ᴅᴏᴄᴛᴏʀ sᴛʀᴀɴɢᴇ (mysticism) wrote in valloic, @ 2021-12-11 22:00:00 |
|
|||
Entry tags: | !: action/thread/log, marvel: wanda maximoff, ₴ inactive: stephen strange |
It was, quite literally, an entire pub dedicated to the delicacy known as hot chocolate. Several stations were scattered around where one could customize the contents of their own cup, and Wanda never realized all the different types of marshmallows that could possibly ever exist. Other toppings were present too, like crushed peppermint and toffee bits and truffles (to start with - that was only the beginning). There was even a station where one could create spicy hot chocolates, with cayenne and chipotle powder. The actual bar served variations of alcoholic hot chocolate (situated by a brick fireplace), and overall the place was the definition of delightfully cozy with the best smells. The whole thing was a nice escape, too - a change of scenery from the walls of their bedroom. Fresh air (that was scented with spices and chocolate), a chance to kind of just… exist normally outside the traumatic bubble of recent events they were still reeling from. Part of the moving forward stage, or an attempt to do so. Baby steps, though. “During the holidays,” Wanda began, stirring a candy cane that would dissolve in her hot beverage. They were situated on this bistro table beside an actual buffet of sweets, most of them winter-themed. Turns out that after the custom of turkey slaughter Vallo also shot right into a festive mood with several customs celebrated. “It was tradition to keep a fish in our tub and then gut it for dinner. At least for us - my father liked to keep it alive right before he cooked it. Other families bought their fish already dead.” Not that she was recommending that to be any kind of tradition for them since she didn’t care to gut fish for dinner, but she felt like being a little nostalgic. Made her wonder what traditions they would try to have for Iryna whenever she arrived in the picture. This was an interesting place, Stephen thought. He was glad to get out of the house, leaving the Sanctum behind for a little while - a part of him was still shellshocked, grief-stricken, and full-to-the-brim with guilt. He was a cautionary tale, filed under the header of What Loss Could Do To A Person and all of those important life lessons - it was something he and Wanda seemed to both share now. A bond, an understanding, that he never anticipated would be this packed with depth and intricacies. Losing Christine had plunged Stephen into a marathon of summoning creatures, creatures that spanned the centuries - it sort of mirrored his intensity to bargain with the likes of Dormammu at any cost except when he was seeking power he was positioned as both Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde; he learned the cost of meddling. Was left abandoned and screaming in a collapsed reality in the very end. The thought of it gave him nightmares - and would for awhile. He knew he’d constantly see the shackles of that lavender prism every time he closed his eyes and that wouldn’t abate easily. But a date, a night out, was a step toward normalcy. He wore a maroon turtleneck sweater beneath a black coat, and pressed slacks, something smart and put together - a lot more put together than he felt, but he was trying. His hot chocolate was one of the spicy variety, with chili powder - it tasted sweet but had some heat to it, and kind of an earthy undertone. Eventually he might eat something - those gingerbread scones beside them looked good. “Your father went hardcore then,” Stephen chuckled, glancing up. His eyes were very blue and very tired, but held a spark of mirth there. “I’m guessing it was a pretty big fish? Big enough for a tub?” Well, hey, why not. His family had their own wacky traditions too - ones that he could scarcely recall, because nothing had ever really been the same after his sister died. “On Christmas Eve we would load up the car, cat and dog and everyone, and go look at Christmas lights,” he said, taking a sip from his mug. “We would stop at a Tastee Treat after. Get a hamburger for the dog and a small vanilla ice cream for the cat. Nothing for the humans.” He and Donna would just pout and look sad-eyed in the backseat. “Though since we grew up on a farm, we got clever about hiding presents all on the property - it eventually turned into a whole thing. One year I made my sister cut a rope to get hers down.” Truly a fine achievement. Wanda’s own fashion for the day was something Stephen was familiar with too. Mostly the hoodie she had stolen from him, because it was warm and maybe smelled like him and she liked that it hung loosely. The weather outside had taken a turn to lower temperatures so she was wearing a little beanie hat too, looking normal. They both did. No slinging spells or shaking mountains. Just - them. Trying their best, after everything. “Carp, actually,” she snorted a chuckle. They were big, and not cheap but her father would scrounge and save every year for one - he couldn’t fathom the holidays without one. “I love the stories of you being mischievous though. What, do you plan on hiding gifts around the Sanctum for Iryna to hunt down once she comes into the picture?” Iryna was often brought up by Wanda, there was no shame there. She missed her, and she was someone they both looked forward to having. A reminder that even when things went sour and dark there was a light at the end of it, and she was the brightest one (in Wanda’s not so biased opinion). Stephen laughed a little. “Of course. Who can I trust would be up for the challenge of finding her Christmas gifts in a metaphysical cubby hole, if not my own daughter?” he posed the rhetorical question with a hint of a smirk (one that seemed to have been copied right onto his daughter’s face). He missed Iryna too - but he knew that they would meet again, and his future here didn’t have to be nothing but the walls of a gemstone prison glowing like neon lavender bulbs. Because that wasn’t him - they’d merged, and yet this Stephen chose a better path. One he would walk along with those he cared about and who cared about him too. He finally just went for it, selecting one of those gingerbread scones - and he set it between he and Wanda, in case she wanted to share. But first he reached to place his hand over hers for a moment - a gentle pressure, since he couldn’t squeeze too hard or it’d cause him pain. That was why he let other people do the fight club thing - he knew martial arts, but striking with his fist always was a nuclear bomb radiating within him. “I thought, um - we could sort of put something on the tree for her” he went on. “For Iryna. So I found this.” He slid the ornament nestled in its little box across the table. “Purple, because her magic is purple too - is that weird?” She wasn’t even born yet, but. Stephen wanted to include her in the festivities regardless. The candy cane had finally dissolved into her drink, and she was seconds away from giving it the first test taste when he slid that box over so clearly Wanda had to stop what she was doing to uncover what was inside. And what she saw was perfect. “I love it,” she breathed out, her features softly lit up as she pulled the ornament out for further study. “I know she would too. Especially with the chain.” Plus, the colors. So no, this definitely wasn’t weird. It was sweet. Stephen was sweet, and it was why she leaned over to press a kiss on a very pronounced cheekbone. The ornament was packaged up again tenderly, like she was afraid she could break it and then she took that quick sip of her drink. Sweet with a peppermint-y aftertaste, it was good. “When she was here, did she say anything that could hint towards -” this happening to you, was more or less what she was going to finish with. The other version of Stephen coming through, the merging. Wanda realized it was best not to taint the moment unless he wanted to talk about it now, assuming he gained more clarity about it all post-events. “Nevermind. I don’t want to bring anything up if you are not ready yet.” “It’s okay,” Stephen promised, breaking off a piece of scone. He’d gotten past the point where all food had the taste of ash (Kate bringing by a small feast soon after everything happened and Carol making French toast for that Sunday brunch sort of helped him bypass that stage), so he was able to actually eat the piece and not feel as if he’d swallowed brick dust. “I’m - I can talk about it.” He unfortunately didn’t have anything that would answer the question definitively, but. He could speculate - at the very least. “She didn’t say anything though. There was probably no way of predicting it anyway. The future’s always changing, it’s lightning fast - when I moved through those 14,000,605 outcomes, before the fight with Thanos? It was barely enough time to grasp what was happening, even if it was many years that I traveled around.” And six seconds in real time - the time stone was a powerful piece of the universe, but even in Vallo he didn’t trust it to be able to put him on one specific path. “Anything you can imagine, anything about the future - it’s possible. Any deviation is. Maybe she was from a timeline where it never happened. All I know is that even if I’ve seen every outcome, which I haven’t - but if I did, I already know which one I’m choosing.” He’d always been the type to choose the alternative anyway. To look at a couple of options and just say nope, then write his own path. Wanda had been giving him space, emotionally speaking. Physically she was a constant presence, one that didn’t need to be entertained with small talk. Stephen had been through a lot, was feeling a lot - and now he existed as a mix of two versions of himself. She was almost sure that the whole experience was a first in Vallo but she hadn’t checked her sources to confirm that theory. They had been bracing themselves for changes and yet they weren’t prepared for what happened, not even close. Iryna might have been instructed to not warn them too - just in case. They’d never know. Not that it really mattered now. It was good that he wanted to talk about it though. The last thing she wanted to do was cut open those wounds but everything was still so fresh that they were open away. Would be for awhile, if her own experience with grief taught her anything. “I hate that you went through it,” she sighed, thumbs caressing the warm mug in her hands. “I hate that there is a version of you that suffered that way. I know it seems pointless to feel that way, but.” Wanda shrugged. “At least you found your way back to us. You stayed.” Stephen hated it too. Hated that he felt that way, so desperate and broken - hated that there was a version of him who exerted enough power to destroy the universe (or, technically, vaporized what was the equivalent of a load-bearing joint holding the universe together), and then tried to walk it back when he realized what he’d done. He’d countered a galactic-level attack from Ultron way too casually, then contained the infinity stones in a pocket dimension - he even had reality warping magic now too, given the fact that he’d created a bar for his fellow Guardians to have a pre-battle drink in, there in his aforementioned shitty pocket dimension. That scared this Stephen. It terrified him a lot, in addition to all the other things he was feeling right now and trying to work through. But he was certain of one very specific fact, and nothing about it terrified him. “I love you,” he told Wanda. Being who I am, it’s a burden - but it’s also a privilege. It brought me to you. It will always bring me to you. Those words echoed in his head - they felt true, so very iron-clad. “That wasn’t the last of it, I’m sure.” Not with updates from the twisty mess that was their world back home, their timelines. Not with any of that. “But I’m still here and - “ He tilted his head a bit, as if he was listening for something in the distance. A bird call? A siren? Another kind of alarm? Wait a second. What was that? He hummed. It’s gonna take a lot to drag me away from you. Wanda felt warmth again. This time it had nothing to do with the hot chocolate and everything to do with him, and then he cocked his head adorably and she heard that melody - how could she not smile? Or laugh for that matter, hands scrubbing down her cheeks as if it’d help contain how nauseatingly smitten she was for the Sorcerer Supreme. She abandoned her seat in favor of him, particularly his lap and she did not care for whatever etiquette surrounded ‘public displays of affection.’ Those didn’t exist right now, because she kissed him without hesitation - hands to his face, body molding into his. It was intense, and perhaps a little shameless considering people were around but called for. Definitely called for. Other people didn’t matter right now. “I love you too,” she whispered scratchily, pressing their foreheads together. “Always, even if that might not be the first time you and I have… a violent dispute.” Obviously they wouldn’t have one like that intentionally but at the time,their choices were limited. They knew it was a possibility back home too one day, and she hoped this wasn’t the universe’s way of preparing for what was to come. Stephen gladly welcomed Wanda onto his side of the table - he slipped his arms around her, pulling her as close as could be in that borrowed hoodie and kissed her in return. Kissed her like the sea kissed the shore, deeply, and like if he did it correctly they’d both forget the awful shit they’d just been through. Like all of that would simply vanish, dissolving, soap bubbles on the pavement. It wouldn’t, of course, but he could try. “Not going to be the last time, I’m sure,” he concurred grimly, touching his forehead to hers before he nuzzled at the softness of her cheek, clearly saying oops, sorry onlookers without actually saying it. Everyone else was paying attention to their alcoholic hot chocolate anyway - not the amorous couple making out at a table. “And I can’t control the multiverse - I think one version of me trying to do what he did was enough control.” Besides, that hadn’t worked either; Stephen wasn’t about to make those same mistakes - he could see the warning, in that circumstance, for what it was. Could also see the parallels between him and Wanda. Their shared loss, their grief, their nearly identical cautionary tales. “But whatever happens, whatever we see - we’ll get through it. We always do.” Wanda was, in fact, not opposed to making out at this table at all. Actually, she enjoyed sitting on Stephen’s lap so much she contemplated staying there for most of their time here - that was realistic, right? Magic was what pulled her mug from the opposite end of the table to this one for easy access. She’d get back to nursing it too, but right now her mouth was a little occupied in peppering kisses across his face. Let her be sappy. Stephen deserved it, anyway. Whatever happened, they would get through it together. Hopefully with a little less mountain shattering this time, though that had… somehow gotten fixed, last she heard. “You know,” she began, biting back the exhale of a sigh. “Losing your mind because you lost someone you loved - it was not something I thought I would have in common with you.” Because, yes, she also recognized the parallels between them now - it was why she knew exactly what that Stephen was feeling. It was why that, in a strange (no pun intended, she did not care for that much) way, she had bonded with him in battle. “How are you feeling about that? About Christine?” “Not great,” Stephen admitted. He’d lost a lot in his life, at different points - not just the use of his hands, his career, his livelihood and everything he’d worked for, but when he was young he’d lost his sister too. Children processed grief differently than adults did, however - that was probably also something Wanda could speak about, having lost her parents at a young age. Stephen hadn’t been much older when he was powerless to save a drowning Donna, and he remembered that his mother and father had been so shaken by grief they’d been unable to cope with caring for him for awhile. He hadn’t wanted to go to the funeral. It was terrifying for some reason - yet he was forced to go anyway; he had all these feelings of clinginess and abandonment, and the loss was intense. There were no coping skills in place, none that he may have had as an adult. Of course, one could argue his coping skills as an adult hadn’t been perfect after the accident either. “I’ve always wanted what’s best for Christine. She was my last earthly tie to reality, to a world where I wasn’t Sorcerer Supreme,” he said. “I realized I have to let her go, but not...like this.” He pressed his lips to the top of Wanda’s jawline beneath her ear, nosing there. “I’m sure coming to terms with her fate in that timeline will also take some work to process.” And if she ever showed up here again? He wasn’t about to tell her. Nope, normal lives with early ties wouldn’t exist for them; not outside the magic and destruction they’d be facing and wielding. The closest thing to any of that would be whatever life awaited them here but that also had its troubles and risks and instances. Like this case, in particular. Wanda more or less accepted it to an extent, although there were things in life she wanted - things worth fighting the current for, and they deserved some freedom to make choices about that. Didn’t they? “Letting go is the worst part, I think,” she murmured, having plenty of experience in that aspect - and hating it. “It almost feels like - you are giving up part of yourself? Or you’re giving them up.” Acceptance was the final stage of grief and it was part of the process, but it was a tough pill to swallow knowing you couldn’t do anything more beyond what has already been done. Stephen had enough power to undo a point in time and that came with heavy consequences. Wanda could literally create her own reality and ignore the one she was dealt with and yet it wouldn’t be real, not in the sense she wanted so badly. And in both scenarios, people suffered. That sigh she’d been holding back was released. It wasn’t a bad one. Call it one of acceptance, perhaps. She brushed her palm across his cheek and tilted his head up to look into his eyes. “Feeling like shit will come in waves,” she stated softly, though bluntly. “I will help you get through it.” Stephen was there for her when she arrived in Vallo, the grief and trauma so fresh that all she wanted to do was hole herself up into her former bedroom here and not deal. But he didn’t let her wallow too long that the pit of depression was inescapable, and neither would she. “I know you will,” he uttered quietly, and Stephen appreciated Wanda’s conviction about helping him - and not just dropping him on his ass. Everyone dealt with their grief differently, but he was either going to try to hole up in a dark room without human contact or overwork himself - it would take him a bit of time to find balance, somehow. Something that, as a magic user, he and others struggled with - his other self definitely had. But he wasn’t about to push her away. He needed her. Needed to talk, needed to let himself feel what he felt - needed to be kind to himself when he did. Those were all things he told her once before too, as she took steps to cope with the Vision-shaped hole in her heart. That would always be there, to some extent - he wasn’t naive about that. Stephen didn’t expect to be able to fill that space, he wouldn’t want to - he simply loved her as himself and it was different than how Vision loved her; every love in a person’s life should feel different. He kissed the corner of her mouth, lashes fluttering closed as he added another kiss - this time full on the lips. “Good to know you kiss on the first date too,” he smirked, even though this wasn’t exactly their first date (probably?) and they weren’t from the 1950s, but. “We should do it again sometime.” “I put out on the first date too,” Wanda smirked back. Honestly, she put out before their first official date and how could she have not? The tension had been building, it needed to be unleashed (thank you, Avelina - wherever you are now). And even as their relationship progressed the tension never truly left, but now she had the opportunity to relieve it with the person she wanted, when she wanted. Of course that meant she had to reciprocate that kiss too, shameless as ever, with an adorably pronounced muah at the end. “I do think we need more of these,” she then added, deciding that her hot chocolate was worthy enough to warrant leaning away from him to grab it. All temporary, though. “Days with just us while we have them. Before the angry heavy metal comes into the picture.” Grabbing the hot chocolate? Stephen would allow it. He squeezed Wanda to him before doing the same, reaching for his own cup of deliciousness - may as well, so it didn’t get cold. “Proper dating, yeah, I’d like that,” he agreed. He’d never really been all that great at it - most of his relationships ended up in a trashfire, just look at what happened with Christine and he had loved her - but he wanted to do better now. And seemed to be doing better - he and Wanda were like any couple, really. They had their good moments, their great moments, and had those natural, frictional points in the relationship which got heated (and then often worked out with the other kind of heat) - but he wanted to be with her, always, and he figured that was the most important thing. “And if you put out on the first date - “ So scandalous, Ms. Maximoff, whatever would the neighbors think? “Maybe we should get on that too.” Or get on each other. He was all for that particular culmination to this hot chocolate extravaganza. Despite the, uh, recent battle (not like she hadn’t fought Vision before, and the first time had to do with differing views on the Sokovia Accords that turned violent) this was the relationship that she’d found the most normalcy in. Mistakes of the past had been lessons taught, and somehow - they worked. “Let me at least finish my drink,” Wanda insisted, a smile curling her lips. “And maybe some snacks first. I put out but I do need to be properly romanced. Sweets are a sure way to go.” After that, fair game. |