It'd be easy to glean the very last moment he remembers before arriving here. All it'd take is one press into his mind—
But Wanda doesn't wish to do that. It's not out of any desire to loosen the puppet strings of those around her. She suspects he anticipates it, so she doesn't wish to play into his hand. She likes it when she improvises and goes off-script. It means those who are too tied to what they've rehearsed stumble. Someone like him who would know how to protect his mind will show himself through the twitches of his expression, the curl of his fingers, and the shape of his voice. Magic can only show so much.
If she feels guilt for the damage she caused to such an ancient building, she doesn't show it. Her gut twists uncomfortably, but she hides it. All those lives didn't need to be lost if…
It doesn't matter. Wundagore swallowed her whole. Kamar-Taj will rebuild; Wanda Maximoff will not.
She could play dumb and look away from him or…
She looks him straight in the eye, her expression lacking any smugness. "Maybe they will rethink their wards if I could attack it so easily."
She sighs loudly, looking around the floor, before resting her head against the shelves. "I didn't choose to come here, Stephen," she says, her voice darkening with her Slavic accent briefly. Glancing around, she tilts her head toward her shoulder as she amends, "I chose to come to the library, but I didn't choose to come to Thedas. I would've chosen differently." She'd have found an Earth where Vision or Pietro was, far from her children, deep within the Multiverse where no one, not even the ex-Sorcerer Supreme, could find her.
But she's here instead with him. He may have approved her final decision, seeing her for who she was—a human being with grief pouring from every single pore of her body and anger to boot with her darkened hands—but Wanda knows someone like Strange would never forget what led them along that broken path and to that inevitable dead end. She wouldn't want him to.
no subject
But Wanda doesn't wish to do that. It's not out of any desire to loosen the puppet strings of those around her. She suspects he anticipates it, so she doesn't wish to play into his hand. She likes it when she improvises and goes off-script. It means those who are too tied to what they've rehearsed stumble. Someone like him who would know how to protect his mind will show himself through the twitches of his expression, the curl of his fingers, and the shape of his voice. Magic can only show so much.
If she feels guilt for the damage she caused to such an ancient building, she doesn't show it. Her gut twists uncomfortably, but she hides it. All those lives didn't need to be lost if…
It doesn't matter. Wundagore swallowed her whole. Kamar-Taj will rebuild; Wanda Maximoff will not.
She could play dumb and look away from him or…
She looks him straight in the eye, her expression lacking any smugness. "Maybe they will rethink their wards if I could attack it so easily."
She sighs loudly, looking around the floor, before resting her head against the shelves. "I didn't choose to come here, Stephen," she says, her voice darkening with her Slavic accent briefly. Glancing around, she tilts her head toward her shoulder as she amends, "I chose to come to the library, but I didn't choose to come to Thedas. I would've chosen differently." She'd have found an Earth where Vision or Pietro was, far from her children, deep within the Multiverse where no one, not even the ex-Sorcerer Supreme, could find her.
But she's here instead with him. He may have approved her final decision, seeing her for who she was—a human being with grief pouring from every single pore of her body and anger to boot with her darkened hands—but Wanda knows someone like Strange would never forget what led them along that broken path and to that inevitable dead end. She wouldn't want him to.