( OPEN ) ; there's a dangerous kind of cool about you

[divaricate]

WHO: Wanda Maximoff + you! (OPEN)
WHERE: Various / mostly around Nonah and De Chima.
WHEN: Spanning the last few days of April; say when in the subject line if you wish, otherwise we can just use timey wimey rp magic.
WHAT: Wanda doing Wanda things.
WARNINGS: None.


De Chima | morning + afternoon:

This is where and how she spends most of her mornings and afternoons. Working at the bakery she owns and operates here (it's called Novi, which, for those who may be curious, means "new" in her native language), where most of the stuff is Eastern-ish European in nature, but there are a few other things to be found here as well. It's not a large place, but there are a few tables for people who want to eat there. Wanda will either be in the back, or in front by the counters. Come say hi, or get something to eat, or both, or just stand there weirdly. That is also technically an option.

Any other porter city | evening:

Some evenings after work, she goes straight back to her apartment in Nonah and practically faceplants on her couch (but not before grabbing a bottle of wine and a glass, and either a book or her TV remote to do some TV watching that takes less focus than a book might) for some unwinding before making dinner. If any friends happen to want to stop by for a visit, she's not going to say no to the company and if they haven't eaten yet, they're also probably getting dinner.

Other evenings may find her in one of the other porter cities, maybe enjoying an evening at a park, either walking around or siting on a bench enjoying some sitting time and probably a book here too (since she usually has one in her purse). Maybe she's at a small cafe for a light dinner. Or on her way to or from elsewhere.

bonus wildcard option:

[ tag in with something else if you like! I can roll with basically anything. ]

Comments

De Chima

[candor1]

He is standing there weirdly.

Not conspicuously so; in fact he shouldn't have been able to make himself so forgettable in so small a space. But he has actually been there for at least an hour—maybe several. Blending into the background (not the company so much as the inanimate objects) and observing—like a xenobiologist among unsurveyed OLFs.

But he has been there long enough, alternating between different vantages, that it's probably worth seeing what the hell.



[ooc: can add if he should do something active to engage Wanda :-D]

[divaricate]

Eventually, Wanda has a free moment and decides to go say hi to the person who has been standing there. So, it's with a softer, slight smile that she approaches.

"Hi." she starts, a friendly tone to match. "Waiting for something?" Or someone.

[candor1]

He looks up from what must be his fourth or fifth cup of hot beverage (he's been working his way down the menu), as if he hadn't seen her coming in advance (which he had). Also smiles.

"Sorry… hope I'm not disturbing anyone. I wanted to see how a place like this works."

[divaricate]

"Not at all." About bothering people. "Mostly works by giving people a sugar rush of deliciousness." She replies, mostly teasingly.

"You've never been to a bakery before?" Not asked in a demeaning way -- she knows people have different experiences and such from their homeworlds before this place, assuming they're among the imPorts/non-natives.

[candor1]

The nuance of intent through her tonality and expression registers with him, and he appreciates it. Possibly as impressive to him as the imPort phenomenon itself is how well accepted it seems to be; her tacit respect of very different worldviews and experiences witness to that.

"Ye-es," he said, drawing out the word to illustrate the briefness and rareness of his visits to such places, "but never to work in. I'm supposed to start work at another bakery nearby. I want to try before rejecting the possibility but… the more I learn the less I think I'm suited to it."

Not because it seems unpleasant. Quite the opposite. Just… trying to be a part or conduit of the pleasantness, the nature of the service required, really is not… is likely to exhaust him worse than combat. And on some level he just can't buy the mental image of himself in the setting and can't imagine anyone else would either.

At least popular reports agree that if he chooses to seek other employment, it's not an automatic black mark or decisive declaration of intent re: the government. The initial job assignments may not even be intended to last long.

(Then comes the question of what he would do, but, when given the luxury, take one thing at a time.)

evening at any city in a park really

[postcog]

[ Surprise, there's a tiny dog leaning on you, bushy tail wagging like crazy as its tiny black eyes stare at whatever you're eating. A moment later, Lirael's mechanical hand deftly closes on the dog's collar, easily lifting it to eye level for a stern (albeit nonverbal) scolding. ]

I'm so sorry, I took my eyes out of him for a moment...

[ A modern-looking camera rests in Lirael's other hand. Who knew working as a dog photographer would involve moving around? But sometimes the owners wanted something a bit more vivid than a studio photoshoot. The owner, an aging man, comes around to pick the tiny dog and walk away. She turns back to Wanda, a tiny apologetic smile crossing her face. ]

Hopefully she didn't get to your snack? Little dogs tend to be quite vicious sometimes.

[divaricate]

[Wanda smiles at the dog -- dogs are so cute.]

No, it's okay, I don't mind animals. It is a nice day to have pets out, anyway. [She offers a small smile.] My crackers didn't suffer any casualties, either. [She tries not to feed pets because she doesn't know what might make them sick or not.]

[postcog]

Ah, good to know.

[ Leave it to small dogs to be perfectly still until you look away for a moment. ]

I've found out that dogs are incredibly well behaved as long as I have my camera trained on them. Almost as if the knew what's happening.

[divaricate]

They're sneaky like that. Do you photograph as a hobby or job? [ though, could be both. ]

de chima ; bakery

[taraincognita]

She hadn't really wanted to go into the bakery. Or, at least, it hadn't been her intention. But seeing some of the pastries in the window had sparked an odd, painful kind of nostalgia in her chest, brought back memories that normally remained in the back of her mind, carefully suppressed.

Honestly, Tara hadn't ever thought that she'd see food like this ever again. Familiar pastries, similar to those from Markovia. Markovia, her country of birth--the one that doesn't even seem to exist here. She browses the types of pastry, eyes clouded with soft emotion, before glancing up at the shopkeeper. Once she makes eye contact, her expression becomes blank. Carefully guarded.

"Do you have pelmeni, or just sweet stuff?"