[Sanctum Santorum] Strange Desires

Intrusive feelings hung dearly in the air, and they wouldn't move, it was so insidious of this phenomenom to mask itself within its thoughts, for once, it would show courtesy.

"Strange", a voice called, from everywhere and nowhere. Was it Liberty? No, it wasn't Liberty, it didn't have the bravado of faux Joan' D'Arc behind it, but it was equally lofty, and echoed with the same divine intrusiveness. There was no sound, the wind didn't part, the wood didn't creak, Stephen would merely know that something was behind him. Should he turn around, he would find himself staring at a nauseating void once more, a depth of stars and constelations, flickering, dancing in a fantastic, violet void. Should he take in the larger picture, he could see this void, too, had a shape, that of a cloak that hung in the air, decorated with delicate ribbons that faded in and out as they too were part of this nothingness. This hollow thing floated one feet in the air and was two taller than the Sorcerer, and had no visible features, save for a round, white mask, pale eyes of cyan staring down from behind and above.

While the phenomenom had made itself present, it failed to introduce itself.

The phenomenom didn't as much as tilt its...face at the Sorcerer's spiel, in fact, Strange wasn't even finished with it before it listlessly moved past him, in any tangible way as a void will. Its form tilted as its face descended to approach the globe, staring at it milimetrically close, tilting its head in curiosity. "He Is Here, And Not. He Is Far, But Close", it pondered out loud. It had no voice, in a traditional sense, so it was likely that it intended to share this train of thought with Strange. "He Is Shook, Struggling, Separated...", it ruminated, tilting its form to full height. Its gaze drifted upwards, a sort of thought miasma grazed Strange's mind, the phenomenom deliberated wordlessly, and out loud. "He Will Persevere, Of This I Am Certain", it concluded, a weight seemed to lift from the atmosphere.

The spectre turned its gaze towards Strange, making no more motion from where it 'stood'. "I Know Who You Are, Doctor Stephen. You Need Not Lie, You Are Displeased", it took his formalities rather literally.

"He Has No Interest In Leaving"

The creature cut him off once more as Strange suggested taking Jamie with it, "This Containment Wasn't His Doing, But He Objects Not, Rather, He Realizes Not. Even If He Did, I Am Not Behooved To Intervene Further", it elaborated. The specter gave the slightest tilt as Strange explained what the 'issue' was, its only response was this ethereal, nagging feeling that it somehow shared with the Sorcerer. "It Explains Why I See Your Face, Distant And Muddled, In His Worries. It Reinforced His Distrust Of Power, And Paradoxically Birthed A Powerful Guardian To Combat It", it concluded, suggesting that 'Liberty' did not exist, or at least did not embody New York's Statue, up until Strange pushed Jamie to his limits.

"Jamie Referred To Me As A Space Monster. Make Of That What You Will", it elaborated, drifting back past Strange, its face was always pointed at him, despite its body swaying in its ghastly motion. "I Have No Wants. It Is You Who Want Me Here", it suggested, somehow, as it did, its shape seemed to become shorter, as a courtesy to be addressed, although equally as wide and encompassing. "Your Displeasures Are Manifold, I Am Not The Largest Of Them, But I Am One Regardless, In Spite Of Your Courtesy", it suggested, so it did understand the contest of pleasantries.

"My Origin Does Not Dictate That Which I Do".

The spirit seemed to be eloquent at dodging questions, or rather, at getting rather stuck with wording, its cape undulated and rose to its right, as if waving vaguely towards the globe. "Whatever Spellcraft You Concocted Muddled My Perception. It Was This Phenomenom, Then Your Conondrums, That Intrigued Me", it was perhaps an unsatisfying answer, though it begged the question about why the much larger hole in space time wasn't as equally intruiging to this creature. The phantasm's visage tilted back, as if it were offended by the idea of doing such a thing. It wafted somewhat hurriedly towards the orb and leaned its form disturbingly close once more, not breaking eye contact with Strange. Mental miasma briefly muddled the scene before it straightened its form. "My Kindred Admits Attempting Such A Thing. Your Repulsion Is Reciprocated", it nonchallantly relayed the message, at the very least it answered what part it took in all of this.

"I Bother Not With A Name, But I Sense That Answer Is Unsatisfying To You", it suggested, as if it was unsatisfying only to Strange. "I Am That Which Mortals Desire"

The creature made no discernible motion to being given a name, at the very least it wasn't filling the local headspace with white noise.

"You Are Trying To Unravel Machinations Where There Are None", Desire rebutted, with perhaps the most distant, faintest tone of condescension Strange had managed to squeeze out of the spirit yet. "My Kindred's Exists To Fulfill Jamie's Wish For Normalcy. It Did So Without Concern, Up Until The Chaos Of This City Reached A Point Where Causality Was Not A Sufficient Solution", it elaborated. Jamie described something like this, a slow burn where things slowly went more and more his way, until he didn't even notice he left New York. Given that that's done, it was unlikely that 'Liberty' attempted to break him out unless he somehow changed his mind. "My Kindred Exists To Fulfill Their Host's Wishes, By Any Means. I Cannot Make Such A Promise", she almost repeated herself, looking upwards dismissively as she admitted to havoc. In front of him, there was something worse than a dishonest genie; an honest, yet unscrupulous genie, and their children.

"I Am Merely Puzzled", Desire lowered its head and tilted horizontally towards Strange, staring at him from uncomfrotably close, given her non-euclidean complexion, she appeared as an undulating circle to nothingness. "You Are Among The Most Needing, Yet Least Deserving Of My Gifts. I Do Not Give To Those With The Power To Take". It suggested, somehow finding the most insulting manner of explaining that Strange was not in her agenda of poor dejected souls to trick into whatever it is that she does and caused Faux New York to exist. "At The Very Least, I Can See To Your Desire For Answers While I Remain Here", it suggested hollowly. Perhaps that was not all, but even though the spirit hasn't hesitated through this conversation, it was likely that it did not understand it herself.

"Everyone Must Want Something. Such Is The Impetus Of Existence", the creature seemed offended to be questioned in its own domain. The Sorcerer would turn around and find the specter to be already in front of him again, albeit distant to give him the space to pace around. Was it swaying around in the air like a cartoon ghost as a formality? At the very least, it let him vent his frustation without interruption, although it didn't challenge his assertions about Desire concealing some form of ulterior motive, she considered that question already answered.

"Your Life Is A Patchwork Of Struggles Through Which You Have Persisted Peerlessly, And Have Been Rewarded For It. For Good And Ill, Your Grasp Is Never Far Behind From Your Ambitions, Lofty As They Are, There Is No Deficit That Needs Correction", Desire explained, a commendation? "There Are Those That Have Struggles As Much Through Their Upbringing, Perhaps Even More So, And Have Not Reaped Such Rewards. I Consider Fate My Adversary, I Am To Right The Imbalance Of The Present, To Preserve The Uncertainty Of The Future. Of This I Am Certain", she continued, apparently, shortsightedness was part of her very essence.

"If You Wish For An Answer As To Why I Yet Remain Here, It Is Because I Now Foresee Having To Make A Decision, Surrounding You, Stephen Strange"

"Fate Is A Force Of Nature. I Am Vast, But Singular In My Craft. My Inability To Keep Up Is Too A Frustration Of Mine", the Desire spoke as Strange caught his breath, her words amplifying whatever brief headache her vague allusion conjured. It speaks of being part of a kin, but she insists she is alone, so it is more akin to her being a progenitor rather than a member of a larger whole. "Despite Your Ambitions Outpacing Your Grasp, You Persevere, However, Given The Sheer Breadth Of Your Goal And The Heedlessness At Which You Chase It, It Is Inevitable That There Is A Time Where No Such Miracle Can Occur, That There Is A Deficit. Such A Breach Would Elicit My Grandest Work, And Yet, To Assist You Would Be To Concede To Fate", Desire suggested, the visage behind her blank mask briefly losing its ghastly dim. The cosmic whole splintered, or rather, a split in its cloak could finally be discerned. A pitch black hand emerged, then a second one, both palms facing each other, sickly and witch-like in their appearance, and yet in their grasp, a form could barely be discerned, it was a porcelain mask, at first, featureless, but slowly its features seemed to blur into reality, and it was now the face of the Sorcerer Supreme itself, or rather, it was clearly its base, as more features appeared and disappeared, the spirit's indecision and hesitation laid bare.

"You Need Not Fret. In The End, The Decision Will Be Yours"