The Trickster & The Witch // ʙᴏᴏᴋ 1

Part 5

I don't want to hurt you, so please don't stand in my way

I sit bolt up right, clutching my head and gasping for air. I was sleeping peacefully – until a familiar, heavy-accented voice spoke in my head. Did...did Wanda just speak to me ? No wait, actually, she warned me. Pinching my eyes shut, I run a now shaky hand through my damp roots. 

Knew I shouldn't have slept with two blankets, but against my will – and my obvious resistance to the cold – Nat insisted. I had a plan to remove it after she left my room, but unfortunately, she was smart and only departed once I was in a deep, un-wakeable, sleep.

This was so confusing. Why had she warned me ? And why did she even care to hurt me ? I wouldn't hesitate if she stood in my way. Especially if she stood between me and saving the people on this planet.

Sighing heavily, I briefly glance at the clock on my nightstand that blinked 7:15, and I heave another sigh as I pull myself out of my comfortable bed and trudge to my bathroom. I don't miss the now fixed window on the way – courtesy of my father I presume.

L: Yes, I fixed your reckless act. Now freshen up, we need to talk

I groan. The strict lecture I avoided yesterday after passing out in bed, exhausted, was about to be told to me over breakfast. After using my bathroom to the best of it's abilities, I re-enter my now brightened up room, wrapped in a fuzzy lavender robe. In hopes to delay my incoming lecture, I decide to not use my magic for getting dressed. Instead, I do it the Midgardian way and sift through my closet.

Deciding on some simple grey sweatpants and a black hoodie Tony got me a couple weeks ago that had a cute alien decal, I slide my feet into my fuzzy green slippers, slip my phone into my pant pocket, and leave my room. It was Friday, but I wasn't in the mood for school, so I make sure to text Peter and Ned on our group, informing them of my skip. Tucking my phone back into my pocket, I walk into the open-plan kitchen; my father in black sweatpants and a green long-sleeve shirt, pouring two glasses of orange juice.

"Morning."

"Goodmorning," he looks up at me with a warm smile. Well, at least this lecture won't involve yelling and scowls. "I see you've opted out of going to school today ?"

"Yeah, not really in the mood for the crowds and irritating lessons." However, I would've liked to see Flash trudging the halls with a patched up nose. I should text Peter, asking him to try and sneak me a picture. My father simply nods as he slides the two glasses of juice over before walking around the island with to food-filled plates. Placing down two plates of steaming, syrup drizzled, golden brown French Toast in front of us, he takes a seat next to me on the barstool. "When did you learn to make this ?"

His smile almost looks painful. "Four hours ago."

I chuckle and raise my brows – not because of him learning a new dish, that was normal, but it usually didn't take longer than an hour – and hour and a half at most; he's a fast learner. That's when I remember something, and my face falls ever so slightly. "Mhm, I suspect the extra hours are due to learning without JARVIS' mentorship and observation." He nods. It was a funny thing, missing an AI – but Jarvis, like anyone else, had a voice, and so, I've already started to miss it deeply.