_magichands (_magichands) wrote in newalliance, @ 2017-05-08 17:09:00 |
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Entry tags: | doctor strange, maria hill |
Who: Stephen, Maria, OPEN to SHIELD peeps
When: 5/8
Where: Helicarrier Flight Deck
What: Stephen can't find Loki, but does find someone to blame.
It took him longer than it should have, but he was used to Loki coming and going as he pleased, a ball of bouncing sunshine of a godling appearing in the Sanctum when he thought it was time for another lesson; Loki had his own life, his own friends, but he was dedicated to his magical studies, and seemed to simply think that Stephen needed more chaos in his life, more life in his life.
As that amounted to more Loki in his life, Stephen gave only a token grumble or two about regular schedules being required for magical learning; the repetition and consistent study certainly helped, but even he hadn't learned magic in what anyone could call a structured environment. That simply wasn't how magic worked.
It was a thing of nudges and intuition as much as concentrated study. Just like the little trickle at the back of his neck as he worked a glowing sigil over his workbench, and realized that it had been several long days since Loki had stuck his head in. Hands stilling in the tangle of green, he looked over his shoulder, because right about now would always be when Loki bounded in and expressed interest in whatever it was Stephen was doing - right when he was in the middle of something delicate and magical and yes, interesting.
No mageling. He was unpredictable in many ways, but not in this one.
Stephen finished the sigil, set it and bound it properly above the worktable, because to leave it uncontained would be a far greater disaster than anything that might have befallen his apprentice, even considering the time Loki had helped give Dormammuu a path to the real world. Then he stepped to the great Seal of the Vishanti, the swooping lines dark against the glow of the window, and passed his hand over the Eye of Agamotto, safe around his neck.
The Eye had so many facets, so much power bound into it, but the first one it had revealed to him was always the first one he turned to; he could scry without it, peer across the world and find what he wished to see, but it took him longer. With the Eye, it was as simple as taking a deep breath, and letting go to ride the current of power. Mageling. Loki. Loki. So familiar, body and mind, he thought the name and the essence of who he was searching for filled him, and he seized on it and swept out, the world a rushing blur around him while he stayed perfectly still, sorting through for the single scent.
Not in New York. Not in Gotham. Not on the West Coast. Not in Paris. Not anywhere.
Stephen felt the dread slide down his spine, an icy, greasy line like sweat. He sent his mystical senses out again, pulled on the sheer power of the Eye, and felt magical vibrations when he swept his gaze across the world again, magical wards against scrying that left silent places. There was a time to be delicate and worm his way around them, or respect another sorcerer's desire for privacy, or the need for some things to remain secret. This was not that time.
He ruthlessly reached out and ripped them apart, the Eye's power a blast of light, ancient as a star. He left upset sorcerers and ruined magic in his wake, and when he came back to himself, felt only numb.
No Loki.
Which meant he was - Stephen refused to consider the notion he was dead. Not his mageling. It only meant that there were wards that rode beneath the surface magic of the world, undetected and therefore keeping all beneath them undetectable. Given time and study, he could find them, find the way around them, or through them.
He didn't think he had the time.
Stephen gathered the power of the Eye again, and this time, he cast his gaze backwards, scenting and seeking for the last time he could sense Loki; seeking through time was a more delicate matter than merely looking into the world, but he trailed his fingers through the stream of time, and was recklessly, carelessly blunt in tracing back through time. He would deal with all his consequences later, let anyone who wished it take their pound of flesh. If it was worth it, he would count it as a fair price.
It was a more subtle thing than looking at a surveillance camera footage, and so of course he could not see where Loki was taken. But he did see one clear moment of someone who'd drawn too close to Loki, wrote their impression too sharply against the mageling's. And so he knew at least who had taken him.
Stephen stepped back from the Seal, casting one last glance through the window, this time up into the sky. It made an absurd amount of sense, and he would know why they had learned magic so very well, and how. He summoned the Cloak of Levitation with a snap of his fingers, and collected the sigil on the way out the door, as it might very well come in handy to shove in someone's face.
SHIELD's Helicarrier was floating over the harbor, at its working height of a few thousand feet. Stephen absolutely did not care. He flew up, up, up, and with a snapping flare of the Cloak, landed neatly on the flight deck. "I would like to speak to whoever it is that's in charge of this floating monstrosity," he announced, voice magically enhanced to carry over the wind and the noise of the machinery. Someone in a yellow jumpsuit was running towards him, and he gave them a quick glance over. "I doubt that's you," he said, and brought the green sigil up just in time to catch the bullets, the lattice glowing as it held the metal shards, the magic greedily eating their kinetic energy. He flicked it with a finger, sending a pulse of that energy back; not enough to send the agent flying off the end, but enough to knock him down and make him really think twice about approaching the man who could make the air glow with raw power.