PSL; [ pump it up ]

[sorser]

[A portal opens, unleashing its contents into a stranger’s home: the once-Sorcerer Supreme, and a creature.

A dark, murky thing, with long tendrils that might be called limbs were they not constantly fluctuating in a state of obscured shadow. They twist and snarl with an ill-defined face marked by glowing eyes, untangling itself from the sorcerer who has given it chase for an unknown amount of time, but for so long it feels like an age. But the sorcerer—none other than Stephen Strange—slams into the ground hard enough to dizzy him for a few precious seconds, and the creature flings itself away. It rises up, rushes along the walls, knocking over furniture and picture frames, and rushes out the nearest doorway.]

Damn it.

[Stephen pushes himself to his feet, eyes barely taking the time to cast around and register where he is. The answer: he has no clue. It hardly matters, though — a creature like that, the very embodiment of nightmares, needs to be corralled as soon as possible. Away from this reality, or any other.

He exhales, ignoring the stinging cut across a cheekbone and the unsteadiness to his step, and gives chase.]

Comments

[recluserose]

[ The wind chimes, the ever-present observers in the witch's home, begin to frantically sing once the stranger and the monster crash into the living room through the magic portal.

Combined with the loud sounds of her walls and furniture being knocked over and destroyed, Amelia Eva Steinbeck's gut feeling plunges even deeper than she ever thought possible. The impact nearly makes her fall face forward, spilling the contents in her wine glass while she was reading on her e-reader device. Swearing under her breath, she sets the glass down, the device still in her hand. After prepping for post-winter-break assignments, she was ready to settle down and just read for fun before her focus was forced elsewhere.

She closes her eyes. Takes a deep breath. Opens them again. ]

Alright. Guess my winter break isn't going to happen.

[ SNAP!

With a snap of her fingers, the wind chimes fall silent and instinctively, Amelia grabs the open wine bottle she has just opened, swiftly exiting the library and towards the source of the disturbance. It's the guttural growls of an otherworldly creature and the hurried steps of another stranger, hopefully human, that lead her down the hall and out to her poor, poor living room and kitchen. Some of the wind chimes have fallen from the ceiling, tingling weakly on the floor.

It's the man in blue robes that catches her eyes first, but the dark and disgusting tendrils trying to make their way through what can only be a magical gateway is probably the first priority. ]

YOU!

[ The redheaded woman with thick spectacles calls to the man, gesturing with her wine bottle. ]

Behind me and don't argue.

[sorser]

[The magic inherent in this place is clear; it reminds him of the Sanctum, though maybe less pronounced in scope, the residence of someone who lives and breathes the arcane, the mystical. Though his wondering (however little he allows himself of it in a moment like this) is cut short when, after darting after the creature, Stephen stumbles into what he assumes is a living area. The nightmare entity is already tearing into the fabric of reality of its own accord, creating its own gateway through brute force itself, as though it has split a tear in the middle of the room, and pushing itself through.

That enough is alarming. The fact that there's a stranger brandishing a wine bottle at him and shouting commands is just the icing on the cake. Stephen scoffs almost indignantly, planted in place, but calling forth magic which gleams at his fingertips in sparking amber.]

I don't know who you are, but you don't know what you're dealing with.

[His magic forms into a searing bright whip. Stephen lashes out with it, and it snaps and curls around the monster's shadow-like form, yanking it away from the gateway. It clings and hisses, lashes its limbs stubbornly, not quite pulled off.]

Get out of here! Unless you want to start reliving your worst nightmares in real-time!

[There is a reason this creature exudes the night, why it ekes with the horror of disturbed sleep. A reason why Stephen has had a hell of a time pinning it down. He doesn't need collateral damage piled up along the way.]

[recluserose]

[ Some sort of headache begins to creep in the back of her head the longer Amelia keeps her eyes off of the nightmarish beast. She flinches slightly, but doesn't look away.

(Around her neck a small rose pendant glows lightly in response to its owner's distress...)

Amelia wrinkles her nose at the bearded man who has revealed himself to be some sort of magician or wizard, displaying his unfamiliar magic. ]

What did I just say?

[ Muttering to herself, Amelia takes a huge swig from the wine bottle. It takes one, two, and then three impressive chugs.

And then after finishing the last of its contents, the witch unceremoniously smashes the bottle against the wall. ]

My remaining vacation is ruined thanks to you two so I'm already in a nightmare as far as I'm concerned. Anyway...!

[ Brandishing her new weapon, emerald green magic begins to swirl around her, emerging as runic script. The jagged glass bottle glows, reinforced with the energy and Amelia moves quickly, dodging a stray tendril meant to pin her to the ground. She throws her e-reader at one of its eyes. It does nothing, but it serves as a distraction as her next projectile, the broken bottle crackling with green magic, lands properly into a larger eyeball.

As the monster tries to shake off the pain that was caused, more emerald green arcane runes fly towards the creature and wrap around it to bind it further.

They need to work fast; Amelia calls to Stephen: ]

I can tie it down further! Any plans on sealing the gateway?

[ Her voice is unwavering in the face of the danger and she looks expectantly at the sorcerer as more of her magic ties it up. ]

Tell me what I can do next and I'll make it happen.

[sorser]

[Her magic is unfamiliar to him, but it’s effective, enchanting shards of glass and weaponizing them against the creature. It writhes and hisses with pain, eyes temporarily blinded, and it gives them both just enough time to reinforce the bindings. The green and amber intermingle, buzzing with energy.

A sight he can appreciate better at a later time (and maybe apologize for intruding, since she's taken such offense). For now, the gateway is of least concern; if they can’t keep it tied up, he would rather it escape once more than to ravage the home and mind of a stranger.]

We need something to contain it! Got any more wine bottles?

[It sounds like a a joke, sharp and cutting, but… honestly, anything will do at this point. One hand still gripping the magical restraints, his other makes a few gestures and casts again, sending sealing magic the creature’s way. It flies in a circular mandala before falling over the monster like a net, stinging and burning and restraining.]

Just give me something to enchant!

[recluserose]

Um...

[ Her brow furrows, but unfurrows just as immediately when she thinks she catches onto what he's planning. With enough magic piled onto the monster, she ceases her casting and makes her way to her ravaged kitchen.

One of the monster's thrashing movements shakes the floor and on cue a dark wine bottle, still half full rolls to her feet. Amelia grabs it and for a half-second she pauses because... there's some perfectly good merlot left and...!

Oh wait, monster shrieking; that snaps her back to the present real quick and the witch regretfully empties the contents into a random cookie jar. ]

Heads up!

[ Tossing the bottle upwards, it becomes enveloped in her energy and it flies to Stephen so that it floats in his view between him and the creature. ]

There! Big enough?

[sorser]

[You know, he didn’t expect for her to really unearth a wine bottle. Though maybe it has more flair to it than a jar of pickles, and Stephen’s in no position to make a witty remark about it when it floats over to them, caught mid-air via magic and ready for the taking.]

Keep it held down!

[He needs both hands for this, and his own restraint is released — the whip coils around the rest of the monster on its own accord, but that’s the most it’ll manage without Stephen’s direct control. Instead, the sorcerer casts another spell—a massive mandala with intricate runes spinning amongst its ridges—glowing so bright that anything caught in its light casts an impossibly stark shadow. The spell spins and wheels in the air, then shrinks, cementing itself onto the wine bottle’s side like a brand. A label, wrought of raw radiance.

The wine bottle tilts. And, with its enchantment burning bright on its side, it tugs on the monster in like it were a vortex, like a plug had been pulled on an ocean, and it pulls, and pulls, and pulls the thing in, wisp by wisp. Its shrieks fill the air, rattles the very foundations of Amelia’s home.

Please work. Stephen is so done with this.]

[recluserose]

[ Amelia doesn't waste time by replying and focuses her attention on keeping her magic that's already on the monster tightly bound. The mystical green runes shine even brighter as she increases the strength from afar, working in tandem with the sorcerer's mandala as it spins in the air.

As the creature is pulled into the bottle, some of the green energy around it swirls off of its body and begins to embed itself onto the outer surface of the container. Amelia tries not to lose her balance as her surroundings tremor all around them.

Her brain races when she sees that they don't have a way to close the bottle. Despite the man's effective spellcasting in trapping it within, they're going to need a lock of sorts. She quickly remembers the owl-shaped wine cork in her hand. Working fast, the cork is released into the air and her energy guides it to the mouth of the bottle, plugging it up. Though her own magic is working to lock it in, it may not be enough and even if it was, for the time being, Amelia wasn't taking any chances. ]

Reinforce it! Now!

[sorser]

[The chaos of an angry creature, its energy threatening to spill from the confines of the bottle, is enough to throw lesser men off-kilter. But Stephen is nothing but stubborn, nothing but focused when he needs to be. Throughout the commotion, he remains focused on the containment spell — and it seems as though this woman has read his mind, and when the owl-shaped cork plugs the bottle, Stephen flings one final spell its way.

A seal, a lock, the same sort he applied to the Eye of Agamotto when he was forced to protect the Time Stone. Though this time, the spell will act as a jailor, the bottle itself the jail, and with one exerting effort, a ring of light tightens around the neck and cork of the bottle.

It tightens. Clamps. Disappears.

All grows quiet, and the bottle… falls to the ground, with no magic to keep it afloat, no angry energy to levitate it, and Stephen curses beneath his breath.

His cloak flies out, catching it in a swath of red cloth before it can hit the ground.]

[recluserose]

[ Her gut would have plunged to new depths as the bottle fell to the ground had it not been for the enchanted cloak that made the save. Amelia releases a heavy breath of instant relief and leans against a wall in exhaustion... Only to almost fall over since a large crater in it made her lose balance. But she catches herself and summons enough poise to look as if she meant to do that.

For a full solid minute, Amelia says nothing and takes in the damage made to her home. Various books are strewn across the floor, the sofa chairs and couch have been decimated, and she doesn't want to even think of what's past the crumbling walls and the results of her poor outdoor flowerbed.

Sniffing loudly, the witch walks over to Stephen and holds out her hands to the cloak. ]

Before I yell at the two of you, let me give this a once over. Might as well before the rest of my break is shot.

[ The woman's voice is full of dry candor as if what they've experienced is akin to experiencing a flat tire rather than a world-bending horror that may have threatened more than just their lives and her home.

Look, one has to cope somehow. ]

[sorser]

[The Cloak of Levitation has already made its way to Stephen, cradling the wine bottle, which now looks to be filled with a murky, viscous black. He looks up at Amelia — up, because he had sunk to the ground to sit on the floor, his bones worn, his muscles like jelly. He’d been chasing after the damn thing for far too long, been through the wringer mentally and physically. Sitting down just feels like a blessing at this point, even if it’s in the middle of a stranger’s wrecked home.

Exhaustion comes to him in one giant wave. He gestures dismissively, indicating for the cloak to hand Amelia the bottle.]

Sorry to be such an inconvenience, but getting that creature back under lock and key was the priority.

[Okay, no, he has just enough energy to be a little snarky.]

Look it over if you want. The seal’s impeccable. And also — who are you, again?

[recluserose]

I should hope it's impeccable. Though I'm not familiar with your spellcasting, I think we've managed an impressive amount of layering to lock this thing down.

[ She takes the bottle from the Cloak of Levitation tracing the surface with one finger and traces of emerald sparks follow its trail. The murky contents recoils from the effect. Without breaking her gaze from it, the redhead frees one hand. She makes a gesture with her palm and beneath Stephen, a newly created sofa chair emerges with a comfortable cushion to boot. ]

Funny you should ask who I am when you're the one who brought the party to my house.

[ Amelia gives a few taps to the cork and it switches back and forth between gold and green several times. Pursing her lips, she shrugs and concludes it's a job well done, however messy it was to get there. ]

If you must know, I'm Amelia Steinbeck. And to get it out of the way, I'm a witch, I live on my own, and hopefully, my non-magical neighbors won't catch onto that after I do some damage control.

[ Adjusting her large glasses, her green eyes look at the man critically. ]

My turn — who are you exactly?

[sorser]

[The sofa rises from nothing, and Stephen jostles a little as he finds himself seated upon new furniture. Now that he’s not exactly ground-level, his brows lift in vague surprise, but he waves a hand to summon the bottle. It floats towards him and he grabs hold of it by the neck, while his cloak moves to settle back around his shoulders, pooling across the back of the sofa.]

A witch? Explains the magic, though green is a new one.

[If there’s something to be jokingly said about magical color schemes, he bypasses it for now. Stephen doesn’t answer her question immediately, finally taking the time to track his look around the house. A hole in the wall, overturned furniture, all manner of things clattered on the ground. A party, indeed.]

I’m guessing this is some version of Earth? Correct me if I’m wrong. [Stephen rubs at a temple, his cheek still stinging and oozing a little red, but relief supersedes all else for now.]

My name is Doctor Stephen Strange, and I’m a sorcerer. I’ve been chasing down this— [A shake of the wine bottle] —for a lot longer than I ever hoped to or wanted. Sorry the mess ended up in your lap, but it worked out in the end. I can help with the clean-up.

[recluserose]

[ With the bottle out of her hands, her fingers curl and uncurl at its absence before she internally just lets it go.]

Doctor Stephen Strange. Got it.

[ It feels like one of those obvious things that have been pointed out and beaten like a dead horse so there's no further comment on it. Amelia sighs and takes notice of the sorcerer's outer state. She frowns and moves over to her kitchen counter, opening up a drawer to get out a basic first aid kit and a clean kitchen towel. ]

I'd be grateful for the help.

[ He does owe her that much and she's long since learned how to gracefully accept help when needed. She could have taken care of her house by herself, but there's no sin in lightening the burden.

Making her way over to Stephen, she offers him the items. ]

You are definitely on some type of Earth, yes.

[ Fortunately, she's more than aware of the infinite nature of other worlds and realities outside of her small life in her quaint Californian town. The Witch King's existence forced that kind of knowledge on anyone deep enough into the supernatural and clandestine arts. ]

It's unfortunate, but I am not entirely shocked at what happened here. The fabric of this reality is rather... Tenuous. Though there's plenty of effort to keep it sewn up so I'd optimistically say that we have more normal days than most other places.

[recluserose]

[ The wind chime that was given to Stephen Strange just looks like a normal Japanese furin without the extra bells and whistles of it Western counterparts. It hangs in the upper rafters of the Sanctum, a curiously cheerful-looking glass bulb amongst the more mystical and austere enchanted items. It doesn't ring even when a gust of wind flows through the home, but it does like to rattle slightly every time the sorcerer or a guest enters through the front. As time goes on, the enchanted wind chime greets Stephen with a bright gusto and if one listens closely, there's a rhythm and melody that can be figured out.

So despite being worlds away, the magic embedded in it is still going strong and it has made itself at home with Doctor Strange.

One afternoon in early February, the wind chime's cord begins to glow, oscillating between emerald green and gold before suddenly, like a loudspeaker, a familiar voice echoes throughout. ]

Testing, testing, 1, 2, 3? Is the volume ok?

[ It's quite loud actually, but when you're worlds away, it's hard to gauge that! There's a pause and the woman's voice speaks up again. ]

Answer this one for fun: "What building has the most stories?"

[ Someone's having fun testing this out... ]

[sorser]

[Time passes about as quickly as one would expect for Stephen, defined less by the hours of sleep that divides each day and more by the duties allotted to them. He’s kept busy, and though he is reminded occasionally of his visit to another world, into a witch’s home, by the tinkling glass wind chime hanging in the rafters, his responsibilities catch up to him and the memory is sat aside for another time.

Until early February arrives, and Stephen sits in the foyer of the Sanctum, partitioned away in a corner he’s turned into a makeshift study — fashioned with a desk scattered with books in the small alcove just beneath the main staircase, a spot mostly kept quiet unless a visitor happens to arrive at the entrance, or a sorcerer from Kamar-Taj treads down the stairs above.

A voice rings out, as though it were a PA system at a grocery store, or something equally mundane. Stephen starts a little, lifting his head from his seat and setting his book down. Even from here, he can crane his gaze upwards and see the offending, enthusiastic little wind chime.

A pause. He calls out loud enough to be heard (he hopes), but wholly blunt—]

…A library.

[recluserose]

Oh, damn it works—...!

[ There's some rustling noise of varying volumes until it sounds like it equalizes and becomes more tolerable and less echoey. ]

Uh, correct. Good job. Ten points.

Anyway, nice to hear you're still alive. I have a bit of an update on my end.

[sorser]

[The acoustics resonating near the top of the Sanctum’s ceiling still induce too much echo despite the tinkering on her end. Stephen frowns and beckons the wind chime down with his magic, floating it closer.]

I was wondering if I was going to hear from you eventually. Sounds like you’re doing well enough.

[He sets his book down, remembering the page.]

So, what’s the update? Good news or bad?

[recluserose]

[ As the wind chime is summoned to Stephen, the strands of magic continue to quiver as Amelia continues to speak. ]

I tried to scale back my involvement in school activities outside of my immediate courses just to give more attention to the matter at hand, but with varying success. Apologies for taking a while.

[ There's another sound that emits from the chime; viscous liquid, swishing back and forth. ]

The bad news is that there are leftovers as I've feared and it tried to feed on dreams to regain a physical form.

The good news is that my more reliable contacts and freelancers, have been able to gather the fragments for me and I've got like, a mason jar's worth of liquid demon. It didn't go any further out of state lines as far as we could tell.

[ So all in all, she's done a decent job protecting what's around her and not totally by herself. And finally...! ]

The normal news is now I'm wondering if it's possible to drink this and if that's ethically sound.

[ Amelia... ]

[sorser]

[So, two things are the main takeaway: Amelia managed to clean up most of the remnants of a demon’s mess after the fact, and without his help, and now she’s thinking of taking a sip of its essence.

She may not see his exasperated disbelief, but no doubt the emotion is carried through those magical soundwave vibrations with ease. His own voice thrums with golden amber across the strings when he responds.]

Okay. Let me summarize: not only did you do a fair amount of clean-up without contacting me to drop by like we discussed, but now you’re seriously considering taking a sip of a demon?

Tell me you’re joking.

[recluserose]

Well, the closest thing I've consumed before was a processed Mandragora plant. Probably different though. It's organic matter despite being on the paranormal end of species.

[ Is she ignoring answering the first part, yes she is. ]

Would you like me to drop this off before I take out a metal straw to poke at it?

[sorser]

Yes, and I keep interdimensional, wiggling tentacles in tupperware in a fridge downstairs. [Is he joking? It’s difficult to tell, hard-edged with something that sounds like sarcasm, but maybe she’ll know the truth someday.] But there’s still a very big difference between even that and knocking back nightmares incarnate.

[And don’t think he didn’t notice!! Her ignoring!! The first half of his complaint!!

Stephen pinches the bridge of his nose.]

Come on by before you do anything you regret. Do you need me to whip up a portal for you or do you have it covered?

[recluserose]

Save the gelatin that forms around it. I heard it can provide plenty of nutrients.

[ Snark to snark combat... ]

Since I've been doing a lot of work on my end, I will gladly leave the portal creation to you.

[sorser]

[Ha ha.

Stephen doesn’t reply. He doesn’t even stand from his desk — instead, he simply reaches out with the hand adorned with his Sling Ring, and opens up a large, swirling portal. If he remembers the magical resonance correctly—and he should, given an example exists in the wind chimes—it should be forming on her end, all the way into another universe, too.]

[recluserose]

[ Part of her wants to bring a clear tumbler with black iced coffee to drink just to stir the pot, buuuut, she won't. Her few friends would be proud of how far she's come with her sense of humor even if it has a tendency to land south.

When the portal opens up, Amelia peeks from the side and then steps through with a tote bag slung over her shoulder. Resting in her hands is a large mason jar with a similar-looking substance to the one which Stephen and she had contained a while ago though, it had an airier texture compared to the larger body.

Amelia takes her time to glance up and make a 180 turn to study the Sanctum. She can feel its innate mysticism and power which is very different from her house. ]

Hey. [ A wave! Approaching the desk, she gently puts the jar down on the surface of the desk. ]

One large order of decaf demon.

[sorser]

[The wind chime has hung itself back up in the rafters by the time Amelia steps through. And as always, Stephen senses a new presence in the Sanctum, as he would even if he wasn’t looking directly at her — her arrival resonates with foreign magic, as though she’s shifted the air in the old townhouse itself. Not surprising, as all magic-wielders ping on his radar a little louder than those who don’t, barring extreme examples such as ex-Avengers falling directly through the ceiling.

He reaches out and slides the jar closer. It’s clear these are just pieces, detached from the larger whole. Its influence is very much watered down.]

Great. I’ll send it off to Kamar-Taj; these fragments don’t even need to be banished, just dispersed into more harmless energy.

[He looks up at her, a thin smile tugging at his features. He should be a good host, and he is inclined to… at some point, but he still needs to address the little detail she stepped around moments ago.]

So tell me again, what happened to calling on me to help with the clean-up as we agreed?