finalflight | PSL; [ pump it up ]

PSL; [ pump it up ]

[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.]

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Do I look that bad?

[Worse for wear, certainly. But he has to have enough gas left in the tank to return sooner rather than later. It feels… odd, to just sit and converse with a witch in her abode, while a nightmare monster remains bottled up in glass at his feet.]

I’ll stay, but only because I promised help with the clean-up. I’m not just going to sit and—

[He rises to his feet here, pushing himself up with a wince.]

—linger like I own the place.

A wise man once told me after I had one too many drinks...

[ Amelia pauses as she watches him stand up, brows raised incredulously when he winces at the effort.

And without wasting another beat: ]

"You look like shit."

[ You see, at some point , and she's not sure when, Amelia has given into the elderly urge if not giving a fuck (but not in front of the high school kids, she's a proper adult for them so shhh.) ]

Edited 2021-12-28 18:24 (UTC)

[w o w

The honesty is flung back sardonically.]

Thanks. Still doesn’t mean I have time to waste in another reality other than my own. Wong’s probably getting impatient by now…

[Straightening properly, forcing any sign of pain off of his features.]

So let’s just get this over with, shall we?

[ Like calls to like, she supposes.

Amelia sweeps one arm towards the hallway. ]

Choose any door except the first one for a room to rest in. The hallway goes on forever so my suggestion is to not tire yourself out trying to go any further than necessary.

Right.

[Stooping low with the rigid intent of not falling over, Stephen picks up the wine bottle by the neck and straightens again. He accepts her description of an endless hallway like a man who also lives in a very magical, sometimes nonsensical, home.]

What’s behind door number one?

[He assumes it’s just her bedroom, or some other private space, but he has to ask.]

The Forbidden Chamber.

[ She's saying this in an extremely neutral tone of voice as she gathers some books to reorganize on the shelves. ]

[An eyebrow rises, trying to suss out whether or not she’s being serious or utterly sarcastic.

Hard to say.]

And the Forbidden Chamber is forbidden because…? Best to satiate my curiosity while you can, before I go exploring places I shouldn’t.

...

...

...

It's just my bedroom.

[ GOD SHE WAS JUST TRYING TO JOKE. Embarrassment in the form of redness is flooding her cheeks so she's glad her back is turned to him, cue the internal screaming of AAAAaaaahhhhHHHHHHHhhhh. ]

Please don't go exploring that.

[Pfft. Stephen figured as much, but her reaction is nearly as golden as the unraveling of her attempted joke. He cracks a smile at it, clearly amused — even if it is a little bit at her expense.]

Forbidden is right. Don’t worry, I don’t go perusing a host’s bedroom without a very good reason.

[He’ll spare her of any more embarrassment, though, turning towards the hallway and holding up the wine bottle in temporary acknowledgement.]

I only need an hour or two. I’ll be back out soon, so don’t work too hard while I’m gone.

[It doesn’t take long before he disappears down the hall, and though he is tempted to see just how forever long the corridor goes, eventually he stops and picks one at random to enter.]

[ While Amelia is chugging the rest of her ~~booze~~ tea, the room Stephen finds is nicely furnished and cozy, almost like a prepared hotel room, but without the sterility and uniformity.

She decides to just go back to her library before passing by Stephen with one question to ask. ]

By the way, about that demon in a bottle. We don't have to worry about mental interference due to its proximity, do we?

[It’s nice. He’s slept in worse places, for certain, and the bed looks especially compelling to his tired bones. But Stephen spares a glance at Amelia as she passes by.]

It’s sealed up nice and tight, and it isn’t nearly the danger that it was before. But it is a nightmare demon, and there’s no getting around the influence of being near one.

[It’s more a concept than a living, breathing thing. To share its space means to imbibe its influence, whether or not one is aware.]

Unfortunately, we won’t know just what it’s jumbled up in our sleep until we do just that — sleep. But that’s my problem right now, not yours, and I can live with it for the time being.

So as long as you’re not about to run off and take a power nap, you’re fine. Don’t worry. I’ll be gone before it becomes a problem for you.

[ Amelia frowns dubiously at his explanation while fiddling idly with her necklace. ]

... I might have to make a checkup around town then. You and I may have some resistance or some sort of protection against mental attacks, but the others are probably more sensitive to it.

[ Despite her dry and frigid words, and behaving as if everything is a mild inconvenience, Amelia just. Cares a lot. She cares about others, more than she cares about herself sometimes. ]

[Stephen exhales. It isn’t a bad idea, though he does think it’s perhaps a bit unnecessary — he did mean it when he said this demon possesses no more danger, confident in the magical seal he’s encased it within.]

And what are you going to tell people? ‘Hello, I’ve just caged up a nightmare entity and I was just wondering if you’ve been feeling any adverse effects during your noontime napping sessions’?

Edited 2021-12-28 20:34 (UTC)

[ Shooting him a look with narrowed eyes, she replies back. ]

Believe it or not, and by some miracle, I'm well-liked enough around town. It's not out of the question for me to just ask people how they've been. You know.

[ Amelia waves her mug around to punctuate her point. ]

Like a good neighbor? That's absolutely normal.

[Skepticism rising, rising—]

I’ve been in this world for, what? Forty-five minutes if we’re being generous. Do you really think my magic is full of so many holes that people are already writhing in their waking hours with sleep-related trauma?

[It pokes at his pride, a creature unto itself he’s learned to tame over the years, but Stephen is tired. Offense comes more easily when the implication is that he’s doing a poor job at his, well, job.]

I know what I’m doing.

You'd be surprised at how keen people's senses are here even if they're not magically inclined.

[ There are the espers to contend with and sometimes a big event can awaken sleeping abilities. Amelia leans against the wall, stubbornly crossing her arms. ]

It's not so much the aftermath as the arrival that might have caused a ripple effect. Normally if that was entirely contained in my house, I wouldn't have concerns.

Anyways, I'm not making you walk around with me. Once you rest up and return, I'll contact you somehow about whether we're in the clear or not.

[This time, he can’t quite hold back the sigh. Offense or otherwise, it’s hard to make the argument that she’s being unreasonable; only cautious, which is not a trait that he can look down upon with any real sincerity.]

Fine. I’ll be here, and so will this.

[He sets the bottle down on the nightstand close to the bed, once he crosses into the room. It might be strange to sleep with a nightmare fiend bottled up right next to where he’s going to rest his head, but proximity won’t matter in an enclosed space like a bedroom. If there are consequences, he’s at least prepared to deal with them.]

If for some reason you do run into trouble, come get me first. If it’s related to my presence, I may know how to better deal with it.

Right.

[ And suddenly Amelia flashes a smile at Stephen though it's gone just as quickly. ]

I'll blame you for everything then. Got it.

[ She will quickly exit the hallway before he can reply and she calls over her shoulder. ]

Now get some rest!

Yes, ma’am.

[And off she goes, leaving Stephen alone in his temporary room, with the expectation that he actually does get a few precious hours of shut-eye. Though he’s a man keen on overworking himself, on conflating “rest” and “meditation” into one singular concept, he does settle into bed at some point — on top of the covers, not making himself the most comfortable, but it’ll do.

Eventually, sleep claims him.

And his dreams, as expected after a tangle with a nightmare demon, are not wholly pleasant. He dreams of the Dark Dimension, and Dormammu’s wrath tearing him apart again and again. He dreams of being annihilated in a more quiet way, turning into dust with half of the known universe, and met only with a void of black. Of his gamble never producing results, only failure. He dreams of dull pain, shooting through the dull nerves of dull fingers.

(He dreams of his sister, and her body lost beneath rippling water, deeper than he can ever hope to reach, no matter how hard he swims, until his lungs ache for air and choke on chlorine.)

But these are dreams that he’s had before, and though they are vivid in the presence of a creature who thrives on pain amid sleep, they have lost their rawness with the passage of time and unfortunate familiarity. And waking always dulls their edges. Even if he feels like shit when he finally stirs, his body more rested, but his mind still subjected to an exhausting marathon. Sitting up on the edge of the bed, Stephen glances at the wine bottle, still churning dark.]

You’re an asshole, you know that?

[Before glancing up at a clock ticking softly on the wall. What time is it?]

Edited 2021-12-28 22:06 (UTC)

[ During that time the Sorcerer Supreme was asleep, Amelia had thrown on a jacket, tucking her rose pendant under the collar before going outside. Her walk around town to check up on the residents had proven to be somewhat fruitful. She gave another few strands of her magically embued hair to a murder of crows as payment, instructing them to find signs of distress from people who were in places she did not have time to cover.

From her own investigation and the report from the birds, the most noticeable effects were on young children such as infants and toddlers and anyone who was asleep between the time Stephen arrived and the containment of the monster. Many teens, who had been sleeping in during their break had woken up screaming in a cold sweat, while some of the elderly had tears in their eyes upon being shaken out of their thrashing slumber.

Those were just the aftereffects, just as Amelia surmised. Any lingering consequences, she would have to keep an observant and diligent eye on for the next month until the witch was completely certain there were no traces of the nightmarish presence left to continue staining the minds of the innocents. That's the rough thing about monsters from outer dimensions; it's hard to pin down a clear visual sign of their stink until much later.

It's early evening by the time Amelia returns, coming through the front door while humming the song, Winter Things to herself. One of the wind chimes rings jingles the same tune in return, welcoming her back.

She moves to the hallway, knocking on Stephen's door. ]

Still here?

[By the time Amelia knocks, Stephen had fallen into a short-lived meditation to clear his mind. His eyes open, brows wrinkling at the door.]

Still here. Come in.

[And once she does, his look is expectant. He has the same tiredness about him as before, but at least his voice sounds a little steadier, a little more strength in its low tones.]

You took your time. I’m going to assume that’s good news, and the whole town isn’t riddled with tears in reality.

Edited 2021-12-28 22:40 (UTC)

[ She opens the door, jacket draped across her arm. Giving Stephen a once over, she takes a chair and sits down.

Not the whole town. I'm still waiting to hear back from a few crows, but probably nothing wholly dramatic like you said.

For now anyway.

[ Stephen Strange had some airs about him, but Amelia had carefully sorted out her assessment of him so far; he's willing to take responsibility on a whole different level than most people she knows even herself. ]

The most affected were the young and old who had been asleep when you and the monster crashed through to our side of this world.

[ She rubs her forehead, recalling some of her neighbor's children clinging to her for comfort, tired adults who couldn't verbalize what their dreams had been inflicted with, and some of the elderly, grasping her hand as they told her what had happened.

The best she could do for the people she came into contact with was a comforting spell, passed on surreptitiously through her touch. ]

So I don't think reality has been affected per se but I do think dust can build up. Does that make sense?

It makes sense in the way that you’re telling me things are good now, but they may not be later.

[Casting nightmares into this realm, even without meaning to, settles wrongly in Stephen. He can only imagine how he might feel if something worse would happen days, weeks, or months for now.

Obligated, perhaps, to make sure he cleaned up any mess he left behind.]

So is your plan really “wait and see”?

I mean... Basically, yes.

[ After running her fingers through her hair, she sets both hands on her lap and leans forward to look at the floor. The gears in her mind are spinning as she tries to think of a long-term plan. ]

I'm not saying that I'm sitting back and watching to see if anything unfolds. There will be preventative measures, such as casting charms, reinforcing key locations in the town, or various purifying spells. I can get creative. I might be the only witch in town, but if I focus down hard enough, I'll cover all of it.

[ Like Stephen, she's attempting to put everything on her shoulders. Blackgale has always been her self-imposed responsibility even when inconvenient. Other witches and warlocks and not to mention the espers, only put so much focus on covering up and obscuring their side instead of actually caring for the communities they mingle or stay a cool and stoic distance from. ]

When it comes to outer forces, they usually prefer time and stealth. This is just speaking from experience, of course.

[Stephen’s already fighting back another wave of fresh exhaustion just hearing about all she plans on doing around down, shoring up magical defenses and making sure nothing’s gone pear-shaped between now and then.]

Do you always do this kind of thing on your own?

[Is she the only magic user in town? Does this often happen, visitors from other worlds causing a ripple effect in her reality? Even though she’s correct about Stephen—his sense of duty runs deep, entrenched in his very spirit—even he cannot imagine performing his responsibilities without help. From Wong, from the other sorcerers of Kamar-Taj. Even an ex-Avenger on occasion.]

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