“Storm King,” Strange says as the portal quietly vanishes behind them, “which I realise is a Thedas-sounding name if ever there was one. It’s actually a nearby mountain, which I think you can just about see over the hills. This is a public state park and an art center both named after it. Nice place for a daytrip in the summer.”
Hands settled into his pockets and the very picture of nonchalance, he peers around, breathing in the fresh crisp air, the silence; and then leans a little forward to examine that curious reflective piece, like someone broke the sky and it scattered across the grass in front of them.
“There’s art pieces all around the fields, so you’ll see statuary and sculptures. Although I haven’t seen this particular piece before— hadn’t really had time to visit in a few years.”
He’d been too busy as a doctor, which was a good excuse — but he’d certainly had the time as a sorcerer, since as demonstrated, it only took a moment to get here. It’s a nice reminder, Strange realises, that he probably ought to stop and smell the roses a little more often.
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Hands settled into his pockets and the very picture of nonchalance, he peers around, breathing in the fresh crisp air, the silence; and then leans a little forward to examine that curious reflective piece, like someone broke the sky and it scattered across the grass in front of them.
“There’s art pieces all around the fields, so you’ll see statuary and sculptures. Although I haven’t seen this particular piece before— hadn’t really had time to visit in a few years.”
He’d been too busy as a doctor, which was a good excuse — but he’d certainly had the time as a sorcerer, since as demonstrated, it only took a moment to get here. It’s a nice reminder, Strange realises, that he probably ought to stop and smell the roses a little more often.