( he holds the apple up, still, like one would hold a book, searching for the blemishes, the necessary revisions. perhaps it is a good thing she doesn't know of the book that sits heavy on the library's shelves, paged through. she has one book and it is plenty.
this fruit he looks at now, with shimmering eyes like stars, is a perfect echo of the real thing, apple skin green to blushed red and he gets to hold it for a few moments more before he presumes you have not been sleeping well and it dissolves in a sharp coil of red mist, slipping through his fingers. a petty answer without words. ) My mind is my own. ( she pretends to ignore that the statement wavers. the mind stone's resilience had never been in question. but she had never stood before an endless.
his realm he says, and a part of her wants to rise to the challenge, wants to push against the threshold of just how much she can create, hex upon hex. even the playing field, as it were. uncertainty holds her back in turn, for just a moment longer.
he is a striking shadow carved through the picturesque greens and near-white blooms and twisting branches. a part of her knows, viscerally, that he is far more than thanos, far more than agatha could have ever wanted to be, older and more powerful than anything she's ever crossed paths with. has he really come here to sate some curiosity?
but she is fractured; wounds not quite healed and made to sting at any little provocation. dream seems to be trying to make a decision about her and wanda has to wonder if he sees a monster, same as the rest. wouldn't that be the defining moment? the lord of all of your dreams, calling you your worst fear. she isn't afraid of him, but she's afraid of that. )
Malignant — so that's who came to me. If she had a clear purpose, then I only answered in kind. ( wanda's mouth sets in a thin line, suddenly annoyed. in her mind's eye lies a thing, statuesque like grey stone, nearly broken. she shakes her head, a tumble of scarlet over her shoulder, bright as the warning given to him. she looks to dream now and thinks there are a thousand lives lived beneath the facade that he wears and when she throws her mind out around them, searching, she feels only him. a reminder that it is his realm, indeed. ) I have nothing left to protect. Not in this universe. ( but the dark hold comes to mind, treacherously. a missing puzzle piece shoved away into the cabin before them. the only possible key to a false sense of happiness promised within its vitriol whispers. is that what he is looking for? she tries, one last time, to be diplomatic. ) What is it that you want?
no subject
this fruit he looks at now, with shimmering eyes like stars, is a perfect echo of the real thing, apple skin green to blushed red and he gets to hold it for a few moments more before he presumes you have not been sleeping well and it dissolves in a sharp coil of red mist, slipping through his fingers. a petty answer without words. ) My mind is my own. ( she pretends to ignore that the statement wavers. the mind stone's resilience had never been in question. but she had never stood before an endless.
his realm he says, and a part of her wants to rise to the challenge, wants to push against the threshold of just how much she can create, hex upon hex. even the playing field, as it were. uncertainty holds her back in turn, for just a moment longer.
he is a striking shadow carved through the picturesque greens and near-white blooms and twisting branches. a part of her knows, viscerally, that he is far more than thanos, far more than agatha could have ever wanted to be, older and more powerful than anything she's ever crossed paths with. has he really come here to sate some curiosity?
but she is fractured; wounds not quite healed and made to sting at any little provocation. dream seems to be trying to make a decision about her and wanda has to wonder if he sees a monster, same as the rest. wouldn't that be the defining moment? the lord of all of your dreams, calling you your worst fear. she isn't afraid of him, but she's afraid of that. )
Malignant — so that's who came to me. If she had a clear purpose, then I only answered in kind. ( wanda's mouth sets in a thin line, suddenly annoyed. in her mind's eye lies a thing, statuesque like grey stone, nearly broken. she shakes her head, a tumble of scarlet over her shoulder, bright as the warning given to him. she looks to dream now and thinks there are a thousand lives lived beneath the facade that he wears and when she throws her mind out around them, searching, she feels only him. a reminder that it is his realm, indeed. ) I have nothing left to protect. Not in this universe. ( but the dark hold comes to mind, treacherously. a missing puzzle piece shoved away into the cabin before them. the only possible key to a false sense of happiness promised within its vitriol whispers. is that what he is looking for? she tries, one last time, to be diplomatic. ) What is it that you want?