Summary:Doctor Strange always enjoys quiet days. Wanda always somehow makes it interesting. Log Info:Storyteller: N/A |
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AM A pleasant day in a pleasant day and age. For once, nothing was really happening in the Sanctum. HONEST! There were no primordial entities to put in check, there were no Superheroes needing advice of a mystic sort, there was no ripples in the mystic plane. It was peaceful.
So peaceful that it was almost unsettling.
In order to essentially deal with this situation, Doctor Strange is sitting on his desk, reading one of the ancient texts of Dravid in regards to his Staff. An object of incredible power, and one that Strange typically doesn't want to mess with unless absolutely necessary.
With this in mind…Stephen in alone. He has no coffee, or any kind of snack or beverage.
Then the thought occurs to him: Where's Wanda?
AM Peaceful. Peaceful exists only in fantasies. Where quiet rests for one, torment applies to another. Difficulties persist or reach a situation of loggerheads, unable to advance or retreat. Plates grinding together that have not come to an earthquake may seem to be at peace, while miles below the surface, rock turns elastic and liquid under immense heat and pressure. Deformities will eventually give, but the slow surrender eventually will rebound with breathtaking violence.
Wanda fights with a jar in the kitchen.
She twists the persnickety lid mired in a thick layer of half-melted wax. It should be a sign not to bother, but damn the consequences, the jar of damson plums in nectar /will/ open. A nice container of gelato sweats on the counter. A spoon and a knife are forgotten. Sparkling shards of light ripple around the witch as she twists to force the Bell jar lid away, with only limited success.
A simple label speaks to its origins somewhere they don't use Latin letters. The possible preservation glyph is partly obliterated, making the jar perhaps more impregnable than the Ancient One's mind.
AM well…it WAS going to be a quiet day. Stephen can hear the strenous sounds of Wanda attempting to get the bloody jar open BEFORE she used magic, and when she uses her powers, well…the results are almost never good. Dropping his book on the desk, Stephen makes his way into the kitchen. The Cloak of levitation attempts to latch itself onto his shoulders, but Strange just shakes his head. "No!"
and the Cloak sadly moves back into the corner. This is why the Cloak likes Wanda better. Stephen has too much of a one-track mind. By the time that Stphen finds Wanda, he puts his hands on her hips if she allows. "Wanda. Are you okay?"
He's attempting to be safe, because if she's still attempting to break the glyph on this jar, Stephen might get stuck in the crossfire! "How about I help?"
AM Not much in the way of magic illustrates the air, though the patina is there. Those sparkling motes wink in and out, largely present to conserve any likely splatter damage. Resting on her knees on the floor, she bends over the little jar for any kind of possible leverage. There could be days when simply transmuting the glass into a pile of slag on the floor would be so much faster, but those lessons beaten into her by Agatha Harkness are such that one doesn't use magic for silly purposes.
Look at Atlantis, where did it get them? No point arguing with the ancients.
But hey. Do what you can, do as you will. Another pull slides her hands along the dinged lid. Its seal has been withstanding all the force she can muster, which admittedly isn't to the likes of Thor, say. Or the Hulk. Or a large dog. It's something to try to wrench open the jar, and she cannot do terribly much for that. The cloak might be prepared to act, but then it might also be cleaned by the fortunosphere wrapped around her. Subtle variations mark the barrier pattern of how far she thinks the precious nectar might fly. It's nice to know she has so much faith to guard the kitchen ceiling. Next up, though, is the threat of a rock being turned on it. Stephen's hands on her hips bring a startled sound of her and the twinkling of those prepared charges to keep a mess from splattering every which way. Oh no, there's a possibility of being pressed and flattened.
She holds up the jar. It's not very impressive. "Do you want to try?"
AM Stephen suddenly looks surprised in a 'plz don't crush meh' kind of way. Especially since that would severely limit his ability to be the Sorcerer Supreme. Like seriously…getting squashed by Wanda would not be a good thing for the universe, but…hey, at least Cthon would probably be happy.
"Of course, but…I'm not sure with my hands that I could do it." he releases her hips, but allows her to stay close if she wishes. His hands support the jar, and he grabs the lid of the jar, his scarred hands easily seen.
He closes his eyes, and with a twist-!
*PLOMP*
The lid is opened, the glyph has been removed, and he hands the jar back to Wanda. "Here you go."
THERE IS NO WAY HE DID NOT CHEAT
AM The surprise lingers in a powerful note. She doesn't quite catch it, looking up slightly with a confused flicker of her midnight eyes. Being squished is an unlikely thing considering she kneels still upon the ground. "Maybe we have a hammer. A hammer would open it. Or a bar. One with the end that has a notch." Oh, the vagaries of language.
Her irritation fades when the lid pops open and leaves the scent of dark plums on the air, the thick nectar a sweet honeyed addition where other elements might be given to an earthier, primal effect. Rather pretty, for certain, and tasty.
She doesn't seem to complain about anyone cheating. The spell around her collapses, folded back into the vagaries of fate. Instead, she pulls out a spoon from a drawer, another for him. She offers it. "It tastes very good."
He has about ten seconds before she devours it.
AM Might as well make it count.
"A Claw hammer?" Strange replies to Wanda's interesting vernacular when it comes to what hammer she's talking about. He has to give her some slack though, since English is not her first language and she speaks it REALLY well. That said, the scent of honey and dark plums reach his nose and he seems to smile at the scent.
"That smells really good." spoon offered, spoon accepted. He scoops up a little bit of the jar's contents, and he eats it. "mmmm….." he seems happy with this, with full knowledge that he knows Wanda is going to devour this amazing treat.
AM The German is easier for her; it gives precision lacking elsewhere. "A crowbar." She draws it in the air with her hands, lacking any sort of other alternative out there. "It would be a way to open things easily. Though I suppose a hammer with a claw has the ability to do that too." Come to think, they do look the same. Acknowledging the Sorcerer Supreme's suggestion, she plunks her spoon through the depths of the plums. They float easily enough and she scoops out one, balancing it carefully in the bowl of the utensil.
Then it simply comes to a matter of stuffing it in her mouth, rather than trying to bite it. The plums are sweet, though not overly so, and the flesh is still relatively firm. Such are the joys of a fruit.
AM Her German was so charming, too. Stephen seems to nod. "Ah yes, a crowbar. I tend to not use that much though…considering all of the alternatives I could possibly use." Strange keeps scooping the delicacy with his spoon and guiding it to its final fate in his mouth. "This is so good." he continues to observe, though he does smile gently at Wanda. "So, what should we do today? Aside from snacking on a very delicious fruit?"
Stephen always likes spending time with Wanda. Now was no different. But he does always find it interesting what she comes up with.