𝐃𝐑. 𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐏𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄 (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
sorser) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
finalflight2021-12-27 12:06 am
sorser) wrote in finalflight2021-12-27 12:06 am
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.]
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.]
no subject
[ Amelia does appear to be more self-conscious than she lets on initially doesn't she? ]
70s music... What was I doing at the time...?
[ Well. She was studying. But her early studies were isolated, to say the least. ]
Mm. Well, that decade flew by me before I even realized it. Though I wouldn't be surprised if one of the rooms at my house had some old records from that era.
no subject
Once his bank account was drained in the desperate bid to heal his hands, let’s just say repossession swept away most of his belongings of any worth. Anything he couldn’t toss into a rucksack or a backpack at the time are things of the past.
Music collection of yore included.]
Maybe I can swing by and take a look sometime. My collection isn’t what it once was.
[Now Spotify just has to do.]
no subject
[ Before slipping another book into her tote bag, she snaps her fingers after remembering something. ]
Wait. Dreams by Fleetwood Mac from the Rumors album. That's pretty 70s.
no subject
Believe it or not, I don’t usually come with demonic creatures in-tow as a housewarming gift.
Not a bad choice, though. How about… Blue Eyes Crying in the Rain? 1975, Willie Nelson. Less appreciated these days, I think.
no subject
[ She hums lightly under her breath to recall the memory and raises a brow at Stephen. ]
Not a bad one. Rather low-key and gentle if you ask me.