<He couldn't help but laugh at the question because he knew it sounded just as absurd to her as it did to him whenever he thought about it. He shook his head a little afterwards and took her hand in his own but did not answer for the moment as he contemplated his answer and what would be the correct way to word it. There were a lot of variables to consider in this explanation, but he wanted to make it as easy as he could for the moment so as to not confuse her more than she already had become.>
My family ... wasn't really much of anything that was worth talking about. Disappoinment and...tragedy. But that's not a subject for now. Anyone from anywhere can technically come from "magical background", should they choose to take the time to learn and open their minds it. I myself - as you have probably figured out by now - used to be a doctor and in that stage of my life I had no interest in metaphysical knowledge or abilities. But then...well, life finally broke down the walls of the "perfect life" I was building for myself.
<He smiled as he watched her look at the surroundings while he spoke, until the last part had drawn her attention back to him. Slowly, he held up his free hand to show her the scars she had noted on them earlier which were now more of a deep red than they were before due to the coolness of the afternoon air settling in on the Sanctum. He was still self-conscious about them, even years after the accident, but this was his Soulmate, the woman he loved before than even life itself. And if he trusted anyone to not judge him or their history, it was this beautiful woman in front of him.>
I was in a car accident that left me no longer able to perform my job, I was told of a place called Kamar-Taj, where I would be able to gain the ability to use my hands again. It was there that I studied - and continue to learn on many occasions - about the Mystic Arts. It was there that I met my two teachers: The Ancient One, who we lost to battle, and Damon Renner.
<He gently brushed a strand of hair behind her ear as he looked into her eyes while he spoke once more. He thought about it and began to realize things now that he hadn't been emotionally prepared for and it made him look away.>
He's the one I was getting the medical books to help when I found you. He's also the one who sent his familiar to me to lead me to your side. He...just lost his Soulmate to a very large battle and is very badly wounded. Of course...of course he would lead me to the one I'm meant to be with.
*Our paths to here and now couldn’t be more different! Beauty’s heart, connected to Stephen’s through numerous lifetimes, discerned what he left unspoken. An unhappy childhood, marked by a painful loss. A family that may have been at odds with his sensibilities. A loneliness which he sought to fill with a brilliant career and the financial success it granted him. And then a sudden, tragic turn that changed his world—or rather, set him on the path he had been born to travel. She had to wonder if, in all that time, anyone had given him even a bit of unconditional love—whereas her cup of such had been filled to the brim. Surely this was by Design, and she was meant to bring that gift to Stephen’s life.*
I wish I could’ve known you then, Stephen. Not to change the course of your life, but perhaps to soften its edges. I think I had a luxury of kindness given me that I’d have been very happy to share with you…
*Beauty’s eyes reckoned the reddened weals that ran the full length of his fingers, and the slight tremor as Stephen offered her an unforgiving view of them. Even scarred, there was an undeniable elegance to his hand, and she could easily envision his confident dexterity as a surgeon. A mighty blow, that must have been—and his bones must ache as those of her arthritic grandmother’s. Her voice was hushed in soft consideration.*
Do they hurt, Stephen? Can your magic dull the pain? How…how do you manage? And…and how can I help? *she lowered her gaze a moment, carefully arriving at her next observation* Your hands...they’re beautiful despite your injuries, you know. Like something a great sculptor might have made. Those scars just can’t erase their grace.
*He extended that same hand to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear--a simple enough act, but eloquent in its own way, for its gentleness and familiarity. Something like uncertainty seemed to flicker in his eyes a moment before he went on to explain about his teacher and the loss he had endured. Moving Beauty to her next, natural suggestion.*
But about your friend, Damon—if he’s been badly injured, shouldn’t you be seeing to him now? I don’t want to keep you from where you belong, Stephen. I mean, we’ve lived our whole lives so far without even knowing each other. I can wait whatever time it will take for you to do right by him. I promise I’ll be here when your duty to your teacher and friend is done.