ᴅᴏᴄᴛᴏʀ sᴛʀᴀɴɢᴇ (mysticism) wrote in valloic, @ 2021-03-08 13:48:00 |
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To the naked eye, the Sanctum appeared to be a three-story townhome in New York City - Greenwich Village, to be exact, which was becoming more and more packed with college kids much to the chagrin of the residents who could afford the million-dollar price tag to live in the area. But the Sanctum was meant to be built there, it always had been - a hotspot of mystical energy, magic naturally flowed in, it flowed out, it had been destined to be the Sanctum even before Greenwich Village existed. That abundance of raw, unadulterated magic did come with a few side effects though. Even in Vallo (by the Hoary Hosts of Hoggoth, talk about flowing magic), the Sanctum had the ability to move and change, it shaped itself into a labyrinth and then unfolded like the bellows of an accordion. Rooms existed and would disappear as necessary, while corridors twisted and slipped between time and space; it was possible to end up in a loop roaming to and fro in one specific hallway if you weren’t familiar with the feel of the structure but those who lived there seemed to be settling in nicely. Despite how the Sanctum often spawned doors to other dimensions (and there was a wardrobe which could be used for the same purpose, to step into some other version of Narnia), that is - but it wasn’t so much of a worry here, when no one could technically leave this world unless blipped out. That morning, he actually got the fridge demon to cooperate with him (maybe because he said the food would be for Wanda) and he was able to prepare eggs and toast - and tea, a cup of the fruity and floral blend he’d picked up from Looking-Glass Teas. The Alice in Wonderland place, quirky in its own right. He’d gotten used to his shaking hands, they way they were never still (some days were worse than others) but it made carrying a tray for too long a little bit noisy - what with the dishes clattering - so the Cloak of Levitation balanced everything after one end formed a fist, while he knocked on Wanda’s bedroom door. “Morning?” he called cautiously, not wanting to disturb her or just portal in. If she was asleep he’d come back. Mostly he just thought they could do some training before he was due to wander into the clinic and put himself into Hippocratic Oath mode. Fun. It wasn’t as if Wanda was unfamiliar with sharing space with strangers. She’d done it most of her life in varying degrees anyway (the small apartment she’d grown up in, the orphanage, the compound), so adjusting to that in particular wasn’t difficult and the other ‘roomies’ were fine. The Sanctum certainly claimed the title of most bizarre residence by far but its existence kept her mind occupied plenty enough - acquainting herself with the ins and outs, familiarizing herself letting herself simply feel its energy shift in mysterious ways. Energy, she learned, that was best labeled as magic. That was a term she never associated herself with. Not until Stephen tossed the word around, theorizing over the crackle of red that danced along her fingertips and filled her eyes. It was something to work with, perhaps. Look into while she was here, because what else was there? Wanda had been out a few times. She had met up with old friends, played the game of catch up and in the end, despite their warm welcomes, still felt that icy sense of loneliness. They had more or less picked up the pieces of their lives and moved forward from events that felt fresh. It was unfair. It was also no one’s fault. So she tried her best most days, and also tried not let the constant, battering waves of feeling like shit pull her into the deep. Progress was being made. Slowly, yes - but surely. It meant that by the time Stephen arrived at her bedroom door that morning she was dressed for the day, casual in tight jeans and kitten-heeled boots with a plain shirt. The hoodie over it all just made it cozy. “Hi,” she greeted with more surprise than anything, brows pinched together in a small show of confusion. Wanda held the door open wide. “Good morning. Did - did you want to come in?” The bedroom she had claimed for herself was tidy and plain with a dash of haunted house aesthetic but to be fair? That was the vibe of the Sanctum, really. Maybe one day she’d personalize it to her tastes like he suggested. Coming in, right, that’d be good. Better than just standing here like an idiot - or waving like an idiot, which was what the cloak was doing now, at the opposite end which lifted up and greeted Wanda with as much enthusiasm as a sentient piece of magical fabric could muster. Hihihihihihi, all until Stephen batted it back. “Stop,” he grumbled at the fluttering red menace, but the cloak had a mind of its own and occasionally wouldn’t listen when it didn’t want to do so. One more wave (honestly, the thing was like a toddler sometimes), then it fluttered back down to lay still. Stephen took the tray with meager morning offerings (it wasn’t fancy - he wasn’t sure how she liked her eggs so he’d gone with scrambled, and added cheese because only heathens and/or vegans hated cheese) and held it out. “I made you breakfast,” he said, clearing his throat so he didn’t sound too gruff, like he was a troll living under a bridge. Maybe a troll, just without the bridge. “And I thought I’d show you the Mirror Dimension. If you want to get a feel for more of that chaos magic.” That Cloak of Levitation was, ah, certainly something. Wanda had to choke down a chuckle and yes, actually, she did wave back at it - would be rude not to, right? There were certain things in the Sanctum that had sentience and she wanted to respect that. Maybe that was why she made friends with the demonic presence in the fridge so quickly. The breakfast offering was also unexpected, and had her blinking several times before her brain caught up (why would he??) and spurred her into action. “Oh! Thank you,” she said, taking the tray. Toast, eggs and tea (what kind, she wondered) didn’t seem meager to her. It caught her off guard but nothing to complain about - she appreciated it. “I could eat, actually.” Wanda brought it over to the nightstand, settling onto the edge of the mattress so she could be in close proximity to this homemade breakfast of hers. The tea was inspected first as he outlined the purpose of his visit, a curious whiff of the aroma before she took a tentative sip. It was good. “I suppose we can… do that. I won’t actually be able to damage anything in there, will I?” She had never been to another dimension before, so - this was going to be a bewildering experience. “No, you won’t,” Stephen assured, opting to not bother Wanda on the bed and instead sat in the desk chair. The room was gothic-inspired (candles hung on the wall, even) but it wasn’t completely devoid of color - rich blues and burgundy looked nice in here, the crimson reminding him of Wanda anyway. Maybe due to her magic that she hadn’t really been trained with, but hopefully they could change that. “The Mirror Dimension is used for training purposes - or observation. Nothing will affect the real world. And you’ll be able to play around with the shapes and the different structures.” It looked like Vallo but - not. A cracked reflection, maybe, but she’d soon see for herself. “The Ancient One taught me about the different kinds of magic even if Eldritch magic is primarily what the Masters of the Mystic Arts use. So I know some about chaos magic, but I assume hands-on practice will be best.” He paused, arctic gaze flickering down so he wasn’t just watching her eat though he was glad she was getting the protein burst before they did some work - but also because he knew that, in a state of mourning, sometimes eating fell by the wayside. He’d been there too. “That tea’s from Looking-Glass Teas, by the way. It’s called Queen of Hearts.” Mmm, so she could cut loose is what she gathered. Wanda nodded along with his words. She was fine with that. Sometimes it helped to unleash a bolt or five, like it was this manifestation of feeling that needed to be let out before it came to a boil and unleashed itself into something bigger - something worse. It was difficult to put into words but she did feel it, this simmer of more beneath the surface. A sense of instability. The opportunities she had taken with the Avengers to control them helped with trial and error exercises - it had all been gambles, guesses at best, fancy terminology written up in her dossier that described what she could do in a way that sounded clinical and scientific. Having a different approach with someone else could yield better results. “I do like the tea,” she admitted after a nibble of toast, trying to be quick about this breakfast ordeal - Stephen was always busy, she didn’t want to intrude on any of his scheduled time. The eggs were polished off next. “Breakfast is good too. Were you nice to my friend in the fridge?” The inquiry was matched with a raised eyebrow. “They can be very sensitive, you know.” Stephen’s eyebrow quirk mirrored Wanda’s. “Am I ever nice?” he asked rhetorically, though he knew the answer already. However. “We didn’t have a long conversation - all I had to say was that I was making you breakfast, and it gave up the ingredients easily enough.” The fridge demon had clearly taken a liking to Wanda and he supposed he could see why - she was...caring. Sensitive too, he thought, but not in a bad way - maybe empathetic was a better word. Whereas Stephen had finally settled into something like a certain honest humility that would have suited him well as a doctor - and yet he still wasn’t nice. Standing up, he curled his fingers (the hand wearing the sling ring - he wouldn’t dare go into the Mirror Dimension without it) and swept his arm to draw a circle in the air; it shimmered and sparked into existence a moment later, a glowing golden ring. Through it, lay the city streets of Vallo. Same buildings, same surroundings - except nothing was quite right; the architecture looked funky and Cubist, like fractals or Lego buildings put together oddly given the way the houses and other buildings stretched toward the sky and twisted around each other. They shouldn't be able to make bows out of wood and steel but here they were - gnarled like tree branches and other aspects perfectly square. There was just no rhyme or reason to it, really. Colors were odd too - they ran together, like the whole world was a painting caught in the rain. “Follow me,” he instructed, and stepped through. Nope. Wanda was not going to dignify that question with a list of examples to prove that he wasn’t as stoic as he came across. There was a softness there, albeit a very carefully selective softness. Could his bedside manners improve? From what she’s witnessed - probably. Watching him interact with others had admittedly provided her with some amusement, too. Instead she let out a hum, finishing off that delicious Queen of Hearts tea and by the time she had set the cup back down onto the tray, Stephen was up and already creating this gateway towards the dimension he spoke of. At first glance it looked a bit acid-trippy. It looked disjointed, but also - seamless? Nothing like Wanda’s seen before. She followed him through, taking a second to really survey the surroundings because things were still happening all around. They could observe the actions of others, vehicles moving, life continuing on in some fractured way. “Can someone sense us on this side?” she asked, blue eyes falling back to him curiously. “The magic community here seems very sensitive to changes from what I have read.” She was still getting accustomed to this social network thing so she opted to really lurk more than anything at the moment, getting a feel for other Outlanders and what they all did. There was a lot to discover simply by reading the interactions. “It’s possible,” Stephen admitted, since he wasn’t exactly all up on who could do what in terms of magic - everyone was Super Powerful™ was all that he could deduce, so he just filed the figurative dick measuring under that category and didn’t pay much attention to anything else. “The Mirror Dimensions exists right next to the Material Plane. If someone is sensitive to the different levels of the multiverse and used to traversing them then perhaps they might feel...a tingle, I don’t know.” He was able to warp reality in this dimension - so with a sweep of his hands he separated the street in front of them, breaking it into pieces so it twisted around and came together again, forming a circular platform. “The Ancient One taught me that magic is harnessing energy from the multiverse - we draw that energy from other dimensions and it already exists; it’s neither created nor destroyed. But chaos magic - it’s spontaneous creation. Originates back to an elder god named Chthon, who is the primordial force of creation itself. It’s a wild kind of magic but you - you can shape it to your will.” Stephen stepped back and a maze formed around them - cubes of steel and metal pillars, buildings that swayed and dropped, a labyrinth of geometric designs. Straight lines, up and down, and the circular platform was the center. “How would you escape this maze?” he asked, and there were a few options. No wrong answer. Spontaneous creation. Wanda’s brows practically skyrocketed. That wasn’t anything she’s done, ever - she had been called a weapon of mass destruction before which felt like the exact opposite of the power he described. Part of her wondered if Stephen simply made an error in judging the extent of her power. The terrain around them shifted and she watched, skepticism the most decipirable look to her face at the moment. It wasn’t as if she expected danger or anything - she just didn’t really know what he expected from her. “Not walk around aimlessly and hope for the best,” she retorted with first. The patience for that didn’t exist. If the context was dire and dangerous, she knew what her first option would be. “I would make my own exit. Violently. I assume flying out of here would be cheating.” As soon as Wanda said flying out of here, the cloak Stephen wore fluttered and lifted him up; he hovered in the air, assuming a criss-cross, applesauce sort of position. “There’s no cheating - you can try whatever you think might work. Maybe a violent exit is the answer, maybe it isn’t - it comes down to who can use the tools this world provides the quickest, and the most logically.” He planned to kind of just toss her in and let her go wild - to really get a feel for that chaos magic, besides what color it was (red, neon electric) and to not worry about repercussions. The maze was held together by him, his ability to tap into the power source of this dimension and use it to twist the environment to his liking - and when he let the grip slacken just a little, the pieces started falling, the walls literally closing in. A challenge. Gauntlet thrown. Get crushed by the steel beams or find a way out, tick tock. It was going to be like that, huh. Wanda inhaled sharply, twisting her neck side to side for a little audible crack to help loosen herself up - fine. A solution. There were several, yes. Summoning energy, morphing it into a bolt to blast her way out was the most obvious option. That was an uncreative way to get herself out of here, but it would work. Point of this exercise was to test out something different. Something else. Spontaneous creation, like he had mentioned - which seemed ludicrous, a method that didn’t seem like it should work except he seemed certain it may. So fine, she’d give it a go. Presumably before the maze tried to smother her. Her eyes fell shut, and she let herself feel - will something into this reality, anything. It started with her hands engulfed in that warp of crimson magic, tiny bolts and ripples that moved on their own accord. Her palms faced upward, and the power seemed to expand and contort. It was molding into a specific form, energy weaving together so intricately that it was beginning to look like she had created stone from nothing itself. Boulder-sized stone. Two of them, and carved into them was the very human design of Stephen Strange’s face. When her eyes snapped open, they were the same color as that magic - and she swung her arms to slam those constructions into the maze walls like wrecking balls. This, she’d call artistic destruction. His face, huh? Stephen did something he hadn’t in what felt like a really long time - he laughed, though it was more a low chuckle that was a pleasant rumble, an engine coming to life on a cold, cold morning. “You even got the shape of my nose right,” he praised, boosting himself up a bit still in that lotus-style position, the cloak rippling in a crimson wave around him. The boulders did what they were intended to do - they collided with the sides of the maze, a crack that sounded like the firing of a cannon. Steel and metal crunched, twisting into pieces scattered on the ground and light filtered through from where holes had been wrecked in the maze. “Good, Wanda,” he added - she hadn’t used blasts, bolts, she already knew she could create. She didn’t use materials already found on this plane. But instead she created something else out of nothing, which was the whole point - a demonstration of chaos magic. Stephen landed on another beam, which shot downward like a slide and attached itself to more - the scrap metal whirled in a tornado and he re-formed it using his own will, creating the maze once more. Just in a different shape, placements of the corners and corridors at different points. “Go again?” “Got your cheekbones too!” she called out, a little surprised at herself because - well, this was new but also power she knew, re-purposed in a way she had never done before. Wanda had to rework the way she conjured it, had to think differently and the result came to be exactly how she wanted it to. The boulders keeping their form remained effortless. They simply existed without much effort, as if the magic fueling them was on automatic. Auto-pilot if you would. Stephen toyed with the maze’s structure again, and she kept the boulders levitated and twirling in mid-air like they were sculptures being shown off to the public. Again, then. This time she clapped her hands together, and the boulders collided and instead of destroying themselves they merged. Magic took the form of static as she deconstructed it all into something new - this time a hulking mass of a pebbled body to match the face (still Stephen’s, she found that she enjoyed that part very much). A golem, more or less. Wanda didn’t need to move her hands and tug on invisible strings to make this one move. It did as if it had a mind of its own - went a little Hulk Smash against the metal beams, programmed with a purpose.. Admittedly, it startled. “Am I supposed to be able to - ?” she swallowed a little. “Be able to have it do that on its own? I’m not… doing anything to make it do that. I don’t think I am.” But was she? His cheekbones, what? Stephen was a little flustered too - because who the hell noticed his cheekbones? Not like he noticed them - they were simply a part of his face, and it wasn’t as if he thought about how sharp they were, sharp enough to cut a finger open. Or that he never needed to really learn how to contour, if that was a thing. But he got it together, clearing his throat and observing the creation of the stone golem - long limbs unfolded, and he drifted down to touch the ground once more. “Spontaneous creation, like I said,” he replied. “It has a purpose, a goal, its own mind.” Probably wasn’t the most intelligent being, but that was fine. “Granted, you created it in this dimension so it’s tied to this dimension and likely won’t be able to function outside of it.” Which was why practicing in here was the safest bet for all parties involved. Vallo already had enough problems with creatures going around and smashing things. “The only limit is your imagination,” he went on. This rousing tutorial was interrupted by another CRUNCH which was the golem smashing the maze pieces to bits of scrap metal - more light beamed in, the atmosphere hazy. “You have a lot of raw power, Wanda. But I promise to help you become a powerful practitioner in your own right.” If they weighed power on a scale she definitely had more than even the Ancient One had, most likely - but Wanda didn’t know how to use it in the way the Ancient One did. Being powerful didn’t mean being unbeatable - just ask Thanos. The golem pummeled along, doing away with the material that made the maze bit by bit. It was focused, coming up with a pattern of behavior all on its own. Wanda had a difficult time wrapping her mind around the fact that it could be senient, even if its brain was literally a pile of stone. So definitely not some intelligent lifeform, but it was certainly… something. “If I can make something out of nothing, that’s -” Her brows pinched together, pinning her gaze on him incredulously. “Dangerous, isn’t it?” Dangerous has all she’s ever been and this brought it to entirely to a whole new level. It didn’t sit right with her. Fearing her own power was unproductive - she was fully aware of that - but it was impossible not to feel the slightest bit overwhelmed. She wasn’t about to turn down help, not at all - because the last thing she wanted to do was to lose control of this. Wanda had gotten better at containing her abilities but to say she was in full control all the time was a lie. Hell, she hadn’t a clue she was aware of the extent of it until Stephen had basically been ‘hey, try this.’ And she did. Wanda tried it. She succeeded, as basic as it was. Worst part is that it wasn’t even that difficult. “On the surface level, I guess it’s dangerous - but a can opener can be dangerous, in the wrong hands,” Stephen pointed out. “I don’t believe you’re dangerous, Wanda. Not in terms of who you are, what you stand for.” He’d seen bad, he’d died a thousand times by its hand and still had nightmares (when he managed to sleep - often his physical form rested while the astral form studied and kept busy) where he was caught in the glow of an otherworldly neon electric violet gaze. That wasn’t Wanda - he’d fight anyone who said otherwise. The golem broke through the wall of the maze, shrapnel flying every which way - Stephen let it settle, watching as the stone creature lumbered off, unphased by much of anything. “In learning control, it might help if we study the sciences related to the magic that you channel - probability, mainly. Mathematics. And we can start meditation too, if you haven’t already.” Provided she had the interest, of course. He still had the sling ring on him (naturally, otherwise they’d be stuck) so he drew another circle which shimmered into existence, revealing a return portal to the Sanctum. “Time passes oddly here. We should head back.” But it wouldn’t be the last time they were in this getaway. A can opener. Wanda scoffed, but she got the point - intent mattered, it’s what made a difference. But she knew well how accidents happened despite intentions, hers having kickstarted the controversial Sokovia Accords a few years back. People had died. Innocent ones, when all she tried to do was protect a friend. Wanda’s hand raised towards the golem, and as she slowly closed her fingers to form a first the golem stilled. Its entire being flickered, the sight of it looking oddly glitchy - like an error in reality about to be erased. She didn’t want it wandering about this dimension aimlessly. Felt a little cruel, honestly. “I haven’t tried meditation yet,” she answered, letting her arm fall back to her side once she erased the golem - killed it, maybe? Wanda didn’t know if she was ready to contemplate the ethics of her ability to spontaneously create and erase. “But I am willing to try anything - whatever you think could help.” And before they stepped through the portal, back into the sanctum: “Thank you,” Wanda told him, biting back a sigh. “For helping. For even - telling me what this really is. I would not have known otherwise.” It was true that Wanda had zero training - but Stephen didn’t mind stepping in (everyone had to start somewhere, after all). This was what the Ancient One would have wanted him to do - she would have told him that it was right, and he felt that in his bones. “You’re welcome,” he replied gruffly - since he wasn’t always the most demonstrative person; he’d rather just bring her breakfast and go along like that was completely normal; words were like, difficult. Or something. Anyway, he motioned for her to go first through the portal since he had manners. “Your cheekbones next time.” And then the collar of the cloak slapped him on the face because that made no sense. Wanda knew he wasn’t as grumpy as he sounded. He had sharp edges - hello, his face - but there was a softness there too, buried under that expressive cloak. She would try not to poke at it too often. His secret was safe with her. Instead she smiled, nose twisting up with a dash of mischief as she sauntered through the opening. “We’ll see, Dr. Strange - you do make a very good muse.” |