#maximoffkaplan

@maximoff-kaplan

There was never a time when Zatanna wasn’t surprised by offers to be a mentor. Such opportunities were rare, being as there weren’t many that came and asked her directly. Whatever coerced certain individuals to be so eager to learn from her, in spite of her abilities, were almost baffling. For now, she set her hesitations aside, prioritizing her tasks at hand.

In the middle of her “backyard,” a kettle of warm water was set in the middle of small white table. Underneath the varieties of finger foods was a silk black cloth, long enough to cover the table, edges hovering over the hardwood floors below her feet. 

@maximoff-kaplan

The alleyway of the theatre, while decently lit during the day, felt like a shadow that one would need to step out far enough to be seen. She only came this way to obtain some fresh air. Her dressing room, while cozy enough to provide some comfort during the imminent drop in temperature, there were no windows and she needed to see what the weather was like. 

Hands pulling on the lapels of her green pea coat, she stepped towards the edge of the alleyway, the poster of her coming into view on her right side. She glanced over at the image with a chuckle, thinking back to the day of that shoot, heaving a sigh of relief that no one had noticed the small rip in her mesh tights. Her thoughts were retracted when she heard the voice of a child approaching. She turned her gaze to the little girl with a warm smile as she presented a book of basic magic to her.

“Miss Zatanna, could you sign my book, please? I want to learn magic like you!”

“Of course, honey,” she responded. “Just let me see if I brought my pen with me.”

@maximoff-kaplan

A fresh set of keys were tucked away in the front pockets of his dark blue scrubs. His meeting with the landlord was, dare he say, quicker than he anticipated. Regardless, the lease was tucked away in his safe in his new office, adjacent to the front desk of the clinic. In some ways, the process almost seemed bittersweet. 

Seven years ago, he wouldn’t have considered the thought that he’d reach a different path in his life. Oh, past Pietro would have scoffed, projecting the last bit of cockiness he had, and proclaiming he was ‘past the point of no return.’ The evidence to prove otherwise was right in front of him. At least, it was in its early stages. 

Out in the hallway, Pietro glanced over at the other nearby practices, sucking in a breath. Disbelief could hardly describe his sentiments towards the sight of the front door, not yet engraved with his name and practice. Nonetheless, it was his own. And to know that most of his family was in the same city, there was a sense of renewed purpose.