» my feet are still sore, my back is on the fringes

[timewreck.livejournal.com]

Who: Kiden and Wanda
What: Morning's always awkward, this time for different reasons.
Where: Meson de Rouj
When: Morning after this
Warnings: EXTREME MOTHERING? /guitar solo

Waking up to an empty room the next day isn't something strange to Kiden who comes from a world that runs past the descriptor and smack dab into the area of no return. She assumes Laura has gone to stroll the city as she is wont to do and just shrugs off the weird feeling of being alone for the one that comes with waking up in a house full of people she doesn't know.

Padding downstairs barefoot and still in the too-big borrowed pajamas, she has all the intention of heading to the kitchen to figure out where the washer and dryer are and find her clothes. Her attention, however, is caught by the living room she didn't get much of a chance to explore last night. Kiden makes a quick turn and pokes around at the bookshelf, full of things she's never read before (not that she was much of a reader to begin with), then going for the pictures of people she's never seen before, and finally makes a stop at the fireplace where she bends down and sticks her head in, not because she suddenly has a death wish, but she always wondered what one looked like on the inside.

Hopefully, there is no Santa in Baedal who decides to come a month early.

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[timewreck.livejournal.com]

Kiden's startled anyway, more by the knock than Wanda's voice, and she scrambles out of the fireplace, taking a little dust and soot with her on her hair. When this occurs to her, she ruffles her messy bangs with a hand, knocking some of the debris to the floor and a bit on her white t-shirt, all the while watching Wanda like she's the stranger in the house.

Kiden doesn't know Wanda's name, but the face is familiar if only because she just saw her in a few of the pictures from earlier. "Who're you?" Clearly Kiden is still incapable of speaking without an attitude.

[hexing]

Having grown up in the mountains in Transia where they were reviled both for their ethnicity as well as their species, Wanda and Pietro had to develop attitudes themselves; after an adolescence with her twin brother, she has something of a thick skin when it comes to teenage attitude problems.

"Wanda Maximoff," she says, staying where she is in the doorframe, "My name happens to be on the lease."

With Remy's, yes. (D'aw, the cohabiting.)

"I'm about to make breakfast. Would you like something?"

[timewreck.livejournal.com]

Kiden shrugs. Wanda's (unfamiliar to Kiden) name might be on the lease but as far as Kiden's concerned, Remy's the one who gave permission for her to crash in Laura's room. It's probably really Wanda giving permission through Remy via osmosis or something since everybody knows who runs shit in this house anyway.

"Yeah." Sure, why not? As long as these guys are going to keep feeding her for free, Kiden isn't going to ever turn down food.

[hexing]

Wanda smiles, faintly, and turns on her heel to meander into the kitchen. The house isn't huge, but there's a decent amount of space, and everything is comfortable. It's a little interesting being around someone who appears not to recognize her name--at home, in New York, she is famous and has been for fifteen years, but apparently not to everyone.

Wanda finds that she doesn't mind.

"Do you have any preferences?"

[timewreck.livejournal.com]

To be honest, Kiden spent most of her time high as the sky, at raves, and generally getting into as much trouble as possible. Very little time was spent catching up with mutant current events.

"Cereal?" she answers in the form of a question, clearly confused at having options. No one's ever really asked her if she had any preference on what she ate and it never occurred to Kiden to have any. After all, the dumpster at the back of the burger joint doesn't exactly give you the pick of the menu. She follows Wanda, but as a far distance, still exploring the house without actually touching anything.

[hexing]

"Cereal we can do. It's better to beat the boys to it," she says, lightly, "they have a remarkable ability to inhale the contents of this kitchen faster than I can stock it."

At least one of the brands of Baedal cereal on the shelves, by the way, is bright pink and shaped like tiny stars. It's probably about 99% sugar.