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Post by Beriadan on Sept 1, 2024 19:35:16 GMT
Strange rose to his feet, waving away the empty cups and tables as he did so. Either it was magic, or the Sanctum really did react to Stephen's wishes. Still, he seemed unaware of her knowledge. He wasn't blessed with that kind of power. Strange's relationship with the Sanctum was one that was more give and take. It allowed him to see what he needed to see, but not always what he wanted.
"Well, the pleasure's all mine."
Strange paused when she asked about his hands. He motioned for her to follow, and the two of them began to walk together down long, winding corridors. Everything was old, quiet and dormant, yet brimming with magic, life, energy.
Strange was quiet for a while. Then he turned his head towards her.
"Before all of this, I was a surgeon. One of the best, if not in America then perhaps the world. It sounds like a boast, but it's true. These hands were highly sought after. They were my tools, and made me who I was. I wanted for nothing."
Strange gave a little sigh as they moved through a room where hanging plants covered the walls, vines falling from the ceiling. Hummingbirds flitted around them as he led Theresa to a door on the other side.
"Then, I guess, my hubris caught up to me. It was a car accident, which crushed both of my hands. Only one person could have saved them, but he and I were the same. The nerve damage meant I had permanent tremors, and I would never hold a scalpel again, let along perform delicate surgery."
Strange paused, as they came to a bend in the hallway. Instead of left or right, it went directly upwards. He turned to her, offering a hand.
"May I? We'll be going directly up, and unfortunately there's no elevator in here."
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Post by Countess on Sept 1, 2024 20:12:28 GMT
Pleasure. At least he is polite- she's going to prove his statement true, carve her own place in this family he has offered before her. Belonging... It is so tempting to her.
Theresa listens quietly as he spins his yarn, and for a time, it is like she is there, calmly watching as all of this unfolds. He is still there with her, explaining this, but ghosts of his past rush past them. This has happened to her many times when people tell her things like this, words acting as a narration. Sometimes, the events happen differently than people tell her, and she has long since learned her visions will trump whatever it is she is told. It has made for many an awkward debate with other historians.
"Death," Theresa murmurs, "Five of Cups. Eight of Swords. The Magician. The Emperor. The Hanged Man." It all comes out of her in a rush, a whisper, as she leaves her little reverie. "I knew about you. I've drawn your cards so many times. Thank you for sharing with me. You helped me... make sense of something very old, very confusing," she says, bowing her head slightly. "My visions can be... very befuddling, until they aren't supposed to anymore."
Theresa lets it all melt away. Another patch in her threadbare tapestry of her life, added.
"...." Theresa regards him for a moment, quiet and that longing from before hitting her hard. She hasn't been touched in a very long time. Sometimes, she thinks she's a ghost, existing half in this world, unable to be seen, but cursed to see everything else. A lonely existence. "Yes please," she says, careful and measured. Gingerly, not because she is afraid of hurting him but because she is so terrified her hand will pass right through him, she takes his hand.
He's so... warm. Were people always like that? Warm?
"Thank you," she says, looking up. Thank you for validating me. Thank you for welcoming me. Thank you for allowing me to be somewhere.
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Post by Beriadan on Sept 4, 2024 9:14:47 GMT
Strange turned to look at Theresa. Had he truly occupied this woman's mind for so long? He gave her an odd little smile. How tormented she must have been, to view his whole life from past to present and never be able to piece things together.
There weren't many that Strange felt truly understood him. Even in the world of the wonderful and unexplainable, he often felt isolated and alone. So to have someone who had known of him for so long...
Strange took her hand, and through it magic danced and leapt. His eyes met hers, and he gave her the smallest of nods.
"You're... welcome."
Strange smiled, then looked upwards into the corridor above them.
"You said you flourished in chaos. That's where my talents truly lie. Are you ready? Just remember... trust me."
The ground beneath them dropped away. The carpets rippled out, like shards of glass perfectly shattered into ten billion pieces. Wind rushed upwards to meet them, but Strange didn't look perturbed, even as his cape bellowed around him. He looked at Theresa with a grin, then down. Below them, it seemed like a carpet of dark stars was rolling out. It wasn't the ground. They were heading up, towards the void of space.
"The Sanctum isn't confined just to the walls of an old building. It is what grounds the magic which protects Earth and this universe... but this is what's truly important."
Below them, the planet revolved. Blue and green, dancing with life and light. Now upright, Strange motioned across it with a laugh.
"Have you ever seen it from up here? I figured I could show you much more than dust and cobwebs. Far more. Beyond the confines of gravity, of reality... being adjacent to the Sorcerer Supreme means that this will become a well known sight to you."
Strange turned back to Theresa, still holding her hand, eyes alive and dancing with energy.
"Want to see more?"
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Post by Countess on Sept 4, 2024 22:17:31 GMT
Theresa hasn't been able to tear her gaze away from him, something immutable and imperative about this moment between them. It is like it had always been there, guiding her through troubled waters. Threads pulling her, binding together to form a sail and catch the twisting winds of fate and propel her closer. Some broke in the process, bridges and islands burned all together to get her where she is.
Here. Now.
Theresa's eyes trace the line of his jaw as he looks up. She's seen that before, somewhere else, that curve. "I trust you," Theresa reassures him. He is a lighthouse, the Star, she realizes as the ground beneath her shatters utterly. Within her, waves crash against the hull of her heart. A storm, surging and building, making it hard for her to breathe. Her other hand goes to his arm, pulling herself close to him. It isn't out out of fear, but something desperate and hungry now. She is on the precipice of something large and looming, but she has no fear. Not now. Not with him.
Theresa looks away, and what little breath she has is caught in her throat. Wind rushes around her, exhilarating, and she... laughs. Singular, with no siblings to keep it company. A surprise, to even her. She looks back to her Star, her Magician, her Emperor, and he is unfettered. So, too, shall she be. Their eyes meet in this place, far away from everything, and she thinks she is supposed to see this. She had to see it. Theresa looks back to the Earth, not sure how to thank him now for this gift among gifts. This place is her home, and she feels it deep in her bones and her heart in the most painful of ways.
"Never. It is... beautiful," Theresa whispers, as if she is afraid her voice might shatter this. A tear slips from her eye. She can see it all. It may not all make sense, but she can see it. Every grain of sand, every heart broken, every life lost, every sickness, every fear, every dark thought... Past, present, future... It is terrible, the capacity of life to destroy, to kill, to commit evil.
But she also sees all the hope in spite of it.
"May I show you something, Doctor Strange?" she asks, and it is already there in her hand- a card. The Emperor. He gave her sight- she can return the favor. Just this once. Just a fraction. Just the goodness. No one needs to see everything she does...
"Let me show you what I see."
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Post by Beriadan on Sept 6, 2024 20:39:47 GMT
Strange smiled as she stood fearless, pressed into him. He felt a whirlwind of emotions within him. Fear certainly wasn't one of them. He had just met this woman, and yet... she was a solid rock in a turbulent stream of chaos. An unmovable thing, something grounding.
The card flashed into his vision. He looked at it with a frown, taking in the intricate design. In truth, Strange feared the future, but she wielded it with such efficiency... but even so, seeing how she viewed the world made his heart beat faster. Even so...
He waved a hand, and the Earth seemed to dive away. There was a windless rushing, a kalaedoscopic ripple of reflections. Stars, purple darkness. Then an immense wall of grey approached them. The moon in all her lunar expanse rose to meet the two.
They came to a sudden stop, feet pressed firmly on the monotone surface. Strange turned to face her, and gave a firm nod.
"Please. Show me what you see. I... I want to know."
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Post by Countess on Sept 6, 2024 21:09:40 GMT
The further they get from Earth, from her home, the harder it is for her to breathe. An odd sensation, but not unpleasant like it would be for others. When she was a child, she could hold her breath longer than anyone else, and made a game of it. No one likes someone who always wins, particularly children with something to prove. They would always gasp, heaving, but Theresa would simply... start again, soothed by the rhythm of it. This however... feels different. A tightness, a burning. She needs to return home. She needs to go back. That rock is hers, and leaving it- even only to go to the moon- has her aching.
Theresa isn't meant to be this far away. But she doesn't know why...
"You're acting like you're walking to the gallows," Theresa says, forcing air into her lungs so she can speak. It is... hard. A pressure on her chest permeates- her burns singe at her clothes. Strange might be able to smell smoke, might even feel how he is almost dragging her along with him. Something is fighting against this, and it doesn't seem to be her. Her face is impassive, but the pain is getting worse. Her scars have never been this bad before...
At least she is used to the pain.
"It is okay- really. It is beautiful, and it is mine... and yours, now, too," Theresa says, trying to soothe some worry that she sees on the line of his brow. She holds up the card, and it... falls away into dust in her hand. With a trembling breath, she blows it into Strange's face.
At first, it is low and distant, as distant as they are from the Earth herself. Small little joys. Then, it gets louder, bigger, stealing all of his senses.
An apprentice chef has created a meal for their teacher, and the sweat under their apron. They hope they have done well, they hope they are worthy, they hope to do this until they can't anymore. Someone would have to tear this dream from them, and they have worked from the bottom to get to this point. The first bite is taken- Strange can taste its heavenly notes- and they know... they did it. It is everything for them not to cry. Everything not to break down from the weight of the pressure, but they hold strong.
A couple embracing, they have conceived after years of trying. He can feel their tears as they sob into each other, ready and fearful all in one. He can feel life blossoming within her, strong and persistent. All the dreams they ever had for this little life wash through him one after another, a cacophony of so many paths, so many hopes, so many prayers.
Someone else- a hand being held in a hospital bed. It is sweet, it is kind, it is sad, all this hope a daughter pours into her mother, knowing she will pull through. Cancer is hard, but she beat it before. Her mother is the strongest person she knows, and she made her daughter strong, too. Resilience, a wall keeping the sadness a mere trickle like a dam.
A group of refugees hiding as a building shakes all around them. The bombs won't stop dropping- and they won't stop telling their stories from childhood. More than once they have to cover their mouths, not from screaming, but laughter in this place of hope in spite of everything around them. They want to have that happiness again, more than anything else, they want their children to forget this and have stories of their own to get them through the harshness of life. They will live, they will love, they will smile for so many more days and nights.
A young man reaches out to his friend, Stephen can feel the electricity as their hands connect. In the quiet, he tells him how much he loves him, hoping that he will love him back. Strange already knows- his friend does, and he has been hoping for so long they could have this moment. He can feel their hearts skip beats, tuning into one another, finding their rhythm together.
"So much hope, Doctor Strange," Theresa breathes, taking tentative steps. She needs to go back. They need her to go back. Her burns are starting to grow. Should she have warned him? She didn't know. "It is why we do what we do, I think."
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Post by Beriadan on Sept 6, 2024 21:26:57 GMT
Strange could only gasp as everything - everyone - swept across him. The emotions, the experiences, all pouring into him like a sudden opening in the Earth beneath the ocean. He gripped at his chest, unaccustomed to it all. The hope that they all felt, born from pain, from worry, anxiety and fear. He shut his eyes, and still it raged within him. So many people. So much that he now knew.
It drew up within him all his fears. Strange wielded a burden, and he knew and accepted that. Somehow, however, knowing all this, all the minds that struggled on into the future, dragging with them memories of the past and dreams of the present... he gritted his teeth, raised a hand-
"Enough!"
The moon, stars and sky shattered. Mirror shards fell around them, disappating into magical dust as it revealed them to be standing in a wide, circular room. Strange turned away, shoulders slumped, and Theresa could hear his ragged breath.
"I'm... I'm sorry. I didn't realise that it would have an affect on you, to leave Earth. Even in the mirror dimension... are you hurt?"
He said it all without looking at her, leaning against the wall. Strange's torso rose and fell, deep breathing, slowing, centring.
"You truly feel all of that? All those people... you see everything that you showed me? Theresa... I'm sorry about my reaction."
Strange turned slightly, looking back at her. Sweat seemed to bead on his brow, his eyes unfocused slightly.
"It is an amazing gift... but I cannot hold that knowledge. It is enough for me to know the lengths and breadth of the multiverse, but somehow... that sight, of people, of..."
He turned fully, straightening up, taking another deep breath.
"Are you okay? Your body's reaction... can you not leave this world?"
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Post by Countess on Sept 6, 2024 22:39:20 GMT
As everything shatters around her, Theresa only finds herself... disappointed. In him, somewhat, but mostly herself. She had thought- she had hoped- that she had found someone who understood. All her life, she has been reaching out to others, only to have them shy away. When he took her hand... Life has taught her, though, that no one ever understands. Her burden is her own. Yet, again and again, she hopes for something more. It keeps her going, surely, but it also sets her up for crushing emptiness... like now.
"Forgive me. I won't do that again," Theresa says, and what little emotion she had been showing before is washed away. She is once more that statue of a woman, cold and distant. Not even a flinch as he raises his voice, not an ounce of fear at the world falling apart around them. The only thing she cannot hide is that longing in her eyes, tinged now with grief.
How to tell him of her curse? She isn't sure what it is, not fully, but she has bore it since birth. "I am always in pain," Theresa answers honestly. "What is a little more? It was worth it, to have that moment," she asks, even as her clothing seems to continue to smoke slightly. It is almost like steam- but no, there is an unmistakable smell of burning that marks it for what it is.
"I feel everything, Doctor Strange," Theresa continues, and when he looks at her, she is standing... perfectly. Feet together, hands behind her back, head held high. Like a child, seen and seldom heard. In her heart, she feels a twist... this is twice now he has called her Theresa. Not Doctor, nor Doctor Brooks, not even Ms. Brooks... She doesn't have the heart to correct him, despite the familiarity it conveys. Maybe that's why she doesn't correct him at all. "As I said before, it doesn't always make sense. In that moment, it did. A little more, at least," she continues, still trying to connect with him on one thing: that he gave her a gift. She will have to find another way to repay him.
"Do not apologize to me about how you feel," Theresa says, perhaps a little firmly. She is so dismayed- it is her fault. "The burden for this is mine and mine alone," she says, more gently. Theresa has always felt a little responsible for the evil in the world- seeing it, knowing it, doing nothing. This was simply more direct. Guilt gnaws at her in her throat, the weight of it settling on her shoulders like a well loved sweater. It is where it belongs.
"I do not know. Leaving the Earth is not something I have tried before. It was rather queer, I will allow that. This place, for all its faults, is mine," Theresa says, unable to make sense of it. "I would be willing to test the limits of such a handicap. If you wish to readdress my possible boarding here because of it, I understand.
"... are you okay?" Theresa asks, toeing that line she worked so hard to draw for herself. Hope is a funny thing.
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Post by Beriadan on Sept 7, 2024 17:01:13 GMT
Strange saw her demeanour change, and knew that the flicker of kinship that had been there, which rose up in a powerful and intense event, like wildfire through the brush, had died. Or, at the very least, been subdued by both parties. He had felt such a strong feeling that she could understand him, that she had been seeing his life through her own means for so long... that he forgot what it was to be Doctor Stephen Strange. "I am fine, Doctor Brooks," he said, with a small sad smile on his face as he took a heavy seat on the nearest chair, "and you don't need to worry. This... it affects nothing of your role to play in Dark Watch, or my offer for you to stay in the Sanctum for as long as you wish."Strange winced for a second. He sighed, a deep and melancholy sound that was all the more painful considering the previous act. He put his head in his hands. "It's nothing to do with you. Please don't... please don't think this is you. Your burden... it just isn't comparable with my burden, it seems. I couldn't take it. All that... emotion. All those thoughts."As if on que, a swirling grey mist began to rise from the ground. From it rose a figure. Theresa might recognise her, from three years ago. Enchantress. "My burden," Strange said quietly, "is not knowing the positive of the people that I work to save. No, it is to understand the worst that this universe, and all the rest, have in store for Earth."Enchantress swirled away, replaced by another, one Theresa wouldn't recognise. Strange raised his head. Another figure appeared, then another, until the smoke was recycling creatures and monsters four or five times a second. "I have to know these things, in case they come again. I can't... I can't stop to think about the good in people. If I did, then I couldn't save them. I couldn't face the creatures from the darkness that threaten our every waking moment."The smoke faded. Strange stood up, meeting Theresa's eyes. A sad, muted gaze stared at her from a weathered face. He had been filled with such light and energy, but now the mask had dropped. Strange was a damaged, tired man, who held the fate of the world on his shoulders but saw none of the accolades. Yet he gave her a lopsided smile, and the spark was still visible there. Somewhere deep inside the dark caverns of his being. "You are a more than welcome addition to this family. I'm... sorry that I overstepped. I'm sorry that I leapt in without thinking. I can't help but break any situation I walk into, I'm afraid. I would say it comes with the job, but I've left behind a trail of shattered lives my entire existence." |
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Post by Countess on Sept 7, 2024 17:27:14 GMT
Theresa watches him sink into a chair, a man as tired as Atlas himself. The Emperor. So long has he had to carry, and so he shall forevermore. She is quiet as she thinks, trying to come up with the right things to say in this moment, to ease the burden, to make everything better... but there isn't anything. There is nothing he could say to her, to ease her... So, instead, she takes a few steps closer, then dips into a practiced kneel to the side of his chair. Gently, so very gently, she reaches out to him, and her hand rests on his knee. It is an unspoken acknowledgement of what was, what is, what will be. The connection is there- it just... may take time to understand. Hope. It is all she has. It keeps her going.
"I see them, too," Theresa says quietly. "They are... mostly what I see. The evil in the world. Sickness, hate, avarice... I wanted to spare you that. I wanted to show you the good in spite of that evil. What helps me with my burden... is knowing there is hope in this world. Hope that can crush, but hope that... uplifts. You have it, too, Doctor Strange. In the face of all of these threats, all of these weights, all of this evil... You keep moving forward. You have not given up. There is a duty in what you do, but this is not a punishment. You are not Atlas. You are a man, someone who has suffered like the rest of us mere mortals, and you ease what you can. There is good and bad for all that we do. Things allowed, things ended, and the paths that come of it are hidden to all but the most powerful of seers," Theresa murmurs to him, trying to make sense of what she is trying to tell him.
"... I feel responsible for it all," Theresa breathes, looking at the swirling smoke of unknown evils. It is a sigh, something resigned. This is her lot in life, her cross to bear, the lashes of those she wishes to save making her stumble. She stands along with him, closer than perhaps proper. Theresa doesn't take a step back. He's so warm- she can feel it. Alive. She can't believe how she had forgotten the warmth of other people.
"I could take a little more, Doctor Strange. My shoulders are not so heavy. The weight I bear, it has made me strong, and I can take some of yours," Theresa finally says, deciding on it. "I have hope. An abundance. Someone tried to kill it... but that is something that cannot be killed," Theresa says, unsure where that knowledge comes from, but she knows it to be true.
"Leap more," Theresa says, almost begging. "Think less. Show me more. I-" she says, cutting herself off. Longing, in her eyes. "You are worth the hurt. I hope I am, too."
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Post by Beriadan on Sept 7, 2024 18:41:27 GMT
"Then you are far more than I could ever hope to be."
Strange looked into Theresa's eyes, and... there. A glimmer of something positive within them. He had all the power in the world, but even a man like him needed someone with her strength. She was showing him that he was not the only one who carried immense responsibility, but that he could do more. Should do more.
Strange placed his own hand over hers. It felt like an anchor to something outside of his mind. He exhaled, carefully regaining his composure.
"You and I are alike, in that regard. We hold the weight of the world to ourselves. Often I have been told that I need to share that weight with others. I wonder if you have too."
He smiled, but the exhaustion still bore a heavy toll. Strange lifted his hand, rubbing at his eyes.
"I will show you more, Dr. Brooks. Your coming here was fate, that is in no doubt. Something about us... you, and the Sanctum... it is linked, woven as threads in something greater than ourselves. But let's start small. Easy steps. I have been across the multiverse, fought demons and beings beyond comprehension... but you, somehow, have worn me out more than them all."
Strange gives her a characteristically cheeky little smile, a glint of humour back in his eyes.
"And I mean that as a compliment."
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Post by Countess on Sept 7, 2024 19:14:07 GMT
There- right there- understanding. Their eyes connect, and while her face is so utterly blank, all he can see in her eyes is hope. It is... maybe beautiful. To her, it would be. But now... she worries it is a weight to him. She shifts her gaze. He doesn't need any more of that. Her hand shifts, twisting up to grip his. There is something here, something meaningful. What it is, she doesn't rightfully know, and she is glad for it. The surprise of it all makes it so much more worthwhile.
"No one has ever offered to, or even told me to, share it all," Theresa says, a bit solemnly. She has led a very lonely life. "That is why I am so easy to offer it, Doctor Strange. I can imagine not giving it, not receiving it," she says, a sweetness in her mouth. It tastes like milk and honey. Neglect... she pushes the thoughts of her childhood away. Her heart is so swollen with hope for this new family. She won't let anything tear this from her.
"Hopefully, you can last longer with me next time," Theresa says, absolutely blank faced in her flirt. He could miss it, he could notice and think little, but she... It is a part of her she has. A glimmer of her inner life.
"I can find my room from here, if you like," Theresa says, not wanting to leave him, not wanting to let go of his hand. It makes her feel real. "The Sanctum has such beautiful paths, sweet ones. I can take them alone, or with you. I understand, either way."
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Post by Beriadan on Sept 7, 2024 19:22:29 GMT
Strange looks back at her, allowing her grip, feeling her hopes and wishes for the future pulsing through her being. He let out a faint laugh, happiness pushing through the darkness that he wore like a cloak.
"You are one of us now. Your burdens, your fears and woes, they are all of ours too. Everything is yours to share."
A bit of hypocrisy from the king of solitude, but Strange truly wants all of his companions to do as he doesn't. Unburden themselves into the Sanctum and into Dark Watch, so they may all become stronger as one being. Sure, it is something he must learn as well, but it doesn't detract from what he means.
"No. What kind of host would I be if I didn't show you to your room? Besides, who knows what the Sanctum would choose for you without my intervention. It has some... interesting ideas for hew guests."
Though he felt, inwardly, that Theresa was already well accustomed to the Sanctum, Strange wished to spend but a little more time in her presence. She soothed him, strangely. Grounded him. She knew more about him than he felt he even knew of himself. Strange rose, gently pulling her up with him by her hand before he let go. He wanted to hold on for a little longer, but he feared what would happen if he did. The consequences felt far too great.
"Come. I promise you will keep your feet firmly on the floor this time."
[FIN]
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