"Criss-Cross... Uh-huh, there you go."
She sat back and followed her own directions after helping Vision. "Now cross your fingers and hold them in your lap. Right." She smiled proudly.
The pair sat facing each other on her bedroom floor. She placed a clear quartz in his palm and put one in her own.
"Close your eyes and clear your mind. Don't think. Just exist in your space, connected to your body, and connected to the Earth."
He closed his eyes and tried to do as she said.
He batted away his thoughts as if they were balloons. When he was concentrated enough, he closed his hand around the quartz.
He smiled.
She began to hum a song from Sokovia. She sang the foreign song softly and brought them back to reality. Their eyes opened.
"Better?"
"Better," he confirmed. He handed her the quartz back and she stood. His legs relaxed out of the position.
She placed the crystals on her windowsill, next to the others.
She sat back on the ground in a less formal way. She conjured up a small, maroon cloud. It played between her fingers, and his eyes watched it closely.
"How does one become a witch?" he asked.
"You decide you want to be one, and you become one," she said simply. "Magic, however, is something else. Magic works in mysterious ways. Some have more, others have less. Some kinds of magic are easy to spot."
She forced the cloud toward him and he did his best to 'catch' it, but failed. He frowned.
"...Other kinds of magic are easy to overlook. It could be a ballet dancer who never twists her ankle, or a neurosurgeon whose hand never shakes. Magic is simple and complicated. It stupefies the greatest minds, but lays itself out for children. You have to look for it and decide for yourself."
He stood. "What are the crystals for?" He strode over to her window, and looked at them intently. "May I?"
"Go ahead."
He picked up a polished amethyst and traded it from hand to hand.
"Everything that exists in the world has energy, alive or not. Energy is all different — the Sun is different than the toaster, but energy is energy. Crystals strengthen our energy. They're millions of years old, too. They are part of the Earth, thus they are irreplaceable. Every single one of them is special."
He picked up a yellow citrine.
"Do you think this," he tapped the gem in his forehead, "is one?"
She stood. "I think it's connected somehow. I don't know if it's a crystal. I've never seen one like it. But I know it's important."
He closed his hand around the citrine, dropped his head, and closed his eyes.
She watched him carefully.
Then it happened.
The gem in his forehead began to pulse.
"Vis," she said calmly. She reached onto her vanity and took the hand mirror. He looked at her curiously. She held it up and he looked at his reflection. "Vis, it's..."
His eyes widened. She put the mirror away. He pocketed the crystal. She took his hands in hers.
"I've only seen that happen once before," she explained excitedly. The pulsing slowed to a calm, quiet beat. "We have to hurry. She won't believe this."
"Who?" he asked.
"Hush. Remember when we meditated? Close your eyes, and calm your mind. Focus Vision."
He did. She turned away from him while his eyes were closed and his mind lulled. She beckoned back her purple cloud.
Using her hands, she created a thicker, larger cloud. She turned back to Vision, and took his hands. She closed her eyes.
The crystals on her windowsill rose inches off. The citrine in his pocket pulsed, and the gem in his forehead drummed along.
She whispered foreign words. They crescendoed, and then they stopped altogether.
Vision opened his eyes and looked around.
The purple cloud diffused. The crystals weren't there. The gem in his forehead and the citrine in his pocket stilled.
Her room was replaced with a small cottage. The walls were crowded with hanging dried herbs, pegs to a loft with a bed, windows filled with crystals, and live plants. The floor was hardwood, and dark, but spacious despite the walls.
A woman - with grey hair and an array of fabrics on - stood in the kitchen, her back to the pair. She was making something he couldn't see.
Wanda's eyes opened and she watched Vision's distracted, panicked ones.
"Well, about time. I've been waiting for you," the woman said. She had a Sokovian accent.
Wanda turned to her. Vision suddenly felt like he was peering into a fishbowl. He was dissociated.
The woman with grey hair looked at them.
"My God, you've grown. You look beautiful, my dear. Your soul's marvelous, too. I can tell you're working hard."
"Thank you, Aunt Marge, but that's not why we're here."
"Aunt?" Vision asked from behind Wanda. Aunt Marge looked beyond her, and to Vision. Wanda looked at him too. Marge looked him up and down, not at all surprised by the yellow stone in his head and the purple tint of his skin.
"Aunt," Wanda confirmed.
"So, why're you here, my niece?" Marge snapped her fingers and the three were sitting at her table. "Wait, don't tell me."
A pitcher of iced tea poured itself into three cups. Aunt Marge sipped hers while she thought. She watched Vision, and he shifted uncomfortably.
"The Mind Gem, its frequency raised. The vibration got stronger."
"How did you—" Vision stopped. "Mind Gem?"