text ↪ un: torontonian

[hallowing]

important q


if u were a dnd character


what class would u be



if u dont know wat dnd is (wow sorry for ur life) a class will be assigned for u randomly. no i dont make the rules.

Comments

[hallowing]

if it doesn't try to melt my face off i want no part of it!!

[magija]

So you're saying I should double the spice.

[hallowing]

absolutely

but a word to the wise

if it makes me cry you have to marry me

'you are responsible forever for what you have tamed' just putting that out there.

[magija]

Are you so sure about that? I'm considered terrible marriage material.

[hallowing]

dude, i'm pretty sure i have never actually washed a dish in my entire life

i am therefore inarguably worse

[magija]

You're absolutely right then. There's nothing that could be as terrible as that.

[hallowing]

yes

i am the most unmarriageable

where is my crown i feel like i deserve a crown

[magija]

I'd make one for you but you'd never be allowed to take it off.

[hallowing]

can it be one of those burger king ones???

[magija]

Find me any piece of cardboard and I can make it into one.

[hallowing]

i've got like

a sweet tarts box

will that work o crafty one?

[magija]

Works perfect. Did you want your crown-paprikash combo now?

[hallowing]

absolutely

please feed me

i haven't eaten since i got here it's actually kind of sad

well that's not true i had like

gummi worms

and beer???

[magija]

So a healthy diet.

I'll be in the kitchen if you want to meet me there. It'll take about an hour to cook but I can put you up to practicing washing some pots while you wait.

[hallowing]

red, are u tryin' to make an honest man outta me?

[magija]

Of course not. Do I seem that cruel to you?

[hallowing]

cruel enough to make me wash a dish!!

i may never recover, actually

[magija]

I warned you I was trouble.

[hallowing]

u absolutely did.

ok, ok. i'll be down in a bit.

i need to shower and make myself like

somewhat presentable???

[magija]

Yup. Please do. Tuxedo required.

[hallowing]

oh yes ma'am

[magija]

Don't forget the bowtie.

[ not that she's doing much "dressing up" herself, wearing a simple skirt and a cozy sweater.

she'll be already set to work in the kitchen whenever he arrives, having taken the time to peer through the stock of foods and ingredients that the station provides to pull out what she needs, all based on a recipe from memory. there's a process to it, pulling out the chicken and letting it defrost while she works on prepping the rest of it, cutting things like onions, garlic, tomatoes, and pepper.

this isn't at all what she expected to be doing here, but there's something a bit comforting about it, being at the stove, preparing ingredients in the pot to create a little piece of home. it's been a while since she'd made this dish, especially since there hasn't been anyone to cook it for. ]

[hallowing]

（ and so, some time later — freshly laundered enough that it almost seems intentional — he meanders into the kitchen.

no tux, but he clearly made an effort, because someone found the world's worst t-shirt in a pile and is wearing it with a pair of nice slacks that he may or may not have arrived in. he comes into the kitchen with a slouch that seems embedded into his DNA, cutting a couple inches off the height he'd have if he ever deigned to straighten up properly.

but what is less obvious, perhaps, to the casual observer, is the way that there's an energy that seems to almost drip off of him. invisible except to those who know what they're looking for, it's an eldritch thing — gunsmoke and blood trailing in his wake. it's something ancient, bleak and dark and leashed so tightly it's hard to tell the way it settles in the room and stutters between heartbeats, but it's present.

— and entirely at odds with the cheerful smile he gives her as he pretends to roll up cuffed sleeves he absolutely does not have. ）

All right, go on and put me to work. I make no promises about my skill.

[magija]

[ when she hears the footsteps, she turns, gathering from the familiar face from the video that this is her dinner guest tonight. the shirt gives him away too, enough that she hates the way it coaxes the tiniest hint of a smile from her.

and yet — if only things that were invisible to most could remain invisible to her. it's such a jarring shift when he steps further inside that it's impossible to miss, especially when she had let herself fall into the quiet peace of simply stirring the chicken in the pot, letting the motions relax her. it's subtle but it moves like a stirring cloud, a darkened storm, one so very clearly winded around him.

there's something off about him, a mismatch to his smile.

she tries to let her power dive deeper, to pull out a clearer picture of the unsettling blur that's sitting at the surface, but she feels a strain in the effort, a sign that her magic isn't quite at the same strength since she's been on this station. still, there's every reason to feel caution. agatha herself was all smiles, before she'd pulled the knife of her tricks. wanda can't let her guard down so easily again.

if this man is dangerous, then — well, the scarlet witch is even more so.

diving in deeper would require him lowering his own barriers, so there's no reason to halt what they've already agreed on. the chicken paprikash can continue and she'll just have to unravel those threads on her own. any pause she'd given to focus on her magic, she plays off as having let her eyes closely study his appearance, hand on her hip like she's looking him over with a thoughtful hum. ]

Tidied up like you're meeting a queen. Didn't hold back, did you? [ she puts the lid over the pot, letting it heat over the stove as she takes a step back, holding out her arm to the small pile of dishes on the counter, some she'd already made use of to do her prep work. ] The queue is already waiting for you. Did you forget my cardboard?

[hallowing]

（ he's oblivious to her probing — he is many things, among them immortal, but he's so heavily accustomed to the veil of kulo vayn's power laid over him that he's never really troubled himself to learn more than parlour tricks from it. he just lifts his shoulders in a lanky, meandering shrug and pulls a flattened box of sweet tarts out of his pocket with a grin. ）

I mean, are you not a queen?

（ pew pew, fingerguns. he hands her the box like he's doing a marathon relay, and sliiiides over to the sink. contrary to all his complaints, he's not actually allergic to hard work or inexperienced about it, just. you know. lazy. it's a depression thing. ）

And sorry, box is kinda squashed. The candy was delicious, though, I gotta say. I think Viv pulled 'em from before everything went to corn syrup.