me. Because of my powers, he'd said. The Scarlet Witch.
( her first contact with the multiverse, that was. she's still not very convinced. wanda shifts, raises her left hand, pulling down her sleeve, to show him her watch. )
He gave me this. ( then, back to leaning on her hands, swaying a bit from side to side. ) I'm tired of bad outcomes and dark paths. Even if it's because of my powers, and even if it's going to happen, at least I can try and figure it out at my own pace here.
Edited (editing comments is my hobby shut up) Date: 2026-04-24 01:59 pm (UTC)
( it's a lot to offer all at once — the admission that she'd stay, the quiet hope that her brother may one day turn up, that (one of) her future(s) is something bad. there's a familiarity to it, to what she tells him, and though he knows she has no way of knowing what syd said, what the vermillion said, it's still a coincidence that should feel nice — or something like it, perhaps — but doesn't.
it's a little backwards, the way she offers her answer, the why of it coming second, but it makes sense. david imagines he'd be the same if he wasn't so sure he had a means of changing things, fixing them, making them better.
(would he want amy here?) (no.)
he keeps his fingers curled around his cup and, unlike wanda, doesn't move to stretch out. his focus remains wholly on her, on the way her expression shifts, where her attention falls. at length— )
People lie. ( firm. assured. certain. ) Did you read his mind? How do you know he's telling you the truth? No-one wants to be told they're a bad person. ( he leans forward then, the wine in his teacup sloshing with the abrupt movement but not spilling. he pauses and stills, lets the liquid resettle before continuing. ) Maybe he just wanted you scared, frightened of what you're capable of doing.
( because she is (was?) scared. they've established that. rightly or wrongly, that's how she feels and has felt for a long time. all because of how people perceive her and what she's done, what she might do.
a beat; a tilt of his head and a small, fleeting smile. a suggestion. ) How do you know he's not just scared of you because you stopped him from doing something terrible?
( he lets the question sit for a moment, and then drops his gaze and gestures lazily towards her wrist, the watch now covered again by her sleeve. )
( —read his mind, that is, but all she got were undecipherable horrors that made her, as she mentioned, sick. all those multiversal monsters within stephen did not like to be intruded upon in a way that most people's defenses don't react like. even david's mind isn't so... like that (but maybe it's because he's invited her, from the start). this much she says immediately after his question, making it clear that she did try. but david continues, how do you know he's telling the truth?
his suggestion, dressed as a question, shapes wanda's expression into silent appreciation for... this very particular way that he talks in. it's not constant, but once in a while, his tone softens, his voice takes on this sense of gentle authority, to compel.
how quick he is to turn something around, spin it in its head, seek alternatives. he's not wrong to think that wanda is (continues to be) scared of the potential within her, and this very much limits how far she considers the opposite of what she's told. where most times, when talking about herself, this, her powers, she finds herself walking into walls, david's responses feel refreshingly like walls with windows wide open, offering another path, option. like it's been thought through, for a while, in his own way.
anyway, much to think about.
so, maybe, her response is not one for his questions. )
...you talk like that a lot.
( does not elaborate. wanda picks at her left wrist, removes her watch, and leans over the table, setting it down in the center. )
Do you feel anything on it? ( anything a psychic could pick up, some kind of manipulation to its components? wanda isn't one who understands mechanics, but it seems like a simple watch to her. she saw stephen pick it up from the store they had been at. ) He said he wanted to help me, so I guess this was his way of showing me some kindness. I always know what time it is now.
( a shrug; what does it matter, ultimately? stephen strange was no longer here, left her with more questions than answers, and her future is still uncertain, albeit written already for those who come from it. she sits cross-legged again, and picks at the remnants of her waffles. )
But, you said you'd help me.
( in no real terms, just that he'd 'make it softer', that he'd 'teach her' about the astral plane. which he has done, but. there's still so much more she feels she could learn from david. she smiles softly. )
( the mm her 'tried to' gets is perfunctory, accepting. this stephen, whoever he is, had barriers and walls, intentional or not, that sat as a companion to whatever creatures he had inside of him. (or — whatever they were. it's hard to say whether wanda's assessment is correct, or if that's just how stephen appeared to her.) he'd wonder more if this stephen were still here in the city, but she speaks of him as if he's not, or at least as if he doesn't bother to make his presence known, so— )
Talk like what?
( she doesn't elaborate, and david doesn't know what she means, can't even guess at what she means. it's levelled back at her, a quizzical frown knitting his brow as he studies her, tries to infer her meaning before placing his cup down on the table and reaching to slide the watch closer. touch doesn't make any difference to his abilities, but he's still curious about it. it's bright, almost distinctly un-wanda-esque from everything he's been able to pick up about her so far.
he thinks he could see switch wearing it. )
—No, ( he answers, tone mild. maybe it is just a watch. maybe it wasn't, but with stephen no longer around, now that is all it is. he lifts a shoulders in a shrug that mirrors hers, mouth quirking in quiet acknowledgement of guess it is just a watch.
he pulls his hands away and places them in his lap, one atop the other. )
I will help you. ( another flicker of a frown, this one more questioning than the first. a cant of his head as he adds, ) You know that.
( it's there, briefly, his trying to infer what she means without being able to read her mind. wanda, still, doesn't elaborate, but watches instead as he studies the watch. she sets her now empty plate to the side, leaning all the way into the table, elbows on the surface, waiting for his assessment—no—and then grabbing back at the watch once he draws away from it. )
I do.
( she hadn't been trying to assess whether he'd keep to what he had offered or not. wanda has no real choice but to take david at his word, but she also doesn't want to assume that he doesn't have other things he'd rather do with his time.
watch latched back onto her wrist, she lingers there, thumb padding the soft skin on her wrist, before her eyes divert to the couch. )
...you talk like you've thought about what I wonder about a lot. Not because I've wondered about it, I know that. Just — you understand what this is. ( unsaid: be it because of his own experiences or own thoughts on the matter, about himself. she turns back to him. this idea of 'i've never met someone like you before'. differences, but such close similarities. beyond that, everything else—
she points at the couch with a thumb over her shoulder. ) Your things from the car, by the way.
( just as he had tossed them in the car, now inside a bag that wanda used to carry them up. she wasn't going to look over his things or anything, but figured she might as well just bring it up. )
I have trousers like that. The striped ones. ( the last statement, said like a question. ) You like striped things a lot. ( in any case, he doesn't seem to have a lot of clothes, so, ) There's a washing machine and dryer you can use.
( at first, it seems like she's not going to elaborate at all, just reaffirming her opinion that he talks like that before it becomes evident that she's mostly just putting her watch back on. in some ways, what she adds is tangential to her story about stephen, adjacent in a way that makes sense albeit only from a certain perspective — that is, david, by virtue of having been in a position similar to wanda, has thought about it.
but it circles back to that question of how much he wants to share and say. she knows about farouk, she's seen a flash of memory of his trial, but she doesn't know the details of it all. the build-up, the fallout, the why. the what they called him.
in turn, then, it's almost as if he's not going to respond to that. you've thought about it. you understand. he looks over her shoulder towards the bag on the couch, mouth opening in a small 'o' of acknowledgement that takes a moment to turn into— )
Thank you. I was going to get them later, ( while his gaze drops reflexively to his feet, to his striped socks, before back up to wanda. his expression, a muted kind of sheepishness, suggests no-one's ever actually commented on the stripes before, says that yes, he does like stripes.
punctuated by a moment's silence, then two, then— ) I have thought about it. The same things as you. There are people that are scared of me, too. ( his turn for his gaze to flick up to the ceiling, to rest momentarily on the light. ) But people are scared by power that they don't control, so. (you know. ) You can't take what they think to heart.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2026-04-22 07:29 pm (UTC)her I wanted to is as much an answer as it is a non-answer; they're still in the learning phase, the getting to know each other stage of things — what they like, what they dislike, what rubs them the wrong way, what upsets them even if they don't acknowledge it. it doesn't escape david that he has no real awareness of how to reciprocate the gesture, and though he doesn't think it in any observable way, hhe does make a note to think of how to.
the waffle maker is old enough that heat emanates from it, warming the surrounding area subtly but noticeably, and david waits until she's finished pouring batter and is satisfied before moving, before continuing. )
Are you calling me old? ( he knows she's not. it's uttered with a lilt of a smile and a lean towards her, the plastic of the pinball toy banging momentarily against the countertop.
a breath of a pause, and then— )
—Did you have these?
no subject
Date: 2026-04-22 08:04 pm (UTC)I did.
( she takes it from his hand, moving it about and having the balls return to their starting position. then, she pulls the lever— watches the little metal balls go. one lands on the 700 slot, atop the treasure, the others sinking down to the bottom. )
Not as a toy in a cereal box, but as something that we could buy at a fair or market. ( she hands it back over to him, but keeps her hold on the toy. ) I think it's a sweet idea for kids. Toys in food.
( sometimes, sentimentality, over the lack of a real childhood, seeing instead what it's like on american sitcoms and feeling some twisted way about it, even if it was an escape for her. it's hard for her to describe, but david just casually mentioning it or simply living in this small moment in time where he gets to be excited about her attempt at replicating it makes her feel like she's living that fantasy a bit, and it's nice.
as far as she is concerned, he doesn't need to reciprocate. this feeling is enough.
ultimately, wanda wraps her hand around david's, and she lets him have the toy. letting go, her attention returns to the waffle maker, opening it up slowly to see if the waffles are sticking to the top part— )
I hope you find the other ones fun whenever you open them.
no subject
Date: 2026-04-22 09:16 pm (UTC)so while he thinks that this, the waffle maker and the cereal and the toys, are all ostensibly for him, there's a part of it that's for wanda, too. he'd said she's enjoying this and she is, but that's not all it is. he doesn't know the extent of it, hasn't been able to collect enough of the puzzle pieces to form a picture that makes sense, but he thinks he has enough of one to at least understand the shape of it.
his gaze doesn't leave hers, not when she places the toy back in his grip, not when she wraps her hand around his. it only shifts when she pulls away to check on the waffles; his gaze follows, to where steam wafts and he tries to work out from his vantage point (as it were) if the waffles are cooked. he has no real idea. )
One at a time, ( he answers. ) It's not Christmas. I'm not going to open them all at once. ( a beat and a glance, lightly curious, assessing. ) There were some you had to collect.
( before an abrupt pivot with, )
—Are the waffles done?
no subject
Date: 2026-04-22 09:36 pm (UTC)Hannukah.
( said softly; her attention doesn't last long on the matter, even if she is just sharing with him another point of difference between them, this constant back-and-forth. grabbing a fork, she stabs it lightly into one of the waffles, solid, and wanda ushers him to get her a plate. plate on the side, as asked, she places the four (done) waffles on it. the first ones are never perfect, and she definitely could have put more of the mix and left it to cook for a bit longer. )
Mm... ( she breaks a slice off, warm still, and uses the fork to offer it to him. ) You're the expert.
( whether they're done or not, wanda will proceed to spray the waffle maker again to scoop some more. but, before she does, she pulls away from the counter and tugs at david to get closer to the waffle-making process. )
Are you going to eat a lot? I'll have—four, maybe. I found some fruit we can have with them.
( of the frozen variety, which has been sitting in the fridge to thaw since the afternoon. she'll chop, while he mans the waffle maker. )
—don't scoop too much.
no subject
Date: 2026-04-22 10:12 pm (UTC)he grabs a plate, as indicated, an easy kind of not-conversation bookended by her handing him a fork with some manner of cooked waffle on the end. his opinion is ultimately favourable, regardless of how she doesn't stop to wait to hear it before she's tugging him towards her and the waffle maker. his initial answer, then, is muffled, a little awkward, right up until she asks him if he's going to eat a lot and—
how do you answer that? objectively speaking. david likes waffles. he can and will eat them. he's reasonably hungry, as far as these things go. does this mean he'll eat a lot? maybe. he hasn't thought about it. four waffles is a reasonable starting point. (how much will the batter even make? he doesn't know.) he's partway through moving to scoop a spoonful into the waffle maker when she tells him not too much and he shoots her a glance, quizzical and affronted.
he had been going to ask 'what fruit', but now— )
You just said I was the expert.
no subject
Date: 2026-04-22 10:25 pm (UTC)Oh, okay, I guess.
( she was just wanting him to be mindful that it wouldn't be so much of the batter that it would spill over once he closed the lid of the waffle maker. this, she keeps to herself, and will let him just figure it out. maybe he does know better, but...
wanda goes to the fridge and pulls out the bowl with thawed berries: strawberries and blueberries. she will make her way back to the counter, on the other end of the waffle-making, and start sorting out the fruit and chopping the bigger strawberries in half.
a glance over at him, at how he's doing— )
no subject
Date: 2026-04-23 06:00 am (UTC)he's aware of her watching him, even after she's grabbed the bowl of berries, even after she should be spending her time cutting them up into pieces. the silence, the lack of noise from knife against chopping board is enough to earn a glance up from david, over at her just as he closes the waffle maker. there is, this time (and perhaps for this time only), an adequate amount of batter in the waffle maker.
he eyes her, feigned challenge in the set of his expression and the raise of his eyebrows. an unasked well? as he leans over to, without asking, steal a strawberry. )
no subject
Date: 2026-04-23 12:05 pm (UTC)( she laughs, in an answer to his well? at the theft of a strawberry, wanda shoves him lightly; keep to your station, buddy. it's part of the learning from each other, really. wanda had no way of knowing whether he is good in the kitchen or not (she's still leaning on no), but he just might be capable enough to tackle some tasks. some things they happen to ask point blank; other things, they really just wait to envision.
(david is right. this all—the waffles, the cereal, the toys, stars—may be because of him, but this is just as fun and enriching for her. he makes it easy, strangely enough.)
wanda will continue chopping the bigger strawberries, before she has a bowlful of the fruit. this, along with mismatched plates and cutlery, she'll bring to the coffee table by the couch. she's still not convinced she wants it there (mostly because wanda wants to find a television), but it'll do. why have breakfast for dinner at the table, proper? they can eat while sitting on the floor like proper adults. when she returns to the kitchen to open up the fridge (stealing a glance to see how waffle making is going—) and take the syrup out, she's reminded, )
I brought your wine up from the car. Weren't you going to finish it?
( he doesn't have to, but it doesn't help how she phrases it. these back-and-forth challenges. wanda leans lightly on the fridge door, reaching over with a hand to poke at his back with her fingers, really just barely managing to scratch feebly at the cotton of his shirt (one, to get his attention; two, so he turns and she can see how he's doing with the waffles). )
no subject
Date: 2026-04-23 01:37 pm (UTC)he plates them like the others, before his attention slides between the rest of the batter and the waffle maker, internally debating on how many waffles he's willing to eat in one sitting. the thought's there in his expression, the momentary scrunch of his mouth, before he decides that yeah, another batch would be good. even if they (he) don't eat all of them today, whatever's left over can be reheated in the morning.
this time, though, he's a touch overzealous with the batter, and he mutters a quiet fuck when it spills over as he closes the waffle maker, just in time for wanda to poke him. he stiffens, just momentarily, and then turns.
(he hadn't missed the implied challenge in her question about the wine, either.)
his mouth quirks and he concedes, ) Guess I'm having wine with my waffles. I'd offer you some, but—. ( he waves a hand. you don't like it. )
no subject
Date: 2026-04-23 02:17 pm (UTC)You could still have offered.
( she returns to the fridge, bringing out the bottle with what's left of the wine. wanda has no real desire to have wine for a third night in a row. out comes also a carton of milk along with the syrup. the fridge door is closed, the items placed on the table, and she returns to his side to see how bad the spill is (disguised in looking for glasses—two teacups, actually).
not bad, the look she gives him, teasing.
it's only but a few minutes later that they are done with the making of waffles and can sit to eat. wanda sits on her knees, dishing out a few waffles for herself and some fruit, her cup already filled with milk, thanks. sitting down cross-legged on the carpet proper, she uses her telekinesis to serve him what's left of the wine—a sparkly, red glow enveloping around the bottle as it moves about, fingers curling in the air. )
The official roommate welcome.
( red glow gone, the bottle back on the table, wanda raises her cup of milk over towards him. the music from the cassette she had chosen continues, a little drowned out in the background, cozy. this otherwise warm sentiment gets overlapped by a cheeky comment, )
May there be less spills on the waffle maker in the future.
no subject
Date: 2026-04-23 08:12 pm (UTC)not verbally, anyway.
a scrunch of a face, an expression that amounts, essentially, to shut up, and then they're on the floor. he starts to divide his waffles into vague, rough pieces when wanda uses her powers to pour his teacup of wine. it's fascinating, the way that it differs from what he does, how his appears look (or don't, as it were). the red, the precision. he reaches out with a hand to pluck the cup away from the tendrils, mouth quirking in a lopsided smile as she says official roommate welcome, before— )
—Spills are how you know it's being used. Do you want it to just sit and become decoration?
( said after he returns her loose gesture of cheers and has opted to nestle the teacup on the carpet next to him. he's in no hurry to drink it, certainly not interested in necking it in one go like wanda had the night previous.
a forkful of waffle punctuated by a flicker of thought and— ) —What's your favourite food?
no subject
Date: 2026-04-23 08:31 pm (UTC)( said with a bit of a playful tone of exasperation. no need to argue about the state of the waffle maker; spills will definitely continue to happen, especially if they do more home cooked waffles. for now, there's the pleasant comfort that david seems eager to tuck in to eating the waffles. he divides his own in vague, rough pieces, while wanda cuts along the lines of the squares.
it's also cozier still, the whole sharing a meal experience. it means a lot to wanda, even if she doesn't express it—not wanting this to be an unfair expectation of their arrangement as roommates. they had breakfast together, yes, and now dinner, but—
it's fine either way.
she stretches her legs under the table at the question, knee bumping against one of the legs of the table, socked feet against the carpet. she's halfway through chewing, so, eager to respond, she puts a hand over her mouth, )
Favorite? ( a beat, thinking, eyes looking up at the ceiling. ) I guess... cholent?
( preposterous, that she doesn't even have a favorite food that she can name quickly in a beat. )
Chicken paprikash, if I wanted spicy. Krofne, for something sweet.
( figures that none of these could be normal names that david (likely) recognizes. she shrugs. )
Fruit jams.
no subject
Date: 2026-04-23 09:02 pm (UTC)—decides he won't ignore it.
(not feeling alone is important.
not every night, or even every day, certainly, but— often enough.)
it doesn't escape him that she doesn't have an easy, immediate answer for his question; it doesn't escape him, either, that he doesn't know the foods she mentions. his upbringing hadn't been like that, and he hadn't travelled, so cholent. krofne. they're foreign in a way he can't begin to guess at, not without digging into wanda's mind which he wouldn't be opposed to if he knew wanda wouldn't know. but, because she would — well. there's a library. wanda had mentioned it. )
—We'll need a cooking thermometer to make jams. ( he knows that much. )
no subject
Date: 2026-04-23 09:21 pm (UTC)we'll need.
it's not that they haven't been without their moments of suggesting they do one thing for the benefit of the other, or to do things together, in tandem. but — it's new, ultimately, this friend-whatever-it-is-ship; david isn't selfish, per se, but.
wanda tries her best to hide that it pleases her, him saying something like that, in a childish sort of way. same as with the stars, with the stickers, the breaking into the thrift store late at night. not feeling alone. )
We could pick up fruits in Acreage.
( she busies herself with these fruits, on the table, fork on a strawberry, bringing it closer to her plate. she also does not succeed in keeping her face from showing how she feels. )
We can take the train. A lot more convenient than driving the distance.
no subject
Date: 2026-04-23 10:09 pm (UTC)he doesn't think there's anything different or special or unique about his use of we, and so while wanda's happiness over it isn't wholly missed, neither does david read into it. it's easy to assume that it's surface-level, that there's nothing deeper to it than someone being given a loose promise of something that they like — even if it doesn't escape david that there's a chance she mentioned jams only because they're something david would know.
—not that any of that stops the shift in wanda's expression, even as she semi-attempts to hide it by busying herself with fruit.
(he busies himself with waffle—.)
he half-pauses chewing, prepared to say something about how the train's unnecessary, too, but that's not quite true here, and so he continues chewing a moment later. train it is. it's not about convenience, per se, it's about preference, and he's not driving all that way. )
The countryside. ( a statement as much as it is a question; he still hasn't been. ) We can make a trip out of it. ( stargazing. fruit picking. whatever. )
no subject
Date: 2026-04-23 10:48 pm (UTC)Hm— ( yes, the countryside. she picks up her teacup and takes a sip. ) It takes about six hours to get there from here, so. ( a shrug; making a trip out of it would be the way. it's tedious, she knows, especially considering how david will feel about things that aren't engaging, but the other option is several days by car. ) Make it a few days, until you've got your fill of the countryside.
( train tickets are also expensive. silvia might be able to sponsor one or two, but... it's definitely going to need some saving and planning ahead of time. or a little crime (she thinks) to make it possible. all these logistics, it reminds her—
she points at him with the hand that holds her cup. )
You get tired when you teleport, don't you? Or use your powers for too long?
( an observation she had made for herself the previous day. sure, maybe it's because of his horrible sleeping habits (not that wanda knows about that at this point), but what he mentioned, too. about this place, maybe it being her. she sets the cup down. )
I've had it happen sometimes. Not — the tired part, specifically. Mostly my powers not working too well.
no subject
Date: 2026-04-24 06:40 am (UTC)her admission that she's had something similar happen suggests it's this place and not a side-effect or whatever of them being together — or, he supposes, it could be both. for her, it could also be that she doesn't fully know her powers yet, and that has an affect. (where's cary when you need him—.) (does he know anyone to ask?) the only person that comes to mind is charles, and that's not a conversation he's willing to have with the guy. it'd open unwanted doors. but he can't be the only scientist—. )
A few hours cross-country should be nothing.
( should be.
he stabs another piece of waffle, chews as he thinks. he glances back to her, abrupt and interested. )
—Has there been any pattern to it? For you.
no subject
Date: 2026-04-24 11:39 am (UTC)instead, she reaches for the syrup bottle, serves herself some more. considers. )
There was — a cosmic storm that reached the train once. I broke an illusion it had put myself and someone else in, and that was... Felt like being strangled. ( wanda feels a lot with her powers. it did take a lot out of her at the time. ) The Cube distorted my powers, so it felt like I wasn't in control... ( a scrunch of her nose, the telltale sign of how unpleasant something was to her. ) When I'm far out in the Fringes for a while, my powers don't work properly.
( she raises her gaze up at him, brow furrowing momentarily. )
I haven't really gone out of my way to test it. I spent several months pretending I wasn't...
( this. 'special', 'magic', whatever he'd want to call it. it took her quite a long time to be alright with being open about herself. she had been perceived quite quickly by some, like charles, like erik, henry. it was only a matter of time before it felt foolish to try and hide what she is. david's the first one she feels incredibly comfortable with regarding her powers, but it's probably due to all these months of owning up to them than just he as a condition.
wanda tilts her head, setting the syrup bottle down, and lingering on him. )
( who wouldn't? people like her, who don't want to face their own future; too cowardly yet comforted by some of the normalcy and routine in the diadem. it doesn't escape her, though, that while david has shared snippets of his life-before-the-diadem, he hasn't really painted a full picture. )
no subject
Date: 2026-04-24 01:01 pm (UTC)but she doesn't comment on his I shouldn't, just answers his question, and so he doesn't return to it either. instead, she answers his question in a way that mostly amounts to 'it happens outside of the city', and — that's good to know. perhaps not a one-for-one of his experiences, but they're not one-for-one, either. )
—Charles mentioned the cube, ( he murmurs, a momentary interruption in-between mouthfuls of waffle. charles had mentioned it was strange, but it'd been a short-lived part of their conversation, and they'd quickly moved on. the cube being the cube hadn't really had any degree of relevance to anything else. he doesn't miss the scrunch of her nose, though, but she's moving on again before he can get a word (or thought) in edgeways.
did he ever say he wanted to leave this world? he's not sure he did. she's not wrong, but he's not necessarily in any hurry to do it. he's got things he wants (needs) to do, but there's no timeline he's working with. here, at least, there's no D3, to get in his way, to make assumptions about what he's doing and why. there's nothing to say that he can't achieve what he wants to from here, either, so—.
placing his knife and fork down on his plate, he has a sip of wine before offering an mm in response, light and thoughtful. ) ( he doesn't need to guess at why she's spent time pretending she's not who and what she is, and while he could ask more, if there's anything else, he instead— ) ( it'll give a similar impression, a similar answer, just in a different form. )
no subject
Date: 2026-04-24 01:46 pm (UTC)so, she chews on it, giving him a light shrug and tilt of her head as she worries herself with another bite of waffle and fruit and syrup. it's not dismissive, even if it appears to be, and david should be able to catch on to the way this pause is meaningful, won't last long if he gives her the chance to— )
( (is it really that simply summed up?) wanda leans back, lets her hands press flat against the carpet. legs stretched out, elbows taut, she considers the lamp overhead. david changed it, and the design is— well, she rather likes it, actually. )
Maybe one day my brother will show up. If people from my future have, then it stands to reason those from my past might, too. ( it may never come to pass, but she seems okay with getting older just waiting on that very slim possibility. with a soft smile, she adds, ) If he ever did, I might have to ask you to leave. Take your room from you.
( —as if to drive home, with humor, how she considers it even happening an impossibility. just in case, though, )
Just kidding.
( the next she says after something of a pause. it sounds like she might be retelling some classic story. )
...some time ago, a man called Stephen arrived here. I met him in the Scrapyard and he was— Everything about him felt wrong. Cluttered, like so many different... creatures inside him. I was frightened of him, but he was scared of me. I sensed it. The way he spoke, the way he stepped around me. His hands became dark claws for a moment, suffocating, it was making me sick.
( a tilt of her head against her shoulder, eyes meeting his. )
( her first contact with the multiverse, that was. she's still not very convinced. wanda shifts, raises her left hand, pulling down her sleeve, to show him her watch. )
He gave me this. ( then, back to leaning on her hands, swaying a bit from side to side. ) I'm tired of bad outcomes and dark paths. Even if it's because of my powers, and even if it's going to happen, at least I can try and figure it out at my own pace here.
no subject
Date: 2026-04-24 03:57 pm (UTC)it's a little backwards, the way she offers her answer, the why of it coming second, but it makes sense. david imagines he'd be the same if he wasn't so sure he had a means of changing things, fixing them, making them better.
(would he want amy here?)
(no.)
he keeps his fingers curled around his cup and, unlike wanda, doesn't move to stretch out. his focus remains wholly on her, on the way her expression shifts, where her attention falls. at length— )
People lie. ( firm. assured. certain. ) Did you read his mind? How do you know he's telling you the truth? No-one wants to be told they're a bad person. ( he leans forward then, the wine in his teacup sloshing with the abrupt movement but not spilling. he pauses and stills, lets the liquid resettle before continuing. ) Maybe he just wanted you scared, frightened of what you're capable of doing.
( because she is (was?) scared. they've established that. rightly or wrongly, that's how she feels and has felt for a long time. all because of how people perceive her and what she's done, what she might do.
a beat; a tilt of his head and a small, fleeting smile. a suggestion. ) How do you know he's not just scared of you because you stopped him from doing something terrible?
( he lets the question sit for a moment, and then drops his gaze and gestures lazily towards her wrist, the watch now covered again by her sleeve. )
Is that just a watch?
( or: "why?" )
no subject
Date: 2026-04-24 04:29 pm (UTC)( —read his mind, that is, but all she got were undecipherable horrors that made her, as she mentioned, sick. all those multiversal monsters within stephen did not like to be intruded upon in a way that most people's defenses don't react like. even david's mind isn't so... like that (but maybe it's because he's invited her, from the start). this much she says immediately after his question, making it clear that she did try. but david continues, how do you know he's telling the truth?
his suggestion, dressed as a question, shapes wanda's expression into silent appreciation for... this very particular way that he talks in. it's not constant, but once in a while, his tone softens, his voice takes on this sense of gentle authority, to compel.
how quick he is to turn something around, spin it in its head, seek alternatives. he's not wrong to think that wanda is (continues to be) scared of the potential within her, and this very much limits how far she considers the opposite of what she's told. where most times, when talking about herself, this, her powers, she finds herself walking into walls, david's responses feel refreshingly like walls with windows wide open, offering another path, option. like it's been thought through, for a while, in his own way.
anyway, much to think about.
so, maybe, her response is not one for his questions. )
...you talk like that a lot.
( does not elaborate. wanda picks at her left wrist, removes her watch, and leans over the table, setting it down in the center. )
Do you feel anything on it? ( anything a psychic could pick up, some kind of manipulation to its components? wanda isn't one who understands mechanics, but it seems like a simple watch to her. she saw stephen pick it up from the store they had been at. ) He said he wanted to help me, so I guess this was his way of showing me some kindness. I always know what time it is now.
( a shrug; what does it matter, ultimately? stephen strange was no longer here, left her with more questions than answers, and her future is still uncertain, albeit written already for those who come from it. she sits cross-legged again, and picks at the remnants of her waffles. )
But, you said you'd help me.
( in no real terms, just that he'd 'make it softer', that he'd 'teach her' about the astral plane. which he has done, but. there's still so much more she feels she could learn from david. she smiles softly. )
Right?
no subject
Date: 2026-04-24 04:58 pm (UTC)Talk like what?
( she doesn't elaborate, and david doesn't know what she means, can't even guess at what she means. it's levelled back at her, a quizzical frown knitting his brow as he studies her, tries to infer her meaning before placing his cup down on the table and reaching to slide the watch closer. touch doesn't make any difference to his abilities, but he's still curious about it. it's bright, almost distinctly un-wanda-esque from everything he's been able to pick up about her so far.
he thinks he could see switch wearing it. )
—No, ( he answers, tone mild. maybe it is just a watch. maybe it wasn't, but with stephen no longer around, now that is all it is. he lifts a shoulders in a shrug that mirrors hers, mouth quirking in quiet acknowledgement of guess it is just a watch.
he pulls his hands away and places them in his lap, one atop the other. )
I will help you. ( another flicker of a frown, this one more questioning than the first. a cant of his head as he adds, ) You know that.
no subject
Date: 2026-04-24 05:17 pm (UTC)I do.
( she hadn't been trying to assess whether he'd keep to what he had offered or not. wanda has no real choice but to take david at his word, but she also doesn't want to assume that he doesn't have other things he'd rather do with his time.
watch latched back onto her wrist, she lingers there, thumb padding the soft skin on her wrist, before her eyes divert to the couch. )
...you talk like you've thought about what I wonder about a lot. Not because I've wondered about it, I know that. Just — you understand what this is. ( unsaid: be it because of his own experiences or own thoughts on the matter, about himself. she turns back to him. this idea of 'i've never met someone like you before'. differences, but such close similarities. beyond that, everything else—
she points at the couch with a thumb over her shoulder. ) Your things from the car, by the way.
( just as he had tossed them in the car, now inside a bag that wanda used to carry them up. she wasn't going to look over his things or anything, but figured she might as well just bring it up. )
I have trousers like that. The striped ones. ( the last statement, said like a question. ) You like striped things a lot. ( in any case, he doesn't seem to have a lot of clothes, so, ) There's a washing machine and dryer you can use.
no subject
Date: 2026-04-24 07:33 pm (UTC)but it circles back to that question of how much he wants to share and say. she knows about farouk, she's seen a flash of memory of his trial, but she doesn't know the details of it all. the build-up, the fallout, the why. the what they called him.
in turn, then, it's almost as if he's not going to respond to that. you've thought about it. you understand. he looks over her shoulder towards the bag on the couch, mouth opening in a small 'o' of acknowledgement that takes a moment to turn into— )
Thank you. I was going to get them later, ( while his gaze drops reflexively to his feet, to his striped socks, before back up to wanda. his expression, a muted kind of sheepishness, suggests no-one's ever actually commented on the stripes before, says that yes, he does like stripes.
punctuated by a moment's silence, then two, then— ) I have thought about it. The same things as you. There are people that are scared of me, too. ( his turn for his gaze to flick up to the ceiling, to rest momentarily on the light. ) But people are scared by power that they don't control, so. ( you know. ) You can't take what they think to heart.
(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From: