Bewitched │Wolverine

CHAPTER 4: CHESS AND CIGARS

TO VANA, PLAYING CHESS WAS LIKE CONDUCTING A SYMPHONY.

Each piece moved purposefully, each strategy unfolding like a carefully orchestrated movement. The board was her stage, the pieces like magic, and she loved nothing more than to move them towards victory.

Winning filled her with a rush of exhilaration, a craving for the next game and the next challenge. But losing - it was a discordant note that struck deep, a harsh reminder of her fallibility. Yet even in defeat, she was drawn back to the board with eagerness for redemption.

Her love for the game began at ten, under the tutelage of her father. Those evenings spent over the checkered battlefield were some of her fondest memories, his voice gently guiding her through the intricacies of the game. She then carried this passion to her school's chess club, where her competitive spirit and keen mind earned her a reputation as a formidable opponent. Later, when she moved in with her cousins, she tried teaching Brian how to play, although he never fully grasped it (The guy has a PhD and still can't play).

One memory in particular stood out, with Charles. Vana could still recall the twinkle in his eyes when he caught her playing the game by herself in the library, and so he discovered her enthusiasm for it.

They would sit for hours in his study, the weighty silence broken only by the sound of pieces clicking against the board. Charles was always patient with her, always encouraging, and their matches held intense focus. He was delighted to see such fervour for chess in someone so young, reminding him of time spent with Erik.

If she could, Vana could base her entire life around the game. It was more than just a pastime; it was a reflection of her inner world, a constant dance of adaptability and strategy. Every move mirrored a move in life, every victory and loss a lesson to be carried forward. A realm where she felt in control.

However, those feelings about chess were so irrelevant in the current situation - something Charles obviously didn't realise.

"Would you like to play?" He pointed towards the 64-square grid neatly placed in front of him, black facing Vana and white facing Charles.

Vana raised her eyebrows at him before closing the door behind her. Is he being deadly serious or is this some old man humour I'm not getting?

"No, I'm being rather serious, it appears to have been a while since we last played."

That's it.

"Professor, I haven't seen you in, oh I don't know, FIVE years? And the first thing you do is read my mind- no wait, cross that, you ask me to play chess and THEN you read my mind?" She raises her voice at him while he stays silent as if he prepared for this and foresaw it.

"Not just that but without a 'Hello Vana, what have you been up to?' or even a 'You look very nice, dear, would you like a drink or to sit down and we can talk about what you've been up to?' Nothing like that?" Her arms crossed to give the impression of a toddler having a tantrum, but for good reason.

Charles clears his throat, and with a smile opens his mouth. "Hello Vana, what have you been up to? You look very nice, dear, would you like a drink or a seat and we can talk about what you've been up to."

The calmness that radiates from him was almost palpable, a soothing wave that washed over Vana's agitation. The room seemed to soften, the tension diffusing in the face of his unruffled demeanour. Vana's initial surge of anger ebbed away, leaving behind a pang of guilt. The old man always had this effect on people, a serene presence that could quell even the most tempestuous of emotions.

She let out a big sigh, feeling the stiffness in her shoulders ease. "I'm sorry Professor," she said quietly, dropping her arms to her sides. "I didn't mean to snap at you."