InsaneJournal

Who: Dr. Strange, Wanda Maxmimoff
What: journey to the Soul Dimension! Wanda gives everyone a mental nudge, a suggestion, to lure them to their location.
When: after they were dusted from the Sanctum.
Rating: Green

"....are gathered and find a person strongly linked to each, to bend it to their will."

Too late. He confirmed that fact too late, in a lost scroll tucked in one of the Sanctum's secret locked vaults. It was dusty and forgotten, laying behind a pile of books and a cannibal tribe cauldron that still craved human flesh and bones. He was walking to tell Wanda that they needed to portal her to the Mind Stone in Wakanda immediately when it hit him.

Stephen was staring down at his suddenly disintigrating hand, where once he was holding the phone with shaking hands, moving to Wanda's side inside the New York Sanctum. It hit the floor with a thunk and he had a split second to say "send" even if the post was unfinished. It was all over too soon.

His eyes met Wanda's. There was a brief flash of fresh pain, a sickening feeling that the world falling out from under him and then...floating as his thoughts disolved.

Then he was here, leaving his body behind and carrying only his last thought with him.

Everywhere around him was tinted orange, the shade of which could be likened to a setting sun. There was water as far as the eye could see. Barely an inch or two and, although it was disembodied, the staircase leading up to the Sanctum's round window was somehow set before him.

"This is.......not good," Stephen said, unenthused as he looked around but also curious about their new surroundings.

Wanda had known she should get to Wakanda. Had known that bending the stones to their will was what they needed to do - she’d also sensed the coming storm for weeks now, and was disappointed that even at the meeting with all Avengers, their leader did not even seem to want to listen or participate much - and just kept insisting they all stay together, as if this would be the answer to their problems.

How that would prevent galactic genocide, she didn’t know. But there was obviously nothing preventing it from occurring - she just hoped that the ones left, whomever they were, would heed the warnings and take action.

She’d been packing for that trip to Wakanda, even - Stephen joined her, the look on his face telling. Time had run out. Then she watched him disappear and there was only a moment where she allowed a choked sob to escape, a tremble, before she followed along, disintegrating, falling into nothing but dust - there was no pain, but relief. She had to go faster. If she did, she’d find Vision. Pietro...

Instead, she found herself on a barren planet, prodding her rib cage until she felt a surefire thump-thump of her heart. So she wasn’t dead?

It wasn’t cold, really; she glimpsed the orange sun beneath a layer of clouds, yet she felt a chill rattle her bones as if she’d been caught in a light rain and then was blasted with air conditioner. The muted slosh of the water, she leaned toward it and watched her reflection - it appeared distorted, yet everything pulled her in. She was thirsty. Very thirsty.

“Should we look at it?” she asked, referring to the staircase. “At least it is familiar. Somewhat. Like a cracked mirror reflection.” But she would not go alone, and she was relieved he was here - she reached for his wrist, maybe to make sure he wouldn’t turn to dust again.

Stephen heard some of what happened at the meeting. He had been compartmentalizing, doing mental outlines and assessments, just as he was at this very moment. It only dawned on him now just how much meddling he had been doing for months, only to end up at the same point as he had in his dreams. Meddling with a differing chain of events that caused him to bind a stone to Asgard's more troublesome brother, and with The Avengers wanted to stay together in a united front, instead of a repeat performance of ending up in separate places.

Variables. There were a whole different set of parameters in play. Things that should have changed things even more than the other scenarios, which didn't make sense how they ended up in this predicament. The point of origin was the rift between universes, of course. The rift itself could not be shut. He knew it was a part of their universe that needed to stabilize even further before ever attempting to mend it. Not even Wanda's vast powers could do so. But as time went on, he was watching it, listening to it. And he was certain it would close more, and the risk of universal collapse would be a smaller and smaller risk. If those left behind could figure that out on their own.

He was too far away now to help them.

Even so, he had put his own plans in motion. Stephen's concern was on the Time Stone in the Eye of Agamotto, which he placed a barrier spell on the amulet so it would not open unless HE opened it. He sent the warning to Wong the minute that he and Wanda had gotten back from the astral plane: If dust ever turns to dust, reclaim the eye and keep it safe from Thanos.. He had been sticking around the Sanctum with good reason. So that if anything went wrong in their universe, Wong could put the stone where it once was.

The second he felt the pressure of that dark maw becoming so overwhelming that he nearly blacked out, he cast off the Eye in the relics room and portalled downstairs to find Wanda. Kamar-Taj was the other safest place outside of Wakanda, where a stone was already being protected. Every sorcerer and apprentice would defend the time stone with their very lives, with every spell at their disposal, as they had for countless years.

For all the metaphysical chess piece he tried to ponder over and move into place from his end? Stephen never expected this.

"Let's proceed with caution," he said as he put on the sling ring. "I'll be right back."

He tried to open a portal to the top of the staircase. As soon as it opened, it sputtered out of existence on the other side.

"Okaaaaaaay. Travel options are limited," he muttered and he was able to create a sigil by moving his hands. "But this feels almost the same. Which means...."

He walked forward and put one foot down on the staircase. The inlaid floor of the sanctum spread out with a ripple, underneath the water.

"Magical construct," Stephen said as he studiously watched what was happening. "I've read about this in the Tome of Being, volume fifty-three. Tangible manifestations of imprinted memories of places or things. Non-harmful, at present. We can use this."

He turned to look at her, standing on the bottom step out of the water. "Wanda, see if your magic still works. Tell me if it feels dampened in any way."

Non-harmful at present. Interesting. “Then I can’t wait to see what’s in store,” she said dryly. “Alright...”

Magic was a pulse-point, ebbing and flowing. Red gossamer trails of it, sparks, moving from the pads of her fingers as they curled and extended. There were those sparks again, firing as they went - she lifted a few rocks with her telekinesis, flipping and turning them, before letting them fall.

"And I can still...I can sense you," she added. “The signature of your mind, I mean. I’m not reading it directly.” That would be rude, wouldn’t it? She was just trying to say that everything still worked fine. “I don’t feel like my magic is dampened.”

No, the roots of her magic had dug in deep - a kind of magic laced with blood and promises. Even destroying the mind stone wouldn’t take it away - whatever the scepter did to her, it unlocked potential she already had lying dormant within. Wanda wasn’t getting rid of this magic anytime soon either. “Do you think we need food? Or water? Someplace to stay?” Did the weather change in this odd place? She had so many questions.

“There are others here too, I’m sure.”

He was sensed, which was a good sign. A sign that her magic was still inherently her own and that was the only way that Stephen took it. She sensed by skimming the surface - as he did with auras - but she did not delve deeper than that.

The only problem was this dimension seemed to hinder travel by sling ring. They'd find a way around that. He had a litany of spells in his head. He could do this. He, rather arrogantly (as was expected of him), believed he could manage anything. Alone if need be, but he was relieved that Wanda was there too.

"I'm not hungry or thirsty," he replied after a taking a few seconds to think about it. His body didn't seem to register empty, comfortable, or full. It didn't register tiredness or pain. As for someplace to stay, Stephen walked up the steps to where the Sanctum's round window was and he looked out it.

There was a street, down below. People were milling around. It didn't exist when he looked off to the sides or around the disembodied window at the top of that staircase. Only when he looked through it.

Everything else around them was a smooth surface of water reflecting a wide orange sky, for as far as they could see. That might not be real either, but they would figure it out. Both of them.

Raising both hands, Stephen held them in one of the ways he learned from a sacred text, closing his eyes and concentrating as he muttered a spell. In an instant, walls raised up out of the water around them, stretching up like the edges were made of a kaleidoscope of clockwork gears winding into place. It formed windows, pillars, doors, banisters, and ceilings. When the last piece clicked into place next to the window, Stephen turned and made his way back down the stairs to the first floor of a rebuilt Sanctum. The only thing that would be on the horizon until they rebuilt it.

"If we build it, they will come," he said with a wry smirk. "We've given them a visual outpost to find. I'll work on getting the portals more stable. I need to recalibrate the energy for stable portals. We'll need to see if we can reach out multidimensionally through the astral plane. And if you're willing, because I know you're able, maybe stretch out your magic. See if you can sense any of ours nearby and plant a suggestion to lure them here."

It was the beginning of a plan, at least.

The idea of planting a suggestion had Wanda apprehensive - her ability to control minds was a very slippery slope - but she had used it for good before, to get people to safety in Sokovia, and right now they did not have the time to wait for any other ‘dusted’ individuals to stumble across the landmark Stephen had created. In this case, it really was best if they all stuck together.

“I’ll do it,” she nodded, then squared her shoulders and closed her eyes. She could hear people, a dull echo in her mind - this is what it usually was, her everyday telepathy, and she usually didn’t push any further. Until now.

She reached out, a torrent of vines that sought every mind in their proximity, reaching and twining around to pull back information on their whereabouts; Wanda at least wanted to get some kind of headcount, to know how many to expect. “There are more,” she spoke, measured and quiet. “...two, three...four...five - “ She was counting, touching each mind without digging deeper or alerting anyone to her presence, just a stone skimming along the water. Some minds were familiar, some were not. She was relieved to sense Bucky, even if she wished he wasn’t trapped here. Not as relieved to sense Nick Fury.

“At least eight.” The image of Stephen’s construction was broadcast out, a little nudge to head toward the large structure. Just a bit of push to get those muscles moving.

Wanda pulled away, a rubber band snapping back into place. She didn’t want to get trapped in someone else’s head. “I did not sense Stark,” she shared. And she supposed that was a good thing - he may be a dick, as they say, but he was a smart one. If this could be fixed, the ones left standing would be able to do it.

"Stark needed to live," Stephen replied. There were still so many jumbled and mismatched fragments of future timelines in his head, he wasn't sure which one that statement belonged to. There were too many deaths there, so many times seeing his death from a first hand perspective, that he couldn't allow Wanda to try even piecing one of those fourteen million six hundred and five fractured scenarios back together. "He's only once piece of a much larger picture. I don't even know if it's for the same pictures anymore."

He was starting to feel confident though. If they still had access to magic, there was still energy to draw from. Between the both of them, they could work with this.

There was a clock on the wall and with a quick spell, Stephen set it to chime every six hours.

"If they don't show up, if you're able, repeat that call to them. I've recreated the books from my memories. We should look through those and find ways to shield ourselves against other people's memories or constructs encroaching in on us. Then we can test the barriers of this dimension."

If there was a chink in the armor, Strange meant to find it and exploit it. Even if he had to bend the laws of everything. Even if he had to cheat. Even at his own expense.

Magic always exacts a price. He was willing to pay it.