On The Edge. | Steve Rogers.

twenty six.

Issac stood still before bursting into laughter at the ludicrousy of this entire situation. This had to be some sort of coma or fever dream, perhaps even a result of the Maximoff girl's abilities.

"What?" he blurted out, throwing any manners he had developed as a child directly out the window.

"I just saved your life." The woman glanced at him oddly, as if she didn't understand why he sounded so confused and lost. "You know, I made sure you didn't die?"

"I'm afraid I don't follow." Issac narrowed his eyes, keeping a distance between him and the woman at the kitchen island. "Where are we?"

"We're in your subconsciousness." The woman waved her hands, speaking dramatically before chuckling at her own joke. Her smile faltered ever so slightly, bordering concern. "When the little witch tried to manipulate your mind, you subconsciously countered with your own magic. You put up some sort of a mental barrier to try and keep her out of your head. Unfortunately, when the two magics collided, it nearly pulled you two apart from the inside out. Me slotting myself into your mind is the only thing that prevented you from going insane, if not dying." She explained, assuming he knew what she was talking about.

Issac remained silent, his expression telling the woman all she needed to know.

Agatha blinked waiting for a reply, her shoulders sagging when she didn't get one. She sighed heavily and waved her hand, purple tendrils dissipating around her hand. Issac felt something hit the back of his legs before he fell into a chair, Agatha gracefully sitting across from him. She leaned against the armrest, crossing her legs and regarding him for a brief moment.

"You really do look like your father." She hummed softly, tilting her head.

Issac frowned, fidgeting and feeling extremely uncomfortable. His mother barely spoke about his father and he'd never met nor even seen pictures of the man. His mother had light brown hair and gorgeous green eyes, so he easily knew he didn't get his features from her. He had dark curly hair and dark eyes, while her skin was paler from living in Europe for her entire life his was more of a warmer bronze.

"You knew my father?" he asked. This time, his voice was laced with nothing but curiosity instead of hostility or skepticism.

"Briefly, but yes. Your mother was like a sister to me." It was the first time this woman seemed to show genuine emotion, a look of remorse crossing her eyes before it was gone. "Was she the one who taught you?"

Issac frowned. 

"Taught me...what?"

The woman blinked, leaning forward slightly as she spoke.

"Seriously?" she mumbled something inaudible to herself, scoffing under her breath. "Don't tell me you thought you were just born with special magical abilities." She laughed in surprise. "Your mother was a witch, obviously!"

Issac stared at her as if she was insane. He covered his mouth, letting out a startled, nearly hysterical laugh. This wasn't real, it couldn't be. There was no way, he felt like he was Alice in some twisted, fucked up version of Wonderland.

"A witch." he repeated in shock. "And that would make me- what? A wizard?" he asked sarcastically.

"Sorcerer." the woman corrected without missing a beat. Her expression then returned to the intrigued one she wore when he first found her in the kitchen. "With unbelievable, raw magical power apparently. Did your mother even tell you anything?"

"Does it look like she kept me in the loop about everything?" Issac snapped.

Agatha playfully reeled back with a slight smirk on her face.