2780/Reverse Housecall

Reverse Housecall
Date of Scene:	04 August 2020
Location:	Angela and Sera's Brownstone
Synopsis:	Doctor Strange visits Sera's brownstone, throws up, gives her a plant, and leaves.
Cast of Characters:	Stephen Strange, Sera

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Stephen Strange has posed:
There had been a burst of dark, mystical energy in Brooklyn. Necromantic energies, bringing tortured souls beyond the veil. Though disaster had been averted, it was not without cost. SHIELD's WAND sub-department are cleaning up the mess, and the Sorcerer Supreme maintained his composure long enough to slip away into the night. He'd be back if they needed him, they knew where to find him.

He staggers through the streets of Brooklyn with the footsteps of a drunkard. A few people see him and chuckle before stepping out of his way, some others look concerned, but none stop him. He knows the place is around here somewhere. Those senses that are not native to his body but earned over years of practice allow him to sniff it out. Or see it. Or hear it. He's unsure just how he comes to find the brownstone, but he does.

He only makes it up onto the stoop before he collapses heavily against the door. His face is bloodied, and his head rests against the wood paneling. After a moment he coughs, and a strange black substance pools about his lips before running down his chin. His skin is a greyish-green pallor, and his hair seems greyer than normal.

Sera has posed:
The card game with the ghost rider and other demons from hell was immensely amusing for Sera, as she had hoped it would be. The dealer had a devilish sense of humour, drawing a Heirophant card on her. It was at that moment she decided to cheat. Totally worth it too. She wouldn't dare cash in her winnings though, word that she cheated might get around and that's just bad form.

The flight back from New Jersey was somewhat uneventful, her bright white wings glimmering in the sky. Normally she has taken to landing on the upper window and pushing it open. She doesn't keep it locked, at least not physically. But, she has a guest, that she can see from up here.

The wind hits Stephen's face as she lands and her wings disappear in a sparkle of dust. Resting beneath the sign inviting those in to the joke who know 'Heven on Earth', Sera looks with concern at the Sorcerer Supreme. She doesn't put much stock in titles but this man she respects, having seen his knowledge in action and having seen him in her future numerous times.

Sera gathers the sorcerer up in her arms. Like Asgardians, Angels pack more strength in them than is evident from a casual glance. She pushes open her door and a lattice of white lines, the starts of her mystical defences, shatter and fall away like broken cobwebs. Ah well, she can fix them later.

"Ah Dr. Stephen Strange, how nice of you to drop by finally. You look a little worse for wear. Do allow me to assist. What seems to be the nature of your magical medical emergency?" She smiles down at him, her eyes still glowing with her magical energies. She takes him downstairs, not up, to where she does her magic. The basement has a few empty boxes in it, a large table, an icy egg in the corner and a magical grimoire placed in the corner of the room. There are some chalk circles and Enochian scripts drawn in geometric shapes on the floor surrounding the table that she places him on.

Stephen Strange has posed:
The Doctor doesn't manage much in the way of conversation. He merely groans when asked what is wrong, shifting uncomfortably as though something pains his stomach. When they're finally in the basement he collapses to the floor, curling up on his side and coughing. The cough quickly becomes louder, more insistent until he is doubled over and hacking. Black blood dribbles from his lips onto the floor in a spray, and he clutches at his stomach.

"Food," he insists, still gagging and his voice a thin rasp, "Food. Need food."

His hands are pale, and they seem thinner than normal, the skin papery and pale blue veins standing out more noticeably against the backs of them.

Sera has posed:
Sera has previous drawn some magical designs of things on the walls in chalk too. There's some sort of whistle on a string that creates a spell shield that seems to have the most notes attached to it with post-it notes and lines in chalk of different colours.

She winces slightly as he coughs up blood. "Food it is," she says as she steps away and bounces up the stairs once more, three at a time. She yanks open the fridge door with a crash and grabs a strange assortment of things in to a rushed bowl. Condiments, pizza, salami, a pear, chocolate, carton milk, cheese, ice cubes, mashed potato, a banana, bottled water.

She is back down to the basement in a rush and kneels down next to the doubled over sorcerer with plate set before him, "Pick your potential cure, if any in particular is needed. Of course, I wasn't sure if you needed drink, as you told me at the tavern that other time that you don't. ...drink that is."

Stephen Strange has posed:
"Doesn't matter," Strange grunts, his voice still thin and gravelly, "Not ... eating it."

He takes the things offered, looking at the plate thoughtfully. He picks up the pizza and shakes his head, no. He tosses it to one side. Salami? Similarly, no, tossed aside. Pear? Yes, he leaves it on the plate. In the end, he's gathered the pear, the banana, and the mashed potato there ahead of him. The rest is cast aside.

"Sorry," he mutters in advance, though he doesn't give her time to ask just what he's talking about before he keels forward. The black, bubbling ichor passes his lips in a splashing torrent. It lands upon the plate, covering the contents for a moment and bubbling there. Steam rises from it, as though it were icy cold and indeed the heat seems to drain out of the room.

Just as quickly as it hits the plate, the substance evaporates. An evil black haze that lifts up in wispy tendrils before disappearing entirely. The color seems to return to Strange, and he becomes more substantial and robust-looking. The fruit and vegetables on the plate are gone, replaced instead with what looks like an unpotted plant with twisting roots and gnarled branches. He looks around, searching for Sera for a moment before spotting her.

"We need ... soil. Any kind. And something to plant it is."

Sera has posed:
Pizza goes flying, salami goes flying, most of it goes flying. Well. This'll taken some cleaning. She is slightly perturbed but also greatly intrigued. The vomit of black ichor though does have her shuffling back away from it, the white light of her magic dancing from her eyes to her hands as she prepares to defend herself. The sudden drop in temperature makes her anticipate the worst, striking a fighting pose toward the plate.

It's evaporation does leave her surprised again and she lets the magic in her hands fade away in to the air like fairy dust and smirks a touch, "Don't worry about it. What good is a clean room if it doesn't become dirtied from time to time." She bends down to peer at the plant and then nods her head, "Soil and pot. Coming right up."

Once again she bounds up the stairs, though this time she charges out of the back door in to the courtyard behind. There's an area with trees, a small garden and a gate that leads in to the alley behind all the brownstones here. She nimbly jumps over the brick wall in to the neighbours court yard and finds a pot containing a small bush. "Sorry," she says to it as she wriggles it out of its soily home and then reburies it in a second pot.

Once more bounding across the wall and back to the basement with a pot filled with soil. She takes a knee and places it down next to the plant. "The neighbour will never know," she mentions conspiratorially.

Stephen Strange has posed:
Strange simply coughs in response, taking the soil-filled pot from Sera and setting it on the floor in front of him. He digs around in it, rummaging in the dirt. It's at that moment that the scars on his hands become obvious, the illusions he usually calls upon to hide them fading with his concentration. They appear to have suffered greatly once upon a time, almost shredded and crisscrossed with signs of long past violence.

He pots the plants with all the care of a man in a rush. It is shoved down into the dirt, and the roots are covered over before his hand pats the soil flat. He sets the pot down before them both, silently admiring his handiwork.

The plant itself looks evil. The leaves are black, and the wood an ashen grey. It is like a twisted, gnarled hand reaching up for the sky. It's only a foot and a half tall, and it seems to shudder in their presence. He takes a deep breath, already looking much healthier than when Sera found him.

"Do you want a plant?"

Sera has posed:
Sera notes the damage to his hands, finding it extra ordinary that he is still so dexterous. The healing left scars, but seemed to give him mobility once more. She folds her arms under her chest and watches with interest as he dumps the plant in to its new possibly forever home.

"Is it a plant made up of the twisted souls of vengeful spirits attempting to violently steal another life from the living, condensed in to a plantae prison that is not the new life they had hoped to find?" She almost wants to poke it, but is concerned it might prick. What happens if you bleed on an evil plant? does it demand more blood and grow?

"I mean, either way. Sure, I can look after the horrifying plant you puked in to the world." There is a wry smile on her face as she says this. "It can critique my singing when I'm practicing nearly forgotten spells."

Stephen Strange has posed:
"It's a battery of sorts," Strange explains, picking up the plot and holding it out for Sera to take, "Necromancy requires a price. All magic does, really, though necromancy is far more taxing. I absorbed more than my body could withstand, so I expelled it. Now it's stored here. I suppose you could say it contains vengeful spirits, though more accurately it contains the dark energies necessary to rouse them."

He regards it for a moment, scratching his head as he considers the strange new plant he just created.

"It shouldn't need watering. Just some bones and ash in the soil. If it starts to grow too big, call me."

Sera has posed:
"What plant doesn't enjoy a good bone .. meal." Her eyes widen with delight at the pun she just whipped up. She looks over to Stephen hoping he enjoyed it too, though she expects disappointment. "One evil looking necromancy battery plant. It shall be kept safe. Who knows when one will be needed." She narrows her eyes at it and says, "You're going to behave aren't you. Yes you are, you're a good necromancy plant."

She looks over to Strange and says, "You looked like death had its grip on you. But now you are looking a great deal better. I'm glad I could help. Also, welcome to my home. My cassa you cassa.. I think that's how that saying goes? I have a big tv upstairs. Big." She nods with enthusiasm, though truthfully she hasn't even plugged it in yet.

Stephen Strange has posed:
"Very droll," Stephen offers with a quirk of his mouth, straightening his attire. He hasn't worn the vestments of his office tonight, instead opting for a bohemian look that seems entirely too rugged up given the weather. Maybe Sorcerers Supreme experience the temperature differently.

"I haven't had a tv in years. Well, that's to say there's one at the Sanctum but I don't watch it. I prefer podcasts."

He takes a moment to look around, twisting his neck as he does so: "You have a very nice home. Hopefully I'll visit again under more favorable circumstances."

Sera has posed:
The slice of pizza casually slides down off the wall where it had become temporarily lodged due to high cheese content. "Any time." She looks both delighted and amused. "What happened? Was it the sewer tentacle again?" Again? Oops, she hasn't shared that one with anyone yet. Well, she'll get to it eventually, the LBC does have random gatherings for drinks now and then to share interesting tidbits.

She motions to the stairs, "Come on upstairs." She heads up and places the black plant on the kitchen counter. "Angela hasn't been around, though I don't think you've met her anyway. I'm honestly not quite sure what she's up to. She's a bit of a lone wolf most of the time."

Stephen Strange has posed:
"Necromancy in Fort Greene Park," the Doctor offers, "A racist ghost of all things. Summoning up the spirits of the multiethnic dead to torment them. WAND has it handled, I believe, but they needed help containing the necromantic energy."

He moves towards the stairs, a little unsteady on his feet at first but quickly regaining his composure. Once they're on the ground floor, however, he glances towards the door with a furrowed brow.

"I can't stay very long, I'm afraid. I do need to eat and I ... can't eat anything you've got here. That's not an indictment on your cooking more than it is an indictment on my intestinal tract."

Sera has posed:
She peers back at Stephen with confusion, "WAND, as in an acronym? Well, whoever they are good to know there's more than just the LBC or the Watch taking care of things." She waves a dismissive hand, "Oh don't worry about that at all. I tend to try and eat anything and everything I can on this wonder world, but I get the need for a specific diet."

She smiles and offers her forearm, rather Asgardian in approach. "Don't be a stranger Dr. Strange," she lifts her eyebrows again, amusing herself once more. He's probably heard that one before, but she wasn't trying for it, it just tumbled out on its own.

Stephen Strange has posed:
Strange returns the 'forearm-shake' with a practiced confidence one only gets from having visited many odd and myriad dimensions. Asgard included. He nods his head, straightening his jacket and adjusting the long scarf he wears so it is no longer trailing on the ground. Satisfied, he smiles.

"Take care of our plant," he offers, turning to open the front door. When he touches the knob and pushes it open, the street outside is decidedly not Brooklyn but rather Bleecker Street in the Village. When it closes again, Sera will find the door leads right back where it should.

"Goodnight." He steps outside, closes the door behind him, and is gone.