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]

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. ]