Summary:Up on a rooftop, Tigra strides - up shows good old Doctor Strange — and no, it doesn't rhyme, but deal with it. Log Info:Storyteller: None |
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It's a relatively quiet day, if uncomfortably warm for many, and Tigra is out stretching her legs by traveling the elevated highway knwon as the rooftops of the city. There's the occassional sunbath she runs across of course, and a handyman or two, but mostly she just encounters pigeons and the like as she half patrols, half wanders. Now and again, she crouches and stalks a pigeon, chasing after it, but never trying to actually catch one.
*
Idle curiosity runs rampant in the Sorcerer Supreme - the man's admittedly rather cat-like himself from time to time. As such, even as he's standing before the Window Upon the Worlds and appreciating the fall of sunshine through the formed glass in the cool stillness of the Sanctum, he senses the nearby and familiar presence of the tiger-woman. The clay tea-mug is set aside on the nearby table beside a short stack of tomes dedicated to the idle research of ancient Chinese runic curses and smiling to himself, he lifts a hand towards the master bedroom.
From its rack by the door, the crimson Cloak lifts and in a swirl of sentient fabric, it alights upon his shoulders. "Let's go see a friend," says Stephen quietly to the garment. A controlled twirling of his fingers upon the air before himself opens a oculus shockingly nearby to Tigra herself — she won't miss the hiss-sparkling of reality opening to admit the Sorcerer into the area nearby. He hovers comfortably about a foot or two above the rooftop, held aloft by the ability of the Cloak.
"I never figured you for the type to eat pigeons," he comments, the enigmatic little curl of his lips not fading. "They're probably gamier than most would like, even slathered in butter and oven-roasted."
*
It would be extremely difficult for someone with even human like senses to have missed the appearance of the oculus. Tigra pivots quickly at the sound of it, tensed muscles relaxing only once she sees it's that spooky asshole with the red cape that moves by itself, rather than some threat. "Don't forget they're probably disease ridden also," she says dryly. "And if you've been watching, you'll -probably- have noticed I haven't actually tried to catch any of them. My days of hunting for my food like that are long gone, thankfully."
*
With a mirrored turn of his wrists outstretched at the height of his hips, the Sorcerer silently signals for the Cloak to bring him to a controlled landing upon the rooftop. His boots make little sound as he rolls into a step or two until he's properly settled. The garment seems to swirl in a familiar caress at his legs before stilling to hang motionless again.
"I'm not one to peeping-tom," Stephen replies with a mildly haughty arch of a dark brow. "Nor would I be correct in reprimanding you in eating them. The contents of the fridge at my home are…questionable at best." This likely falls in line with rumors of the man. Still, his eyes only run over Tigra once and with unquestionable professionalism. "I suppose you must be Miss Nelson then?"
*
A flick of her tail at his landing. Okay that's stylish. A little pretentious maybe, but stylish at the same time. "Well, I won't talk about my fridge either," Tigra admits. Which actually isn't all that bad right now, but she's meeting him halfway, metaphorically. "I am, though Tigra's the better name when I'm like this," she says with a gesture at her furred self. "And Dr Livingstrange, I presume?"
*
For a split second, the good Doctor's expression goes flat at the crack at his name. Pride is so hard to shake, even after all these years and all the puns. "Doctor Strange, please, miss Tigra," he then replies, both tone and regard even. "I presume if you go by a nom-de-guerre, you must have another guise you take?" He asks out of curiosity yet again, despite the hear-say he's gathered through limited interaction with the Avengers themselves.
*
Oh-ho. That's a sore spot is it? Something to remember, though whether it's to avoid, or to revisit, remains to be seen. Depends where he shows up on the spooky asshole meter later, most likely. "Dr Strange," Tigra says, not apologize, but acknowledging the right way to say the name. "And I do, yes. I'm able to take on a human form, but this is my 'normal' self."
*
"Hmm." A thoughtful hum from the Sorcerer in baritone. "I hadn't assumed as such, but now I recognize the resonance of the magic around you, yes." He lifts up a hand, fingers outstretched towards Tigra without insinuation of invasion of space, more as if he were testing air currents. The faintest hint of neon-lavender glows about his pupils and he nods again slowly.
"That's a rare type of magic, miss Tigra. I'd hazard to call you lucky, but sometimes, the blessing is a curse." By the wending of his tone, there's a hint of airy questioning as to her own opinion on things.
*
A slight bracing by the tigress at the glowing eyes and raised hand, which fades as she realizes he must just be taking a look. "It's helpful," she says of the magic. "It's my amulet, here, that lets me do it," this is said with a tap of a clawtip against her silver amulet on her bikini top. "It's not a change I can do on my own."
*
"Ah, I see." With his immediate curiosity assuaged, Strange seems about to inquire further about the woman of svelte build and striping, but his brows suddenly meet. His keen regard slides to the left and then back over his shoulder, out towards the edge of the city along the waterfront. The conversational air about him wisps away to be replaced by a determined stoicism.
His sigh is slow. "Unfortunately, something's come up and I must address it. A pleasure to meet you, miss Tigra. Good luck in your hunting." Scarred tendons work to lift and direct his will in a circling gesture upon reality once more to open the glittering oculus. It shows a section of rocky shoreline between warehouses. Before stepping through, he favors the tiger-woman with a small smirk. "Remember to floss after you eat. Feathers might make a bad impression."
And with that, he steps through to go deal with the usual Mystical nonsense.
*