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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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Post by Countess on Sept 17, 2024 19:30:56 GMT
"There's a smile," Ricky says, giving Strange a wink. He likes to perform, too, though perhaps not as showy as the Sorcerer Supreme. Even the name is a touch dramatic- though, The Last White Mage is, too. Very tragic. It fits him. Ricky listens to his dramatics, making the perfect faces as he does so.
"I am sure there are little glimmers of joy amongst the shit, no?" Ricky asks, now furiously shaking the tumbler he has poured everything into. He moves his hands away, cleaning up... and the tumbler continues to shake in air. Carefully, he pulls a whiskey glass etched with rather obscene and debaucherous scenes that seem to move when stared at too long... Not to mention they shift to something new at each glance... Ricky places an absolutely clear ball of ice into the glass, then moves to the side slightly as the tumbler stops, cap floating off to pour into the sinful cup, the color of liquid gold. As if it were an afterthought, he places a lemon on the rim.
The drink is placed before Stephen... "Enjoy- though, don't enjoy too many," he says, looking a touch concerned for the briefest of moments. "I call it Never Alone for a reason..." he says, chuckling darkly. Should Stephen try it, it is most certainly a magical drink, infused with warmth, euphoria, and... a strange sensation, the kind you get when you are looking at someone you love. Butterflies, a blush, a creeping anxiousness... Though, it is different for every drinker. Ricky drinks it, and feels for a moment his Lysander is there once more. He had another patron comment it was warm like their grandmother's hugs. Sometimes, it reminds Ricky of the excitement of seeing his sister.
"Oh, my dear, you are in a right sorry state. Do not worry. I am here to take care of you," Ricky says, breathing deep. What is left in the tumbler, he drinks in one gulp... A smile shimmering on his lips. Ah, Lysander... "Or, at least, to help you wallow properly."
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Post by Beriadan on Sept 21, 2024 12:28:29 GMT
"You're trying to make me feel better. I'm not really in the mood for that."
Strange knocked back the drink without second thought... and winced. He didn't get the same response as Ricky. Perhaps he had been expecting to see a face of someone new, someone fresh in his mind... but there was someone he recognised, yet had forgotten. A blurred face on a young girl's body, wearing a dress he could recall, but features he could not. This wasn't true love he was experiencing. It was the love he still held for his sister. It made him feel the happiness he remembered from his childhood. They had promised to never leave each other alone, the two of them. Stephen had broken that promise.
"Mmph... you really can mix a drink."
Strange placed the glass before him, frowning into the dregs that swirled there. Alcohol was surely helping to gently push him deeper into a state of depression.
"I met someone last night. I rarely ever meet people in my line of work, unless they're trying to kill me or curse me. Colleagues and fellow mages, sure... but this was..."
Strange looked up at Ricky with a smile that read like a novel. A ten thousand word book, filled with many confused, mixed emotions.
"I don't know what this was, but I think I'm in over my head. Deep, deep into something I shouldn't be. You know how that feels, I'm sure. Listen, I'm feeling generous. Two favours for something that won't try and make me feel good about myself."
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Post by Countess on Sept 22, 2024 18:21:59 GMT
"Make you feel better? Whoever said that?" Ricky asks, looking back and forth. "When I drink this, it reminds me of everything I destroyed and will never have again," he says, sighing wistfully as he looks briefly out into the middle distance. "Like a glimpse of heaven before being plummeted into hell. Makes it all the worse, I think, knowing it is there and you will never have it again," Ricky murmurs, hands tightening on the bar top until his knuckles go a little white. Then, he relaxes, and is back to his jovial self. "I suppose you haven't heard my sordid tale, yet? You don't look at me with pity, so I am going to keep you in the dark for just a while longer, I think," he says, smiling. "I like my friends this way, anyways, blissfully in the dark like me!"
Ricky gives the Sorcerer Supreme a comical bashful look. "Oh, stop it, you," he says, batting him away slightly.
"You met someone? Oh, do tell. Someday, you'll be so in over your head, you'll learn to breathe in it. Take it from a veteran of the Strange and Overwhelming," Ricky says, instantly curious just whom could make this man so... off kilter. Maybe find them and take some notes.
Ricky smiles like the devil himself sometimes. This is one of those times. "One Hate Juice, coming up~" he sings, already conjuring the Mountain Dew. He pauses. "Or... yes. I think tonight calls for... Hate Juice Supreme," he says rather gravely. He snaps, and the Mountain Dew turns into Mountain Dew Baja Blast. "Just for you," he says, winking. The drink is simple- he just pours out some of the drink from the bottle into the sink... and replaces it with Everclear.
"Can you hang?" Ricky says, tapping the bottle. He takes his hand and waves it similar to someone doing slight of hand. Instead of a coin or card, he conjures a second bottle.
"Misery loves company."
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Post by Beriadan on Sept 26, 2024 9:19:58 GMT
Strange chuckled darkly.
"Now you're speaking my language. I certainly didn't get anything good out of it, but I'm not looking for good right now."
The wizard leant back in his stool as Ricky began to mix another. His face screwed up at the Mountain Dew. He wasn't that desperate.
"Yes... someone with more burden than I. Yet they seemed so... calm. So well-rounded. Here I am, moaning about the likes of Doctor Fate, whereas she has two-fold the problems I could ever imagine. Everything bad... and everything good."
Strange took a deep drink of the Everclear, wincing as it hammered into his brain.
"Ugh... Hateful indeed. She came to me with wisdom and vision, knowing exactly what was here, and what was to come. What am I doing, wallowing in the past?"
Another deep drink, and he shook his head with an exasperated laugh.
"She showed me everything good and pure in the world, and I threw it back at her. Like I didn't deserve it. Truth is... I just didn't want to see it. I don't want to see what's at stake. What I'm fighting for."
Strange placed his drink down, and held up a flat hand. It was shaking, tremoring. He frowned, looking up at Ricky.
"My hands have shaken like this since my accident, but... right now, they're shaking with fear. Fear of what will happen if I fail. Of what is at stake if I can't hold back the tide of evil. I didn't think about it before her... and now I can't stop."
Strange tugged his goatee, expression twisted in exasperation and worry. Then he tapped a finger on the bar, his eyes on Ricky, a little smile on his face.
"And yet I would love to hear about your sordid tale over my self pity. Care to indulge me in a story?"
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Post by Countess on Sept 26, 2024 21:40:05 GMT
Ricky rolls his eyes at this person's description. "Sounds like a real hoot at parties," he says, snickering. "Take it from me, people are fantastic actors," he continues, musing a bit. "She probably is as fucked up as you and me, just learned to hide it like any civilized person," he says, shrugging. "Besides. After a while, you get used to the weight, right?"
Ricky drinks to that sentiment. Knowing what is good out there... just makes it all the worse when you lose it. Even more so when it is wholly your fault. "You are a right, sorry bastard, you know that?" Ricky murmurs, wincing from the drink. Shaking hands, accident- he stops himself. Now isn't the time. It may never be the time. Strange knows who he is, and will one day understand what he is capable of. Let the Sorcerer Supreme ask for it- maybe, if Ricky is lucky, he will beg.
Ricky gives a long, exaggerated sigh. "Where's the fun in that, love?" he bemoans. "I will tell you, on one condition. You can't..." he starts, looking for the words so he doesn't sound as pathetic as he is. "You can't let it be... a thing. It will always be a thing for me, and I would much rather ignore it, pretend for a time it doesn't exist. That at the end of my work day, I will go home and... see him, waiting for me," he murmurs. The jovial mask is gone, and a haunted look overcomes him. He looks at his hands, briefly. They will always be bloodstained, in his eyes.
"I was not a good man," Ricky begins. "But I had all the things a good man has. A loving family, power, respect, and a fiancé who thought I hung the moon. One time... I did, for him," he says, taking a long draught of his own. "Lysander. Now, he was a good man. Came from a long line of Liberators, those who helped other magic users end pacts, freed slaves, and generally made the world a better place to live in. What he saw in me... I'll never know. He used to say for every soul he saved, I would doom. It was a joke, but... it was true. More true than he could ever know.
"It was my birthday... twenty seventh. Lys decided to take me out to my favorite place in the universe, Aokigahara, the shore of Saiko Lake. My birthday always coincided with the golden birch trees. It was like slipping into another world, but it was ours. Just... ours," Ricky murmurs. He looks away now. "I had many enemies at the time. Some are still kickin. Most aren't. I don't even... know what I had done to these guys, but it was enough for them to catch up with me, right then and there.
"We fought. I didn't even know what I had done until the dust and leaves had settled. You know how easy it is to kill someone with magic. It wasn't even elegant, it wasn't even clever. It was just... fast. The right little snip in the brain. One of my spells had hit him, my sweet Lysander, and I hadn't even noticed. At least it was painless for him. It wasn't for his mother," Ricky says, unable to stop the tears that fill his eyes. It was only three months ago for him. "In my grief, I made a vow. The universe listened, and is holding me to it. That is how I became the Last White Mage. In his mother's grief... she cursed me. I was to never grow old, not in mind nor in body, forever stuck in a loop of my guilt. Every year, on my birthday, I die an ego death, all lessons forgotten, all memories lost, thrown right back into that day where I destroyed the greatest person the universe ever gifted us."
Ricky takes another drink. "That's my story. Your turn, Sorcerer Supreme. Spin me a tale."
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Post by Beriadan on Sept 26, 2024 21:56:04 GMT
Strange crossed his chest as Ricky begged him not to make it a thing. He winked, smirking as he put the glass of Everclear to his lips.
"Sure... as a favour."
But the story knocked the wind from his sails. Strange was quiet as he listened, eyes closing when Ricky told him the punchline. Killing your own lover... how easy it was to ruin everything in your world with a simple flick of the finger.
As it came to an end, Strange finished his drink, knocking it back with gusto.
"I can see why you wouldn't want people to see you as your story. I know how that feels. To be viewed with pity, or sympathy... still. That's a bitch of a curse, and no mistake. Your mother in law must have been a powerful sorceress."
He shrugged, not quite at Ricky, perhaps more at the whole sordid affair that was the universe. Strange paused, pondered, frowning as he thought. Then he lifted his empty glass, smirking across at the White Mage.
"A story... is it worth another drink, perhaps? I can't top yours, of course. Oh, how about the time that I fought Ares alongside Wonder Woman? That's quite a story."
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Post by Countess on Sept 26, 2024 22:17:32 GMT
"She was," Ricky murmurs, wiping the tears away. She is dead, now, too. If he could he would have gone the same way she did: a broken heart. Even death, however, does not grant him respite from this curse. He wonders how many times he's tried, ended everything, only to end up right back where he started. There are only a couple times confirmed. He's also been killed before.
"Haven't been able to break it. There is always supposed to be a loophole, a little jig you can do... Well, could always try the classic," Ricky starts, putting the guilt back into its box. He isn't ready for it, not as overwhelming as it is. "True love's kiss~ Think you could be mine? One way to find out, my Sorcerer Supreme~" Ricky flirts, letting the persona settle back onto him. It is easier this way, the denial.
"Why, I suppose. I am not sure who Wonder Woman is... but, if she is fighting Ares, I can imagine a number of possibilities. Especially with you by her side. No, no, if you are to tell me a story, I want something sordid. Or- tell me a story, and I will make a drink to fit it," Ricky offers. "Unless you would rather put in a request...? I am rather partial to my love concoctions~ I could help you find your One True Love, if you like. You and me, drinks in hand, searching for the Sorceress who can Steal The Supremely Strange Heart," he teases, adding a wink to really sell the theatricality of it.
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Post by Beriadan on Sept 28, 2024 21:47:06 GMT
Strange smirked at Ricky's words. He was a pure flirt, and if Strange was that way inclined... alas, he had a type. Apparently it was women who would ruin his life.
"I'm not good for true love, I'm afraid. I wouldn't rely on this sad mouth to break a curse of any man or woman."
He sobered, then. A sordid story. Something he hadn't told anyone. Strange took a deep breath, closing his eyes as he began a tale that would be worthy of a drink.
"Three years ago, I was alerted to a danger in a neighbouring dimension. Something was growing there. A great and ancient cataclysm."
Strange tapped his fingers on the bar absently, staring off into nothing.
"They call them the Ogdru Jahad. Merciless beings that take the form of terrible, enormous dragons. One of them had appeared in a dimension that shared a border with ours, and was tearing it's way through planets and worlds with fire and death. I travelled there to help, heeding their call."
Strange sighed, shaking his head.
"It seems that my life is just filled with impossible choices. The Ogdru Jahad are unbelievably powerful, and even I was not enough to stop them, not myself or the joined forces of that realm. We fought hard. We fought long. And we lost."
Strange looked up, eyes open, glassy. He stared at Ricky with a haunted gaze as he relived that day once more.
"The Ogdru Jahad would have destroyed that realm and then moved onto ours. Nothing would have been able to stop it if it had turned its gaze to our world. Dark Watch didn't exist then. The Justice League wouldn't have been able to stand against it. It would have wiped out everything."
Strange sighed again, silent for a moment.
"I did what I had to do. I sealed the dimension up. I made it so nothing could get out. The Ogdru Jahad was contained, and no longer a threat. I saved our world, as is my job."
He dropped his head slightly, frowning, his stare far, dar away.
"And in doing so, I doomed a whole dimension. I made an impossible choice. An entire universe died so I could fulfil my duty and save those under my protection. Not a single person even knows the kind of danger they were in. Nobody knows the sacrifice that I had to make. Except me, and now you."
Strange raised his empty glass again.
"How's that for something sordid?"
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Post by Countess on Oct 5, 2024 15:42:59 GMT
Ricky waggles his eyebrows, a flirt indeed. "Just you wait, Stephen, you'll find yourself facing your other half one day, wishing you measure up," he says, sighing wistfully at those days of his own life. Lys had always been the better of the two, in so many ways. "But... in finding them, there is so much pain that can come along with it," he adds, understanding deeply the trepidation and fear that can come with it. Having something means you can lose it, worst of all by one's own actions. "Just- do me a favor?" Ricky murmurs, drunk already, commiserating as one does in these trying times. "If you find it, don't waste a fucking second," he says, getting serious for only a moment. Then, it melts away like snow in the spring.
As Strange tells his story, Ricky listens deeply, utterly taken by it all. He leans forward on the bar, drinking in the tale.
"Sacrifice," Ricky murmurs, knowing the word, knowing the feeling, knowing the knife that it is to the heart. "That is the point of it, right? Giving up something great and grand. It has to hurt. Or it isn't sacrifice," he murmurs. He has made many sacrifice of his own, though certainly not on this scale. Hard decisions are things he avoids, and for good reason. He sees the haunted look in Strange's eyes. Ricky moves away from the bar, thinking deeply. He steps onto a golden tile on the floor, only to have it gently start to float upwards with him on it. The bar here is large and expansive, he has quite the collection of drinks on display. Hidden in the bowels of the Oblivion is much more... so much more. Skin, artefacts, grimoires, lost souls, even prisoners. Yes- Strange is not the only one to have sealed great evil way... for the greater good.
Ricky's journey upward pauses, and he reaches through glass to pull out a small little bottle. It is a deep, rich red, the liquid inside even darker than the bottle itself. As he descends once more, Strange can see the bottle itself is a peculiar shape, almost like a perfume bottle rather than one holding liquor. He steps off the tile a little early, faltering for only a moment.
"And so, I offer you a sacrifice of my own. This is the last of its kind, and not something that can be replicated, even by me. This, my darling Sorcerer Supreme, is what remains of Krypton. At least- what remains of this particular Kryptonian drink. Rare, even before its home's destruction, made from flowers that bloom once every five hundred years, in a lost craft that no one recalls. I offer it, Blood Nectar, to you, as sacrifice."
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