ᴅᴏᴄᴛᴏʀ sᴛʀᴀɴɢᴇ (mysticism) wrote in valloic, @ 2022-06-11 10:57:00 |
|
|||
Dreams were windows into our multiversal selves - well, apparently that was true. Stephen had dreamed it - many dreams within one dream, a whole experience. It was like Tutankhamun and its many coffins, each one a Russian doll stacked inside each other; not as pleasant, and brain-scrambling to be certain, but at least Stephen knew now. He knew where his other self was going, where he had been - how he learned that taking his worst habits to the extreme would lead to his downfall, that it had led to his downfall. He’d seen it all. Blackened fingers, the tips dipped in soot. A very sinister Strange whose obsession had literally caused the universe to collapse in on itself, the landscape melting into goo the shade of onyx as it dripped into an abyss that meant the end of everything. He’d seen his love bring an evil temple down onto herself while he laid beside the altar as basically a pile of bones that had previously knit together a cloak made of the souls of the damned, the whole structure caving in as if it was made of sand. Stephen couldn’t decide which part of that whole thing was the worst part - he just knew all of it hurt. Badly. And he also owed an explanation because he’d promised that he’d open up about whatever horrors he dreamed of whenever he did; he was a man of his word, after all. So after texting Carol and asking if he could come over, he headed for Morningside. Opened a portal right to her floor, not even bothering with a waypoint - he was just eager to get there and eager to get this over with. He’d already sobbed and screamed with Wanda and they’d been through the whole gamut of emotions so he didn’t know if he had any tears left - but he supposed he’d see. Wouldn’t rule out any possibilities, anyway. So he showed up in jeans and a navy button-down shirt, knocking on Carol’s door. It was an ominous echo to his ears, like this wasn’t a door at all - but iron bars instead. Although Carol and Stephen had the best friends thing locked in now, time spent in Carol and Emme’s apartment was kind of a rarity. They were usually out and about somewhere (typically Al’s or whatever alien food deli Stephen had taken a liking to most recently) or at the Sanctum because it was just more spacious. Last time Stephen had been here was when he’d gotten a memory update and needed to get away; he’d actually texted beforehand this time, but Carol had a feeling they were in for a similar situation this time around. There wasn’t much she could do to help, but she was willing to listen. And she did like to be kept informed on what was going on back home. She was almost a year into her Vallo stay and hadn’t gotten a single update yet, and she knew the universe hadn’t stopped turning. If anything, the whole multiverse had started to come into play. What that meant for the future was beyond her, especially here, but that was Stephen’s arena, anyway. She already had two bottles of alien-strength beer set out on the coffee table when she heard Stephen’s knock. She opened the door with a “Hey,” and waved him inside toward the living room. Nyx was perched up on the cat tree in the corner of the room and gave them a mildly interested glance when they settled on the couch. Goose, of course, was front and center, seated right behind their beers and looking up at Stephen expectantly. “Needy brat,” Carol chastised her with a smirk, picking up her beer to take a drink. She turned to Stephen, brows raised. “So, what’s going on?” It was very tempting to pick up Goose and rub his face in the Belly Trap, but Stephen wasn’t that stupid. He settled for stroking the top of the cat-flerken’s head, drifting down to give her a scritch under her chinny-chin-chin and he must have been doing something right because she purred at him - and also jumped onto his lap when he sat on the couch. Made picking up the beer difficult and ‘needy brat’ seemed to fit the situation well here; he didn’t mind, however. He just kept petting her with ruined fingers, still with their ribbon-like scars that had faded slightly but still criss-crossed their way up and back down. He didn’t have a lot of sensation in his fingertips but her fur was soft and she was good comfort, so he’d take it. “I didn’t think it could be any worse than the multiverse cracking open and having to seal it,” he spoke with a dry smirk flitting across his features. “But...it was. And in an ironic twist it wasn’t even related to the situation with Peter at all.” No, he couldn’t even remember Peter back home - he knew Spider-Man, of course, and knew and lived through the mishap with the multiverse and how it fissured. But the boy behind the mask, nope, a completely unknown entity. “That’s probably a good thing,” Carol shrugged, resting her bottle on one knee. “That kid probably couldn’t handle fucking up the multiverse again.” She liked Peter a lot, but he came off as sort of sensitive to her. Which made sense, given apparently no one could remember him back home anymore. She’d probably be sensitive in his shoes, too. Her free hand went to Goose, poking her front paw and watching her draw it away and glare as if a mortal sin had been committed against her. She looked up at Stephen, studying him with squinted eyes for a moment. “You don’t have to talk about it if you’re not ready. I’ll listen if you are, but we can just drink about it. No pressure.” She was just here to be supportive regardless, to be honest. From here, there was nothing either of them could do. It made the memory updates seem cruel, especially because they so rarely seemed to come with much of anything positive. So the least she could do was let Stephen bitch and drink and crash on her couch with her needy Flerken. “I don’t know - it’s...complicated,” Stephen allowed. He wasn’t trying to make things more complicated for them here, or twist things into knots - it was just that Carol was his best friend. If she found out he knew about what happened with Maria in another universe and never said anything, she’d be upset and probably rightly so. Plus, maybe he should talk about it. The whole point of that story about the other versions of him was that he needed to learn to share burdens, to ask for help - if his bad habits were taken to the extreme, if he constantly was the lone wolf about it all, he saw what happened and it was nothing positive. Thus, asking for help could include letting someone listen - so be it, then, especially if they were ready and willing to listen. He managed to yoink the bottle to him without disturbing Goose too much, using a bit of telekinesis - and he took a long swig because he thought that maybe he wouldn’t mind getting completely obliterated to the point where everything looked like he was seeing odd shapes and angles through a funhouse mirror. “I met, uh - this girl. America Chavez - super young, only about fourteen. But she had the power to travel through the multiverse by opening portals and...someone was after her for that power,” he started, looking down at the Flerken in his lap. Fourteen. Carol pressed her lips together sympathetically at the thought. Traveling through universes at such a young age - she couldn’t imagine it. Just dealing with one universe as an adult was a fucking trial. Having that kind of power put a target on your back, especially in worlds like theirs, and she couldn’t imagine having handled it at fourteen. She had toughened up young, but that was so much. “Yeah, doesn’t sound shocking,” she replied. She hated it, but she couldn’t say it was unbelievable. There were countless power-hungry beings and entities that would do anything to take what they wanted, and the life of a literal child wasn’t enough to stop them. “Who was it? Anyone I’d know?” Well. That was the thing, wasn’t it? Because, yeah - anyone she’d know? Heck of a question. Stephen cleared his throat, shifting uncomfortably. “I should probably back up a little,” he replied. “I’m sure you know about Westview, what happened there and the Hex eventually being brought down - Wanda brought it down, I mean. She disappeared with Agatha’s copy of the Darkhold and wanted to study the book, in an attempt to understand more about her magic since it was the only source chronicling that sort of thing. But she didn’t know...” He drank more, trying to figure out how to say the words - he was hoping the alcohol would loosen his tongue a little, just make everything a little smoother, yet it wasn’t quite there yet. Mostly he just felt this block of icy dread in the pit of his stomach. “The Darkhold is dangerous. It corrupts everyone who touches it - so it twisted Wanda. Made her into someone she’s not, made her believe she could get to her kids in another universe if she took America’s power. I had this dream where another me was running with America, we were trying to escape a creature Wanda had summoned to kidnap the girl - I thought it was a dream but it was real, because dreams are views into what ourselves in other universes happen to be doing. The other me ended up being killed by this creature and in her state of distress, America opened a portal to my universe so that’s how we met. From then on we spent...a lot of time out there running from Wanda. I tried to keep the kid safe.” Godsdamnit, he really cared about her too - she was a hero, even if she didn’t think so. She’d saved him from becoming one of those horrible versions of himself - instead he got to be an actual person rather than just the guy acting for ‘the greater good’; he would fight for her, do damn near anything for her, and vowed to look after her until she found her parents again. But in the meantime? He’d stand in. Westview, yep. Carol was familiar. It was one of the last things she remembered from home, actually, hearing what was happening from her liaison at SWORD. She knew it hadn’t been intentional from Wanda herself now, knew that she’d done what she could to set things right. She’d been hopeful that was the end of it - here, it was. But back home? Nothing was off-limits. she should have known that. Still. It surprised her to hear that Wanda had gotten dragged into such a dark place - by a book called the Darkhold, no less. Maybe that part wasn’t all that surprising. It made a weird sort of sense that a book with that name would twist someone into the type of person who would chase a child through multiple universes in an attempt to kidnap her and steal her powers, didn’t it? “You did good,” she told Stephen, reaching out to give his shoulder a squeeze. “But I know that couldn’t have been easy, seeing Wanda twisted like that. Does she know?” “She knows,” Stephen replied quietly, glancing down at the orange furball in his lap. Goose was drifting off, purring softly and letting loose with these vibrations - oh, to be a cat (who was actually a tentacle compatriot. Maybe that’s why she sought out Stephen so often). It was all kind of comforting, just having the warmth from that and the warmth from the alcohol slithering through his veins. “We...remembered. At the same time. When we were at the cottage.” It had been a harsh punch in the face on what was meant to be their honeymoon - and Stephen really wished life had better timing but he supposed he couldn’t be surprised that shit just went sideways and he had to ride it out. No other choice. There was more too, but he struggled to figure out how to put it into words - he looked at Carol, and he just couldn’t do it. Couldn’t bring up Maria. What would even be the point of her knowing that the love of her life was dead (better yet, murdered by Stephen’s wife) in yet another universe? “Eventually Wanda caught up to us and took America to this evil temple to perform some ritual to leech her power - I had to use the Darkhold too, and in another universe there was a me who was guardian of the damn book. But I learned a spell that let me project into the dead me and...it was a whole thing,” he muttered. “I got to America but Wanda was just so far gone. America had to give her what she wanted, had to show her how far she’d fallen before she came to her senses and brought the temple down. I stayed with her until the end.” He was leaving a lot out. These gaps in the story were a mile wide and he was aware of that - again, he just couldn’t. Maybe it was going to bite him in the ass later. That wouldn’t be anything new though, honestly. Carol wasn’t oblivious. She knew there were pieces of this whole story Stephen was leaving out - whether for his benefit or her own, that she wasn’t completely sure of. She wasn’t going to push; she was here to be an ear, a reassuring voice that promised him things were different here. And regardless, what he did tell her was bad. Worse than bad. What Wanda had done to Westview, she knew that was only a glimpse of her true power - back home, anyway - and this sounded like proof of just that. Vallo did seem to temper her powers a bit, just like it nerfed some of Carol’s by sheer virtue of space being inaccessible here. Sounded like maybe that was the best thing for Wanda, in this case. It kept her from finding this dark, scary book and losing any sense of herself. Because the Wanda that Carol knew? The Wanda that Stephen had just married? She wouldn’t have done any of this. She wouldn’t have viciously, relentlessly pursued a literal child through universes to steal her powers. She was trying to find her own kids, so maybe her reason had initially been pure, if a little selfish. But she rarely got to be selfish. None of them did, and that was what was so amazing about Vallo. They got to leave the world-saving behind (if they so chose) and focus on being people. She knew Wanda was happy here - she had a good life, a home, a husband, and some version of her kids all in one place. Back home was a different story. Wasn’t it always? “She came to her senses in the end. That’s good.” Carol took a drink from her bottle before setting it properly aside on the coffee table now. “Not so great that it took almost sucking a kid dry to get there. But, not to sound like a broken record - at this point, it’s another world, right? It matters, sure, but…not really. Not unless you’re concerned she’ll spiral here, too.” “I’m not,” Stephen shook his head but then he paused because maybe that wasn’t entirely true. He always attempted to prepare for the worst, even if he’d rather not touch the worst with a ten foot pole. Even if it really fucking hurt and it did - he had to push past it, however. Try to compartmentalize the fact that the Darkhold was so strong, it had taken hold of one of Wanda, and two of him. “Well. I’m concerned about the both of us, to be fair. There were two versions of me that...didn’t really survive a Darkhold corruption either.” They’d both ended up dead at the end of the story regardless - a cautionary tale asking ‘are you happy?’ and then revealing what that meant, and the desperate things both he and Wanda would do to get there. The Darkhold was powerful, yes - but he knew that if he told Carol about Maria, it wasn’t going to fucking matter that Wanda had been twisted by a book. She’d slaughtered the entire Illuminati in cold blood, including a guy who also had kids. It was starting to sink in for Stephen as well - all those sorcerers were dead back home. Innocent people who hadn’t done anything besides try to defend their home and protect a child. He probably needed to talk to someone about it, yes, but someone more neutral to the situation. Shelve that for later, Strange. “So if it shows up here, there might be issues. Billy has the Book of the Vishanti, I gave it to him for his birthday to keep it safe - but it’s a book of light to counter the dark. It shows someone what they need to defeat evil or whatever.” He took another drink, his vision starting to swim a bit, and he tipped his head back to stare at the ceiling. “When I looked at it, it showed me America’s star portal - and it was true. It needed to be her.” Carol could admit she might be biased in this situation. Ten months ago? Nope. She hadn’t really known Wanda or Stephen - just of them. She could deal with them if they went down some dark, spiraling path completely impartially and it wouldn’t be a hardship. Here in Vallo, she’d come to care for them more than she’d ever expected. She knew the potential for falling down the wrong path was still there - it always was - but she meant what she said: they were different people now. She was letting her optimistic side shine through and believing that was enough for things to be different. Maybe it was naive. It probably was, actually. But for now, she was holding onto it, even if Stephen was struggling. “Book of Vishanti, got it.” She nodded seriously. “If either of you goes Star Wars-style dark side, I’ll lend Billy a hand.” She wasn’t sure he’d want it, but she would make herself available. Just like with Strange Supreme, she would step in however she could. She wasn’t magical - and had only recently learned the hard way that magic was not for her - but she’d held her own against magic plenty of times just fine. She tilted her head, examining him again. “There’s more?” she questioned, because there was something shifting in his eyes. She knew at this point whatever the ‘more’ was couldn’t be anything good, but she wanted him to be able to let out the bad. The Darkhold seemed like it was all bad, especially if it could bring strong, resilient people like Stephen and Wanda to do things the versions of them she knew couldn’t fathom. “You can tell me. What else happened? Get it off your chest. No judgment here.” “There’s more,” Stephen concurred. “But...I can’t right now. I’m sorry.” He blinked, tears forming in his eyes, the unshed cut of them making the electric blue of his irises stand out - and he understood ‘caught between a rock and a hard place’ now more than ever. But that was his whole life, wasn’t it? He just couldn’t catch a damn break - he was either too reckless or not reckless enough. Too selfless, or too selfish - it didn’t seem to make a lick of difference either way, and he could only hope that back in his home universe he was finally at a place where he could learn to move forward in a way that meant he didn’t poison the future. The way his variants clearly did. Because they went through shit and didn’t have any support, because they had to do it on their own - thank the Vishanti that lesson of things are different here had been pounded into his skull, over and over. He wiped his eyes with the back of his hand and, great, he was teetering on ‘drunk-cry’ right now. “Wanda hurt a lot of people. And she did what she could to ensure no one would be tempted by the Darkhold in the end, but - that’s probably not going to matter to the people close to the ones who were casualties,” was what he managed, and he didn’t feel right about elaborating. Stephen wanted to give Wanda a chance to do that herself, to handle it however she saw fit - Carol deserved to know but he realized it wasn’t his decision, not really. Casualties, while tough to hear, wasn’t necessarily surprising either. Carol knew she wasn’t getting every detail of the story, but if the Darkhold was powerful enough to corrupt, of course it could carry that kind of influence. She couldn’t even imagine how Wanda must feel about that, but she didn’t expect Stephen to elaborate on his wife’s behalf. She wasn’t going to force him to say anything he didn’t want to say. It wasn’t her way. If he wanted to vent, she would listen. If he wanted to cry - or just ended up crying because it seemed like they were coming to that edge - then she would be here to comfort him. “Don’t apologize,” she told him, and she slid closer to wrap her arms around his shoulders and cling there. Goose dropped out of his lap and returned to the coffee table, licking her paw to clean behind her ears. “I’m sorry you just keep getting nailed with this shit,” she said into his ear, arms squeezing gently around him. “And Wanda, too. The worst fucking timing.” On their honeymoon, Vallo, really? That seemed like it was getting personal. The hug was what he needed and Stephen shuddered into it, feeling some of the weight begin to melt away like a lump of sugar on the tongue. None of this tasted very sweet, however - it was a bitter, acrid flavor in his mouth. Almost like bile rising up in his throat, over and over again, and he was surprised he didn’t puke - oh wait. I’m surprised you didn’t puke. It’s not my first weird trip, kid. Gods, he missed her - he missed her so much and this Stephen, the Stephen now, didn’t even know her. But he’d put everything on the line to save America, to prevent her from becoming some sacrificial power-leeching ritual fodder, and in the process they’d both saved the multiverse. He just felt empty though. So many people were dead. And he’d apparently caused an incursion - what the hell was the point of anything anymore? “We salvaged what we could - I mean, from our honeymoon,” he said, resting his cheek on the top of Carol’s head for a moment, in her hair. “It wasn’t all bad. And we’ll have another one soon - a proper one. Probably on the beach, with lots of drinks and illicit substances.” Plus more fucking, but that was obvious - they’d gotten in plenty in the cottage, but that was fueled by a lot of grief, needing to purge specific emotions that shouldn’t really be present right after getting married. “Second honeymoon’s definitely in order,” Carol agreed. They deserved that much. Having to deal with all this emotional baggage couldn’t have made it easy. She was happy to hear they’d enjoyed what they could, but God, what a mood killer. “Too bad you can’t leave this rock. There are some pretty cool planets out there, at least back home, that would be a good time. You might even get to really relax.” A mind-blowing idea, honestly. Even here, where Stephen didn’t really have any responsibility to this world, he was always busy, always helping someone. It was one of the things she admired and respected most about him, but he also deserved to chill for a few days. And his one opportunity had been shattered - she’d bet that could have been prevented off planet, but Vallo worked in mysterious ways. Stephen wasn’t wild about space travel (it just brought back traumatic memories of Ebony Maw’s torture though, honestly, he was a walking pile of traumatic memories anyway) but he had to admit that at the moment it might be good for him. He could try something new, blast off into the cosmos that spun endlessly, where the galaxies were a vast pool utterly infinite, composed of thousands of diamond moons and stars. Alas. It wasn’t meant to be. Vallo kept a tight leash on its inhabitants. “One of the prices we pay for living an unstable, whimsical kind of life here I guess,” he quipped dryly, sitting up a bit and finally finishing off the beer he held. Oh yeah, forget the galaxies - he had plenty of spinning going on now, since one alien beer was the equivalent of a punch in the face with pure human-grade moonshine or something. “We can’t travel very far. But - I guess that’s alright.” He scrubbed a hand over his face, trying to get his bearings - at least he hadn’t entirely turned into a crying mess. “I should get back to Wanda but I’ll just...sleep it off for a little bit here first,” he yawned. “You know I’ve got you,” Carol assured him. She released him from her grip and gave his shoulder another reassuring squeeze. “But you’re gonna have to spend some time here actually conscious at some point or I’m gonna start getting offended.” She smirked and rose from the couch, handing the remote over to him. “Put something on, rot your brain ‘til you pass out. If you need to talk more later, I’ll be here.” She’d settle on the love seat and watch over him, maybe pick up a book and read for a while. She couldn’t do anything to fix what he was feeling, couldn’t reach across universes to set it all right, but she could be here. And she would still be here whenever he needed her. |