Come out to play when you are hurt. Characters: Wanda and Daimon Setting: Daimon's shop Content: Nothing bad, at the moment Summary: Wanda finally visits the mysterious Mr. Hellstrom
Wanda's weekend had been a bit strange and now she was trying not to think about certain new developments in her life. After spending most of the last few days alone in her room at the Avengers Tower she finally decided that she needed a good distraction and being alone wasn't really helping her mood much anyway. So that's what brought her after dark to a tiny Manhattan shopfront nestled between apartment buildings. It wasn't at all what she expected from the outside and she checked the business card Daimon Hellstrom had given her, just to be sure she had the right address. It was, indeed correct and, according to a sign on the door, she was arriving right near closing time. She pushed open the door to the tinkling of a bell and stepped into a wide low ceilinged room with a strange aura of mystery. It could have been the darkness- it was gloomy, lit mostly by bulbs tucked away in the deepest recesses and a few candles here and there, rich mahogany shelving and display cases, ponderous dusky coverings on the windows. It also could have been the aroma in the air of incense and spices and old books and candles, heavy scents that clung and breathed against skin like living creatures. Then of course, there was the array of items on display- ancient dusty tomes in bookcases and tarnished antique jewelry and colored jars and statues that stared with blank eyes from unexpected places. Some might find the shop was strange, or even a little unnerving, but Wanda, surprisingly to herself, did not. As she took deep breaths of the redolent air and drifted with interest from display to display, she felt possessed by a strange feeling of nostalgia she couldn't quite place. As if she'd known places and things like this her entire life, or should have, something she'd never realized she was missing. As if she fit in, as if she were home.