Scene #6148: A Warm Welcome

Owner	Pose
Doctor Strange	New York, New York. Inga may have been to enough New Yorks in her lifetime to know when she's in one. There's a few calling cards. The skyline the locals all claim is unique (but isn't, past a few distinctive buildings and landmarks), the grid system they all swear by, the weaponized apathy of the average pedestrian, and the vaguely concerning ur-smell in the air that grows mustier the closer one gets to the subway. Knowing that you're /in/ New York City isn't always enough to navigate it, especially if you're not a local. It isn't long before the wise woman gets an offer of assistance--but likely not the sort she'd expect. After a few minutes of wandering around, she'll hear a sharp whistle. Behind her, a burning ring of orange sparks hovers in the air, as if someone burned a hole into reality with an arc welder. That hole disrupts the view of the street with a view of a well-furnished mansion. She's probably gone through enough portals in her day to know one when she sees one. The whistle definitely came from behind her, but there doesn't appear to be anyone in the portal. Does she go through it?
Inga Freyjasdottir	In all honesty, cities like this all look more or less the same to her. The only one that distinguishes New York from others is perhaps the height of the buildings, and the pizza. Because that's what brings her to New York today. She has a hankering for pizza. New York style pizza. Having eaten her fill, she is now engaged in the arduous task of trying to get a taxi back to the portal from which she came, as there is only so much time among the noise and crowd of the city she can take. She's dressed almost normally for a place like this, having left her viking age attire at home this time. Though if there's anywhere people wouldn't look twice, its here. A warm sweater and long black skirt are the outfit today--it still looks witchy, as if she can't possibly help it. Just as she was about to raise her arm to try once more to hail a taxi, she senses something behind her--then a whistling noise. She turns abruptly, leaning on her staff, eyes widening slightly at the portal that's opened. Well, perhaps its a lifeline. Whatever madness lies beyond is probably less terrifying than a taxi. Probably. Inga shrugs and goes through.
Doctor Strange	The portal closes behind Inga once she's through. She steps into a cool, spacious mansion with richly stained hardwood floors and a large grand staircase with a regal purple rug stretched out upon it. This rug extends all the way to the doorway, which she can see behind her if she turns. On either side of the rug, there are, spaced out in even intervals, a few chest-high display pedestals with what might be objects d'art placed upon them. All the way at the top of the staircase, there is a great, grand window, with latticework upon it that forms an intricate, nearly arcane... no. Definitely arcane, that pattern is. She can tell because she's probably got an eye for those things. And because there's a guy in a literal cloak hovering in front of it. "Hi." The tall, slim man wears a blue tunic beneath that cloak, with leggings that end in... Chuck Taylors. He has dark hair with grey streaks at the temples, and a thin, well-trimmed goatee. As he slowly descends down the stairs (hovering the whole way), she can get a better look at his face once the sun isn't all dramatically shining through the window behind him. His eyes are a bright, intelligent green, his brow given to furrowing. He touches down within handshake range and offers a scarred, trembling hand. "Doctor Stephen Strange, Sorcerer Supreme.You've gotta be more assertive than that if you wanna hail a taxi, miss...?"
Inga Freyjasdottir	Inga steps through the portal on her guard, her keen hazel eyes scanning her surroundings, her free hand hovering near her belt, where she still keeps a small knife. It wouldn't do very much against an attacker. But that's not what it's for. Her lips purse as she looks around, taking in the museum-like quality of the building and all the obviously arcane objects on display. Her eyes are drawn to the staircase and upward toward the window, taking a quick look at the intricate pattern before she focuses her attention on the man in the cape floating down the stairs. Inga blinks, envy in her eyes. "Well, I wish I could do that trick," she says, motioning toward the walking stick she leans upon. It is /obviously/ covered in runes of a magical nature, and is a powerful talisman. But it is also a walking stick, and serves that purpose for a reason. She straightens slightly, chin raising. "Inga Freyjasdottir, wisewoman of Uppsala--or more recently, Dun Realtai I suppose," she replies. She still hasn't been to Uppsala in this day. Strange, that she hasn't. She might be ready to remedy that. "Do you normally spy on women trying to hail taxis? Did your damsel in distress alarm go off?" she asks, extending her hand. The trembling of his hand and the scars do not go unnoticed, but she does not hesitate to take his hand. Inga has been a Seer her whole life. She knows by now what triggers visions. Touch very much increases the chances, but it would be terribly rude to refuse a handshake. She is as on guard as one can possibily be in such a situation when the vision takes her. There's no fighting it. It washes over her and sweeps her away. It's not a pleasant vision. They very rarely are. It's usually the trauma. The moment that puts a person on the path to their destiny. Wisdom is almost always painful. Inga's eyes roll back in her head and she stumbles, her body shaking with the force of the vision. Her lips move, quietly describing what she sees. "It's so dark...moving so quickly, too quickly...you think it's the end. You tumble, the sound of crunching metal and breaking glass the only sounds in the world. There's pain, so much pain...then cold. You're in the water, your hands...then...blackness.." she murmers. It a violent vision, and Inga is unlucky enough to not just observe like someone outside, but to almost live it. At some point, her knees give out. She comes back to herself, panting and shivering. "I'm...s-sorry. I should...have known..." she says, still a little far off, struggling to get back into the here and now.
Doctor Strange	"Nah. That's more a Steve /Rogers/ thing," says Strange on Damsel in Distress Alarms. He probably doesn't have one of those, but come on, that's a super easy target. It should also give Inga a rough idea of which New York she's in. When she undergoes her vision, Strange is surprisingly cool-headed. "Nope," he says, naysaying her for the second time. "Should've worn the gloves for this." He doesn't seem bothered that she saw the accident, and if anything, seems more concerned for her. That same hissing sound from before--the opening of a portal--plays out behind her. If she turns to look, she'll find the portal missing, a burgundy leather reading chair in its place. "Have a seat," he says, gesturing to the chair he summoned. "Please. Can I get you something? Tea? Mead? Beer?" The doctor summons a seat of his own and sits, one leg crossed over the other, the laces of his hightops dangling slightly. It's probably a strange juxtaposition for her--but who knows? Strange clears his throat. "That staff of yours..." He pauses, wondering if it's the right word. He throws out a few more, just to be sure. "Walking stick... cudgel... shillelagh..." The last one is clearly facetious. "It turns heads," notes the sorcerer. "I /do/ spy on certain people. People with things covered in Futhark runes, among others. Took you for an Asgardian at first, but they don't really... /do/ taxis." "Where you trying to go? I'll send you there. Free of charge."
Inga Freyjasdottir	Inga lets out a long, steadying breath and takes a seat in the summoned chair. Goodness, his magic is just full of convenience, isn't it? "I would not say no to tea," she replies, as tempting as mead would be. By now, she expects that it will just appear out of thin air, and so hold her hands out as if she were already holding a teacup. The color begins to return to her cheeks as she watches him, shaking her head slightly. "That happens on occasion...you're taking it well," she says, leaning her walking stick against the chair. She looks toward it, raising her brows. "Yes, it is a talisman of sorts. Helps me channel my magic. It also helps me actually walk, as I am not lucky enough to be able to float around," she says, raising a brow, her lips curving into a smile. "Asgardian? Tch, do I look like an Asgardian to you? I take it you've met Thor," she adds. Inga smooths the fabric of her skirt and looks around again. "So..." she says, feeling like her voice was swallowed up by the large, old building. "Are you the wizard that looks after New York then?" she asks. She knows this isn't the same earth as the one she is used to, but she'd also not entirely unfamiliar with this Earth. She just didn't know there were wizards. "I was only heading back home to Dun Realtai, don't let it trouble you. What is this place?" she asks, looking around again. "It is filled with magic. It feels...like it is more than one place."
Doctor Strange	Inga does indeed receive the teacup she expects. Strange has one, too. He takes a look around. "Eh. You know what, let's do this in the study instead." The foyer rushes past them in a whooshing blur, and suddenly, despite being in the exact positions, the exact amount of distance from one another, there they are, in the study. There are a few well-stocked bookcases, but, just as how Strange took Inga for an Asgardian, she probably gets the 'wizard' vibe--meaning these are likely far from the only such bookcases in the house. There is a cozy fireplace, with a fire already going, a mahogany writing desk, and a beautiful brass astrolabe upon the desk. "Sorry. Little chilly in the foyer this time of year, and I do /not/ wanna pay /that/ heating bill." He clears his throat and takes a sip of tea. "Yes," he says absently. There is an awkward pause wherein it's unclear as to what he means by 'yes.' "Uh, I mean, yes, you look like an Asgardian. Kind of. They're usually a lot more, uh..." He searches for a word. "Jacked. But you had the trappings. Could've been an origin chaser with some stolen Asgardian tech." He gives an apologetic frown, and a shrug of his shoulders. "Had to be sure." "I'm Earth's Sorcerer Supreme, yes," he says with a nod. "The Avengers handle the aliens, I handle the stuff out of Lord of the Rings. I have a feeling we're gonna be working together soon. Things are changing pretty fast here. Thor, is, uh... he's a pretty good example of that. God of Thunder," he says, making a subtly dramatic hand gesture. "This is the Sanctum Sanctorum. It's bigger on the inside and I just threw up in my mouth a little having said that."
Inga Freyjasdottir	Inga blinks as the room blurs, and when she opens her eyes again they are in a completely different room. It's a little disorienting. She narrows her eyes slightly, wondering if he's trying to be a show off. From what she'd seen of his past, the impression of him she'd gotten, it was rather a part of him, even now. Inga lets out a sigh and leans back, sipping her tea. "I've only ever met Thor. I assume all Asgardians were--as you say--jacked," she replies with a chuckle. "No, I am not an Asgardian. I am not from this Earth, and I am not from this...time," she says. He may notice the distictly hammer shaped pendant she wears on her necklace, carved from bone. "I'm from Uppsala, as I said. Around the year 786. Thor is one of the gods of my people--but not that Thor, not exactly." Inga nods a little. "The Avengers, yes. I've met some of them--though I wonder if this is even /that/ world. You never do know with the multiverse, and it's all...reorganized recently," she says, taking another sip of her tea. Sorcerer Supreme sounds like a pizza, but she doesn't say as much. She raises a brow at his 'bigger on the inside' quip. She doesn't get it. "I have something like that," she comments, and reaches into a pouch at her belt. She pulls out a large baguette. Far too large to actual fit into a pouch that small. There's a bit of honey on it. Inga looks to him again, shaking her head slightly. "You're very unlike the last wizard I knew," she says, then looks back to her tea. It's good tea. "I assume you brought me here to assess if I'm a threat?"
Doctor Strange	"Nah," says Strange. "That's why I watched you, sure. But if you wanted to cause trouble with that thing, you had plenty of opportunities to do it. No, I called you here because I was too lazy to go outside and ask if you needed help there. Also because it's cold and I didn't want to put on something warmer." He gestures idly to the tunic and the cloak--they look more like they're designed to breathe. His eyes focus on the hammer pendant. One doesn't need to be a brain surgeon to guess who that's supposed to represent. "Maybe," admits the sorcerer. "Could be. I dunno." /Boy/ he's glad he started learning magic /after/ the big multiversal shakeup. Learning all of that stuff all over again would be a huge pain. He takes another sip. His motions are deliberate, patient. They probably have to be, with the way his hands tremble. "You're welcome to however much tea and small talk you'd like, by the way. It's kinda tacky to be a poor host to someone from Dun Realtai." Yes, he knows that name, and the reputation of its masters. "Would that wizard be Merlin, by chance? Never been to your neck of the woods, but I figure, what's a round table without a wizard?" There's a pause. Sip. "You guys have a /great/ reputation, by the way. Heard nothing but nice things."
Inga Freyjasdottir	Inga shakes her head. "Heh, I do not need the staff to make trouble. But worry not, I'm generally trying to get out of trouble, not into it," she assures him. "I very rarely need to go looking for it. The gods have me on a path, it is often a bumpy one. Occasionally, it comes with pleasant conversation and excellent tea," she says, raising her glass slightly. Her hands tremble ever-so-slightly, more due to weakness of muscles than injury though. She smiles. "You've heard of Dun Realtai? I am glad you have heard good things. You'll have to visit. It's very different than the city...feels more like home to me. All this," she says, gesturing outside toward the city, "can be very overwhelming. Especially when you get visions," she adds with a wince. "Merlin? Oh, I did not mean him...but yes, I know Merlin. He is not at all what you would expect either. Impossible flirt--no beard," she chuckles. "I'm the resident witch I suppose. That seems to be the word people tend to settle on and I've given up correcting people," she says with a brief eye roll. "Your magic is ...fascinatingly convenient. Where did you learn? I've seen others who could make portals, but not with such ease. Can you go anywhere? And how on earth do you float that way? That would be bloody convenient for me!"
Doctor Strange	Strange nods along with Inga's explanation of her intentions, and smiles when she says she's exactly the opposite of a troublemaker. That tracks. Her remark about the sensory overload of a place like New York earns an empathetic frown. "I can imagine," says the sorcerer. "The first place like this you saw, must've been like stepping into another world. All the colors, noises, smells." It really sounds like he means it, too. "And believe me, I can imagine it's annoying to be called something you're not. You know, it still grates me when people call me 'Mr. Strange.' Like I spent hundreds of thousands of dollars I didn't have and gave years of my life so people could call me 'Mr.'" He gives her an /extremely/ I-know-how-you-feel nod. She's tapped into some visceral annoyance there. Her question about magic is entertained with a raised brow and a slight inclination of the head. "Oh. Kamar-Taj," he says with a nod, like a lawyer talking shop about an Ivy League school. "Great school. Great teachers. Portals are one of the first things we learn, so, I can go just about anywhere that wouldn't immediately kill me, like the inside of a volcano or something." He smirks. Her question about how he floats causes the collar of his red cloak to sit up attentively. Then it... wiggles free of him and flies over to her, offering its hem to her to 'shake' as if it were a hand. "The Cloak of Levitation," says Strange. "Inga, Cloak, Cloak Inga." He makes a little informal gesture between the two of them. "When a spell would be too powerful for one of us to cast ourselves, we put it into an object. We get the benefit of the spell, but..." The Cloak bows magnanimously towards her. "The object takes on a mind of its own. Some are more 'animated' than others, and they're all picky about who they serve." "I made a good impression."
Inga Freyjasdottir	Inga laughs, thinking back. Its the laugh of someone who has to laugh because otherwise it would be too traumatizing to talk about. "My first sight was not a city like this, but it was almost worse. I travelled through the World Tree from my home and into the present--to a town in what I'm told is called New England, on an island surrounded my a horrible, viscious fog and over-run by zombies and fishmen," she says, then sighs heavily. "...It's still overrun by zombies and fishmen. It's a very difficult situation. But yes, it was all very overwhelming. I've gotten somewhat used to it, but I still lean a bit toward being a hermit in my cottage," she adds with a small smile. Inga nods. "So you are a medical doctor," she says. "I am a healer myself. I've been enjoying learning more about medical advances in this time...though throwing my blood at people still seems to work best," she offers with a shrug. "Kamar-Taj. I've never heard of it. Must be...quite a place. How did you go from Doctor to wizard?" she asks. Then, he introduces the cloak. Her eyes widen with delight as she reaches out to 'shake'. She laughs. "That's wonderful. May I...try you on?" she asks /the cloak/. I mean, she's seen weirder.
Doctor Strange	The cloak 'nods' twice, its collar bobbing up and down. It kind of laterally flips over her like a bedsheet being spread out. When it lands, it's clasped around her. She'll find that, if she thinks about floating, she can just... do it. The cloak pats her on the shoulder with its collar approvingly. "Well... the vision you saw," explains the sorcerer, setting his empty cup in its saucer and displacing them somewhere else in the Sanctum. "If you got the idea that I was only in it for the money, you'd be right. The only life I cared about was mine." He uncrosses his legs and steeples his fingers, after some effort. "After the accident, I blew all the money I had--and money I /didn't/ have, trying to get that life back. I tried everything, no matter how experimental." "No matter how expensive." He chuckles. "So... after I drove away the only person who was constantly there trying to help me, I blew the last of what I had on a one-way ticket to Asia. I didn't even care that I had next to /nothing/ to go on--that's how desperate I was. And when I finally found Kamar-Taj, I was arrogant. Disrespectful." He shakes his head in disgust, leaning forward in his seat. "I came into that place acting like I knew everything. So my teacher..." He chuckles. "The lady who'd /become/ my teacher--showed me how insignificant I really was. In the scope of all of this." He lifts a hand to wave a finger around. "The multiverse. Then, she threw me out on my ass." "Y'know, I banged on that door for /five hours./ I begged until I was hoarse. I think that's when she knew I was serious about learning." He nods, reminiscing, chewing on his lower lip. "I came looking to heal my hands. The Ancient One gave me the cure I really needed."
Inga Freyjasdottir	Inga laughs with delight when the cloak settles around her shoulders. She imagines it is like most magic, and she needs to focus on her intent. So, she wills herself to float upward off her feet, gasping when she feels her feet leave the ground. "Ohhh...that is wonderful," she says, wiggling her feet as she looks down at them. "Do excuse me a moment...." Inga then proceedes to zoom around the building for a few minutes. She may or may not being yelling 'weeeeee!'. When she returns, she settles back down in her chair, clears her throat, and smiles sheepishly. "That was extremely fun." She takes up her tea again, regaining her composure to listen to his story. She frowns, nodding along as he tells it, imagining such a journey in her head. She can imagine the sort of desperation that comes from losing something you stakes nearly your whole self-esteem on. "A painful journey...and a classic one. Wisdom is hard earned. I assume you know the story of Odin, and how he came to learn the runes? Sacrificed himself to himself. Or how he sacrificed his eye for wisdom? You lost something, but gained something you never expected. "I did not gain my magic in that way. I was left to die. My parents, they saw I was misformed and weak. They left me to die in the forest. Luckily, I was found by the woman who would be my teacher. She was a Seer, knew that I would be also...and more besides. But it all really changed just before I came into the multiverse. I had been trained in magic...but it was nothing like what I have now," she explains. "I...swallowed a bee. Now I can do many things, and I have an uncommonly difficult time remaining dead," she says. Sips tea.
Doctor Strange	The flight of the bumblebee('s chosen) is safe and eventful. The cloak is fast, but it's also conscientious--any time it looks like she might bump into something, the cloak just nudges her gently aside. Her flying basically allows her a tour of the Sanctum, if a somewhat fast-paced one. In addition to being a huge mansion, the place also seems like a museum or secure storage facility for magical artifacts. She passes a lot of those little display stands, plus glass cases and mystically secured doors, and at least two other rooms with fleeting glimpses of bookshelves. The cloak doesn't mind at all. It's more than happy to accomodate her whims, and seems like it enjoys the flying just as much as she does. When she does settle back down in her chair, the cloak's hem reaches up and pats her on the head, before the whole thing wiggles its way up and over her to rest around Strange once more. The sorcerer himself seems not at all bothered by her amusement, waving a hand dismissively. "Don't sweat it," he says with a smile. "He loves flying." The doctor nods with a grave expression as Inga explains the source of her powers. "She took you in as a baby? She must've been... a remarkable lady." If leaving kids to die was okay back then, taking those same kids in must've been a sign of great compassion. "Your parents were wrong, and she knew it. Look at you now. Wise woman, keeping company with wizards... swallowed bees." The sorcerer smirks... then raises his eyebrows. "...I met a guy that did that same thing. Wuyin Tsai, think his name was." There's a brief pause, and he angles his head inquisitively. "You know him?"
Inga Freyjasdottir	Inga can't help but laugh at the pat on the head. She'll put up with that, from an animated flying cloak that just gave her an enjoyable flight through the Sanctum. At talk of her mentor, she nods, unable to mask her grief when she thinks of her. "Yes, she was. As I said, she was a Seer like me. When she found me, there were several cats--not like the cats you have, bigger, fluffier--were keeping me warm. She knew I would be a Seer. Thought me to be chosen by Freyja. Would have have taken me anyway? I do not know, but I like to hope so," she says, shrugging slightly. "She died, just before I came to the multiverse. She saw that I would be going far, far away. I wonder if she saw anything of where I was going. I doubt she'd have believed it." Inga's eyebrows rise. "Oh yes, I know Wuyin. About as well as anyone can know Wuyin. He thrives on mystery," she says with a smirk. "There's another as well, Riva. She is a good friend of mine...though I have not seen her in some time," she says with a frown. "I'm afraid that's my fault. I was...away, for a while," she explains.
Doctor Strange	"A classic omen," Strange says. "Not something you see every day." "I dunno," he opines on the topic of Inga's teacher. "My master... looked into the future a lot. Like, /a lot,/ a lot." Strange chuckles. "But she could never see past this one, certain point. She didn't understand why until she got there." It's probably not hard for a seer to guess what kind of point he means. "And when she did, everything she'd ever seen up til that point just seemed to click. She was so calm." The sorcerer sighs and runs a hand through his hair. "Prepared. Ready." "I guess what I'm saying is... for what it's worth coming from a guy you've literally just met... I'm sure that if she saw where you were going, she believed it. I mean, visions or no, she thought you were worth the trouble to begin with." The sorcerer shrugs his shoulders. The silence settles in for a few moments. Strange doesn't seem uncomfortable in it. He just sits there, reclining, one hand contemplatively upon his chin as the fire crackles. He's a far cry from the egotist she glimpsed in her vision. "Away?" he asks, after a little spell of just silently enjoying having company over. "Called on bee business?"
Inga Freyjasdottir	Ah, so that is why he is so comfortable with seers. He's used to it. Inga's lips purse knowingly. "Her death. Yes..Freydis knew she was dying as well. I do not experience the same sight of the future...I have not an end point such as that. I have...seen things that are all but inevitable however. It's troublesome. As a Seer, you always wonder if you should speak on what you see. Speaking on things in the past has turned out very badly...but not speaking has also lead to pain and suffering. It is hard to know," she says, sadly. Obviously, she has regrets. Inga sighs. "I know she would be pleased with where I am, more or less. Did you chafe against your own destiny? Do you think your teacher would be pleased with who you are now?" she asks. The Seer shakes her head then, looking away. "No, personal business that called me away for a while. Once that was concluded...I didn't really want to see anyone for some time," she says, pressing her lips together tightly for a moment. "Tch, this is heavy talk. Maybe we should switch to something stronger," she says, looking into her teacup with a frown.
Doctor Strange	Strange nods. "Sure." A flick of his wrist, like beckoning something, and there's a small table beside her with a mug of spiced mead. It's a good time of year for that! And, her being from the time and place she is, he doesn't have to remind her how powerful it is. His own teacup seems to spontaneously become a similar mug, the saucer beneath it banished to whence it came. "I did," says Strange, nodding. "'Cause... that's what we do. We chafe. But she got me to see why it was important. So... yeah, I think she'd be proud, and I try to do things to keep it that way." He reaches over and takes a sip of his mead. "Glad you took the portal, by the way. Been wanting to do the 'hover down the stairs' bit for a while." Yeah, okay, he definitely shows off for others. Resting the mug in his lap, he asks a personal question. "Has that changed? Not wanting to see your friends, I mean. Have you visited them since you got back?"
Inga Freyjasdottir	Inga watches her teacup disappear only to replaced with warm, mulled mead. She gives Strange a look of appreciation and vague amusement. "Perfect," she says, and takes a sip, letting it warm her from the inside out. She closes her eyes a moment and lets out a sigh. "Do you even know where these things you summon come from? How do you do it?" she asks. Does it come into existence then and there, or does it come from somewhere, she wonders. Is there someone, somewhere, sometime, who is now mysteriously missing their mead? "Heh, yes. People generally do. People who never question their destiny worry me. And I believe I've been chosen by the gods...but even I question. Those who don't tend to cause a great deal of woe," she replies. She lets out a laugh at his confession. "I was quite impressed--and envious," she assures him. She chuckles and takes a good, long sip of her mead followed by a satisfied sigh. She sobers once he asks his question, silent for a bit as she considers. "I have seen some of them, yes. Many of the people I was close to previously have...taken other paths. Those that remain...I am hesitant still, I suppose. It will make me think of the things I try to avoid thinking about. If you were to meet the people who you knew when you were a very different person, wouldn't it remind you of those days? Would it make you sad for what you have lost?" she asks.
Doctor Strange	"Ya-huh," says the sorcerer, when asked about the specifics of his food conjuring. "It's one or two simple spells." And that is /all/ he says. So, he and Wuyin have the mysterious thing in common. He looks right at her when he takes his next sip of mead, and gives an exaggerated 'ahh' just to drive the point home. At least he is less tight-lipped about personal things. "It would," admits Strange. "Remember what I said earlier?" He tilts his head slightly, trying to spark recollection in the seer. He lifts one hand, twirling a slightly trembling finger in a circle. "Pushed away the only person that was ever there for me? Yeah." He drops his hand onto the arm rest of his reading chair. Smacking his lips, he elaborates. "She was a doctor, like me. We were married once, and I was me." Sip. Strange frowns slightly. "We met again, when my master died. And for the first time in my life, I /was/ sad for what I'd lost." His emerald eyes study her reaction to having her fear confirmed. Then... "So. I thought about my feelings. I decided I wanted to patch things up. Being split up but having her in my life again was better than not seeing her ever again." The cloak reaches its collar up and pats his cheek again. "Stop," he half-heartedly utters. "Things probably won't be the same between us, sure. But that's life. At least she's around. You know?" Sip. "Hint, hint." Leaning forward, he cups his hands over his mouth and raises his voice a little. "See your friends. You can't force 'em to cross it, but never be afraid to build the bridge."
Inga Freyjasdottir	Inga resists the urge to roll her eyes at his insistance on being mysterious. Its not as though she could perfectly explain everything about her magic either. She's going to go ahead and assume he doesn't actually know how it works. Inga nods, frowning gently. "Mmm. It is good that you can still have her in your life," she says, waving a hand in dismissal of his not so subtle hints. "Yes yes, I intend to. I recognize that it is time to...move on," she says, choking slightly on her last words. She clears her throat and quaffs mead generously to recover. "Things to do, and all that." Inga looks up and meets his eye again, her own unnervingly intense gaze fixed on his. "You are right to think you will be needed in the future. You and many others. I will not give you details, for reasons I explained previously...and furthermore, the future is never quite certain. There are many paths, many people who's wyrd is intertwined...that said, I know it is time for me to get back into the world. Feel free to call on me if you think I could be helpful. You know where to find me. And I have this," she says, pointing to a pearl earing she wears. "It is my radio. I've never gotten the hang of phones and things."
Doctor Strange	"I'll keep that in mind, and make you the same offer." He peers with interest at the pearl. No phone, so... "I'm on the radio, too." Strange rises from his seat and sets his mead aside. With one hand behind his back like a fencer, he extends the opposite. Two fingers are pointed upwards. It might remind her of the gesture swordsmen like Wuyin make with their off hand. His hand makes a circle through the air, trailing a ring of orange sparks. "Dun Realtai. Right?" Visible in the hole he's just made is the familiar landscape of the peaceful land she's come to call home. Her cup makes a sound of more mead being poured, and grows slightly heavier in her hand. "There you go. One for the road. Tell Merlin I'm a /huge/ fan of his work, and good on him for losing the beard."
Inga Freyjasdottir	Inga nods, smiling. She finishes her mead and gets her walking stick to help her pull herself to her feet. "Thank you for your hospitality. I will certainly keep that in mind. Indeed, I wonder if your portal magic might help evacuate Soloman Island...so far nothing has helped," she muses. They'll have to try that out sometime. Inga laughs. "I will, but it will only make is already big head bigger," she says. "Do come visit sometime, and I will return the hospitality," she offers, looking to the portal that opens up to Dun Realtai, revealing trees already covered with snow.