( catch-all ) sailin' away on the crest of a wave

[sorser]

WHO: Stephen and various
WHAT: A catch-all for misc. things!
WHERE: In and around Castle Thorne, maybe the Horizon
WHEN: Throughout the month
WARNINGS: Will add as they come up!

(( closed starters and assorted things below! feel free to PM me if you wanted something specific with Stephen, or if you wanted to plot! ))

Comments

[sorser]

[For all of Peter’s propensity to show his growing anxieties on the outside, Stephen keeps his tethered down within; but it exists. For all intents and purposes, they broke the multiverse — no, who’s he kidding? He did, the caster of the spell itself, letting people (read: troublemakers. He knows the implication.) and various versions of Peter Parker slip through the cracks. The consequences will come for that, whether or not they managed to slap a band-aid on the problem for now.

(The bill always comes due, a man once considered a friend told him. The words crawl along the edges of his mind like an ever-present shadow.)

Why? Why would he have made that executive decision, knowing the risk? The question lances through him like a shard of ice, self-deprecating, but it’s transient. It dries up, dies, and fades away, because looking at the young man before him, he knows the answer.

Peter Parker, Spider-Man. A young kid having taken up the mantle of superhero, taking down street level crime and aliens from the far reaches of the universe seeking to destroy half of all life alike. Burdened with so much, guaranteed to lose more. Trying to balance two lives, when it’s impossible to straddle the line — Stephen cannot imagine trying to do the same.

Even without having made the decision yet, he knows. He knows that he took the risk because Peter deserved it, and that life needed to cut him a break, because they would come so very few and far in-between.]

Peter.

[He starts, lowly. Imagining the weight of having everyone who remembered you now lost, their connection severed through non-recollection. How that must feel to a young man who just admitted to a semblance of loneliness.

Stephen realizes, maybe a little too belatedly, that despite all that’s been said, he didn’t do him a favor.]

I’m sorry.

[Frowning, he sincerely, truly, means it.]

[sorser]

[That’s not a point Stephen will argue, nor one that he wishes to. Some things never change, no matter the universe.]

Each nation doesn’t even know what it’s dealing with. Thorne thinks it has the best idea, but there are still too many unknowns.

[He sighs, his horse ambling down the path closer to the castle.]

I’d like to say that the Summoned are the outside perspective that a world like his needs, but even we’re prone to our own biases. Here’s hoping there are more people concerned about figuring out the crux of the issue than going to war over it.

[That is to say: maybe you, too, Jasper, should try to see the big picture and not fall into factional politicking.]

[leitstern]

[Hooves beat into earth. The sound grinds his ears. The voice of his travelling companion becomes an extra annoyance, prompting him to lean forward in the saddle. He sighs in frustration - but aims it towards people outside their immediate circle.]

I would expect the worst outcome. Or do you predict every soul here will be benevolent?

[His reasons for waging war have always been personal. What motive could possibly drive him here when he has barely settled in? Perhaps making a name for himself?]

along came an oni

[sakaya]

[ Wherever Shuten-Douji is, the scent of alcohol closely follows.

She's been rather reserved (by her own standards) as she takes in this new world. Castle Thorne is quaint, grand even. Shuten has made some lazy comparisons between it and Chaldea (or rather, what's left to operate within the Wandering Sea) in terms of very great magic capabilities and some of their technological advances. Still, the Servant is much more interested in those who were forcefully summoned just like herself. After all, they were not of the same cloth as she was.

How has she been spending her days so far? Well, lazing about, eating, drinking, flirting with the guards or servants as they nervously chuckle in response, some with flushed faces, others quickly hurrying away, because even if they don't know what an oni was, they innately understand a creature with bared teeth even if it smiles at them.

One afternoon there's a particularly... Drunk-looking guard who stumbles down the hall, rubbing their face with one hand, with extremely flushed cheeks. Not too far away, the small woman with horns is sitting at the base of a statue, tossing a bright golden-red apple, up and down with one hand, while waving to the guard with the other. ]

Thank you for the gift!

[ Walking within her vicinity is like stepping into a dangerously sweet and toxic fog. ]

slides into ur horizon dms

[funbreaker]

[ Only about eight suns have passed since Thancred's rude awakening in this place, and he cannot begin to know how many more he'll see in this land before he makes his way back to the other Scions. Is that even an option for him? He cannot be certain, not when his last memories before being drawn out of the fountain were Meteion's grayed-out eyes.

He doesn't believe this is some afterlife or one of the seven Hells or anything quite like that. The world seems alive, its own star functioning under its own rules much like Norvrandt had been. For all he knows, this place is even larger than the First, and most likely is based on the maps he's been able to dig up in the library. There are other nations on this continent, to say nothing of what lies beyond it, and he has only seen this one small shred of it.

He'll need to look into the likelihood of traveling outside of Thorne and also weigh whether that's worth the risk. He doesn't have a specific goal here, not like he had when he'd learned of Ryne's existence, but he certainly doesn't intend to sit on his hands and do nothing.

He's opted to go for a walk as he sorts through all of these thoughts and decides on the gardens as a nice change of scenery from the interior of the castle. It's just after nightfall, meaning that most of the castle's denizens have retreated inside for dinner and other activities.

Thancred is not alone, however. As he makes his way down the neat garden paths, he spots a familiar man sitting cross-legged, his eyes closed. Some manner of meditation? He would not have thought Stephen Strange the type, but the two of them also only spoke the one time.

He pauses to watch for a few moments, not going out of his way to mask his presence but also not directly approaching. He doubts that Stephen wishes to be interrupted while in such deep contemplation. ]

[sorser]

No.

[No, Stephen is not so idealistic, or optimistic, to think that'll come to pass. He already knows that there are some who'd prefer war in this place. Those who are pushing for it as they speak.]

Because that'd be too easy, wouldn't it? I don't expect anything. But I hope there will be enough who'll take into consideration the consequences the Singularity could have on our worlds and decide what to do from there, instead of taking what our hosts say at face value.

[leitstern]

People are easily fooled. Most shall follow this conflict towards its bitter end without consideration.

[It is a simple matter to share his opinion about their situation. Less simple to admit he had fooled his closest friend for over a decade; a man without a shred of guile. The guilt weighs down his shoulders - a stone inside his chest.

He holds his breath a moment. Exhales and makes an observation.]

It seems that bothers you.

[It should upset him. It doesn't.]

[sorser]

[Stephen’s been busy, such is the norm. A newcomer’s face is always committed to memory, but they rarely linger throughout the day unless impressed upon by another run-in or somehow come up in passing conversation. The former does not apply to the languid oni, and neither has the latter since their previous meeting in that dining hall — until today.

The scent is what strikes him first; it is what had underlined her presence in that initial meeting, too, the smell of sickly sweet alcohol lingering like a fog. Then, it had only been ghostly, a transient brush against his senses; now, as he roams down a corridor, crossing the path of a stumbling guard and eying him dubiously, it ekes. It's pungent. Stephen’s face wrinkles, gazing down the hall, unsurprised to find Shuten sitting at the base of a statue, lounging about like an indolent cat.

He knows better than to approach close enough to envelope himself in that saccharine vapor, stopping just short of its hovering cloud.]

Can’t you have your fun someplace where there isn’t so much foot traffic?

[Sarcasm blunt enough to cause head trauma. She shouldn’t be having this kind of fun to begin with.]

[sakaya]

Hm?

[ Pausing, she glances at the tall bearded man with blue eyes she had met during the early days of her arrival. ]

Oh, it's you.

[ Shuten-Douji has the apple enveloped between her palms as she regards him neutrally. The aura of alcohol hangs about her, but she won't address it yet. She had been told her powers would take time to recover. And so, for the first week at Castle Thorne, while her presence was no less deadly, she did feel the handicap.

Now though? Well, she'll just casually chat up the Doctor, acting none the wiser. ]

Aren't you the party-pooper? I'm just trying to get to know the people who live here, that's all. You know, collecting intel?

[ "Like, DUH!" is what her voice implies. ]

[sorser]

[He has a favorite spot for meditation, some corner tucked away at the edge of the gardens, beneath an arch of lofty lattices adorned with hanging blossoms. It is just out of the way to distance himself from wandering garden visitors, just remote enough to imply to those who find him that, no, he doesn’t enjoy interruptions. There is so very little that can keep him relaxed on a normal day back on Earth, juggling priorities between the Sanctum and Kamar-Taj, and there is even less in this world — the time he can carve out to clear his mind, to breathe, is just as important to Stephen as a good night’s sleep. And god knows he hardly sees those, either.

But meditation is more than just inward focus; it is also outward awareness, a state in which the line between body, mind, and environment blurs indistinguishably. Ironically, achieving a state of deep concentration is when he notices the subtle presence of others who encroach the most, even at a respectable distance. But he’s practiced and centered enough to acknowledge it without distraction. Generally.

The footsteps have halted. They linger in silence. Stephen exhales slowly and opens his eyes, his expression nearly languid if not for the pointed awareness of his consideration. Thancred earns an eyebrow quirk from the sorcerer's otherwise unmoving form.]

Taking the scenic route?

[His eyes close again. He'll give a little leeway to a fellow Summoned.]

Sorry. Not much excitement here.

[funbreaker]

[ It is a quiet corner of the gardens, tucked away enough that anyone just passing through wouldn't be likely to come this way, and yet Thancred tends to be thorough with his patrolling even when he isn't necessarily on the job. Such habits can't simply be forgotten, and he isn't willing to let his guard down in this place either.

He isn't particularly surprised at having been noticed, as he didn't go out of his way to mask his footsteps or his presence. Stephen is, to his credit, rather polite about having been interrupted. ]

I wouldn't go so far as to say that. I wouldn't have expected you to be the meditating sort, for instance.

[ Where he's from, it's usually the monks and samurai of the Far East who do this sort of thing, something to do with centering themselves as a means of being that much more effective in battle. It has never been Thancred's thing, though if someone were to point out that he might benefit from such a stilling of the mind, he might have to concede that point.

He shakes his head to himself. ] I did not mean to interrupt, however, unless you were finishing up.

[sorser]

[Thancred’s apparent assessment of his personality earns him a scoff, the corner of his lips twinging. In a way, he’s not wrong: years ago, and Stephen would have rolled his eyes at the very idea of meditation. No doubt there are facets of his old self that still shine through and make others believe he is less drenched in mysticism than the reality. Dry, rational. Problem-solving with the mind, instead of bothering to tend to the spirit.]

Why? Don’t I seem relaxed to you?

[Sarcasm, don’t answer that.

He gestures at the space in front of him, eyes still closed, focus split between within and without.]

You can join me if you want. Unless you’ve had your fill of meditating already.

[If he’s crossed into the Horizon, he should be more than familiar with the concept. But Stephen will not assume, and the statement is almost lilted as a question.]

[funbreaker]

[ Thancred's lips slowly curve into a smile as he raises both eyebrows. ]

You may want to learn to not ask questions you don't want the answer to, my friend.

[ Or smart-mouthed people like Thancred are going to continue to make him regret it. Granted, he doesn't comment further how relaxed Stephen is or isn't, believing that what he just said speaks for itself.

Though when he's invited to join in, Thancred blinks in a brief moment of surprise. Meditation isn't usually a group activity, is it? And yet there's something about the way Stephen asks, as if this should be considered normal. ]

Is meditation a common activity here in Thorne? I cannot claim to have seen many others engaging in it.

[ It's possible he's missed something, or that others find more private places precisely to avoid being harassed by the overly curious such as him, but Thancred never likes to feel as if he's missed something. ]

[sorser]

[No doubt he’ll learn in time. Thancred doesn’t seem to be the kind of man who leaves an opening like that hanging.

But for now, his questions answer Stephen’s own. It sounds like he hasn’t dipped his toes into the Horizon for the first time, nor has he been informed of its existence. His lips purse together, and he opens his eyes once more, if only to assess the tranquility of the gardens. It’s a solitary place by default, but more so this time of day, late in the evening when most have more to worry about than strolling amongst the local flora.]

Not exactly.

[A pointed look at the space before him.]

Sit.

[It seems like Thancred will have no choice in the matter.]

And I can show you one advantage that all Summoned have by being intrinsically bound to the Singularity.

[sorser]

[And his voice implies exasperation, similar to speaking to someone who is obviously overlooking the point. Stephen has very little patience for it, and his willingness to humor her is low.]

Most people just ask. They don’t make their target of interest walk away in a drunken stupor.

[He wonders if he should check on the guard who had just ambled by. See if there’s more to his impairment than flushed cheeks and a staggering gait.]

Get rid of it.

[This toxic cloud of hers. Some of it tendrils too close, and he waves it away.]

[sorser]

[The reply is easy, a little challenging, keen to push out certain opinions in those who would rather hold onto them too tightly.]

It doesn’t bother you?

[funbreaker]

[ With the way that Stephen speaks, it is not so much an invitation as a command. Yet Thancred does not chafe against that as he realizes that there is something of import he's missing here. That, and he already owes this man for being so forthcoming with him despite the fact that they hardly know each other.

So with a small shrug of acceptance, he relents and draws closer, taking a seat next to Stephen with one knee pulled up and his other leg stretched out in front of him. A casual pose, at least until he understands more of what they're doing here. ]

The Singularity...

[ He's heard a good deal about it since he arrived, though it still feels as though there is so much he does not understand. It is the source of all magic in this world and apparently has something to do with how the Summoned were brought here, if the claims that it is linked to all worlds in some way is true. More than that, Thorne and the other nations all have their own ideas of how its power should be harnessed or destroyed. ]

First off, what do you mean by bound? I gather it has something to do with the summoning ritual?

[sorser]

[Hands at his knees, his fingers flex slightly. Given the Singularity's the very reason why Thorne summoned people from other worlds and realities, it makes sense it's a constant hot topic of debate and discussion in these halls. Stephen is never hesitant to grant information to those who ask — it's necessary to perpetuate awareness, so everyone can make the right decisions moving forward.]

I mean that the Summoned are connected to it in ways that the natives here aren't. We are the only ones who can physically approach the Singularity without consequences. And there are people here who have died in their own worlds, and the power of the monolith is all that can explain their living presence now.

[There's plenty they still cannot be sure about, but there is no doubt: all signs point to the Summoned sharing an entwined fate with the Singularity, for better or worse.]

It also means there are places we can visit that others can't. Places where factional dividing lines don't matter nearly as much.

[Where one can find the other Summoned, beyond Thornean territory.]

[funbreaker]

[ From what Thancred understands, the Singularity would take some number of suns of travel to approach in person, and while he might be curious, he wonders if it would be in his best interest to do that. Not because he is any stranger to long trips by foot, much to the contrary, but because of the nature of the Singularity itself. A collection of raw magical power such as that might affect him in ways it wouldn't others. He can't be certain of that, but it is possible it wouldn't play well with his scarred aether.

But it's what Stephen says after that which truly shakes him. There were summoned who had died back home, only to arrive here? He tilts his head up toward the night sky above, taking a moment to let that sink in. Did Meteion kill him? He can't be certain, there was no sense of finality in what she did, even if he'd felt like he was trapped in a dark abyss, pressing back against a powerful force...

Was that what death felt like? How is he to know?

It's possible he owes the Singularity for sitting here, alive and well, and that's something he'll need more time to process.

A few moments pass before Thancred realizes that he's let the silence stretch out for far too long. He glances over and nods distantly. ]

And this "place" is somewhere you reach through meditation? [ That would explain why he hasn't seen many people doing it, if it's only the Summoned who have this ability. ] Tell me, is this some form of magick?

[leitstern]

[Jasper wrinkles his nose and seizes the reins when questioned; an interrogation that is both obvious and unwelcome. Knuckles whiten and he braces in the saddle. He sits looking at human hands with a human temper and anger. It is an image that steals his attention for one second.]

It is what it is. I doubt crying over the matter helps anyone.

[His reply, too, is easy, refusing to reveal much emotion for an issue that affects him deeply.]

[sorser]

[He had been thinking of individuals like Stark, whose body had been used up with the power of the Infinity Stones, like a flash of heat obliterating kindling. He had been thinking of Rhy, whose tether to life once originating from his brother was now replaced by the power of the Singularity itself. He had not even considered Thancred’s situation, knowing so little about him or his world — but the lengthy pause that follows makes him wonder. Makes him guess at the origin of that shade of doubt he’s sure he perceives.

When his attention comes back, even his words, asking after the nature of something new, sound distant. Stephen notes it for later; not exactly a subject to spring on him mid-Horizon introduction. He can maybe wrest it out of him later.]

…More like a new skill than magic. It’s called the Horizon; it’s a spiritual plane, highly malleable. You can recreate almost anything from memory. You could cast spells otherwise unavailable to you in this world.

[If that sounds very specific, it’s because the latter definitely applies to Stephen.]

Several use it as a home away from home. But I’d be subtle about when, where, and how often you visit. Knowing something like this exists could throw our very generous hosts into a frenzy.

[Hobnobbing with those from the Free Cities or Solvunn? Probably frowned upon, especially given the recent growing tensions.]

[sakaya]

Mm?

[ A brow is raised in response to his command. While the scent doesn't completely disappear, it hangs around her like a natural perfume, now invisible to the eye.

For now. ]

Being a little bossy now aren't you? Don't like picking on people your own size?

[sorser]

You think I’m picking on you?

[The haze appears to disperse, but the scent lingers like a phantom nearby.]

More like I’ve stopped you from picking on people who’re minding their own business. Or are you going to tell me that guard deserved looking like he was about to fall over on the spot?

[funbreaker]

[ A spiritual plane, where something that Thancred can only perceive as being like creation magicks was possible? The closest approximation he can think of is the aetherial sea, a place that exists somewhere between life and death, though this does not seem to involve the same risks as making use of the Aitiascope.

More interesting still is that the people native to this place are not aware of the Summoned's ability to access this "Horizon." That is reason alone for him to wish to explore it, as Ambrose and the other mages here already know more about him than he'd like. It would help him sleep better if he could hold something over them, as well. ]

I have plenty of experience in being discreet, you need not worry there. [ Yet he nods his head in quiet thanks that Stephen was willing to share this sensitive information with him. He does have some concerns that he'll struggle to access this plane given the scars that Lahabrea and Y'shtola's Flow spell left on him, but there is only one way to know for certain. ]

Well then, how does it work? What do you do to access it, exactly?

[ He mirrors Stephen's pose, legs shifting to cross in front of him as he rests his hands on his knees. Yet it must require more than simple meditation and clearing of the mind, or so he would guess. ]

[sakaya]

[ She lets out a sudden and merry laugh at his accusation. ]

Oh, dear! You're really just giving it to me. [ Though she's less offended and more bemused at the idea of anyone just bossing her around.]

That was just harmless flirting Doctor. All that's happened is that he happened to pass by and we chatted.

[ And the guard looked at her, took in that faint scent that slowly started to invade his senses, listened to her voice and... Well, he got away and it wasn't as if she was going to latch onto him after he gave her his apple.

She takes a small bite of the apple, savoring its honeyed sweetness before continuing. ]

I'm not one to brag, but I'm not half-bad to look at you know. Some humans reaallllly like the horns.