WHAT: Carol asks Stephen to teach her magic because surely that wouldn't be stupid at all WHERE: The Sanctum WHEN: Today WARNINGS: Language, creepy aliens as food, body swapping! STATUS: Complete
It was a little thing, something she would normally dismiss out of hand. But it kept coming up, just in the most mundane of moments - like watching Emme set spell after spell into motion to keep the apartment in order. She’d never been particularly interested in magic. She admired it from afar, thought its wielders were impressive, but it wasn’t for her. She was already what most people would consider critically overpowered, and she didn’t mind staying in that lane.
But lately, she’d been wanting to learn something. Even just a few small spells, some tricks she could show Emmeline. An idea of what all of this entailed because there was more to it, too - Marley. She would be born with magic, Emme’s magic. Carol obviously couldn’t do the wand-waving magic of Emme’s world, because it was hereditary in some form, but Eldritch magic? The kind Stephen had learned after his accident? That had to be feasible, right? If he could do it, she could do it, she had no doubt.
So, Carol did what Carol did best and invited herself over to the Sanctum for lunch. Without informing its residents because what fun would that be. It was a Wednesday, normal business hours applied, so she would just surprise Stephen and make her request. She was actually a little nervous, but she covered it well. This was no big deal; surely it would be a quick ‘watch and repeat’ sort of exercise and end up as one more fancy skill to add onto her superhero résumé.
The Sanctum may be intimidating to some, but Carol didn’t count herself among those people. This was the place where they’d had their Very Merry Avengemas party, where she’d had couples’ brunches on multiple occasions, and the setting of quite a few of her and Stephen’s friend-dates. She’d personally had words with the fridge demon and earned herself a ban until she gave in and sucked up to it again - something which had yet to happen.
Still, she wasn’t rude enough to deprive the building of showing off its spoopy magical vibes. She strode up to the door, used the big brass knocker (heh), and let the door creeeeak its way open to admit her before stepping inside.
Normal business hours at the Sanctum meant Stephen kept it open for researchers or purveyors of artifacts - he didn’t really sell anything in the Chamber of Relics, or make offers, but he let people look. It was kind of like a museum, in a sense - some folks were into that, and he was fine with accommodating. His schedule was often all over the place but there was usually someone here to greet visitors - and the wards did a good job with sussing out intentions; at each approach up the front steps and at each clanging knock, they flickered and shimmered like brand new stars, a field of little tiny red-orange gems. Imperceptible to most, perhaps, but the magic was clearly there. It was a combination of Stephen and Wanda’s magic and since they’d, ah, coupled in the Sanctum quite a bit the building itself was intertwined with their magic too - it responded to them, worked with them, wrapped around them.
Alerted them to guests, such as now. Stephen was in the kitchen preparing something - he wasn’t sure what he’d eat yet, but he’d been staring disparagingly into the fridge at the critters that blinked back at him, all sorts of snacks picked up from the underground alien grocery store he and Wanda had discovered. It was either eat these, tempt fate (and the stomach gods) with something normal, or call for takeout from one of the restaurants he knew had compatible food.
Take out was sounding better and better, though he tried not to do it too often. Constant takeout wasn’t healthy, no matter if you were dining on Earth-based or alien cuisine.
Then the knock shifted his trajectory, so he shut the door and floated into the foyer, Cloak lifting him off his feet so it was a smooth glide - and he hovered, as the doors did their creepy, slow split open (he really did enjoy that effect). “Well, look who’s here,” he greeted. “Come on in, Danvers.” Cloud was around here somewhere too - he generally preferred to sun himself on the nearest windowsill, or lounge out in the courtyard, but he’d probably make an appearance at some point.
Such a showman - Carol smirked at the sight of him. She was pretty sure Stephen enjoyed giving off just a touch of that same creepy vibe newbies felt when entering the Sanctum. He was naturally kind of gaunt, and with Cloak settled on his shoulders, he radiated intimidation. It was a whole shtick, the Sanctum and its caretaker. People kept coming back to this museum of oddities, so she couldn’t fault him. Well-deserved kudos to the Sorcerer Supreme.
Of course, there was nothing intimidating about him to her. He was formidable as fuck in battle, but right now, he was just her dramatic, hovering friend. And if he was here to greet her, she’d timed her visit well; she hadn’t interrupted a tour or a showing, so she had his full attention to convince him she was worth a couple hours of magic lessons.
“Hey,” she greeted him back, strolling past him onto the familiar path to the kitchen. “You eaten yet? I’m starving. Think the fridge demon has forgiven me yet?”
His new diet wasn’t her preferred cuisine. She was an Earth girl at heart and preferred Earth-based foods over most things. But she’d spent a collective three decades in space, there wasn’t much she hadn’t tried. She could fry up some crispy critters and eat them for Stephen’s sake.
Stephen’s feet touched the floor, the Cloak fluttering to lay still after waving in its happy-go-lucky kind of way. “Was just about to consider lunch,” he said, heading back into the kitchen. “And don’t listen to the fridge demon - it’s a bitch anyway. Aren’t you?”
In response, the appliance rumbled like a freight train - a disgruntled sort of warble, but Stephen only chuckled. He wouldn’t call the fridge demon docile by any stretch of the imagination, yet it seemed to have settled a bit as of recent times. Much like the Sanctum itself - maybe it was just getting used to Vallo, the more it remained tethered to this world.
“We have leftovers from dinner last night - it was enchiladas for Wanda and Peter, if you want those,” he said as he opened the dreaded fridge demon door. Those critters clicked and spluttered and chirped, but Stephen paid them no mind - they were about to become a meal. He was almost even used to this weirdness. “...or these,” he motioned to a container of something that had...a lot of legs. It actually wasn’t bad when you fried it, or rolled it in breadcrumbs and then baked it.
Carol almost went right for the enchiladas, but you know what? Nah. She could be adventurous, and she was going to go ahead and believe that frying this many-legged thing would make it taste like chicken. And even if it didn’t, well, she had almost certainly eaten worse. She’d tried her hand at a few classic British dishes lately, most of which had been dicey at best, so this would probably be an improvement.
“Let’s fry some things,” she decided. “Save the enchiladas for the delicate humans around here.” Being a Kree hybrid helped, too. Her digestive system could take just about anything; Kree cuisine was different, if not this extremely different.
Frying things it was, then. Stephen took out the box of creepy-crawlies from the fridge (the demon was probably glad to get rid of it in all honesty - storing those things was way different than a simple carton of eggs, and it probably made the entity anxious) and also began to gather spices from the cupboard. Spices he could handle, some from the grocery store that catered to those like him with sort of otherworldly appetites - he was pretty sure he had seen red wine spaghetti sauce as an option, and the sauce was mostly blood.
There was something for everyone, in Vallo - very inclusive, he had to give it that.
Oil heating up in the pan, he’d let Carol pick which spices she wanted - meanwhile, the box clicked and chirped louder, as if these creatures knew the end was upon them. Fresh food - so tasty, right?
“So did you just come here for lunch or was there something on your mind?” Stephen asked, pulling a bottle of soda from the fridge too - a glass bottle, and he just waved his hand over the top rather than finagle with an actual bottle opener; easier for stiff and scarred fingers to handle, even if it was a tolerable pain day.
Carol figured most people would be very put off by hearing their forthcoming meal chirping, but Carol merely blinked before turning to select the spices Stephen had laid out from the cupboard. She ended up plucking out two - one she was familiar with from her time on Hala that came just a hair’s breadth away from setting one’s mouth on fire, and the other one that was sweet and tangy and complemented nearly anything. If these fried up creatures tasted like shit, the spices would cover it up well enough.
“That,” she said, pointing as Stephen magically uncapped the glass soda bottle. She had no trouble uncapping bottles and had mastered the trick of applying just enough pressure to the neck of a corked bottle to pop the cork free. But she wanted to do it magically - small, easy things that would make Emme smile when she saw them.
She placed a hand on the counter, straightened up to her full height, then looked up at him and said, “I want you to teach me magic.”
There was kind of a slow blink in response to Carol’s declaration, with Stephen pausing slightly - he fully planned to douse their lunch in flour and milk and breadcrumbs, to create kind of a batter accentuated with spices in order to ensure they weren’t crunching right down onto fried alien critters (texture mattered, sometimes). But then he was just distracted, and his mind screeched to a halt.
Give him a second. And then - okay, yes. There we go. There it was.
He started laughing - a deep, baritone rumble of sound that was low thunder approaching, but no less amused. “Wait, let me get this straight,” Stephen wheezed, tears squeezed out from his eyes as he set down the container of milk he’d been holding (it was alien milk so it was sort of shimmery - definitely not pure white, but it weirdly sparkled; he’d gotten used to it). “You’re basically a walking infinity stone - and you want to wield yet another power of the universe?”
She had to be joking. She had to be.
Carol had expected reticence. She had expected Stephen to make a crack about the Space Stone and how overpowered she was already. What she hadn’t expected was for him to laugh. She wasn’t sure why she hadn’t, because it made total sense, and she would probably have done the same if he’d come to her and asked her to teach him how to photon blast people. (Which she couldn’t teach, obviously, but still, that was the vibe.)
She pursed her lips, crossed her arms over her chest, and glared at him. Okay, she was a little insulted here, even if she knew deep down this might be a ridiculous ask. “Look, I’m serious. I’m not asking to be trained to be the next Sorcerer Supreme here. Just teach me a few party tricks. Or cleaning spells. Or maybe how to open a portal, that’s pretty useful.”
“First of all, you need a sling ring to open a portal and I only have one so that’s out,” Stephen began and, Vishanti’s sake, did he have to list all of the reasons why this was a bad idea? Because Carol should know it was a bad idea - he could practically see it lit up in neon scrawl on both of their foreheads and elsewhere in the room, just NOPE NOPE NOPE flashing over and over again as a dire warning. “Secondly, even party tricks can go wrong - ”
Did he also need to rehash the Runes of Kof-Kol situation? Because that was a hot mess and he was still reeling from it - granted, a whole different kind of situation where he’d tried to amp up a spell to cover the entire world when in the past it was used exclusively at Kamar-Taj (those full moon parties were wild) and the fabric of reality already began to stretch thin, little holes poked in it thanks to the unraveling of what was known as the Sacred Timeline. But overall he was just - wary. Very wary.
“Thirdly, why?” was Stephen’s next inquiry. He had battered critters ready to go and onto the pan they went for a little fry-up, pop pop crackle. Farewell, creatures, you would not die in vain.
So, no go on the portals. That was fine, it wasn’t like she was lacking transportation. She could fly and Emme could apparate - the portals weren’t necessary, but they were cool. Maybe there was a part of her brain still fascinated by shiny after all these years. But if it required a one-of-a-kind accessory, okay, she got that.
She could also practically see what he was thinking in regards to the party tricks. She’d heard the whole story of what happened back home, and she knew it had been a big mess. She obviously wouldn’t be trying to fuck with the people of Vallo’s collective memory. She wasn’t going to be asking to do any memory spells, that was for damn sure. That had too much potential to go way too wrong.
The bottle cap trick, though? Something that could instantly rid fabric of stains? Summoning a book from another room? That handy little pocket portal he’d stowed Wanda’s ring in (because maybe she’d want to do that someday, and she was the worst hider)? That couldn’t be all that bad. There had to be just a quick crash course he could give her.
If he would. At this point, he didn’t seem all that keen on the idea.
“I don’t know, just to know?” she offered, shrugging. “A lot of the people I love the most have their hands in magic, and I’d just like to be able to contribute a little something. Come on, can’t you humor me?”
Stephen pursed his lips - whether he was trying to stifle another laugh or trying to steel himself so he didn’t inevitably melt into this request and end up agreeing, well, who was to say. He was probably still debating himself - but the fact of the matter was? He happened to be a big damn softie, someone who tended to make decisions solidly based in human empathy (or at least, that was why he’d agreed to help Peter when he expressed his woes about getting into college after, you know, having his life ruined). He hadn’t always been that way - before, he was unreachable. Glacial cold, a freezer atop a mountain - but so many things had changed.
“I’m assuming you’re including me in that list of people you love who have magic,” he quipped lightly - probably so, since Carol was coming to him for help. It was kind of sweet that she wanted to learn - her intentions were pure. Wasn’t like she was wanting to acquire power for the sake of having it.
His other self knew what that was like.
“Alright,” he sighed, waving the white flag in surrender. He turned off the griddle so they didn’t burn the Sanctum down. “One spell, and we’ll see how it goes. You want to start now, or?”
Carol grinned and bumped her shoulder against his, and that was all the acknowledgement he was going to get that yes, he was included in that. That should be obvious by now, and she knew by the tone of his voice that he probably knew that already. She wouldn’t come to just anyone with this request, even if it meant being laughed at. Admittedly, some of her inspiration was that this magic was learnable and not something that you had to have inherently in you from birth. But she knew he would have patience with her, more than anyone else.
Her smile only widened and she actually fistpumped when he gave in. There he was, she had hoped he’d take pity on her. She wasn’t asking for much, really. Curiosity had gotten the best of her, that was all, and she was determined to give it a shot at least once. “You’re my favorite, don’t tell Emme,” she joked. He was high on the list, but of course there was no one quite at her girlfriend’s level. She reached into a cupboard for a few glasses to pour some soda out for each of them. “Food adventure first, then my one spell? Which, I accept, by the way.”
This food adventure was looking pretty tasty - fried critters, now that was good eating. Stephen nodded, scooping up their cooked lunch - seasoned and spiced - with a spatula. He plated everything and took a testing bite to see how it turned out - and with the spice that was the Hala one, well. He could feel his face going numb which was how he liked it - having Thurvishar cook for him in the Lighthouse, with certain spices from his own home world, had prepared Stephen for such a thing; usually he was well-equipped to handle such things, but that period of adjustment and ‘what the hell is happening to me’ had him on a bland food diet for awhile.
He was glad those days were over. Back to setting his mouth aflame, sinuses cleared, nose running and eyes watering.
“Alright, fortify yourself with crunchy critters,” he said, grabbing napkins for them too - the kitchen cabinets rattled in what constituted laughter, and the fridge rumbled and growled some more. Maybe it was protesting. Or trying to warn them. Because, honestly, even Stephen had a baaaaaad feeling about this. “Then we’ll start - magic is basically just tapping into energy. The energy of the multiverse, another source - here in Vallo, I haven’t studied what energy source it actually is, but Vallo itself is so souped up on magic anyway it’s just self-sustaining and seems to be a cycle of give and take.” He could skip the forget everything you think you know part of the lesson - he’d been a stubborn ass when he first started, but Carol wasn’t going to be.
Carol nodded along, half-listening while she took in the ruckus happening around them in the kitchen. She probably should have taken it as a sign that this was a dumb idea (as Stephen’s very hearty laugh had probably indicated from go). Instead, she chose to focus on her freshly fried meal, dousing it with more of the sweeter sauce to take the edge off that first gnarly crunch. It made that human side of her internally cringe, but that feeling wore off when she realized it tasted pretty damn good.
She tried her best to focus while eating, listening to Stephen ramble on about tapping into energy, the sources of magic, how it differed from their world in Vallo, and on and on. She caught enough to get the gist of it, but she was always better in practice than in strategy. Plus, her one little spell wasn’t going to cause any world-altering problems. There was no way, she was sure of it.
When they’d finished eating and washing up, they reconvened in the living room and Carol cracked her knuckles, grinning at her companion eagerly. “Alright, let’s do this. What’s it gonna be? How do I start?”
This was going to be a disaster.
He loved Carol to death but she didn’t seem like she had the patience for the focus and precision it took to effectively cast a spell - tumultuous and glamorous both, he’d focused and he’d learned and he would devour knowledge that Kamar-Taj’s library held, flipping through book after book; when he and Wong lived in the Sanctum, before Thanos wiped out everything and his life spiraled into despair, the only times he would take a break would be to go to the deli to pick up Wong’s sandwiches, go grocery shopping in order to restock the fridge and the pantry, and to sleep. He was reminded by Wong that he had a gift for the mystic arts, as he placed down the fifth book or so that he’d flown through - reminding him of what Mordo once said, and Stephen always felt a pang in his chest when he thought of his former teacher.
But, alright, well - best to try, and it was him doing the teaching now. Amazing how the times have changed. He summoned a book to his hands from the extensive library, cracking it open and flipping to the correct page. “Sacred geometry is where you start - it’s the idea that nature and its properties are based on certain geometric shapes,” he said, demonstrating by flexing his fingers to dance the shapes into being; an intricate orange design began to glow into existence, and he manipulated a little with his hands, changing its shapes.
“This is the metatron cube,” he went on. “Body, mind, spirit - it’s will, and balance. Harmony. If you want something to happen, you cast the circles - thirteen of them, and connect the lines. So say you want to dust, you call upon this symbol and tweak it to your will.” As he said that, any dust particles scattered and dissipated, and the floors gleamed with a streak-free shine - it was meant to be a simple cleaning spell, as Carol wanted. “First - connect with the energy. Feel it in the atmosphere.”
Okay, this wasn’t going to be as simple as Carol had thought. Thirteen circles? This was just supposed to be a little spell, a flick of a wand, easy like Emme’s. (Not that she necessarily thought her girlfriend’s magic was easy, but it certainly didn’t involve having to play connect the dots with magical energy.) The geometry bit was fine - she’d gotten through every level of her math and science classes, the prereqs for becoming a pilot, without any trouble. But holy shit, it was such careful, precise work. She hadn’t expected that.
However, Carol Danvers was stubborn as fuck. She had proved that over and over again throughout her life, getting right back up when she got knocked on her ass. It was one of her best and worst traits, and right now, she was digging her heels in - literally, a bit, planting her feet firmly on the ground and her hands on her hips, studying the shapes Stephen had drawn.
She could do this, right? Right. No sweat.
The connecting part, she could definitely do. She’d learned to meditate on Hala, and that was all about connection and becoming one with the Supreme Intelligence and thus all of Kreekind. She wasn’t so keen on that idea anymore, but the vibe was the same. So, she closed her eyes and did what she was told - she tried to feel the magic in the atmosphere. And once she felt like she’d reached a spark she’d never encountered before, she looked up at Stephen and nodded.
“Thirteen circles?” It was phrased as a question but more of a statement, since she’d already started trying to mimic what she’d seen him show her. It didn’t come the most naturally to her; she was a tad clumsy in her formations and probably trying to work too quickly.
At least she felt the spark, the connection - it had taken Stephen awhile to get there, but that was because he was starting from scratch. Carol already had powers and her own connection with a specific energy; this was just a different kind, that was all. “Thirteen circles,” Stephen confirmed, and maybe he should have started with something less shape-filled but, honestly, sacred geometry was complex on its own - the designs were intricate and elaborate, each representing a different goal or outcome whether it was the Flower of Life or the sri yantra or something else entirely.
He watched Carol carefully, imperial blue eyes slenderizing in a bit of a squint - because what, in the name of the Vishanti...
“Yeah, but just - slow down,” he cautioned, coming to stand beside her to help her connect the circles without twisting them into incomprehensible shapes. “Wait - ” More rearranging, and he was doing his best to keep up but the magic was kind of careening downhill and beginning to reach the status of ‘oh shit avalanche.’
Carol did actually listen to him. She tried to slow her roll, but whatever she had done had already started that downhill decline, and even she couldn’t keep up with it. She tried just pulling her hands back, watching Stephen’s movements for the briefest of moments, then reaching back in to try to mimic him. But the shapes were changing colors now, the magical sparks starting to make these weird fizzing, popping sounds as they lit up, shifting quickly from the typical bright orange to a bright yellow to nearly white.
Then there was a loud bang; Carol was thrown backwards and the next thing she saw was utter blackness.
It took something powerful as hell to knock Carol out these days. She was more powerful than nearly any other being she’d met (except Wanda, which she had no choice but to accept after being knocked on her ass during their impromptu duel last month). She could count how many times she’d been taken off the grid on one hand, but she’d need that second hand now.
She sat up with a low groan and looked off toward the window. Seemed like the sun was right about where it had been when she’d last looked, so she couldn’t have been out for long. Her head ached, but she wasn’t in any pain. Not until she lifted her hands and flexed fingers, anyway. The pain was sharp and she had to grit her teeth against it. It felt like she was being stabbed with tiny screws, and when she lifted them to see what the hell was going on, her heart jumped into her throat.
“Fuck,” she muttered, staring at hands that were not hers. And her eyes only widened when she heard the sound of her voice - which was not her voice, much lower and deeper and rumbling in a way hers was decidedly not. “Fuck.”
Whatever that was, it wasn’t good - Stephen was fully cognizant of that little fact when he was knocked back, thrown into the wall and sending the whole Sanctum into a state of rattling concern; when he opened his eyes, it felt like ice picks were plunging into both of his ears at the same time - that was what the blast of magic had resembled, putting him back into his own memories where he’d cast the Runes of Kof-Kol and had to contain something that had gotten very out of hand, pushing the boundaries and knocking on otherworldly doors (more like taking a battering ram to them).
There was a difference between power and precision - two people could blast at each other all they wanted, but at the end of the day it was going to be about who had access to more knowledge. Implementation. Seeking solutions.
They weren’t going to be able to blast their way out of this one - Stephen knew that right away.
“This really just happened,” he deadpanned, but it wasn’t his voice either. He lifted his hand and saw how much smaller it was - packed a punch, sure, but this was a woman’s hand. Because he was in a woman’s body - Carol’s body. “So when I talked about body, mind, spirit? I didn’t mean we should switch bodies, Danvers.”
Carol startled when she heard another voice - more feminine, her own - coming from beside her. She had only just begun to process that this was Stephen’s body, running those pain-ridden hands through a much shorter head of hair, down across her face to his signature goatee, that she hadn’t processed that there had to have been a switch. Which meant she turned to stare at herself, mouth open and gaping.
But it closed quickly when Stephen went and got all snarky on her. “You think this was my intention, Strange?” she huffed in reply, crossing her arms over her chest. Usually, that was a power stance for her, but it lost some of its effect when she was seated on the floor. She probably looked more like a recalcitrant child than anything. “How do we fix it, then, oh wise one?”
Now he was sitting here, or lying here, limbs all sprawled and starfished while staring at his own body pouting like a toddler who had just angrily flung cheerios from the highchair because they couldn’t have chocolate for breakfast. This was bizarre and Stephen wasn’t into it - he got his bearings and shifted into something of a meditative pose that was criss-cross applesauce, dusting himself off. Not like being flung into the wall had done much damage, because Carol was a tank - but still. Not his cup of spiced Masala chai alien tea.
“Remember the spell you just did? You’ll have to do it again - but slower, more careful, and connect the circles in a mindful way,” he said, his voice sounding odd to his ears but that was honestly the least of Stephen’s concerns.
This better not last an amount of time that would fill him with more concerns.
“Let’s try to find some zen,” he added, fingers touching as he attempted to center himself. Cloud wandered into the room just then too - then swiftly hissed and scuttled back out, because nope nope nope. Stephen did not blame him one bit.
Carol knew this was all her own damn fault. She knew she’d jumped on this magic thing too hard, too fast and let it turn into a runaway train. She’d been so sure she could handle it - barrel right through all of Stephen’s intellectual jabber and just feel this whole thing out. It was how she’d always functioned, and she was well aware it was what had gotten them into this mess. Stephen had humored her, like she’d asked him to, and she’d fucked him over.
So, with a determined set to her jaw, she pushed herself up into a sitting position (slowly, carefully, because holy fuck, these hands ached) and tried her best to mimic him yet again. Or, well, herself this time, which was wild despite having experienced it before - there had been multiple times over the years that Talos had taken her form for some battle or another. It didn’t sit quite so right in this instance because it wasn’t supposed to be that way, and - oh yeah - she wasn’t in her own body.
She closed her eyes, letting out a small hiss of pain when she tried to pull her fingers together the way Stephen’s were. She knew his hands had been injured a long time ago, but she’d never really noticed it affecting him this way. Her hands did not want to cooperate with her brain, and even trying to push aside the jabbing sensation wasn’t working, but she was trying, she promised. She wanted out of this situation as badly as she imagined Stephen did, too.
Zen, unfortunately, wasn’t coming to her too easily right now. Her mind was racing, trying to remember what exactly it was she’d done, but it was honestly all such a blur. And although she was focused, drawing those circles again was painful, and she was gritting her teeth through it, trying to focus on the task at hand, but all she could focus on was how much it fucking hurt.
“I’m sorry,” she surrendered at last, dropping her hands and leaving them in this half-curled position on her knees that seemed to cause the most pain. “I think I just - I need a minute.”
Pain is an old friend was a sad truth for Stephen - and living with it chronically wasn’t easy. Sometimes he had to practice spells without the finger movements, sometimes he only could focus on intent when it hurt so badly he passed out with blue heating pads over broken and battered hands, his astral form fleeing from it all because he wanted to watch the water someplace calm. Cold days, rainy days, those caused thunderstorms in the joints themselves and he felt every bit of it - he didn’t want that for Carol.
So his demeanor softened and his voice softened (it wasn’t his voice, but that was beside the point) - he couldn’t push this, that wouldn’t fix anything. And who knew? This was Vallo. Maybe someone had a bodyswap fix they could pull from their ass. Seemed like everyone had a fix for damn near everything else handy.
“It’s okay,” he said, scooting closer and placing a hand on her (his) shoulder. “We’ll take a break. Figure this out - see if Wanda can help, or maybe Emme. And if we have to, we’ll head to the forest for a calmer space to fix it ourselves. But it will get fixed.” He was determined about that, anyway.
He paused, fidgeting a bit - there was so much energy to burn. He could feel it thrumming beneath his skin. “Heat helps, by the way - with the pain.” The trembling was always a thing, however - there was no stopping that, not really.
The trembling - yeah, that was a thing that was happening, too. Carol didn’t care for it. She was always completely in control of her body, but there was nothing she could do to stop what was happening in this body now. She’d always sympathized with Stephen, knowing the surface level story of how it had happened and what a struggle it had been, but that sympathy would be replaced with a burning empathy from here on out. Assuming she could get her shit together and set this right - which she had to do.
“Thanks,” she sighed. The weight of Stephen’s hand on her shoulder helped steady her. She tried to take a moment to breathe in and out slowly and force the pain out of her mind. It worked, to an extent, enough for her to focus on Stephen (herself) and notice the fidgeting. It even got a smirk out of her. “You should go run or something,” she told him. “I’d suggest flying, too, but I think that might be even more of a travesty than my attempt at magic.”
The expression on Carol’s face, the one Stephen was currently wearing, was definitely a smirk too - weird to see it on his face and, Ruby Rings of Raggadorr, he was looking at his own face. He wasn’t sure if this was also a bit of ‘lulz’ from Vallo too, but he wasn’t amused and wanted to hit something - maybe he would actually get a chance to.
“Me flying would invoke the ire of the environmental activists,” he deadpanned with dry amusement. “Because surely I’d crash and break another mountain or something.” But running, that he could do. That sounded good, actually. Stephen himself liked running - he still went with Kate sometimes - but in Carol’s body it would probably be a lot more fun.
Alright. Moving to stand, he decided they may as well accept their earned fuckery for the time being - while actively working on how to fix it. “Come on. Let’s get in touch with Emme and Wanda. I think we have some explaining to do.”