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Post by Countess on Aug 30, 2024 1:39:52 GMT
Theresa finds herself staring at a building that no one else is looking at. Their eyes just move across the façade like an ice melting on the sidewalk. It means nothing, and will eventually be nothing as it is evaporated from their very thoughts. Not hers, however. She noticed it about two weeks past, and immediately began to research. She had wondered why she had never seen it before... but then she remembered why... it was on the sixth, the green line. So passé. She always got off on museum mile, then went right back to her place in the Upper West Side.
But once she came across this... Theresa had to stop. Had to research. There were memories that surfaced, half formed and not understandable. This happens to her a lot in her life, moments of vague ideas she cannot make sense of. She has always likened them to... visions. Things without true form, until she consults the cards. When she did... they were precise. It is a place she needs to be, a place she will be welcomed, a place she can endeavor towards bettering. More than that-
The Magician. The Emperor. The Hanged Man.
Theresa knows they are all one man, they are all one person. Her path has led herself to him, and now she needs to make herself... ingrained. He may not know it, but she is his counterpart- the other half to complete the whole. This does not specifically denote anything romantic, no, but more like he might be a partner for her in her journey as much as she will be for his. Why fight fate? Theresa has found such futility in it, and such joy in embracing what will be.
The High Priestess. The Empress. The Fool.
All her cards, and honest ones. She is embarking on a new journey, nothing but possibility before her. Every step up these stairs brings her closer to her destiny, and she feels it. Deeply. This is important. She is ready to leap off the cliff, go into the unknown, let faith be her wings.
Theresa calmly knocks on the front door. While she is a wellspring of depth, thought, and emotion, to onlookers she is more aptly compared to the sternest of librarians. Her face is stoic, her clothes modest, and her affect pristine. Pure ice. As it should be.
Who is her Magician? Her Emperor? Her Hanged Man? She is ready to play her part, be what she must be for him. She won't... overwhelm him, of course. Not everyone believes in fate.
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Post by Beriadan on Aug 30, 2024 12:06:56 GMT
The ancient door resonated with each knock, as if a much larger space lay within than what it appeared to be. It crackled with the essence of magic, fate and destiny, something built from old, old wood, imbued with mysterious energy that Theresa could feel with each wrap of her knuckles. Slowly, ominously, the door swung backwards, releasing a swirling breeze that smelt of dust and ancient things, but also a cacophony of different scents and sounds from within.
A walking juxtaposition stood there to greet her. A tired looking man wearing an old Columbia university hoodie and a disgruntled, annoyed expression on his face. His hair suggested he either just got out of bed or hadn't slept in a week.
"Wong, I swear if you've lost your keys again- oh."
The man's face contorted into one of puzzlement. He looked Theresa up and down, ending with her eyes. He was obviously confused. Befuddled, even. Then he deliberately closed the door, with a heavy thud. There was a second of silence, then it swung open again.
"Greetings, and welcome to the Sanctum Sanctorum."
The Sorcerer Supreme stood before Theresa, garbed in blue robes that sat well out of the time period, a red cape about his shoulders. Even his hair was less messy, swept back and clean. He bowed at the newcomer, looking up from his folded position with a small smile.
"Doctor Stephen Strange, at your service. I presume you don't have an appointment, but we deal with drop-ins all the time. Tell me, who do I have the honour of addressing?"
Strange rose back to his full height, watching Theresa with a kind eye, but one of scrutiny. He was still confused, obviously, but not unfriendly.
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Post by Countess on Aug 30, 2024 16:00:21 GMT
Theresa has no reaction to Strange opening the door looking like he just rolled out of a sleepless bed. In fact, Strange might immediately describe her as a statue instead of a person. Inwardly, she is absolutely mind blown. The magic of this place, she can feel it as if it were her own. It moves through her like the tides, ebbing and flowing. She is still in its wake when he closes the door, and she doesn't leave. Something in her tells her she shouldn't, she knows what will happen next. It is where she is supposed to be.
"Good morning, Doctor Strange. You are correct in your assertation I do not have an appointment, though I do believe kismet is at play here. If you would prefer to schedule time, I am most amenable," Theresa says, her voice flat and emotionless. "Sanctum Santorum. Latin. Orginally in Hebrew, Holy of Holies. There are dragon ley lines beneath us, in place for far longer than even this city has existed. The Wappinger tribe would come here for their vision quests, a curse was placed here tying Tyanon here, it was a mass grave when settlers arrived-" Theresa starts, then cuts herself off with a shake of her head. It was like something else possessed her.
"Forgive me, could we perhaps speak inside?" Theresa says, still that cold affect from before. "I am Dr. Theresa Brooks, I work at Columbia, though I am here to seek employment in my free time. Paths have led me here, and I believe we can come to an agreement that would be mutually beneficial."
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Post by Beriadan on Aug 30, 2024 17:53:25 GMT
Strange didn't respond for a moment, then signed, motioning Theresa to step inside. It was another odd person to show up on his doorstep, but the Sorcerer Supreme was now used to it. At least this one wasn't cursed, or at least didn't seem cursed.
"Okay... well I'm going to need a big cup of coffee, because that is a lot to register this early in the morning."
He lead her through into a large, grand living room with a roaring fireplace and two deep armchairs. Between them was a gnarled table that looked like it had been carved from a tree thousands of years ago. On it was a dark cup of coffee, which Strange drank from, and something Theresa would realise was her favourite drink. Somehow, Strange had known, or perhaps the Sanctum had. He took a seat, drank deep from the coffee, and watched her with a level gaze.
"It's not often a stranger walks up to the door of my Sanctum with a vast knowledge of this place beyond even my own, Dr. Theresa Brooks. What paths have brought me here, to my door?"
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Post by Countess on Aug 31, 2024 14:04:35 GMT
As Theresa enters, her hand goes out to the door frame to gently caress it. A shudder rolls through her, such a feeling of familiarity and belonging pooling in her most empty of hallways in her mind. She is connected to this place somehow... How, she doesn't know. It just is.
"Understandable. I frequently receive the feedback that I am overwhelming in my delivery," Theresa says in her posh accent, absolutely deadpan, her own dry sense of humor almost imperceptible. One of her friends had once told her that her sense of humor was like a cryptid- can never really tell if it is there are not, and when people insist it is, they just look a touch crazy. In truth, Theresa is anything but overwhelming, from her reserved demeanor to her modest dress to her small stature.
"I do not believe I am a stranger, or at least, I will not be one for long," Theresa says, taking a seat and crossing her ankles. She looks like she is posing for a portrait- the old ones, where it took hours to paint a likeness. She seems unperturbed but the lovely little tea cup presented to her by the Sanctum, instead taking the saucer and cup with both hands. She nods her head in thanks, then takes a sip. The smell hits her first- malt, honey, a touch of leather... yes, this is a proper English Breakfast tea. Theresa relaxes just a touch- there is even the proper amount of flower-honey to sweeten it. It tastes like childhood. The good parts, at least.
"I am meant to be here, I am afraid," Theresa says, then reaches into her leather tote to pull out a very finely made folder. The cardstock on it is thick and smooth to the touch. She hands it to him, and upon any scrutiny, he would see it is a rather professional resume.
"I would like to apply for employment, any opening will do. You will find my qualifications, both mundane and magical, are exemplary. While I work at Columbia, I have taken a lower than usual class load, focusing more on undergraduate rather than graduate to give myself more time to dedicate here. My areas of expertise are history and divination. I am also fluent in every language, real or fictional, ancient or modern, earthly or cosmic," Theresa says, getting immediately into the more interview side of this meeting. She doesn't waste time.
"You will find I know when historical events are happening, and I am drawn to those places. I know things others shouldn't, especially secrets. If you like proof of this, you may ask me anything you like, and I will answer honestly to the best of my ability. However, I warn you, that you are careful in what you ask. Not everyone likes what I have to say."
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Post by Beriadan on Sept 1, 2024 11:41:11 GMT
Strange watched with a purplexed gaze, slowly growing with intrigue with every passing sentence. Divination and future sight were rare talents. Dangerous in the wrong hands, but in the right ones... he took a deep drink of coffee staying quiet as Theresa spoke on, opening the folder and giving it all the care and attention it deserved. Which was a lot.
"Impressive. Truly, impressive. Unfortunately, we don't exactly "employ" people here. There's no business or wages, and the best I can offer is board and lodgings. Though, there's plenty more that the Sanctum can offer than mere money."
Strange smiled as he gently slid the resume back into the folder and placed it on the table before them. Theresa would see his hands quiver like he had been out in the cold all morning. Strange paused, pondering for a moment.
"Alright. Your resume said you were an adept tarot card reader. Would you do a reading for me? Secrets of the past are easy to find out, after all. The future is a closed book to my eyes."
He smiled with warmth as he waved the coffee cup out of existence, leaving the table empty.
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Post by Countess on Sept 1, 2024 13:52:22 GMT
"My lease is up soon, so this is is agreeable to me," Theresa says, thinking only very shortly on it. Rent in New York, even for a professor at Columbia with their housing, is steep. Change is good, too. The only issue now is the commute. She will make it work, surely. Theresa is far more interested in being in this place, regardless. It is worth far more than mere money.
"Is money an issue?" Theresa asks plainly. "I can focus efforts in making sure there is a communal nest egg, should other residents be in need," she offers, taking a demure sip of her tea. "While we are creatures of another ilk, we do still inhabit the same world and place as the mundane, and must move through it on their terms from time to time," she says.
Theresa gets a momentary far off look, eyes on his hands, but otherwise makes no reaction. There was something there, something just beyond her reach. Vague impressions hit her, nothing so clear as before with the Sanctum's history. Mostly a feeling of unfairness, rage, ego, and determination. Death. Five of Cups. Eight of Swords.
"Yes, they are my focus. They help me understand the impressions and visions I get, as well as act as a medium for my spellcasting. What results is seemingly chaotic," Theresa answers him, setting her tea down once more to reach into her bag and pull out a set of cards. He would be able to feel the magic in them, tied intricately to her. They are how she channels everything she does. They are well worn, well loved.
"One usually poses a question," Theresa supplies him.
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Post by Beriadan on Sept 1, 2024 14:10:24 GMT
Strange couldn't help but smile at her line of thinking. Money was beyond the needs of their organisation, but Theresa wanted to genuinely help them as if they were impoverished.
"The Sanctum Sanctorum gifts us everything we know we need, and anything we need to know. While it is... admirable of you to do so, we are given everything necessary for survival."
As if to show off, Strange waved another hand. Two warm pastries appeared on a plate, balanced on a table that also appeared from nowhere. He nodded towards them.
"But you are very gracious to offer. While we don't work for money, or physical objects, there are times that it is nice to visit a real coffee shop without having to barter trinkets from other worlds."
Strange pondered a question. What would he want to know? It was a hard thing to decide. Some things he wished to know, but knew he shouldn't. Other things he didn't want knowledge of, but had to find out. He tugged on his goatee, frowning, until he raised his gaze to look deep onto Theresa's eyes. Strange knew it was an important question, even if it was just to test this woman's powers. There had been something on his mind ever since Enchantress, since Doctor Fate and the Justice League had made their stance known. Strange took a deep breath.
"What is the future of my apprentice, Sun Nao?"
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Post by Countess on Sept 1, 2024 14:31:19 GMT
Theresa nods at the display of care the Sanctum has, a ghost of a smile almost gracing her lips. She likes this place. Even now, she feels more at home than she has ever in any other place. The magic, the awareness, of the Sanctum settles on her like a warm blanket, or perhaps a hug from an old friend.
She would do anything for this place, and by extension, anything for the Sanctum's caretaker. Loyalty for Theresa, once given, is rarely withdrawn.
"You misunderstand- I am by no means wealthy, using magic for ones own gain, especially divination, tends to bite the abuser in the rear, if you catch my meaning. Seven fold. No, I would merely play the lottery, and use the winnings for the upkeep of this place and its inhabitants. No gain for me, thus my integrity is spotless," she says, but is willing to drop it if he pushes back once more. While the Sanctum provides... it doesn't pay legal fees should there be a need, it doesn't cover a tab after a night on the town, and it certainly doesn't pay for schooling should any of the other residents seek a college education.
As Strange looks into her eyes, deeply, she returns it. This place has made her feel... safe, in a way. Not in a physical sense, but something akin to cared for. It is a feeling she rarely receives. While her features and tone are emotionless and cold, her eyes... tell a different story. They are a window to the soul, and Theresa's soul is yearning. She wants this. She wants to belong here. She wants to belong anywhere.
"Sun Nao?" she asks, already cards appear in her mind. The Fool. Three of Swords. The Emperor. Omens. "Alright. Can you shuffle the deck to your satisfaction? Then, cut it with your nondominant hand. Simply lift the deck, and let it fall into three piles naturally as you let it go. Concentrate on the question."
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Post by Beriadan on Sept 1, 2024 16:21:22 GMT
Strange cocked his head. Her attitude was impeccable. This stranger already had the Sanctum treating her like an old friend, and he could feel the strands of love from her weaving into the very fabric of this place. Who she was confronted him with a mystery, but by no means a conundrum. This was a place that attracted lost souls and wandering minds, of course.
"I won't say no, not at all. And don't take my tone to be dismissive, not at all. You've already found a home here, I can tell. There are others who live in the Sanctum who find a home here. We are one big happy family... and anything you bring in will be greatly appreciated."
Strange paused as she drew the cards. He picked up the deck in shaking hands, and shuffled them with a bit of difficulty. Strange had found manual tasks difficult since the crash that claimed his digits, but deep down he felt that he shouldn't use magic here. Not for this. So he shuffled, hands quivering with the effort, before placing them on the table and cutting it without overthrowing it. Three piles now lay before him. Strange linked his fingers together as he leaned forward, frowning. Curious. What would the future tell him about his young apprentice?
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Post by Countess on Sept 1, 2024 16:44:51 GMT
Family. The mere mention of the word has her heart ache. The things she would do to have a family, a true one, not one that ignored her existence. The first real emotion she's shown, it is a slight curve of an eyebrow, inwards and down. Grief. It doesn't last long, her features statuesque once more. Best not to linger. There is hope, now. A blessed thing she will nurture, much like how she will nurture this home.
It means more than he knows, his words and his use of his hands. Theresa marries the piles of cards, then spreads them into an arc. She loves the way they feel under her fingertips, fanning out beautifully. Time suspends for a moment, holding her there, and she relishes it. This is important. Theresa loves this feeling, too, like the whole universe stopped for a moment to peer at her. To pay attention.
"Pick five cards. Go to the ones that call out to you. Think deeply on your question. Think of the bond you share. Think of your hopes for him. Think of your fears," Theresa says, and her emotionless tone is now... meditative, drawing Stephen Strange into this shared space of Importance. It is a magic in and of itself, pulling him to be a part of this spell.
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Post by Beriadan on Sept 1, 2024 17:19:03 GMT
Strange took a deep breath, calming his beating heart, grounding himself to the here and now. Slowly he reached forward, and over the course of one and a half minutes flipped over five cards. Random choices, but he spent enough time hovering over each one with unsteady hands until he found what felt... right. He thought deep about his apprentice. What Strange wanted for the boy was more than he would probably ever know. A life of his own, power to keep his loved ones safe. The ability to forge ahead without figures of his past lingering overhead. Above all, he wanted Sun Nao to have the choice in all of this. A long, happy life without regret, and without someone else's hands pulling on the strings.
Then the fears. A life taken from his own hands, one way or another. Strange losing his apprentice to darker forces, like his teacher before him, Baron Mordo. Loss, death, strife. Sun Nao spending the rest of his days running, fighting, or hiding. Strange powerless to help.
When the last one was turned, he stared down at the face-up cards. Strange was still frowning, uncertain. "What do they say?" |
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Post by Countess on Sept 1, 2024 17:40:09 GMT
Each card he turns over is beautiful, hand painted with black and gold leaf. Strange will come to learn these cards never look the same. For now... They are simplistic, modern, and lovely.
The first he flips is the Ace of Cups, a single black chalice with lines of gold marking the contents as glowing. It isn't the cup that is important- it is what it contains. Theresa smiles, soft and genuine. A good card. She hadn't drawn it for him before, but here, in this context... it fits.
The next card has nine cups, all arranged in a circle. Once more, gold lines mark their contents as glowing. Her smile is gone, but not for a bad reason. This is the sin of many Masters. She will help him see reason.
Third, there is a little lamb laying unperturbed as four all black swords hang above it menacingly, as if about to fall. Troubling. There is a sun on this lamb's forehead, brilliant and bright in gold.
The penultimate card depicts a woman on a throne, her crown and the cup she bears in her hands painted in that gold leaf. She is queenly, beautiful, and powerful. Theresa knows who she is- she feels it on the tip of her tongue like a secret.
The last... is reversed, a young male deer with antlers just starting to branch hangs his head. A golden crescent of a moon hangs above him, as darkness swirls.
"You love him," Theresa starts, pointing at the first card. "This is a card of love- understand, you are the vessel. You receive love, you give love, you ARE love. Your heart overflows. It is... beautiful," she starts, voice low. "You have so many wishes and wants for him, paths you hope he takes, paths you pray he avoids," she continues, motioning to the second card. "This is your challenge. Let him be. You are doing so right by him, but part of it is letting him choose his own path, even if you see pain along it. He has so much possibility- you will lead him to success, just do so gently. Mistakes make us learn," she says.
"This is him. Your Sun Nao," Theresa says, pointing to the lamb. "Danger is coming, but it is not yet here for him. He has no fear- because he has no reason to yet. Implore him to meditate, to be introspective. Something is coming, and if you pressure him, he will be like a lamb to the slaughter," she says, shaking a little, as if she sees it happening. "His challenge... is his mother. That danger will be coming for her, too. I do not know... there is something blocking her. A secret? One she knows, but does not accept." Theresa shakes her head, then looks to the final card.
"This is your obstacle, together. A great undertaking is before you both, and you must work through it together. The Knight of Pentacles urges us to set a routine, be diligent, keep on the course you are on. Let go of stubbornness, ease into persistence."
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Post by Beriadan on Sept 1, 2024 17:53:15 GMT
Strange listened to her words without looking up. His eyes took in every detail, every part of the cards that lay before him. Powerful, incredibly and dangerously so. Yet wielded by someone who can read them like a song, carving meaning from them like a sea bird across the ocean's surface. Carefully, delicately, naturally, taking what she needs and not disturbing too much in case whatever lay in the depths awoke.
He leaned back as she finished, looking up at Theresa with a curious gaze. He smiled, soft and sad, leaning back in his chair.
"Incredible."
He exhaled, tugging on his goatee as he thought, and thought. Strange's wants and fears rang true to what he thought. Sun Nao needed a guiding force, not a leading leash. Yet danger was still baring it's teeth. His father, most likely, or enemied of the King who craved revenge. Strange heard Diana's words once again. She had feared for his mother, too.
"You have a place here, but your power could help us more. In Dark Watch, which was set up to prevent and tackle future magical calamities in the wake of Enchantress. With your reading skills, we could stop a lot more than we have the capabilities to do."
Strange put his hands together, index fingers raised, as he watched Theresa across the table. Smiling, eyes glinting. It was if the reading had lifted a weight from his mind, or perhaps solidified thoughts that had been swirling around as a maelstrom in h.s mind
"I'm glad you were fated to find my door this morning, Theresa. Would you like a tour of your new home?"
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Post by Countess on Sept 1, 2024 18:14:47 GMT
Theresa nods. "They help me interpret what I already know," she explains. "The knowledge is there. They are merely a tool," she murmurs, eyes going a bit distant again. Something is scratching at the door of her mind, but she can't seem to let it in. Another time.
"I would be proud to serve in any capacity asked of me," Theresa says, getting back to him, getting back to the present. That air of attention is slowly fading away, importance ebbing like the tide. She wonders if he felt it, too. She wonders if he likes that feeling, too. "I am... utilitarian, I suppose. I have a lot of power, but spells, they... Their rigidity make it difficult for me to cast without my cards. Chaos is where I flourish," she says, the most prim, proper woman that the Sanctum has graced.
"Please, a tour would be lovely. A chance to stretch the legs," Theresa says, but doesn't mention she already knows the Sanctum. Something about it- maybe it had let her known, maybe it was her power. She could tell him how many windows there were at any given point- it is want to fluctuate- but she doubts that would do much to help in this morning.
"May I ask about your hands?" Theresa bluntly asks. "I had an impression- if it is something you would rather I not explore, I understand. Everyone is entitled to secrets. I avoid those when I can, or have the forewarning."
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