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.

[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... ]