ᴅᴏᴄᴛᴏʀ sᴛʀᴀɴɢᴇ (mysticism) wrote in valloic, @ 2021-04-30 20:55:00 |
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Entry tags: | !: action/thread/log, ₴ inactive: rosalind walker, ₴ inactive: stephen strange |
WHO: Dr. Strange & Rosalind
WHAT: He gives her a car for her birthday, no big deal. It doesn't mean anything. Not a damn thing. Really.
WHERE: The Sanctum
WHEN: Backdated to last Sunday
WARNINGS: Stephen tells the story of how he wrecked that car, but otherwise no
STATUS: Complete
A lot of things had changed for Stephen, ever since that fateful night - when he made the mistake of looking at his tablet and not the road, flipping off a mountain, and becoming trapped inside a twisted ball of crushed metal. And that made sense, because giving up the life of being the best neurologist in the world meant change. So much shifting in this new life too, nothing ever really settling or staying the same here - not in Vallo. However, despite the way living here sometimes felt like being caught in a washer load off balance and ready to fling wet clothes out into the stratosphere, there were still some constants. Some comforts. He’d gotten accustomed to Rosalind working at the Sanctum, shelving books, keeping the library organized, and tending to the artifacts when need be - more than that though, he was fond of her. Fond enough to want to make her birthday special, and hoped he could accomplish that by baking her a cake. And giving her a car as a bright, shiny gift - speaking of changes, that was a big one. Being Master of the Mystic Arts meant no fancy car to his name, not anymore - and he was fine with that, fine with never driving again. He didn’t want to. Even thinking about getting behind the wheel made his chest tighten up and stones fall into his stomach. No fancy car, no black tie events, no need to dress up like he was actually someone important. That was why he was wearing a hoodie today, on a Sunday. With a t-shirt beneath, and gray jogging pants. His favorite pair of jogging pants, in fact - they were pretty worn down, but he didn’t care. The Lamborghini Huracán Coupé had a big red bow proudly placed on its hood (bow made by Wanda), and Stephen had led Roz out to the garage behind the Sanctum so he could tell her the car was now hers. The cake was in the kitchen, frosted and ready to be devoured. But he thought he ought to talk about - other shit first. Like how easy it truly was to give up this vehicle and what that meant. “Told you I’d find a car somewhere?” he smirked, dropping the keys into her hand. “It’s yours now.” When Dr. Strange had said he was going to find a car somewhere, Roz had been sure he was joking. Even if he hadn’t been joking and she had actually been expecting a car, it would have never been anything like this. Maybe a second hand Honda Civic, or something along those lines. Roz had never set eyes on a Lamborghini outside of movies. So she had no idea why he had led her toward the garage, and if it was physically possible for her jaws to hit the floor, they would have. She was barely aware of the keys dropping into her hands, because she was still still staring at the car like it was a trick. A glamour. But she’d see past that easily enough. Slowly, she turned her head toward Dr. Strange, her eyes following last because she was having a hard time looking away. “...you can’t be serious.” her voice shocked. This car was worth more than her parents combined over several years. It had a value that Roz wasn’t really capable of wrapping her mind around. “...Are you serious?” Oh yeah. Serious as a heart attack, and Rosalind maybe shouldn’t ponder how much this car cost. It was during Stephen’s selfish narcissistic asshole days (now he was - simply just an asshole?), where he burned through money about as fast as he could earn it. Where fancy dinner parties and speaking engagements were the norm for his week nights, where he had an expensive watch to go with every outfit and didn’t give a fuck about anyone besides himself. “I am,” he confirmed, slipping those shaking hands into the pockets of his jogging pants - a habit by now, to quell the aforementioned shaking; the only time it stopped entirely was when he was casting a spell, practicing magic in some way. “The car appeared and - I don’t have any use for it. I don’t ever want to drive again. It’s...a long story,” he added carefully. “One I thought we could go over, if you want to try the cake. Wanda helped so it probably turned out really good.” And he’d been practicing too, wanting to make this birthday delight the perfect amounts of moist (terrible word), fudgey, and delicious. People with magic and cars didn’t seem to be a common thing, she noticed. Why would it be, when you could teleport, or create portals to get you where ever you wanted? But Roz had grown up mortal, and despite the fact that she could teleport now, she still understood the appeal of getting in a car and just going, with no destination in mind. Maybe Dr. Strange didn’t feel that, and yeah, she was curious to know why. “Do I want to try the cake.” she mused, shaking her head. That was a silly question. Especially if Wanda had come to the rescue. “This is going to be a depressing story, isn’t it?” she didn’t need to be a Seer to know that. Any story that involved a car and the owner not wanting to drive it anymore had to be a depressing one. But she had to triple check. “Are you sure? This is a really big gift. Like huge. I don’t even know cars and I know this is incredibly valuable.” “I’m sure,” Stephen promised. “My name’s on the insurance policy but so is yours - I’m only on it so I could buy insurance,” he chuckled. Which - of course he had. He wouldn’t just give Rosalind a car and then make her pay for keeping it insured based on the laws of the land blah blah blah. Besides, he was very thorough - always had been. Even when he had no desire to get behind the wheel of a car again. But in all seriousness, he lowered his gaze - a flustered, bashful sort of expression for someone who once wouldn’t take on specific neurology cases unless they were a big deal. Now, he simply wasn’t used to digging into the depths of his dilapidated heart to find that it worked beyond the layers of dust and grime. “I - wanted you to have a nice birthday. You deserve that.” It was his way of saying out of all the teenagers here, she was definitely his favorite kid - take it as you will, or something. Back inside he went, and as for if it was going to be a sob story - well. Yes. “Slightly depressing,” he added on the way. “It has a happy ending though. Or it - turned out okay, I should say.” The very thought of how much money this must have been costing him made her stomach knot. There was no way she would ever be able to afford insurance on a car like this, and she wasn’t sure she had the stomach to even ask how much it was. She had to assume this place came with some unknown amount of wealth if that wasn’t an issue. It was worth a hell of a lot more than the work she did here. Roz wasn’t sure what to say. Her birthday was as good as it could be without her family, friends, and boyfriend back home. It wasn’t what she really wanted, but she appreciated what everyone had done for her more than she could say. She knew Dr. Strange was a good person, that was obvious. At least to her. But she hadn’t expected anything like this. So she hugged him, a tight squeeze and a thank you with a smile. He had never struck her as the feelings type, but he was just going to have to deal with the hug of a grateful teenager for a few seconds. “I’d hope so, since you’re standing here in front of me.” she said, following him back inside toward the kitchen. Oh, Hoary Hosts of Hoggoth, that hug. Wanda had warned him it would be a thing, and he told her he might explode - to his credit, he didn’t. It just took Stephen a second to return it because he’d been kind of frozen in place for a second - but then he actually lifted his arms and squeezed the child (well, she wasn’t really a child - whatever) gently, his hand resting on the back of her head. But, right, yes. Cake. As soon as he pulled himself together, that was going to happen. In the kitchen, slices of ooey gooey double chocolate were plated and he went to the demon-infested fridge and freezer combo hoping it would cooperate. “Just need the ice - “ he started, though before he could finish the door opened and a pint of vanilla cherry ice cream flew right at him and he managed to catch it. “Okay, thanks.” This fucking thing. “Here, have a seat,” he offered, scooping out some of that ice cream to go with cake. “Um, well - “ Where to start, was the question. “I bought that car at the height of my surgical career. I was one of the world’s top neurosurgeons, actually, and that night I was on my way to give a lecture at some black-tie event. But I never got there - I was driving too fast, of course, on the phone and talking, looking down at the medical info a colleague sent to my tablet to give a brief consult on and...I don’t remember much after that. Just remember flying off the side of a mountain, flipping a few times.” And pain. So much pain. He still felt it in his hands, exacerbated whenever it rained - the pressure made the presence of steel pins so much more pronounced. It felt like fire beneath his skin. “Then I woke up in a hospital bed. My hands were completely destroyed, along with some other extensive injuries - but my hands were the worst part. At least to me.” If she noticed the awkward, she didn’t show it or react to it. Had he tried to stop her she would have respected that, but he seemed okay, so she went with it. She really was grateful. Not because it was an insanely expensive gift, but because it was a gift at all. The fact that she had established any connections at all outside of her friends from home was important. She was grateful for this place, the Sanctum, and the people. Including the demon in the fridge and its temper. She hid a smile as it threw the contents Dr. Strange was looking for him before he could even finish his sentence. Onto the serious part of the conversation that was coming with this car. She suspected his hands- she had noticed the scarring but had minded her own business- was going to be involved. So she sat and listened. Roz figured he was an actual doctor, but didn’t know what kind. Surgeon. He didn’t need to finish the story for her to piece what came after the accident together enough to get the idea. “Is that when you found out about magic?” she asked curiously, “After the accident?” “Yes. I was desperate to heal my hands. Blew through all my savings looking for some kind of miracle cure,” Stephen said, tone rough but quiet and thoughtful. He hadn’t really told this story in awhile - felt like everyone knew already anyway. Doctor Strange and his hero’s journey. Except it had taken him awhile to feel like any kind of hero - took him awhile to feel anything besides pain, when he’d finally crawled out of it and did what he had to do to protect the world. It had been entirely his fault, naturally - that accident. He’d been brilliant, but his arrogance caused his downfall when he thought he could drive distractedly at night in the rain, navigating mountain roads that twisted like fiery serpents. “I met this guy, Jonathan Pangborn - doctors told him that he’d never walk again but here he was, playing basketball. I asked him how he did it and he told me about a place in Kathmandu. Kamar-Taj, where he was trained in the mystic arts and learned how to heal himself through magic and mindfulness. Needless to say I was skeptical, but - I went to Nepal and convinced the Ancient One to teach me. Now, the only time my hands don’t shake is when I’m using magic.” He supposed he could heal himself completely, but - he’d already had that talk with the Ancient One. About choosing between himself and a greater purpose. Besides, the brokenness of his hands served as a reminder that not everything could be fixed, or had to be fixed; it was a connection to humanity, in an odd way. “So I just want you to be careful,” he finished, cutting into that cake slice with his fork. “Be a safe driver.” He knew she would be, but still. Maybe this explained more about why he was completely fine with giving that car away. Draining savings and a miracle cure Roz knew something about. Not that her family had much in the lines of savings to begin with to have been able to help her eyes. But they had tapped into every financial resource they could have before she’d been decursed. Still, she listened to his story. It was hard to picture him as a surgeon and not as he was now. Roz would never say the accident had been a good thing, but she was glad he had found his way to magic. “I spent most of my life thinking I’d never get the chance to drive at all.” she said with a shrug. “I’m not about to go and do something stupid to mess that up for myself.” she was typically a safe person all around. She usually examined situations carefully, it was just sometimes you had to do dangerous things when you lived in Greendale and your very existence was threatened. She was still in the process of getting her full licence anyway, so it wasn’t like she was going to be cruising around the city right away. Roz was working on it, but they didn’t just hand those cards over when it was convenient. “I’m still in the process of getting my licence, so I have time to practice controlling it before I’m allowed to mingle with the other drivers.” Rosalind didn’t strike him as the reckless type anyway - and Stephen was glad for that. Because he really had come to care about her (ugh, care - it was so weird, and what were feelings) and the last thing he wanted was for her to hurt herself. No, mostly he just wanted her to have a normal teenage life - she was also a teenage witch who looked after the library in a Sanctum that was teeming with mystical vibes and plenty of tricks and surprises, but still. Going out with her friends, cruising, grabbing a shake from the drive-through - that was what the kids did, right? Stephen was beginning to think he was born grown up and boring, or something. “Well, I’m sure you’ll get it soon and now you’ll be ready for when you do,” he pointed out. “Doing okay otherwise? If there’s anything else you need...” Well, he’d be there. Homework assignment help? Side-eying anyone she decided to date? He could handle that. Roz shrugged her shoulders, gesturing that she couldn’t think of anything she needed. At least not anything Dr. Strange could give her. She had a lot she didn’t know how to deal with, and focusing on school and work was keeping her going and keeping her distracted. “Stay busy, adjusting to school.” it was a complete lifestyle change for her, and that wasn’t including the alternate reality. “Catching up to everyone else is taking a lot of my time, and I’ve started talking to some of the other psychics in the area over at 300 Fox Way and those people associated with them.” The more she could focus on magic, the less she had to focus on anything else. Which was probably a bad way to look at it, but it was what she had at the moment. Stephen’s brow furrowed a little. He had a feeling what staying busy entailed, and he saw a lot of himself in that statement - he once told the Ancient One that his talents at neurosurgery came about from practice and study, years of it, but when he stepped into the role as Earth’s guardian of reality (after she died, the grip of her astral form slipping free from his while they watched the snow fall) he didn’t have years to spare. However he did have the time stone. And plenty of time to study and train - he never denied using the gem for those purposes, not to Wong. Maybe he shouldn’t have done that. Maybe it wasn’t the best use of an infinity stone - but he’d done it regardless. Still. He didn’t want Rosalind to fall into something like that, using magic as a distraction or a way to fix her problems - because it wouldn’t. As much as people wanted to believe otherwise, magic wasn’t meant to fix every problem either. “Well, don’t overdo it,” he cautioned. “I’m probably going to keep an eye on you. And, uh - you know. All of that.” Be aware of what went on in her life. Be present? Look out for her. Perhaps that was what he meant. She wasn’t quite sure what overdoing looked like, she wasn’t forgetting to eat, sleep, or show up for work. Things were getting done. It was better than wallowing, as far as Roz was concerned. She tilted her head slightly as she picked up a fork to actually start eating the cake that they had made. “I think you meant that in a way of ‘I’m watching out for you’ rather than ‘I’m watching your every move,’ right?” For having gone to med school, she wasn’t sure he knew how to use his words well when it came to other people. It was kind of hilarious. “Oh - yes. That. I’m not watching your every move,” Stephen assured, because that would be weird as hell. This wasn’t a Police song (every breath you take, and so forth). “Looking out for you though, is what I meant.” She was a kid and she didn’t have it all figured out - honestly, not a lot of adults did either but sometimes there were people who slotted themselves into your life and kind of made you want to have your shit together (for their sake), so he’d just consider this one of those types of situations. Rosalind maybe didn’t have people back home to do that for her. Now he’d just basically change the subject and also stuff cake into his mouth - because she was here to celebrate her birthday and, besides, if they talked too much about feelings he might start to break out in hives. And they couldn’t have that. |