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]

Hm. That's right, I didn't give you the exact date and year this was.

[ And any implications about her age has been in passing.

Seeing as how her guest might be staying for at least another hour or two, he should probably eat something. She stands up ready to make her way back to the kitchen, but she does answer back. ]

I'm in my late 60s.

[sorser]

[He watches as she departs, brow quirking—Really?—but since he has little choice but to follow if he wants to continue this conversation, Stephen sighs and pushes himself up to his feet. The bottle’s safe in the guest room for now, and he won’t forget it when he does leave after his promised clean-up.

Her age would be more surprising if he hadn’t once been mentored by the Ancient One, who was centuries-old herself.]

So your level of power is unusual for a witch your age? How long have you been practicing?

[She must be clever, or at least a fast learner — much like himself, though there was little to no pushback when he was granted the title of Sorcerer Supreme before the blip. Even Mordo, who had left disgusted with the state of sorcerers and their “disregard” for the natural order of things, had not uttered a word of discontent when the Ancient One named him Master.

What does that easy acceptance say about them? About himself? Wong had stated that he was born for the arts, but it isn’t until exchanges like his that he wonders just how tethered to the fate he really was.]

To think that makes you my elder.

[recluserose]

I started my studies as a child after I met the Witch King. I'm not a natural with magic despite what you just saw.

[ When they enter the living room and she heads straight for the kitchen, the wind chimes are initially silent. With Stephen following behind her, a glass wind chime jingles at him with a melody that signaled curiosity. Amelia shushed it with a single glance before opening the fridge. ]

Well, if I'm your elder, that means you're actually your age. Interesting... Anyway.

[ A glass of iced sparkling water and a tray of cut up sandwiches, crackers, deli meats, and small vegetables magically assemble themselves onto the kitchen counter. She directs Stephen to it by pointing. ]

Eat. I don't know if traversing between different worlds or just conversing should be done on an empty stomach.

[sorser]

Wrong, actually. I should be five years older, but...

[The correction isn’t that committed, trailing off, his interest temporarily sidelined to the tinkling glass windchime, giving it a quizzical look. When Amelia hushes it, he watches as she wanders into the kitchen, and follows only long enough to stand at the entrance with his arms crossed.]

I’ve already humored you by sleeping in your bed. [hm.] A bed in your house. Now you’re going to feed me?

I appreciate the effort, but this isn’t a social visit.

[recluserose]

No it isn't, but the fact of the matter is, you haven't eaten yet.

[ Though the tray does move closer to him, Amelia doesn't push any further on that front. ]

If you are planning to leave soon, then as I've said before I should contact you to let you know if my world is clear or not of any of the demon's influence. Though I can't say I've played multi-dimensional telephone...

[ She glances at the wind chime that reacted to the sorcerer. Though there is no force of wind or breeze, its moving back and forth on it's own volition. ]

Well. That one might be worth a try.

[sorser]

I’ll eat after I return to the Sanctum.

[Stephen’s stubbornness flares. She’s helped enough, and a small part of him refuses to feel indebted even further with simple conscientiousness — even if that means declining a plate of warm food for someone who hasn’t eaten close to a whole day.

Eyes flick back to the wind chimes.]

Whatever you decide on as communication, I should make something clear: you're going to do more than just report back.

[This is non-negotiable.]

You’re going to let me return and help. This has become part my responsibility, too, and I prefer two sets of eyes on any problems that could crop up.

[recluserose]

[ She senses her own stubborn arrogance about to flare up. His next steps are logical and sound, but the tone of it is presumptuous, as if this was a war table and not just her abode.

That and she's rarely liked anyone telling her what to do, especially while they're on her turf.

So while she doesn't immediately reply (sorry Stephen, she'll take her time drinking this tall glass of water), from the ceiling the wind chime suddenky lurches and flies in an arch, and lands on Stephen' head. ]

[sorser]

[Glass chimes, something arches in the corner of his eye, and Stephen is unceremoniously bonked on the head with a windchime-projectile.]

Ow— hey!

[Instinct is all that forces him to reach out and grasp at the item before it clatters to the ground. He steadies it with a tinge of magic, not caring if it clashes with her own, forcing it to float mid-air.]

If that’s supposed to be a ‘no’, I’m not taking it for an answer. Don’t you want the help?

[Presumptuous tone… still present. But he’s trying to take responsibility for his own actions; problem is, old habits die hard. Arrogance has still left its shards in his soul, even if it’s no longer the monolith it once was.]

[recluserose]

[ There's a pause in her drinking and she points to the wind chime. ]

Bring that back with you. It has about five strands of hair in the cord so that's... Fifteen months' worth of magical energy, give or take. It should be able to make the trip across unscathed.

[ Amelia is pointedly being indirect about answering his question about wanting his help. ]

I think it should suffice as our telephone across realities. Though I'm sure, if it doesn't work you'll be so helpful in letting me know.

So if you're going to make another crater in my living room, warn me ahead of time.

[sorser]

Fifteen months? So this is going to be a particularly long-suffering partnership.

[He can’t help himself, but Stephen possesses enough awareness to tone the sarcasm down as soon as the words leave his lips. It’s an acceptance of his aid, which is all he needed, though the logistics of how this will work between them will have to just, “wait and see”.]

I’m going to trust the scheduling to you. So you call on me, and I’ll refrain from any surprise visits in the future. [A strained smile, but hey, it’s a place to start. For now, though, Stephe lifts up his free hand, and his magic spreads in a wave of amber, coating every piece of out-of-place furniture and righting it. Best to get the clean-up started.]

Don’t interrupt this spell, and your house will clean itself for you. Have you ever seen Fantasia? It’s something like that.

[Which means Stephen is wrapping things up, ready to go. He’s already casting a portal with a circular movement of that same hand, just big enough to stick an arm through — no doubt to grab the bottle in the guest room.]

[recluserose]

[ She's helping herself to a triangle of a sandwich as he casts the cleaning spell. Fine with her, she can get straight to work tomorrow instead of worrying about the mess. ]

Well. Thank you.

[ And she can get that out of the way too. ]

... There's one more thing I would like to request though. It doesn't have to be right now, but just another thing to keep in mind.

[sorser]

And what’s that?

[He asks after retrieving the bottle, nightmare creature still tucked safely away inside. The portal closes moments after, leaving sparks which dissipate the moment they hit the carpet.]

[recluserose]

Mm. If there are any interesting books you have on your side, I'd like to borrow them.

[ The learning never stops, even when one is on the upper end of the supernatural hierarchy. ]

I may or may not have the same titles from my own collection, but I'm curious about the constants and variables as it were. If you have an objection, I'll just let it go.

[sorser]

[He’s quiet for a moment, surprised by the request but also — not really. They’ve already made her penchant for books clear, though the task of Stephen having to pick and choose based on what limited knowledge he possesses of her magic is a lopsided one.

He thinks of the size of the Sanctum’s library. The even more vast space Kamar-Taj’s encompasses. Hauling recommended reading back isn’t hard, but Stephen never really played the part of librarian. (That, too, was Wong — current Sorcerer Supreme and probably, definitely very impatient by now.)]

Counter-proposal. What are your thoughts on visiting another universe? The multiversal veil is thin enough here for it to go both ways, right? Easier for you to pick out what you think is interesting than for me to presume.

[recluserose]

That's... A tempting offer.

[ Amelia scratches her head, perpetual frown still etched across her features. Would there be timezone differences across universes? Is that how it works? It never bothered the Witch King, but hardly anything bothered that man.

While chewing on her sandwich, she points in front of her and the green magic runes emerge creating a calendar in front of her; the weeks seem packed with events though it's written in arcane, near eldritch-style language, as if she's the type of note-taker who likes writing in code... Amelia you nerd. ]

I'll have to make a gap in case we need room for error, but I guess I could spare a visit. No one where you're from should even bat an eye at my presence, right?

[sorser]

[Come on, Amelia, even Stephen just writes in his slightly shaky, doctor’s chicken scratch. But even so, the stuffed calendar, littered with runes, belies what must be a very busy lifestyle.

Is it all from teaching? He wouldn’t know, since he can’t read it.]

Shouldn’t, no. Wong might ask what you’re doing there and keep track of the books wandering out of the Sanctum, but he’s not as stern as he looks.

[U…sually.]

Let me know before you visit. My schedule’s not usually wide open, either, but even if I’m not playing host, there are others who can.

[recluserose]

[ Miss Steinbeck, is, what kids these days would call, "Extra." She smiles slightly when he mentions the stern Wong and nods in understanding. ]

The last week of January or February has more wiggle room. You'll hear the chime jingle when I call then.

[ She's not entirely sure if it'll work, but that particular one had developed its own little character in being immediately attached to Stephen. It may work as their strongest connection for the time being. ]

[sorser]

Right. The all-purpose wind chime.

[Guess he’s added a new “relic” to his repertoire, whether he meant to or not.]

Then if that’s settled, I’ll be on my way. Hopefully the end of January or February is the only time when you’d need to call.

[Another gesture, his trademark summoning of a portal — this time, it’s Stephen-sized.]

And thanks — for the help with the demon.

[recluserose]

[ Note to self: learn how to make portals instead of just teleporting.

Amelia waves to him casually while taking another sip of water. Just another Tuesday for the witch and her multiverse visitors. ]

Have a safe trip and you're welcome. Don't trip on a pebble in the infinite cosmos in between.

[ So warm. So welcoming. ]