abraxaslogs | ( catch-all ) can we just start over

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( catch-all ) can we just start over

WHO: Stephen Strange & Various
WHAT: Post-canon update shenanigans and other things.
WHEN: Throughout the month of August.
WHERE: Thorne & the Horizon

(( closed starters below! PM this journal or hit me up at

aurajen if you want to plot something! ))

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[As Wilhelm folds into the chair, he wonders if the "old friend" is Wanda. She was the one who pointed him in Stephen's direction in the first place. And the last time he'd seen her...she wasn't all right at all. Half of him wants to dig for information, and half of him wants to bury the incident so deep his memory can't find it anymore. In the end, he shies away from all the questions he isn't sure he wants to ask.]

Then I hope she's doing better. Your friend.

[Sincerity weighs down what might otherwise be a polite nothing. Clearing his throat, he presses ahead to the matter at hand.]

I was practicing how to dismiss the fire at will.

[It is...a work in progress. He usually gets there, but it takes a few tries.]

[if not him, then to whom?

there's that feeling—of being unable to win either way: her cries unheard, her apologies unwanted. it's a blurry line to be on, and wanda struggles with how she can't find strong footing either way. who is she, really? the person who did something awful, or the one horrified by the awful thing she did?

wanda doesn't know where to go from here, and so she is quiet, turning away from the sorcerer.]

If that is all, I would like you to leave now.

[she pauses, her expression distant.]

Good bye, Stephen.

[It would be a polite nothing in normal circumstances. But Stephen's fresh off a few years of new experiences, his now-harried and strained relationship with Wanda at the forefront of his mind. He hears the weight in that otherwise harmless pleasantry; wonders if the young man already has an inkling of just who Stephen's "friend" is.]

No, she's not. [Dourly, the clarification comes. Stephen wishes he had reined in his words the moment they leave his lips. He frowns, shaking his head. In for a penny, in for a pound, then -- he continues.] Things are complicated at home, because of course nothing can be simple on Earth or here.

[Stephen reaches out for a book, pulling at the strings of recollection. Dimissing fire at will. That's right. A heavy tome opens, and he rifles through the pages, reams of old pages at a time.]

Fire... fire. Basic stuff. How's the practice going?

[And like that, it's over and done with. Except it isn't, not really, a million dangling threads between still hanging and untended. If Stephen walks away now, he walks away from a problem still not solved—something that goes against the grain of his very personality—and for a moment, he hesitates.

But the request cements itself, known in the tiredness of his brow, the way that he steps back and away, hands raising not to convince her otherwise, but to cast the easy motions of a basic spell.]

Until next time, Wanda.

[He can at least leave her with that promise: no doubt that he’ll see her again. Maybe then they can smooth down these rough edges, or make them more jagged than before. It’s about a fifty-fifty chance at this rate, struggling to find common ground that won’t give under the weight of their opposing viewpoints.

His magic spreads, revealing that hidden door, outlined sharply against the falling snow. It swings open as he approaches, exiting, and closes behind him without the sorcerer bothering to look back.]

[ It has been quite some time since Thancred visited this place, and at the time he had been without all of his faculties. The memories of it are therefore quite faded by now, and he also never entered any of the buildings, only observing the Sanctum from without.

When he steps in he finds it to be a rather cozy interior, well-decorated with plenty of furniture that looks like it has been around for some time — not because it is worn, but simply based on its style and quality.

Thancred moves over to Stephen almost instantly, even as he swivels his head this way and that to look at everything. This almost reminds him of the Leveilleur Estate. ]

Thank you for having me. It is... a bit more homely than I was expecting, I will admit.

[ With just a thought, he wills the fireplace to be lit. Slowly but surely, he has grown used to causing such changes in the Horizon. With that done, he steps over to open up the bottle of liquor and to fill the readied glasses, glancing to Stephen in the process. ]

So, friend, what ails you?

[ yennefer's apprentices have been kept busy, and that is really the nicest way she can explain it. they're hard workers, determined and stubborn, all of which would be necessary where it concerns learning from yennefer. that is not to say she is a mean teacher - honestly tissaia would most likely find her on the softer side, what with the inherent lack of lightning, lessons designed to humiliate and break, and the usual trauma wrapped up in the halls of aretuza. no, yennefer is not here to teach these students how to harness magic, rather she has been given room to study, and workers with which to show her processes and skills and who, along the way, yennefer does find she has time to instruct.

now - none of this is really important, considering the purpose of this meeting is between her and stephen. stephen, who has apparently been up to his own adventures within the halls. stephen, who yennefer knows how his own studies, his own pupils, most of them summoned. still, it has been some time since the two of them have found a free moment together, so yennefer decides to create one.

which goes to say - by the time stephen wanders his way out into the garden, a vast level of hidden pathways, small fountains, and more variety of plant life than anyone really should have access to (but that's a topic of discussion for a later time, no need to get into classism and royal and money for now) he will find yennefer, lounging on a stone bench, reading from yet another tome. she looks bored, and all too ready to put the book down when he arrives.

when her eyes fall to the bottle in his hand, she smiles, pleased, and then stands. ]

You've been keeping busy.

[The fire flares to life, casting everything nearby in a warm glow. The glasses catch and reflect this luminescence in disjointed fractals, and the amber drink that Thancred uncorks is strongly-scented, something that will properly burn on the way down, reminiscent of whisky. It, too, shines when poured.

Stephen’s lips quirk, as his friend takes away some of the responsibilities of playing host. He’ll let Thancred pour himself as much as he wants, sinking into a chair with dark upholstery, assuming that the man will be kind enough to bring him a glass. If not, he’ll just float one over later.]

Hard to know where to begin. So I’ll start with a question — have you ever heard of other Summoned gaining… [He pauses, brow scrunching. Scarred fingers rap at the armrest.] …new memories, practically overnight? Visions of the future, I guess you could technically call them.

[Well, so much for reassurance. Concern tightens Wilhelm's expression, but he remains silent as Stephen cracks open the book and flips through its hundreds of pages, all crammed with dense columns of words and diagrams that he watches cascade by in a blur of black ink. The implication that Stephen is abreast of whatever is happening back home — back in his version of Earth — doesn't escape him, but he doesn't know what to make of it. The question posed to him is easier to hold, more concrete. So that's what he focuses on.]

It's going well, sir. I think. [He chews at the inside of his lip and re-folds his hands in his lap as he tries to think of a good example to prove this.] It's been almost two weeks since I made fire without meaning to.

[Which is a win for everybody, frankly. Hesitantly, because he isn't sure if he should poke more at what's clearly a sore subject, he adds:]

I'm sorry that things back home are so difficult.

[Whatever the situation is, it must be frustrating to be so powerful and yet so powerless to actually do anything about it.]

[It’s a nice, isolated little area, hemmed by so many perfectly trimmed flowers. Yennefer’s taken up most of the bench when he spots her, and he raises a brow as she straightens to greet him, holding the wine bottle out, label-first.]

Yeah, been busy hunting this down for you. Only the highest of vintage quality for my favorite sorceress in all of Thorne.

[Flattery will get him everywhere, clearly, not that he has to ply it too much or often with Yennefer; they’re more used to flinging quips back and forth between each other, but there is something about seeing her—actually seeing her, not just passing each other in long, cold corridors—after his “return” to Abraxas that makes him feel oddly nostalgic. His smile is warm, even if his eyes are tired.]

My work around the castle keeps me occupied. [He adds, just a little more seriously, drawing closer. Nearby, a little round stone table sits. Stephen waves a hand and two wine glasses appear sparkling atop it.] You know that better than anyone.

...Still no excuse, though, I know.

Yeah, well…

[He says it in that yeah, well, what can you do about it? way, except entrenched in such a tired exasperation that clearly, there are more layers to it. A complex web that cannot be unraveled, much less shrugged off, with a dismissive thought — as much as Stephen would like to.

But the proof of its weight on his mind is clear: where he should stop muttering about this and focus on the lesson, instead, he keeps speaking as the pages flip, flip, flip in the tome.]

Like I said, nothing’s ever simple. There’s a nice little group of us here from home, and we all have our priorities. Sometimes they clash. [Brows raising, still glancing down at the book and its darkly-inked pages.] Lots of times, they clash, and sometimes the Multiverse suffers for it…

[Brow cinching, he flips a few pages back.]

Now, where’d that cantrip go...?

[ flattery will indeed get him everywhere, especially where it concerns yennefer. she closes the distance between them and reaches for the aforementioned bottle, looking all the part excited and pleased by the selection. he has officially bought her forgiveness where it concerns the distance. ]

Oh, I'm your favorite? Because I'm also certain I'm the only sorceress in all of Thorne. Well- unless you have suddenly grown close to Jolene.

[ yennefer throws another smile at him, because this is easy, this back and forth between them. but it's also in that moment that yennefer really has a chance to see him, to catch a closer look and confirm (at least where she's concerned) what she had thought she noticed.

he looks older- not by much, maybe, but by more than he should. and it isn't just his exhaustion. for a second, maybe two, yennefer is just sort of searching his face, trying to put her finger on what it is that is catching her attention. ] Is it just your work, though? [ she ends up asking, a bit quieter, before yennefer exhales - choosing to let stephen bring it up if he wishes, and she turns to where he's summoned them both glasses and moves to open the bottle. ]

But you aren't wrong. Something is brewing behind the scenes with how many requests I'm getting for potions. It feels a bit like they're trying to build stock. [ yennefer shrugs, though, and pours a glass for each of them and set the bottle down, turning and offering one back to him. ] I'm sure Ambrose has you studying all sorts of Singularity readings.

[As Stephen mutters and flips pages, Wilhelm is left to assemble all these random puzzle pieces he leaves lying around. The reference to "a nice little group of us" reminds him of someone he'd brain-texted once, who had said something to the same effect. What was that guy's name again? The main thing he took away from their conversation was that the guy did not, in fact, have a husband as previously alleged. And that he, Wilhelm, maybe shouldn't talk to people in general.

Anyway.]

The multiverse? [It's not disbelief, given the indisputable evidence that he's been yanked away to a whole other world. But he has to make sure he heard right anyway.] What are you, like...defenders of the Earth or something?

[It's all starting to sound very...superheroic. He's seen what he suspects is a fraction of Stephen's power, and he'd been plunged headfirst, eyes wide open into Wanda's.]

[ The sharp scent of the alcohol hits his nose soon enough, and Thancred isn't surprised to find that it's this strong. Not that such things matter much in the Horizon. The amount that they feel full of food or drunk off of spirits is all in their head, after all. Yet he gathers that Stephen wants to feel some manner of mood alteration this evening.

Once the liquor is poured, he steps over to hand Stephen his glass, pausing there for a moment to sip from his own as the explanation begins.

New memories, overnight? Thancred frowns, shaking his head slowly as he swallows that first sip and winces briefly at the burn down his throat. Not that it deters him much. ]

I can't say that I have. That being said, I'm aware of how the Summoned can have inconsistencies in what time they hail from. I imagine these visions of the future are to compensate for that?

[ How remains the question. Himeka has told him of how she'd had memories taken from her in the woods in Solvunn, a price paid. Perhaps that's what's happened to their memories from home as well. Thancred thinks this over as he moves to take a seat in one of the other chairs, facing Stephen's. It's much comfier than he expected, and he's quick to lean back and settle in. ]

Being the only sorceress makes you my favorite by default.

[She’s right, the quipping back is easy. It’s comfortable, natural — so is the quirk of his lips as she deals with the wine bottle. This is part of the Abraxas routine that’s easiest to fall into, compared to his work, his lessons, assistant mages coming up to him with requests or questions or missives.

It fades a little, though, at the question. Yennefer is keen-eyed, and even though Stephen tries to conduct himself the same as usual (the same as he remembers; it feels years ago), there are parts of him that he simply cannot change. The wrinkles just a little deeper, reaching at the corner of his eyes. The streaks of grey at his temples, more prevalent than before. His jaw sets, considering how to say this — he never planned on not telling her.]

Guess we should talk about— [A very vague gesture with his free hand.] —everything. [They can loop back around to Ambrose in a bit. First, frankness and honesty.]

I should have told you sooner, but it just feels like I’ve been scrambling since I’ve come back. [“Come back?” Uh-oh.] I had a vision, where I returned home and lived years of my life. So much happened, and having woken up again ironically is like… returning to an old dream I never knew I had. An old life I had forgotten about.

[Sorry if you had to deal with their little dysfunctional superhero family before now, Wilhelm.

He actually laughs at that comment, finding something both sincerely funny and ironic about it. The pages stop flipping, opening to an unintentional spot; it actually stilts his focus for a good second or two. Looking at the young man directly-]

Something like that. Some of us formed a group called the Avengers. It's been disbanded since then. [But the superhero tendencies still exist, alive and well.] I was never a part of that team, but I'm a sorcerer for Kamar-Taj. It's my job to defend the Earth from magical threats if they ever come knocking at the universal, or multiversal, door.

[So yes, the multiverse.]

So, our paths cross.

I'm so honored. [ she says flatly, though a smile breaks through in the moments that follow, entirely taking the legs out from the joke. but she assumes that it won't matter, because she has trust that they will find themselves back there again if they need to. because joking, sarcasm, back and forth - they are easy veils to shroud complicated topics. protection, if stephen really doesn't want to get into what yennefer sees on the edges of his eyes.

his relenting to discuss, though, does have her brows lifting curiously. in part because she wondered if she would have to press him for more information, and also because she wants to look like she hadn't, necessarily, been digging - even when they both know she has.

it's not until stephen says come back that the lighter, curious, joking side of yennefer stills. she listens to everything he says, about living years of his life, about waking up and returning to an old dream. the color drains a bit from yennefer's face. ]

I understand the feeling. [ a beat, a pause, and yennefer swallows. ] You woke up with the vision, yes? A night of dreams and then...

Edited 2022-09-08 14:08 (UTC)

[“Mood alteration”. That’d be an eloquent way of putting it, and not thoroughly incorrect: Stephen might not want to get rip-roaring drunk, but a shared drink with a friend wouldn’t go awry to loosen a man’s taut and tired nerves.

And boy, are they tired and taut.

He takes the glass, waiting for Thancred to settle into the strangely-upholstered chair (pretty comfy, though!) before continuing his explanation.]

I don’t know if they happen to compensate for timeline inconsistencies. [It’s possible, but if so, it happens too sporadically to account for specific reasoning.] There are a handful of people from my world here, and we’re all over the place. Maybe it’s a side-effect of some kind, like the universe trying to play catch-up where there’s too much temporal leeway, but I can only guess.

[He pauses. Thancred can probably jump to his own conclusions, by now, but he may as well come out and say it:]

Anyway, it happened to me. It felt like I had gone back to Earth, and been there for years. Not even a single thought of Abraxas crossed my mind; not one memory of what's happened in this place. Like it never even happened.

[Wilhelm isn't sure how to take the burst of laughter or the sudden shifting of Stephen's attention to him. At least the explanation that follows absolves him of the worry that he's said something stupid. Then...he's clearly impressed, but that awe is tempered by something with more weight. Because although the whole concept of defending the world from interdimensional peril is unquestionably cool, he can't help but think...]

That's a lot of pressure for one person.

[Which he knows something about, but not on such an amplified scale.]

[Stephen finally sits, the bench creaking dimly in protest. He swirls his wine around in the glass, looking at Yennefer, perplexed by the sudden stillness in her features.

She speaks from familiarity, and could that mean—?]

And then, waking up, it was like all of those so-called “dreams” were real.

[He knows they were. His memories and Wanda’s lined up perfectly, all that pain and trauma and fear, there for them both. Receiving, giving, making it all the more complicated here and now.]

Hey. [He scoots a foot out, bumps his ankle gently against hers. A casual, friendly gesture of a degree so rarely seen from Stephen; but Yen is one the few who would wrangle it out of him when his concern dares to shift towards her, instead.] Don’t tell me the same thing happened to you.

[ there is a part of yennefer that does hear stephen, about waking up, about the dreams being real. she gets something of a faraway look in her eyes as she remembers those first few weeks, now months ago. when she hadn't known what was going on, when she'd woken up and been cut off from everything. what she knew of home layered over what she knew from here and the fact there hadn't been anyone she could turn to in the castle, how the few people she could turn to either turned her away (geralt) or she could barely reach (jaskier).

( she thinks of the days and nights she spent locked away in her room, terrified to step outside. the days and nights she considered running, to not, to solvunn, anywhere. a bit of that feeling creeps back up her spine now, something cold and dark and lonely. )

hey he says, bumping his ankle against her's. it's the touch that does it, that has yennefer blinking and back and looking over to find stephen looking back. don't tell me he says, and yennefer gives him a small, tired smile in return. nods, taking a slow breath and a sip from her glass and settles next to him on the bench, pressed up against him as she does. ]

A few months ago, before we were sent out on the quest by Ambrose, when my... [ she trails off, because while they are secluded enough out in these gardens, as long as they are within the castle, some part of her will always worry. so instead of finishing, she gestures with her glass.

when I lost my magic the gesture says, her eyes on the swirl of her wine. ]

Edited 2022-09-13 12:55 (UTC)

[Yeah, it sure is.]

The burden's shared. Mostly.

[He had Wong back home, actual Sorcerer Supreme. He had the support of the other Sanctums, the loyalty of their students, the magical strength of all of them combined to take on any problem thrown their way. But even then, there are days where he feels wrung dry, where he wishes he could just nap for a hundred years and then maybe he'd wake up and the to-do-list might have shrunk in the interim.]

It isn't easy, and I didn't want it at first. But I can't imagine myself doing anything else now.

[He pauses, then returns back to his book, finally flipping to the right page.]

Well, back on Earth. In Abraxas- [Flips said tome around to face Wilhelm.] We're going to review our last lesson. For my sake as much as yours. Sound good?

[ The universe trying to play catch-up. That seems feasible enough, and while Thancred could not begin to understand the specifics behind it, he imagines that certain colleagues of his would have theories. It is something that he could bring up with Urianger at a later time; surely his friend would be all too happy to have Thancred drop another intellectual curiosity into his lap.

That aside, the truth that is in front of him right now is that Stephen has experienced this, going through a dream that was tantamount to years of events back home suddenly crammed into his skull. It sounds unpleasant, but the stranger detail is that he'd had no knowledge of Abraxas through it. ]

... Waking up must have been quite the shock, then. [ Thancred eyes the amber liquid in his glass for a moment, swirling it around before he takes another generous sip. ] In that case, I suppose t'would be appropriate to say "welcome back."

[ While to Thancred it's as if Stephen never left, he understands it's much the opposite for him. ]

Am I correct to assume these years were eventful ones?

[ He only knows so much about Stephen's life back home, but between the world almost being ended and that team he helped out (the Avengers, was it?), it certainly seemed just as busy as his own. ]

[The gentle swirl of the wine in her glass might as well speak volumes. Her trailing silence only serves as space for Stephen to complete the sentence in his mind. When she lost her magic.

There is a part of him that never really thought her magic dissipating was related to something happening in her world, but now, given that context, it is all too easy to tie those connective strings together. A few months ago, she had fallen into a deep dream state just like him. A few months ago, and she had woken up, finding herself missing her magic. He cannot imagine what that must have been like, what it would have felt like for him.

(Like waking up, suddenly missing a limb. Or like waking up, suddenly finding one’s hands gone useless, every bone in them broken—)

His stomach sinks a little. His mouth twists into a deeper frown.]

They’re not just dreams, then. It’s as if time is trying to catch up to us, winding its way back into ourselves here — like it’s trying to fix the timeline we were never a part of because we’re stuck in Abraxas.

[That’s just a theory, spun off the top of his head. But that’s what it feels like.]

…You should have told me sooner, Yennefer.

[Welcome back, indeed. His look is still wry, and still tired, but he raises his glass at the sentiment, anyway.]

Good to be back. Not that I had a lot of choice in the matter.

[Not that he ever truly left, his body still sleeping, technically, while his mind experienced the length and breadth of that vision-like dream. Still, he feels older; he’s fairly certain those closest to him can notice the few deeper wrinkles, the longer streaks of grey along his temples. And when he casts magic, there is still that extra… addition that crops up now and again; proof that whatever was experienced didn’t only exist in his mind’s eye. (No pun intended.)

He shifts a little, crossing his legs at the ankle.]

Eventful is an understatement. Let’s see… I altered the memory of the entire planet, just so they could forget a single identity, otherwise, the multiverse would fall apart.

[The fact that he can remember Peter Parker at all is something of a loophole; his Earth memories might have been altered, but his Abraxas memories still remain, which includes knowing who the kid was before all that took place. But that’s… complicated, and he doesn’t want to dive too deeply into it now.]

Later, a fellow magic-user was corrupted by an evil book and chased me and someone else across multiple dimensions. Oh, and she’s here, too, by the way. She also got an “update”.

[ stephen is able to put it together, and there is no small part of yennefer that is once again relieved at all she doesn't have to say. that he understands what it feels like, what it means. at the time, they had been mere acquaintances, excited conversations about chaos, about theory, about the potential of the singularity and how they could use it. they had been partners at the singularity itself, had felt it yearn for that power, much like the yearning that yennefer has never quite dropped. hungry, desperate, starved. then she had disappeared for days, weeks, because she couldn't be seen about the castle. she couldn't let it be known, and then-

yennefer takes another breath, taking a long sip from her wine, as she feels stephen's frown at her side deepen. as she listens to the theory he spouts with barely any time at all. it pulls a frown from her, though her's has more to do with the idea of it than the implication. ]

It does not always work- the dreams I had, or whatever you wish to call them- memories- others from home had them too, but we did not all end up with the same amount. It's almost as if the connection was lost, or... [ she shakes her head, not quite liking where her thoughts are going, finding too many issues in the basis of it.

but that is when stephen's tone shifts - or, maybe it doesn't shift at all. maybe he just shifts the focus back, to her, to her loss of magic, to the fact when it happened she hadn't had anyone except for jaskier and geralt to tell, and her only way to tell them, had been fractured too.

there's a smile to her lips, now, but the edge of it is more sad than it is dangerous. she glances back to him, one of her brows arched. ] I should have? [ as if she is asking him really? in this castle? in these walls? so much has changed since then, since those dark nights, lost and alone. it's why she's having this conversation at all. ] It changes nothing. [ there is a pause, and then that smile fades to a look of curiosity, instead. ]

What happened, in those years? You look... [ she lets go of her wine glass with one of her hands, reaching up to brush her fingers against the more prominently grey streaks of his hair. it looks like she wants to say something else, but when her eyes turn back to his face, the hint of that smile is more understanding, empathetic. ] Tired.

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( catch-all ) can we just start over

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