3117/Wizard Questions, Dear Reader

Wizard Questions, Dear Reader
Date of Scene:	27 August 2020
Location:	Sanctum Santorum
Synopsis:	Siobhan visits the Sanctum Sanctorum to discuss her other self.
Cast of Characters:	Siobhan Smythe, Stephen Strange

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Siobhan Smythe has posed:
It'd been a little while since she had been here. Siobhan had not been here since the whole deal with the tri-god city god thing that was over the city but not over it and was born but became three and is now one and lets go out to the ball game was sung and everyone had a good time. Probably. The point is, it has been a while and Siobhan has been dealing with some things.

Now, she is standing in the main room of the Sanctum Santorum, casually sipping at some water provided by...something or someone. It's really not clear to her. She just knows she asked for it and it was provided and now she's trusting it. This whole place is a head trip.

"Well, at least I'm not tirsty while waitin'." She had been told to wait here. Something about the mystic realm, dimensional disaster, or whatever it was that keeps Dr. Strange busy while she, ya know, sips water.

Stephen Strange has posed:
It takes a while before the Doctor arrives, the sitting room seeming remarkably normal were it not for the strange assortment of antiques on display there. A shirt made of what looks to be bones, a ceremonial dagger wrought from crystal, and a mask that appears to shift and change within its glass case.

Finally, he steps into the room, dressed rather simply in a turtleneck and dark slacks. Not at all the strange, wizardly vestments he wore the last time they met. He gestures to one of the chairs before sitting in the opposite one, crossing his legs and folding his hands in his lap.

"It's good to see you again."

Siobhan Smythe has posed:
Sitting on the gestured seat, Siobhan looks over to him, "Ya say dat, but I'm not entirely sure ya mean it." She chuckles and looks over at the strange things in the room, still really taking it in. Last time she was here, there was all kinds of weird people here. Weird things going on. Weird projections. Nothing was quite what one might call normal.

"It is nice to see ya again, too, I suppose. I really didn't get much of a chance ta meet any of ya really." She nods her head and then shrugs, "Now, dough, some new friends I made have suggested I come back to see ya." She nods her head as she seems to settle into her seat, "Dey seem to tink ya might know sometin' about my condition." She shrugs, "I'm fairly sure ya already know what I mean."

Stephen Strange has posed:
"I have an idea," Strange admits, leaning back into the chair and making himself comfortable. He lapses into deep thought for a moment, tensing his fingers before his face and peering over the top of his hands at his visitor. It's a little while before he speaks again.

"It depends, though, on what you're asking for. Do you want more information? A cure? A way to mitigate the effects? I have a book penned by the Abbot of Gleann Da Loch on the ben side. A good insight into their alleged capabilities but little on their origins."

Siobhan Smythe has posed:
"I don't need to read more on the legend. I am well aware of da majority of dem." She looks to the side and then she sighs, "And da last time someone offered a cure up, it cost dem dere life." She looks to Strange, "Besides, not sure ya could cure dis." She tilts her head, "Ya seem powerful enough but dis has been in me family for quite a long period of time." She shifts in her seat a little, "I'm more worried about what I might do if I lose control. If what is in me is me or if it is sometin' else." Siobhan looks down at her hands a moment.

"I don't know what ya have been t'ru in your life, Doctor, but I have lost a lot. I've watched family become monster, watched family destroy family, and watched family slowly die." She sighs, "I want to help peopel but what I am...I don't know what she's capable of but I know she's powerful. Very powerful." She looks directly at Strange, "And I can't just let 'er off the leash."

Stephen Strange has posed:
"Well, that is a question, isn't it?" Strange adds with a chuckle, "The notion of self. Where does consciousness begin and end? I have some books by Descartes and Hume if you want to explore that. But in more practical terms? Well, I'm not sure that's an answer that would be easy to come by. It would involve some deep introspection ... and possibly coming to terms with your other self, rather than truly treating her as a separate entity."

Siobhan Smythe has posed:
"Ya say dat like she isn't separate from me." She eyes Strange carefully before tilting her head, "She's a monster, Doc. I know da kinds of tings she requests, whispers, wants." She shakes her haed and looks down at her hands, "Dis isn't like I prefer white and she prefers black or sometin' like dat." She sighs and looks up, "And I can't treat her like she's a part of me when she asks for such tings."

Stephen Strange has posed:
"Maybe not, but the connection you have will always cause some bleed one way or another. At least in my experience with such things. It's less about struggling for control and more finding an accord. Learning to influence from that place you go when she is at the forefront. Navigating, rather than trying to wrest the steering wheel from her completely."

He raises an eyebrow, still peering over the top of his fingers: "If that makes sense?"

Siobhan Smythe has posed:
"I suppose." She states simply enough, "I don't know how much of it applies. I've been in dat form before. She doesn't really get control all the time as much as she tries to influence me...and push me and..." She shudders and shakes her head, "I don't know what I expected here. I honestly t'ought ya'd just wave your hands about and sometin' would happen and I'd be fine."

Stephen Strange has posed:
"Magic doesn't quite work that way," Strange admits, "There's always a price to pay for the hand wave, and sometimes it's better to take the longer and more arduous path. I'd be willing to explore this with you, but I advise against going alone. You mentioned having made some friends ... would any of them be willing to help you?"

Siobhan Smythe has posed:
A look down at her hands and then up at Strange, "I don't know. I only just met dem. Dey all seem nice but...I worry." She looks to the side and then she looks at Strange, "Bot' about dem and about sometin' else. Dere was a scream the ot'er night. It wasn't me. I tink dey all believed it to be me but..." She sighs, "My mot'er is sniffin' around and she's pissed off more dan usual dat I left our homeland to escape her."

Stephen Strange has posed:
The Sorcerer nods his head, curiously glancing towards an antique painted globe of the world in a dark wooden stand on the other side of the room.

"If that's true," he continues, "Then there's work to be done here. If you think you can trust these people, then bring them to me. There's a ritual that may allow you to commune with this other self ... but you'll need help."

Siobhan Smythe has posed:
Sucking in a sharp breath, Siobhan nods her head and stands up from her chair, "Well, if dat is da case, den I'll see what I can do." She looks down at her hands a moment before looking to Strange, "I will bring dem but..." She shrugs, "I have no idea how long it'll take to gatter some." She then looks over to the door and back to him, "Tank ya for at least tryin' to help so far."

Stephen Strange has posed:
"While you gather them," Strange offers, "I'll investigate other solutions. We aren't entirely at a loss here. And given our shared experiences with Brooklyn, and I think you might have an easier time finding helping hands than you think."