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

[When Stephen didn't appear for their weekly lesson, Wilhelm began to worry. First, that he'd somehow done something wrong, then more logically that something had happened to Stephen. That a man so exacting and fastidious would just neglect an appointment doesn't bode well, a dark cloud blotting the horizon. His thoughts turn to Wanda, who'd fallen into a period of silence and returned from it sadder, dimmer.

The message puts him at ease. His answer comes just a few minutes later:]

It's okay. It's good to hear from you again. Yeah, I'll be there soon.

[And so he is, easily finding Stephen in the usual corner of the library. Wilhelm stands before him with his hands neatly folded, all practiced formality, as he would when a teacher enters the classroom.]

Hi. [A beat, marked by fidgeting fingers.] I hope everything is okay?

[Wilhelm's line of thinking would not be completely wrong. Stephen's disappearance during their last appointed lesson is very much related to Wanda, beyond simply needing to pay her a visit. Time and experience had lurched forward for them both, then supplanted them right back into this world a second time; even without the context of what happened--and god, had so much happened--this yo-yoing effect makes him weary, has made it hard for even Stephen to focus.

But he's stubborn. Given no other choice in the matter, he will fall right back into his old Abraxian habits and lifestyle, even if it kills him. Force the pieces back into their proper places, because what else is there to do? To everyone here, he had not been gone at all -- a discrepancy he will have to deal with, surreal as it feels at his core.

He offers Wilhelm a smile that's tired and strained at the edges, but nonetheless sincere enough.]

I had to pay an old friend a visit. [Even labeling Wanda as an "old friend" doesn't feel quite right, another piece of the puzzle gone askew.] Make sure she was all right. I... uh.

[Eloquent. He gestures at him to sit while he tries again.]

Time's a little jumbled in my head right now. I'm sorry if I sound off while I'm trying to get my footing again. ...You're going to have to remind me where we left off.

[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.]

[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?

[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.]

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...?

[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.]

[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.

[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.]

[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?

( catch-all ) can we just start over

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