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Post by Countess on Sept 7, 2024 20:27:35 GMT
Ricky is in his usual place, nursing a bit of a hangover that he relishes. It isn't often that he has one, and while it makes him rather miserable, it also... makes him feel a bit alive. It is a slow day at the Oblivion, much to his delight. Sometimes fate works in the kindest of ways. He knows he could just heal the hangover away, but it... There is something about it that makes him feel real.
Often he thinks of the ego death he must have. Everything he goes through means nothing to him- it will all be lost. All lessons learned, all knowledges gained, all friends collected... He tries to keep up with it all with his journals, but there is only so much he can do. It takes weeks now for him to catch up, and there is still so much he loses... Strange, to read a book about him, with no emotions, no connection...
It is like going to a museum on himself, and remembering nothing of it.
Ricky sighs, then massages a temple. He is a bit disheveled, hair not perfect, a sheen of sickliness... Nothing he can't fix, if need, bee, but for now... he languishes, and he likes it.
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Post by Beriadan on Sept 8, 2024 7:30:02 GMT
In the middle of Oblivion, the air began to shimmer. Orange sparks spat outward, forming a man-sized glowing portal that cast light across the few patrons that were present at this time. Whatever "this time" meant, in a place like this. It was still something of a mystery how, when and where this bar existed, but this wasn't a time for questions.
Doctor Stephen Strange, Sorcerer Supreme, stepped from within the portal. He was smouldering, rich purple smoke rising from burns in his tunic, hair dishevelled, patches of skin blackened by dirt or something. The portal closed swiftly behind him as he walked up to the bar, pulling up a chair and putting his head on the cool wooden surface.
"Good evening, Ricky," he said, into the wood,"may I bother you for something strong, cold and ideally served with a straw?"
Strange lifted his head slightly, looking across at the barman with a smile.
"It's been a hell of a day."
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Post by Countess on Sept 9, 2024 22:56:11 GMT
"You know I have a door system, right? Or are you just loving all this attention?" Ricky says, raising an eyebrow at Strange as he joins him at the bar. Then his head goes down, and Ricky tuts a little. All it takes is a flick of the wand, and the surface of the bar is a cool little pillow under his head. Can't have the Sorcerer Supreme with a splinter, no?
"Strong, cold, served with a straw," Ricky murmurs, pondering this. "Are you in the mood to wallow, to uplift, to simply... be?" he asks, looking at the man a bit closer. Yes, he needs to do something about... that. The smell hits his nostrils- his stomach rolls-
Ricky feels his shoulders drop as he gives up some imaginary fight in his head. "Fine, fine, fine, pardon me," he mutters, circling the air up above them both with his wand. It looks like a branch that had been smoldered into charcoal, without the brittleness. What emanates from the tip is... almost like glitter, glowing slightly. The stars, the little balls of light, the purity, touches them, and where they touch, hurts are soothed. Cleanliness blossoms, their hair going perfectly into place, clothes being mended, body being cleansed...
What results is that lovely, fantastic feeling one gets when they have showered for just the right amount of time, peeled and plucked themselves to perfection, painted on whatever needs be, worn their most dapper of clothes...
Even Ricky's hangover is gone. He shall miss it. But he wont. There are always more on the horizon...
"There, sweetheart, that one is on the house."
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Post by Beriadan on Sept 11, 2024 18:57:58 GMT
Strange raised his head as his hair fixed itself, his clothes mended and became fresh. It was as if his most recent adventure had been wiped clean. Even his bones didn't feel sore anymore, though the turmoil in his mind wasn't any less at ease as before.
"Thanks... you're a talented mage, alright. Will you trade a favour for a drink?"
Strange stared across the bar, at the array of bottles and liquids that lined the back wall. He had been into the depths of the multiverse to try and blow off some steam, to lose himself in his work. It hadn't worked. The memories still lingered from the night she came to his door.
"Don't skimp on the alcohol for this one. Something I've never drank before. Give me a totally brand-new experience in a jar. With a slice of lemon."
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Post by Countess on Sept 13, 2024 0:45:55 GMT
"With pretty little compliments like that, I might just call it a favor fulfilled, oh Sorcerer Supreme of mine," Ricky says, giving him a wink. It is safe- gloriously safe. That run in with Remy had gone too far, but this... it is like flirting with a wall. Nothing will come of it.
"Brand new and with a slice of lemon? No skimping on the alcohol?" Ricky says, pulling a book from thin air to flip through it. He lands on one drink- Hate Juice. Made with Mountain Dew and Everclear. No, no, not yet. Once the Sorcerer Supreme begs for it... He flips through a few more pages, landing on the right one. "There we go. Just a moment," he murmurs, pulling a glass from under the bar. Almost unexpectedly, instead of conjuring/transfiguring this drink... Ricky begins to make it.
Bottles of various liquids float to him as he works, Ricky plucking them from the air to pour haphazardly. No matter what the liquid seems to go into his metal shaker. "What has you down? You know I love seeing that little frown of yours, cuts a lovely little line between your brows, but shouldn't you be... I dunno, flush with power and ego and joy and aplomb like myself? Us Powerful Mages have to be happy, right?" Ricky says, perhaps sarcastically.
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Post by Beriadan on Sept 16, 2024 16:44:01 GMT
Strange watches the man go to work on his drink. It was more than magic. It was some form of art, the way Ricky orchestrated the bottles, the liquid. Even the morose Sorcerer Supreme couldn't help but crack a smile. White mages. Surely a different breed from other magical beings.
"Hah. The moment I find happiness in my work is the moment I know I've wound up in a different dimension. The role of Sorcerer Supreme seems to be a road lined with shit."
Strange shrugged, a very slow and incredibly obvious one. He was in a mood, that was for sure. Plenty seemed to get him down these days, since the wrath of June Moone.
"It's nothing. Really, in the grand scheme of things, it's a miniscule problem. Infinitely small. An invisible speck, on an invisible speck. And yet," Strange said, with a barking laugh of incredulity, "it weighs upon my mind like the entire weight of the universe. How's that for cosmic karma? I've fought nightmares that were more pleasing than what I'm going through."
Strange shook his head, tugging at his goatee with irritation at himself. He gave Ricky a mirthless smile.
"So, I am well and truly wallowing. Tonight, I drink until I forget the whole damned situation, and tomorrow I go back to being the cornerstone of this multiverse. No rest for the wicked, huh? We are but doomed to continue in this wretched existence alone, from the start until the end."
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