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Fade Rift Mods ([personal profile] faderifting) wrote in [community profile] faderift2022-11-29 07:54 pm

MOD PLOT ↠ HOME FOR RIFTMAS

WHO: Everyone (more or less)
WHAT: Rifter Show & Tell & Steal.
WHEN: Early Wintermarch 9:49 (forward-dated!)
WHERE: The Crossroads and BEYOND.
NOTES: OOC post. Please use appropriate content warnings in your subject lines.



Since Corypheus began opening the Gates, Riftwatch has been noticing pockets of instability in the Crossroads—crumbling platforms, paths newly blocked by rubble or broken bridges, sections where gravity has been shifted and altered in ways unusual even for the Crossroads, with new intrusions of green-tinged rock outcroppings or corners of temple walls. The barriers between the Crossroads, the Fade, and the world are thinning. It's a problem.

But more recently, Riftwatch has been made aware of an ancient artifact known (now; one hopes this isn't its original title) as the Sealing Stone, now in pieces scattered throughout the Crossroads, and the approximate locations of those pieces. If brought together and activated, the Stone may stabilize the barrier between the Crossroads and the other realms and may provide a model Riftwatch could use to reinforce the Veil elsewhere.

So Riftwatch ventures into the Crossroads to retrieve the pieces of the Stone. It's an intensive effort undertaken by large teams, due to the many now-familiar hazards of the Crossroads, the potential for encountering the Venatori that also use the eluvian network, and the need to cover ground as quickly as possible in hopes of finding the artifacts before the Venatori notice the increased Crossroads activity and come join the hunt.

It's not as simple as merely locating the pieces, however. Whenever a group of Riftwatchers get near enough to one of the artifacts, they're alerted first by the triggering of a sort of protection mechanism. In some cases—specifically, on teams without any rifters—spirits suddenly swarm from the metaphorical woodwork in numbers so great and with such hostility that retreat is the only viable option. The spirits chase the teams only as far as necessary to push them away from the artifact's location, then mass into a circling shoal, guarding the spot until they're left alone long enough to decide the risk has passed.

But for groups containing at least one rifter, something with the mechanism goes wrong. Or right, arguably. Rather than being overwhelmed by spirits, they instead find themselves abruptly engulfed by what appears to be a rift, opening suddenly and rapidly large enough to swallow entire masses of people before contracting again to lie in wait like a carnivorous plant for anyone else who comes too close. Those caught in its radius tumble out into what appears to be a new and unfamiliar world–for most. For one or more of the rifters in each group, it will be perfectly familiar.

The first group to encounter this effect will be one including Tony Stark and Stephen Strange, and will drop them and their compatriots straight into midtown traffic. Any groups attempting to travel to the same spot in the Crossroads to investigate the apparent vanishing—whether they have rifters with them or not—will find themselves drawn through the same "rift" almost as soon as they get within sight of the place, before anything can be discerned about their lost fellows. They will likewise emerge into Stark & Strange's United States.

Subsequent groups including other rifters will be seemingly drawn into their companions' worlds by the same effect. In each, Riftwatch will have to navigate local hazards and retrieve a distinctive lyrium-etched artifact, at which point the world will dissolve around them like a dream and they will find themselves back in the Crossroads where they began, in possession of a carved chunk of stone glowing with lyrium runes.

1 ↠ MCU Earth-199999

Alternate-universe Earth, New York and Los Angeles, 2012-2025, Tony Stark & Stephen Strange.

Earth-199999 is very much like contemporary Earth as we know it, featuring the same historic events, same nations, same conventions. For the average person, there is no difference, except that they know magic and aliens and gods and superpowers are all real and have been causing problems for a while now, with NYC as the hub for most of the shenanigans. MCU Earth has also made leaps and bounds in all science fields as compared to real Earth, although these leaps and bounds are not widely accessible, primarily exclusive to private organisations like Stark Industries, mad scientists, and the likes of SHIELD, but can range from interactive three-dimensional holograms through to biotechnology that turns people into supersoldiers.

It's commonplace to see or hear about criminals causing havoc in the streets with superpowers or gadgets, and crime-fighting vigilantes trying to stop them. The Avengers, as the world's first superheroes, became widely-known commercialised celebrities in-universe with merchandise, documentaries, book deals, and memorial murals to the deceased Iron Man.

Special Abilities: Everyone is nerfed to regular human, unless you want a sudden onset of mutant powers. 1 individual themed ability per character; like pyrokinesis, superspeed, superstrength, etc.

Arrival: One main rift opens in the middle of New York City, ejecting our rifters into midtown traffic… except thanks to Strange’s own multiversal mishaps, people in this world will seem astonishingly accustomed to this sight! Bystanders will be startled, but then the rifters will likely be dogged by strangers snapping photos and videos and tweeting about their arrival.

The Fade-constructed timeline will be a little off: the old Avengers tower and its penthouse is still standing and still accessible to Tony, and Strange will also offer up the Sanctum as a sanctuary, and these will be the main mission hubs while the team gets their bearings and tries to locate the artifact. In the meantime: relax, take in the sights, maybe check out a Broadway show, wrangle your new superpowers.

A secondary rift also opens up on Hollywood Boulevard, in case people want to do some helplessly stranded on Earth RP. Tony can very easily find out this has happened and go collect them, with various degrees of efficiency according to what people want out of that OOCly. As this universe will be available to explore for a few IC weeks, people can assume some degree of Stark-provided financial freedom for basics (i.e. clothes and food, burner phones, etc), and they can stay in the Avengers tower and/or the Sanctum.

2 ↠ Shifterverse

Original alternate-universe Earth, Midwest US, 2022, Jude Adjei.

Real-world 2022, but what if Shifters?

Special Abilities: All superpowers are unfortunately nerfed. However, everyone's a Shifter now. Your choice of animal. Enjoy.

Arrival: Everyone will arrive in Yellowstone National Park, which is wholly staffed and operated by Jude's pack, but... not in an area where tourists are routinely and happily welcomed. Welcome to the deep woods and canyons and plains, where Jude's pack has built their den for some several hundred people. Characters will immediately be found by scouts in fur and feathers, who will be guarded and curious, but not hostile. The wolves and ravens will greet the interlopers as equals, and if they aren't offered any violence, they'll be treated as guests. Hundreds of pack members live in a mixture of hand-built cabin homes and meeting places, portable tiny houses and various shared spaces. There is wifi, a greenhouse, lots of tasty food and warm clothing to wear. If they stay several days and prove themselves trustworthy, they might even start to see children out and about, and there's nothing cuter than a toddler who can become a wolf pup at will. (Mind the raven toddlers and the bear cubs. They're less cute.)

3 ↠ Tassia

D&D Original World, Loxley & Richard Dickerson

Tassia is an original Dungeons&Dragons inspired world, a single continent divided into four nations that is otherwise completely isolated from any other possible world beyond it. These nations are Lloryndell, Sylvica, Ifrin, and Promias, and at its centre lies the Cruxal, a university-city of diverse cultural influence.

While Tassia resembles Thedas in its day-to-day technology levels, including its anachronisms, it is more heavily laden with fantastical elements. Along with humans, elves, and dwarves, there are goblins, dragonborn, tritons, tieflings, sentient robots, bird people, centaurs, and more (https://www.dndbeyond.com/races) (but no qunari). There are many different kinds of magic users who wield their powers openly. There are shops full of magic items, potions, and spell scrolls. There are monsters of countless kinds that lurk just about everywhere. Most cultures in the material plane are polytheistic and worship themed gods from the default D&D (Faerun) Pantheon. Some smaller cults and individuals worship ancient fey, fiendish, and eldritch beings who dwell on the outskirts of their respective planes and may provide power to the exceptionally loyal -- for a price.

Special Abilities: You can choose to be a normal depowered person, but you are equally encouraged to take on magical abilities, whether you're a mage or not. In brief, you can be a wizard, whose magic comes from spellbooks and knowledge, a sorcerer, who have innate magical abilities, a bard, who draws their magic from music, words, and performance, a warlock, who has made a pact with a powerful entity in exchange of magical ability, a druid, who draws their magic from nature, and a cleric, whose divine abilities are gifted to them by a deity. (Other classes have magic too, but it might be easier to pick one of these major ones if you are unfamiliar!)

Rather than overthinking it, we recommend you pick whatever sounds fun to flavour your magic with, and then browse magical spells using classes as a filter. (Eighth and ninth level are off limits, and it may be easier to limit yourself further due to how many spells there are.) Given the temporariness of these powers, don't worry too much about how many spells you get or how frequently you can do them, but know that higher level spells (anything above fifth) can only be cast one or twice a day.

Your character may be Tassia-ised, in terms of their race, but in a limited capacity. All humans will stay human, but elves may adopt D&D traits like seeing in the dark.

Arrival: Rifts will open in the streets of the Cruxal. People will be startled by the sudden appearance of rifters and stand offish, but otherwise: they've seen it all before! No one will be calling the guard on you, unless you decide to start something, so please don't. Or enjoy jail.

The Cruxal is a labyrinthian melting pot built up in concentric rings around a massive central university and library. Goblins scarper among humans, elves, and dwarves in the street. There are tusked half orcs and horned, scale-clad dragonborn mixed in among more familiar silhouettes. This is a university town, but while a large portion of the population are students, academics, and staff, it is also self-sustaining, with taverns, shops, temples, brothels, residences, and marketways.

The university itself is guarded and degrees of entry closely regulated due to the school’s extensive collection of dangerous artifacts -- one of which just so happens to have gone missing last night. News of the theft has been suppressed, but every temple, tavern, and brothel on the outskirts of town is abuzz with the rumor. The entire corridor, they say, was scorched black.

Loxley and Richard won't be too concerned about herding everyone but can provide some coin as needed for inn rooms and food. They appear to have a near bottomless stash, at least as far as living costs go.

4 ↠ Sulleciel

Original fantasy world, Petrana de Cedoux.

What if magic was real and holy emperors still kissed the ring in Rome, until someone beheaded the fucking pope? Welcome to Sulleciel, and specifically to Lamor City, capitol of Lamorre and the seat of the Lamorran empire, ruled over by Empereur Marius IX and his consort, Empress Petrana Solene. A nation and empire in the throes, still, of great upheaval — think Versailles or Orlais, but lurching ungainly out of its dark ages into a theoretically more enlightened time, control of which is being actively fought in the halls of power and at grassroots levels of social influence. Power vacuums abound, thanks to the fall of the church and the rise of a conqueror who is less interested in ruling than he was conquering; women are still the often-illiterate property of their fathers and husbands, but now there are more alternatives to family and marital homes, and dedicated studies of witchcraft are being encouraged, with pilot programs across the empire primarily in those early sanctuary cities, figuring out how this is all going to work. Known for her efforts to lean on the scales in the people's favour Petrana herself is, in this era, rumored to be imprisoned; graffiti of her crowned likeness can be found in some places in the city, with the epithet ""la reine du malheur"".

Special Abilities: In Sulleciel, magic is a skill that may be pursued like any other — and there are those of more or less talent, as if someone were to attempt the violin, or swordplay. It is practised primarily through incantations and foci, with more elaborate spellwork for more ambitious results sometimes requiring particular items or a full coven to achieve. As magic is limited in Sulleciel only by the will, imagination and stamina of those practising it, no one coming here will be subject to any nerfs; all mages and otherwise magical or powered individuals will be able to use their powers as they're used to using them. In addition to this, anyone who is as magical as a chair-leg ordinarily can feel free to have a go at Sulleciel's magic — it's up to you if they have a knack for it or not. Simple spells like casting a light or telekinesis of small objects can be mastered by toddlers; a powerful enough witch or coven might be able to summon a thunderstorm and alter weather patterns, but ""can"" and ""should"" are different and it's generally advised that you try not to do a climate change.
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Arrival: The rift will open into a spacious, luxuriously-appointed tower on the grounds of the imperial palace but not visibly connected to it above-ground. It was at one point the sole domain of the previous arciduc's personal astronomers, but is now the primary residence and working space of the Queen's Coven. The Queen's Coven is a particular group of women, so named for having been among the first witches to come beneath the new regime's protection in the first city-state to bend the knee where Petrana was first installed as Queen Regent; they are private, secretive, and increasingly cut off from the power-struggles of the imperial court, having been actively distanced from the Empress herself by a variety of other players in the game. Both relatively prepared for sudden magical happenings and inclined to keep shit in the tower on lock, they will be prepared to pass you all off as "foreign witches, seeking our enlightenment" and see both you and the sudden access to Petrana as potentially useful in their maneuverings. Which will make moving around easier, but will probably be an active hindrance to getting where and what you need. An underground tunnel connects the tower directly to the palace, though there are also pleasant, covered pathways to walk across the palace grounds; guards at the main, above-ground entrance to the tower will inquire about movements to and from, and will be skeptical but limit their interference initially ... as long as they don't see Petrana.

5 ↠ Kalvad

Original fantasy world, Wysteria Poppell.

Kalvad—specifically the city of Somerset, the magic capitol of the civilized world—is a mashup of Regency Era and Industrial-Revolution-But-Magic! Nebulously England (with the serial numbers aggressively filed off). When in doubt, default to Jane Austen vibes. But if it seems fun to do some weird magic-powered technological advancements, then go nuts.

Kalvad is an imperial island nation ostensibly ruled by three kings, though they're largely figureheads overseeing an upper and lower parliament. The country has made itself rich and powerful by doing a whole lot of war and colonization. As historically one of the most magically powerful regions in the world, magicians have long been a vital tool in the empire's efforts to do both those things.

Unfortunately for Kalvad, the strength of magic in the world has waned considerably in the last 40 years. Where once Talent was rare but reasonably powerful, magic users are both becoming more commonplace and considerably weaker. Even older magicians and hedge-witches who once might have manufactured considerable arcane feats have seen some diminishing of their powers. A popular, but unproven, theory in academic circles is that those with Talent all draw from the same "well" of magic. As more people are born with the ability to tap into that resource, the less there is to go around. Resentment for those with weaker Talents among older generations of magic users is A Thing.

That said, increased availability of minor magics has kick-started a 'minor magic' powered industrial revolution. Parlor witches who perform small arcane conveniences are growing in number; minor charms and enchantments have become more readily available to lower classes. Meanwhile, the non-magical population is slowly being shunted out of their respective cottage industry jobs and into factories powered by great enchanted machines. The empire as the world knows it is clearly teetering on the brink of major social and political upheaval, both at home and abroad. The consequences of all this change just haven't quite played themselves out yet, though you can bet there are people rushing around in an attempt to cover their asses before they do.

Special Abilities Characters will be nerfed of any abilities they had in Thedas, but can be Talented in Kalvad terms or not. Any Talented character under 40 is likely to be able to produce only minor magics (think lighting fires in fireplaces, being able to heal minor injuries, and temporarily being able to enchant objects to do one specific thing). Anyone over forty can be a little flashier (think appearance altering glamors, temporary invisibility, transfiguration and significant healing). General magic flavor is: Brothers Grimm fairy tales and Arthurian legends, except that someone somewhere made all that weirdly pliable magic adhere to a strict ruleset. Easy, thoughtless channeling of magic is a secret lost long before the arcane powers in the world began to diminish. Now, all magic must be carefully and deliberately designed and constructed. The magicians most accomplished by Kalvadan standards are methodical and patient. Think clockmakers and mathematicians, not wizards on the side of a van.

Arrival: Members of Riftwatch will arrive through a rift and find themselves on the wooded outskirts of a sprawling city. Luckily, no one will witness their initial arrival. Even more convenient: once they've gotten their bearings and made their way into the city, they'll discover they aren't the only weird strangers in town (although they may want to strongly consider indulging in petty theft to make themselves stick out less—particularly as it comes time to infiltrate places). It seems that a sprawling months-long academic conference turned party turned cover for political intrigue and cold warfare has descended upon Somerset.

In the aftermath of what everyone is claiming to be a major military victory somewhere, delegations from a number of implicated countries have converged on the city at the invitation of the Kalvadan Crowns in order to share and demonstrate their various technical and arcane achievements. The World's Fair-like atmosphere has drawn a number of non-Talented tourists, scheming politicians, and cutthroat spies along with the legitimately academically and/or magically inclined.

While Somerset is something of a city of wonders by the world's estimation, it's still first and foremost a dirty and crowded industrial hub in a world that has yet to bother with paving all its major roads. The conference has quadrupled that effect, transforming it into a riot of sights, sound, and (often to its detriment) smells. At this point, finding a room and board in the city has become less a question of where you want to stay and more one of how many other people you're willing to timeshare a bed with.

Luckily, it doesn't seem like Riftwatch will be sticking around long. Some snooping around the of pamphleting/gossip will reveal that the artifact they're after is likely to be found in the grand exhibition hall, and that there will be an opportunity to get their hands on it that evening.

6 ↠ Abeir-Toril

D&D Forgotten Realms, Astarion

The D&D continent of Faerûn is loosely based on Eurasia—if it ran entirely on magic, was roughly stuck somewhere in the 14th century forever, and was filled to the brim with elves, dragons, gnolls, faeries, gods, demi-gods, and just about any myth (or mythological creature) you’ve ever encountered in your life. For the purpose of simplicity, everyone from Riftwatch is going to get plunked down in the titular Baldur’s Gate: the city is massive, it’s known as the jewel of Faerûn, and its cultures, districts, trades and pastimes reflect that remarkable splendor. Still, think of it like Kirkwall in that there are some pretty damn rigid socioeconomic divides separating the city via districts. QUICK GUIDE.

The Upper City is the fancy part of town where nobles (known as Patriar) and their servants live, and it also houses the city’s government and key recreational buildings. There are no bars, pubs, taverns or drinking halls. Anything rowdy happens behind closed doors, and if you don't have an invitation, you'd better look for fun somewhere else. Magical enchantments and lanterns make it beyond stunning at night to stroll through. Lower City is more varied: you’ll find taverns, shops, tons of entertainment and ample trade, as well as pirates by the docks (and their ships), and the harbor waters are absolutely gorgeous for sailing on calm days. Doors are shut and locked during nighttime hours aside from taverns, inns or gambling parlors. Visibility is also lower at night when harbor fog rolls in, particularly where poorer residents can't afford oil, tallow or magic every night. The Undercity stretches deep (and hidden) beneath both the Upper and Lower Cities: it begins at its most shallow within the city as sewers and along seawall cliffs as open-mouthed caves. The deeper you go, the worse it gets: undead catacombs, cultists, temples, blood sport and bloody magic prevail alongside monsters too dangerous to clear out. Outer City sucks. There's almost next to no law or order, and is inherently dangerous to explore. Treat it like Lowtown for the most part, and you'll be pretty smack on (slavers and actual kind impoverished poor included).

CULTURE: Baldur’s Gate is primarily run by humans, and to a lesser extent, elves. Other races aren’t really considered a foothold here, but they’re more than welcome in the city and treated exceptionally well with a few exceptions here and there (ogres, trolls, more ferally inclined goblins, etc). This is not at all like Thedas: someone more familiar with discrimination against non-humans, certain pairings and particularly mages wouldn't find it here. Most of the time if you dress nicely and carry yourself well, you’ll be well respected. Or robbed. Or both!

Special Abilities: Characters will be adjusted to fit D&D, and powers are optional for all. For D&D’s magic/power/race everything, please take a look at some basic classes.

Arrival: Characters will arrive via rifts torn into the Outer City, just along its riverfront sprawl. They won’t be too far from the city gates, but witnesses to the scene will be inclined to gossip and gawk, assuming everything from a freak magical incident to believing the new arrivals are wealthy travelers from somewhere far and exotic, who simply missed their mark in teleporting to the Upper City for sightseeing. Anyone wearing Thedosian clothes will be fine to go without changing— wearing something more modern or say, nothing at all for some reason, will definitely require staging some kind of Terminator II style clothing (theft) acquisition in order to fit in.

Ideally, the team will at least want to make their way into Lowtown in order to begin snooping around, but it’s a big damn city to say the least, and information is expensive. Astarion will help within reason, but being a vampire means that he can only afford to fund so much on his own.

Might be a good idea to do some fetch quests or live your best Adventuring Party life, because you’re all going to likely be here for a (time distorted) relative while.

7 ↠ Orphan Black

Alternate-Universe Earth, 2014; Toronto, Canada; Cosima Neihaus.

Real-world mid-2010s, but secret unethical biology/biotech experiments including viable human cloning in the mid 1980s. Carrying out such technologically advanced work is a combination of international organizations including a private research company, at least one paramilitary organization and a shadowy organization that oversees both. (Orphan Black also features minor differences from our world typical of its genre, such as plot-convenient hacking and variably competent law enforcement, but the cloning project and related scientific offshoots are the most salient differences.) Relevant to this plot in particular, the Dyad Institute is a private organization, considered ""fringe"" by the mainstream scientific community, devoted to research related to human evolution and biotechnology. Some of its many employees had connections to the ""neolutionism"" community, the members of which believed human evolution should be actively shaped by scientific and technological intervention. The organization was responsible for the project that created Cosima and her sisters roughly 30 years before in-world present day. Also at the moment they're jumping to, Cosima works there, it's complicated. (If anyone is familiar with the canon, we're jumping in circa season two.)
A tiny pinboard.

Special Abilities: None, you're all just unpowered humans. Sorry/you're welcome.

Arrival: The group arrives at what turns out to be a nondenominational winter party for a local school; there are some mild shenanigans as Cosima clocks that it's a school attended by children she knows, and more pressingly, partially overseen by their mother, who has Cosima's face. Cosima press gangs one or more other people into helping her hide her own face while negotiating with Alison to borrow her minivan. She shuttles the group to Alison's large suburban Toronto home, which becomes the FR group's base of operation. (It is perhaps telling that while Alison finds this frustrating, she and her husband Donnie do sort of roll with it also.) If desired/depending on how big the group is, Cosima could also stow some Riftwatchers with Felix, the foster brother of one of her other clones, who has a big artsy loft downtown. She is not against taking anyone to her place, but she's a grad student; it's not huge. Everyone who knows how to use a phone or can be trusted to figure it out with a tutorial gets a burner phone for convenience. (Perhaps additionally telling how quickly Alison gets everyone a burner phone. She also decorates the protective cases for them. No, it's not optional.)

8 ↠ The Last of Us

Post-Apocalyptic Earth, Spring 2038, Seattle, Abby Lasterson & Ellie Williams.

This world was ours until 2013, when a worldwide pandemic broke out overnight. A fungus (cordyceps) that had originally infected mainly insects adapted to infect human beings. Anyone bitten by an infected person or who has breathed in a significant or concentrated amount of fungal spores becomes infected themselves. Over a maximum of two days, they utterly lose their humanity and deteriorate into violent monsters, eventually sprouting spores and fungal plates. There is no known cure, and the only human being ever known to be immune is Ellie Williams. 25 or so years later, humanity has crumbled into various factions in a struggle to survive. First came the Federal (FEDRA) response, resulting in Quarantine Zones and martial law. Life in the zones is highly regulated, with work assignments and rations that often aren't enough to go around. Many citizens are forced to turn to crime just to make ends meet. Orphaned children become wards of the state and are trained to become FEDRA soldiers by the time they're sixteen.

Various civilian groups rose up to rebel against FEDRA, forming factions such as the Fireflies (rebels who recruited scientists in an effort to find a cure), and the Washington Liberation Front (a militia-minded organization who overthrew FEDRA in Seattle). There are other smaller groups such as the religious zealots called the Seraphites, or the violent slavers known as the Rattlers.

Few and far between are independent human settlements like Jackson of Wyoming, where small communities have managed to gain self-sufficiency and safety with tireless group effort and highly vigilant defenders. They bolster their numbers by welcoming peaceful outsiders and engaging in trade with travelers.

Living outside of these groups, people are largely on their own, vulnerable to packs of hunters, bandits and even cannibals that prey on anyone brave enough to risk travel.

The infected are an ever-present threat everywhere, and the world is a ruin quickly being reclaimed by nature. (cw: body horror in the link) See board for world aesthetic and depictions of the Infected.

Special Abilities: Everyone is a normal human here. No supernatural powers, no magic, no non-humans.

Arrival: Welcome one of Ellie and Abby's least favorite places: Seattle. The Space Needle is visible in the distance, so despite the advanced state of decay, it's actually recognizable. Except it's been bombed, and rotting, and nature's reclaimed it for the last quarter-century. This adventure won't be for the faint of heart; there are no home bases and no safe space to be had. All clothing, supplies, weaponry and food are things you'll need to find yourself. Everyone can assume they'll get a quick lesson in gun safety and a rundown on various types of infected. Multiple rifts will open, so feel free to appear anywhere in the city (even apart from others) but expect to find no native allies. The city of Seattle is embroiled in civil war between the Seraphites (a religious cult who rejects anything "old world" and scars their faces, called "Scars") and the Washington Liberation Front (a ruthless mercenary coalition, called "Wolves") and both sides will assume you're with the other group and attack on sight. Better pick up a brick.
portalling: ᴍᴜʟᴛɪᴠᴇʀsᴇ ᴏf ᴍᴀᴅɴᴇss. (pic#15781103)

» earth-199999 (mcu); open.

[personal profile] portalling 2022-12-04 01:45 am (UTC)(link)
It’s a bizarre trek south through midtown, with bystanders asking to pose for pictures with the arriving rifters (congrats, you’re all rifters now), but Strange eventually gets people safely to Greenwich Village.

The Sanctum Sanctorum is bigger on the inside, so it’ll generate extra bedrooms for anyone wanting to stay there. He’ll give anyone a tour of the townhouse, gamely and proudly, showing them around the building and ushering them to their rooms and telling them where to find the laundry in the basement.

His speech, true-to-form, is grandiose and a little melodramatic but entirely accurate: “The Sanctum Santorum is the greatest concentration of occult esoterica and mystical phenomena in existence. It should go without saying, but do not touch anything you see, except the floor. And be careful where you step. In this house, simply opening the wrong door could literally unleash hell on Earth. And that’s just the refrigerator. … Basically, don’t look at anything for long unless you want your eyeballs to melt out of your skull.”

After they get settled, he recovers the Cloak of Levitation which, unlike the version he wears in Thedas, is literally alive and can help him fly. There’s a sling ring back on his fingers, which means he can open portals again, back in his full power and his prime and showing off.

As the days go on, like at the Gallows, he can often be found in the library, poring over various magical locators with a globe slowly floating and spinning beside him. Seeing someone else enter, he asks aloud: “If you were an incredibly powerful macguffin, where do you think you’d be hiding?”

Late nights might mean a snack run together at the bodega, piling up on sugary desserts and chips, sandwiches and soda; or it might be nursing some tea or hot cocoa in the Sanctum kitchen if anyone else happens to be an insomniac, unsettled and having trouble sleeping.

Other options might include: touristy nonsense in the city, shopping for clothes, wrangling new superpowers if you obtained any, going to investigate bizarre local occurrences only for it to be yet another vigilante or criminal rather than the artifact. Or is there anywhere on Earth you’d like to visit while you’re here? Because, heck, the illusion goes forever and he can open a portal there with his sling ring.
elegiaque: (076)

makeover montage, pt 2.

[personal profile] elegiaque 2022-12-04 04:05 am (UTC)(link)
Armed with recommendations and an increasing knowledge of Google — she opens Twitter on what she is thinking of as her Stark crystal, scrolls for a minute and a half, and then spends thirty minutes opening every menu until she figures out how to remove the app — Gwenaëlle determines that she is quite done with sticking out here like a sore thumb and commandeers Strange to make himself useful. It's only fair, she reasons, having done more or less the same thing for him prior to and in Hightown not altogether that long ago,

which is how he finds himself parked with a wine-glass and timely refills on a plush sofa outside of an equally luxurious dressing room while several shop assistants go back and forth with arm-loads of clothing and Gwenaëlle appears intermittently to to be made much of or refuses to because she's already decided this doesn't need to see the light of day.

Behind the door, interestedly: “Is that a whole outfit?”

—ah, we've reached the swimwear category.
portalling: ᴍᴜʟᴛɪᴠᴇʀsᴇ ᴏf ᴍᴀᴅɴᴇss. (+ Aʀᴍᴀɴɪ) (pic#15781063)

[personal profile] portalling 2022-12-05 02:46 am (UTC)(link)
Strange almost chokes on his drink, wondering what she’s unearthed behind there. “What, did they bring you lingerie? I recuse myself from any verdicts on lingerie today.”

He’s making himself useful, but like, there are limits.

The flurry of dressing and modelling and trying on outfits here is so different from what he’d undergone at her houseboat — this is more of a show, a public routine, a transaction. The drinks are very nice, and Strange seems far more at ease when he’s not the one being made much of. He kicks back in that sofa, one ankle hooked over the other, an arm slung over the back as he takes another sip of the wine.

The employees here are brutally well-trained and best-equipped to assemble clothing options that’ll fit her size, but he’s here to smooth over anything lost in translation. To provide between-the-lines context for Gwenaëlle whenever the assistant steps out. Interpreting and giving his verdict on various outfits as she displays them, like, That one screams ’dinner date with a nepotism baby’ if that’s the look you’re after, or That one’s good for an afternoon at the country club, playing golf or something, do you have golf back in Thedas? or Everyone loves a little black dress.

It’s not like he’s been involved in a shopping spree for women’s clothing like this before — but it turns out it is, in fact, fun.
elegiaque: (025)

[personal profile] elegiaque 2022-12-05 05:50 am (UTC)(link)
Jarvis, helpfully, had called ahead and made appointments for Gwenaëlle at multiple stores on Fifth Ave; this is only the third, and she's already set aside enough at all three to more than establish a wardrobe she can navigate this world in. At this point, they really are only continuing because it's fun — because someone had been willing to say yes, of course, when she'd said she'd quite like to see some shoes as well, because there is a wine-glass in her hand, too, because the only fun way to figure out the credit limit is to see how much strain it can take.

At no point during any of this has she inquired the cost of anything that she's said yes, that, and do you have it in any other colours? to.

“Is a bikini lingerie?” comes, slightly doubtfully, through the dressing room door— “Do I really need something to swim in?”

Whether or not Strange catches it, the assistant with Gwenaëlle certainly has the ear to recognise that the question is not will I be swimming so much as it is can I not just swim naked wherever I like, and there is some hurried, more muted conversation behind the door, and although the precise nature of her answer is unclear, there is at least some restrained disappointment audible.

Obviously she'll have to have the rack of swimsuits, then, and only because she has tired of hearing a thousand times about how much better every rifter world is does she refrain from complaining, immediately, that she might as well have come to Ferelden for all this prudery.

“Can your blood pressure take a verdict on a cover up? I do think this is poorly named— well, what do you think—” to, presumably, her companion behind the door, who has possibly taken mercy on (yes, the Dr Strange, hissed between her teeth to a colleague earlier as she bustled back to them).
portalling: ᴍᴜʟᴛɪᴠᴇʀsᴇ ᴏf ᴍᴀᴅɴᴇss. (+ Aʀᴍᴀɴɪ) (pic#15781052)

[personal profile] portalling 2022-12-05 06:38 am (UTC)(link)
Being recognised on the street again, after three months of relative anonymity besides that green shard in his palm, is surreal.

Doctor Strange is running a little more incognito today, however, besides that the store had to jot down their names for this reserved timeslot, and thus done a double-take at his, and then done an extra double-take upon hearing who was footing the bill. (And yet, that calculating corner of Strange’s mind had still noted that little detail: the shop hadn’t reacted like a dead man was signing the check. Curiouser and curiouser.)

So. Because even a sorcerer, too, knows the value of dressing for the occasion and not showing up in costume when he doesn’t have to, for this excursion he’s in white shirtsleeves, black trousers, sharp shoes, a coat slung over the sofa behind him. There’s a red scarf tucked into its pocket, which is actually the Cloak of Levitation. He hadn’t needed any assistance buttoning up the shirt today; his telekinesis is back in full force, so he’s been taking advantage of it, relishing not being quite so helpless again.

“My blood pressure will probably survive, yes, thanks. Let’s see what they’ve put together.” He ponders then, over another sip of wine: alright, in fairness, technically, what’s even the difference between a bikini versus a bra and underwear? Besides that there might be lace and garters involved, but those do change the equation significantly— god, maybe his country really is prudish.

But, for a man whose nearest body of water was the Hudson River and the Gowanus and neither of those are for swimming, he finds himself asking with a kind of academic curiosity: “Do you really just jump from your houseboat into the water naked?”
elegiaque: (086)

[personal profile] elegiaque 2022-12-14 08:01 am (UTC)(link)
“I've lived and worked around the Kirkwall harbour for far too long to routinely make a habit of swimming in it,” is probably a broadly sensible stance to take for any person — jarring, though, to think about how long she has been there, nowadays, long enough there are well-established members of Riftwatch who've never set foot in Skyhold.

The first swimsuit does rather explain her initial question: it is a sky blue ... three? piece? and she's right, cover-up is a misnomer. The bottom sits high on her waist with two rows of four buttons in the same colour paralleling down over each hip; the top a relatively straightforward bandeau that might or might not have straps. It's difficult to tell, because the third piece is a smart matching cardigan in the same fabric — with the same buttons as the bottoms — with elbow-length sleeves, only slightly longer than the bikini top itself. The entire effect strongly suggests she ought to be wearing a string of pearls and kitten heels with it; it is somewhat strikingly incongruent with the number of scars that it leaves clearly visible on her person.

The cauterised burn scars that scrape down her sternum, that have always been visible in the necklines she favours, clearly connect to much longer scarring that winds between bikini top and bottom and emerges again at the top of her thigh, dragging down around the back of it. Something, at some point, took a bite out of that thigh— the way that's scarred, she didn't get to keep all of that flesh in the healing process. Rising up on her toes to do an unself-conscious turn so he can appreciate the entire costume,

these are not quite so raw as the golden eye, and the way she keeps the attendant out of her blind spot. She's had time to stop thinking of them every time someone else might see them.

“I don't know, it's growing on me. I do see the appeal,” she decides. “But I swam naked when we went to Rivain. I always did at home in the Greatwood.”

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sprent: (walk safely)

sling ring me away from this place IMMEDIATELY

[personal profile] sprent 2022-12-05 10:20 pm (UTC)(link)
Gela, who has taken the "don't look at anything for long" advice far too seriously, has been having a rough time in this 'Sanctum'. If one could call it that!!! But stepping foot outside of the building for any amount of time proves to be very loud (traffic, phones, people, so many people) and bright and unfamiliar to her. Nobody knows what they're doing. Nobody can figure out how to get back home. What if they're stuck? The thought panics her, makes her sad, to think she'd never see Cumberland again-

She says, plaintively (hands over her eyes), "I want to go somewhere that's calm. Please."

To get her bearings! The cheerful smile has been worn off her face and there's no saving it now.
portalling: ɴᴏ ᴡᴀʏ ʜᴏᴍᴇ. (pic#15631672)

[personal profile] portalling 2022-12-09 04:30 am (UTC)(link)
The new-rifters have been taking to this world with varying levels of comfort. And even then, even with the ones most enthused about Earth’s comforts and curiosities— sometimes they just need to sit down and breathe into a paper bag.

He can relate.

Accompanying Gela on what was supposed to be today’s excursion down the street, he spots the familiar signs of an encroaching panic attack. She wouldn’t be the first Theodosian to be overwhelmed by all the lights and sounds and annoyed drivers and impatient pedestrians. So the moment she makes that request, Strange slips the sling ring back on his finger; then it’s a quick, blink-and-you’ll-miss-it gesture of his fingers before a glowing portal carves itself into the air.

“You said the magic word,” he says, gamely, and presses his hand against Gela’s shoulderblades to gently nudge her forward, her hands still over her eyes.

It’s three blind steps and then, suddenly, all of the noise vanishes likes it’s been swallowed up. Silence sinks in instead — and then, after a moment, those smaller noises creep back in now that the city isn’t drowning out everything. There’s wind. The half-hearted twittering of birds in the distance.

They’re standing in a sprawling quiet landscape in the upstate countryside, next to a curious mirrored artifact embedded in the ground, some kind of modern art. The grass is dead, considering the Christmas season, but there’s still trees and rolling hills and open blue sky with no skyscrapers crowding the horizon. There’s birds. There’s absolutely no one around; Storm King Art Center is closed for the season, but the open-air park is still accessible to, say, a sorcerer with a magic portal.
sprent: (and hover closely)

[personal profile] sprent 2022-12-13 09:18 pm (UTC)(link)
Excuse you she's never said a magic word in her entire life and why would she start now; Gela can feel something around them changing, the air somehow, the energy. It scares her to not know or understand what's happening, and she flinches when he touches her. Her hands stay resolutely over her eyes, as if that will make everything stop--

And it does.

She lowers them very tentatively, peeking through fingers. A gasp escapes her.

Open, cold fields. Trees that have lost all their leaves in attribute to the season. They could very easily be back in Thedas if it weren't for the strange circle on the ground beside them, reflecting back the sky and clouds, Gela's curious face when she leans over it, frowning-

"... Where are we?"

It's much better than the busy streets. They are the only two people here as far as she can see.
portalling: ᴍᴜʟᴛɪᴠᴇʀsᴇ ᴏf ᴍᴀᴅɴᴇss. (+ wᴀɴᴅᴀ) (pic#15646958)

[personal profile] portalling 2022-12-26 11:51 pm (UTC)(link)
“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.
sprent: (and I can feel your)

[personal profile] sprent 2023-01-09 12:34 am (UTC)(link)
"Art?" He's talking about this? The circle of mirrors? She makes a face, wrinkling her nose at her own reflection, "All the way out here? Where nobody goes?"

What's the point of that? She crouches down and touches it, splaying her fingers across the smooth, cool surface, and leaving fingerprints behind. "Aren't they worried the weather will damage it?"

Surely it would. Or something would crack part of it, and they would have to start over... an odd price to pay, and yet it's so beautiful right where it is, in the field. She sighs, and says, "Nothin' in this place makes any sense. Did you feel this way when you first came to Thedas?"

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overharrowed: (how did I live)

Sanctum Sanctorum: Library

[personal profile] overharrowed 2022-12-11 06:29 pm (UTC)(link)
The initial arrival in New York made Julius suddenly and acutely aware of the fact he lived roughly three decades of his life in a single, isolated building. He'd thought Denerim cosmopolitan until he eventually saw Rialto; the greater order of magnitude here takes him a moment.

But he is an adaptable man, and once they're somewhere a bit quieter than Time Square, he regains his footing enough to let curiosity come to the fore. He knows enough to take warnings about not poking around an intensely magical location seriously, but given Strange's own reaction on arriving in Thedas, he hopes his host can at least sympathize with the experience of seeing an entirely different world's magic up close. The library draws him regularly.

He looks almost like he fits here today, in a loaned turtleneck sweater and dark wash jeans. (It's an easier act to keep up in the Sanctum Sanctorum than when he ventures outside to get a dollar slice.) He comes over at Strange's question. "What's a macguffin?"
portalling: ɪɴfɪɴɪᴛʏ ᴡᴀʀ. (pic#15613402)

[personal profile] portalling 2022-12-12 12:42 am (UTC)(link)
The doctor is biased, but like, it’s an extremely good library. The more gruesome and dangerous books are under lock-and-key in the back, some of them quite literally padlocked shut, but the shelves are still heavy with magical texts (and some fun frothy beach reads snuck in). The catalog is scattershot since Wong stopped his archival duties, although there’s still some remnants of organisation from where Strange tried to whip it into shape years ago. He glances up at Julius, glad to see him, although he hems over how to explain that particular bit of slang.

“A macguffin is… hm, it’s a term for a generic kind of… an object, device, or event necessary to the plot. The story will have big screaming signs saying this is significant but only insofar as it moves things along. So in our case, the Sealing Stone. Not that I doubt its existence, we caught a glimpse of it in the Crossroads, but— it’s the thing at the end of our road, the crux which we and even those Venatori are fixated on. So. A macguffin. It’s a term typically used for novels and movies. Have you caught a movie here yet?”

Strange is still chatty, still easy and talkative — and he looks even more at-ease than back at the Gallows, relaxed and at home here in the Sanctum specifically.
overharrowed: (tell me what you've done to yourself)

[personal profile] overharrowed 2022-12-12 08:22 pm (UTC)(link)
"No movies yet. Should I?" A genuine question; Julius seems game for a great deal, and Strange is enough of a kindred spirit that he trusts his judgment on the matter. "I take it they're a sort of story, the way novels are?"

He comes to sit across from Strange, looking over the materials before the other man automatically as he does. He is right: They do need to concentrate on the Sealing Stone. It's just in the middle of a world with a lot of other intriguing details.
portalling: ɴᴏ ᴡᴀʏ ʜᴏᴍᴇ. (pic#15601047)

[personal profile] portalling 2022-12-25 09:41 pm (UTC)(link)
“Oh, definitely, get at least one in before we wind up moving on from here.” He’s just going to keep operating on the assumption that they will, in fact, figure out a way to get back; anything else is too bleak to consider for the Theodosians. As Julius clears some space off a chair to sit down, Strange adds, “Mind that purple gem, it’s actually a dimensional cage— I really should get better about tidying up after myself—” and absentmindedly sweeps some stacks of messy paperwork out of the way, so the other man is less at risk of sitting on and being swallowed into a pocket dimension.

“And movies are more like… a recording of a play. A play being played out by performers, but with fantastic illusions to enhance the stagecraft.” He wonders if the Theodosians might react to them like the first people to see moving pictures, terrified by a train approaching the screen; he wonders if it’s cruel to be amused by the mental image, or just pleased that they get to experience this for the first time.

“There’s theaters everywhere within walking distance, if you have two hours to kill. And, lamentably, it does seem we have those hours to kill. You haven’t heard of any leads yet, have you?”
overharrowed: (echoing vistas)

[personal profile] overharrowed 2022-12-31 01:52 am (UTC)(link)
It's clear he wants to ask about the dimensional cage, and maybe even about the illusions in movies, but he saves both for later. (If Strange suspects Julius is keeping an actual list, well, he is learning the other man relatively quickly.)

Instead, he focuses on the final question. "Nothing substantial," he says with some regret. "But I'm not sure I'd have enough context to know it if I heard it. I think I have a new level of sympathy for the rifters in the the Research Department at home, to be frank. It feels as if I need an exceptional amount of background reading before I even know if what I've heard is extraordinary or just a matter of course here."

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altusimperius: (u love me)

late night

[personal profile] altusimperius 2022-12-12 08:38 pm (UTC)(link)
They haven't formally met yet, but Benedict has come to recognize Strange as not only part of Riftwatch, but as the owner of the bizarre-yet-charmingly-familiar-in-that-Vinty-way domicile in which some of them have been staying. He's been busy, personally, learning all about the night life of lower Manhattan and its likeminded denizens, so it's with some partied-out clumsiness that he enters the kitchen and finds it occupied.

"Oh, hello," Benedict greets with a lazy smile, his pupils still rather tellingly dilated from the evening's adventures, "you're up late."
portalling: ᴍᴜʟᴛɪᴠᴇʀsᴇ ᴏf ᴍᴀᴅɴᴇss. (pic#15781065)

sry for the lateness!! this month has been ridic

[personal profile] portalling 2022-12-25 09:59 pm (UTC)(link)
For a moment, it’s like time has collapsed and fallen in on itself with an unerring sense of deja vu: he’s reminded of being a younger Stephen Strange in med school, sitting up late studying in the kitchen when his dormmates came stumbling in tipsy, descending on the fridge for cold pizza. Sometimes he’d been the one coming back from a party, flush with getting to enjoy a city which never slept, spending his student loan money where he shouldn’t. And so he looks up, sees the younger man come weaving in, and quirks a smile with a bit of nostalgia behind it.

“Evening,” he says, then, “I’m almost always up late.”

Strange gestures to the rest of the dark kitchen, over his cup of tea and stack of old scrolls. “The fridge and cabinets have actual drinks and snacks, if you need any. I checked; none of them are cunningly-disguised gremlins.”

Exaggerating joke or truth? Maybe the latter.
altusimperius: (aint i a dickens)

no worries whatsoever, same

[personal profile] altusimperius 2022-12-28 01:15 am (UTC)(link)
"Ooh."

Accepting the prompt gladly, Benedict teeters over to the fridge (a refrigerator!! still such a novel idea!) and opens it up, pleased to find some manner of leftover takeout and laden with none of the guilt that might come with finishing it off despite not knowing whose it is.

"I don't think we've met properly," he says as he wanders back over to sit across from Strange, "this is your house, isn't it?"
portalling: ɪɴfɪɴɪᴛʏ ᴡᴀʀ. (pic#15643392)

[personal profile] portalling 2022-12-30 07:50 am (UTC)(link)
Technically not mine, since it belongs to the Masters of the Mystic Arts as a whole,” this man is very big on technicalities, “and even then, sometimes I get the impression it doesn’t belong to anyone and it might develop its own whims and sentience outside of us. But for our purposes… yes, this used to be my home. I’m Doctor Stephen Strange.”

His gaze combs over the other man, compiling a snapshot impression, then reminding himself not to stick to said impression. Because on the one hand, going out partying feels an odd choice considering their situation,

on the other hand, time is wearing on without progress, and chaining everyone to the Sanctum and demanding that they find some way to solve an unsolvable problem doesn’t sound productive, either. Strange hasn’t been getting anywhere with it, so why would anyone else?

“Are you from Thedas, or are you another rifter?”
altusimperius: (:3)

[personal profile] altusimperius 2022-12-31 11:17 pm (UTC)(link)
"Masters of the Mystic Arts," Benedict repeats, and rests his chin on his curled hand, watching him curiously.

"I'm from Minrathous," he replies, and then a moment later, clarifies, "Tevinter." You know, the city that notoriously runs mostly on magic. Extending his other hand, he offers it forward in a manner comically similar to what one might expect of a noble lady.

"Benedict Artemaeus. I'm Ambassador Rutyer's assistant."

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hornswoggle: (001)

arrives at long last.

[personal profile] hornswoggle 2022-12-28 05:54 pm (UTC)(link)
Rifter magic, it is a spectacle.

There are days where John, tired of navigating a city that is somehow even less accommodating than Kirkwall, winds his way to the Sanctum. It is not always to see Stephen Strange, but it's John's opinion that availing himself of a man's home without paying him some attention might register as rude.

And though John may not take the same pleasure in a well-stocked library as Flint, it isn't a hardship to move through that space.

A brief glance spared for the globe, before John answers, "Perhaps in the statue off the coast."

The torch seems an opportune place to stash something important, doesn't it?
portalling: ᴛʜᴏʀ: ʀᴀɢɴᴀʀᴏᴋ. (pic#15613383)

[personal profile] portalling 2022-12-31 12:52 am (UTC)(link)
For a second, Strange almost doesn’t know what John’s referring to. Decades in NYC had smoothed over the sight of that iconic statue in his mind’s eye and attention, turning it into something everyday and commonplace, just another fixture of the city skyline — the only curiosity about it these days is the decorative Captain America shield the authorities had stupidly added, calling her the Liberty Avenger. The shield was tacky. Maybe it was a good thing it had been knocked off in Strange’s own timeline.

But at John’s suggestion, Strange makes a contemplative cluck of his tongue, and swivels that globe until his thumb is over New York.

“I haven’t picked up any particular mystical energies from that part of town — not since the last time I almost split the universe around that statue, that is — but perhaps it’s being cloaked. Hm. Good thought, probably worth a check in person. I feel like the universe does enjoy a spectacle, a landmark.”

He glances up at the other man. John Silver: amiable, passingly friendly, drifting in and out of the Sanctum without causing too many ripples. “It’s a tourist landmark. Have you gotten to hit up any of the local sights? I know you probably don’t give a shit about the history museums, but there’s a guided missile submarine docked to the northwest. Might be of interest to a sailor.”

Over the course of the Theodosians’ stay, Strange’s demeanour has kept seesawing between ‘sorcerer hell-bent on magically finding the Sealing Stone’ and ‘local tourist guide hoping you have a nice time in his city’. It’s a disorienting line to walk.
hornswoggle: (210)

[personal profile] hornswoggle 2023-01-02 09:33 pm (UTC)(link)
With rifters, half of what they say might be nonsensical. (Split the world, for instance.) But in this is a kernel of interest, strung together in a way that leads John to believe that maybe he is not far off the mark with this particular guess.

If it isn't there, at least his instincts as to the possibility are sound in the disorienting flash and cacophony of this world.

And it is, as ever, a little satisfying to be marked as a sailor. (A vocation tried on and worn so thoroughly that he still carries the title of quartermaster despite all the Walrus crew has been made to endure.)

"I've certainly seen plenty of things."

Cars, for instance.

"Are these places you've spent time? On the local sights?"

Even as new to the city as he is, John can still spot a tourist. (He has spent much of his life making sure he never looked new to anywhere; it is a valuable skill even now.) He knows that Strange certainly doesn't seen up to mingling with them.
portalling: ᴅᴏᴄᴛᴏʀ sᴛʀᴀɴɢᴇ. (pic#15624647)

[personal profile] portalling 2023-01-06 12:16 am (UTC)(link)
“Several of them. But not as much as I always intended to,” Strange admits. He’s still glancing down at the small ridges and borders of New York under his fingers, as if he can look down at the globe and see the very city itself (and perhaps, in some way, he can). Then he looks back up at the other man.

“I was always too busy, or told myself I was too busy. Living here, you would always think, oh, I’ll go see that museum exhibit some weekend, and then you blink and the exhibit’s done and over and you missed it. Or you only ever get to see things when you’re showing around a visiting friend. Or you decide one weekend that you’re finally going to see a play, and then someone comes knocking to say they’ve got a problem with a haunting, and then you’ve got to go take care of that instead. I got… busy,” and he waves a hand vaguely at their intensely mystical surroundings, the books and artifacts humming contentedly with magic, the twisting winding hallways of the Sanctum which seemed to rewrite themselves every morning.

Neither a life as a surgeon nor a sorcerer had left him with much left over for himself. Forgetting to check out a gallery at the Met was the least of it.

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