π²ππππ ππππππ π«πππ
βI shall despair. There is no creature tβ¦
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πβπ πππ π€βπ π€πππ‘ππ π‘π π ππ£π π‘βπ πππππ.
The scarlet beam crashes into Doom with enough force to scour the snow from the earth and flood the mountainside in crimson light. For a heartbeat, he disappears within it.
Then the light parts. Not because it has overpowered him, but because it has nowhere left to go.
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I am about to give.β His tone lowers as he takes another deliberate step. βYou are no longer speaking for yourself. You are speaking for every mutant who calls this world home.β
Silence settles between them.
His gaze lowers to the line burned into the snow, then rises again to Summers.
No step is taken back.
βDiplomatic immunity is a courtesy extended between nations. It is not the source of Doomβs authority.β The iron mask turns toward the red mark
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βOrder.β A single word.
The question, while interesting, has only ever had one answer. βYou intervene where suffering presents itself. You extinguish todayβs fire, then wait for tomorrowβs.β
Victor Von Doom retweeted
πππππππππ πππ / πππππ __
Incursions are not⦠violent.
They are indifferent.
When I arrived, the sky was clear. Children laughed in the streets. Citizens argued over menial subjects. No one realized their universe had already been condemned. My instruments
More silence between them now.
βYou limit yourself with bland heroics, Wanda.β He places the book down, clasping his hands behind his back once more. βImagine what you could accomplish,β A pause. βWhat π¬π could accomplishβ¦ if you retired this foolish charade.β
βSo few practitioners ever continue to learn.β His words are near observational as his gaze finds hers. His gaze finds hers. Thereβs a silence that settles between them. βIt is why Iβve always found youβ¦ interesting, Maximoff.β
He looks up from the book, almost disappointed in the way he regards her for a moment before opening the book and flipping through its worn pages. That should serve as her answer.
βI considered acquiring this volume years ago.β A pause. βThe ward on page one hundred and
seventeen is elegantly constructed. Efficient. Most mystics burden it with unnecessary redundancies.β His thumbs through more pages now. βA respectable collection. Pre-Cagliostro in foundation, though amended by later hands. There are passages here most sorcerers would
βSo it is.β
Without so much as a lift of a hand, a volume from her stack tears itself free. It glides across the room, its motion smooth enough to seem like an inevitability rather than forced, until it settles in his hand. Only then does he look at its cover.