8302/Part Of Your World

Part Of Your World
Date of Scene:	18 October 2021
Location:	Sanctum Santorum
Synopsis:	Stephen gets a student! Demona gets a teacher.
Cast of Characters:	Stephen Strange, Susan Sullivan, Illyana Rasputina

---

Stephen Strange has posed:
A Monday in New York in the fall is much like any other. That is to say, it is a cool 57 degrees Fahrenheit (or 12 degrees Celsius for pretty much the rest of the world), cloudy...and nearly that point for most New Yorkers where it is no longer 'early morning', and is now just 'morning'. That is, for most people. In the city that truly never sleeps, one's morning could be another's evening.

Fortunately, at the Sanctum Santorum, time remains normal. At least from a certain perspective.

And...that perspective belongs to Stephen Strange, the master of the house. One could say owner...but really, it is a mutual partnership. The three-story mansion really owns itself and allows Stephen to reside, like many magical artifacts do. Stephen, of course, is an early riser....the most dreaded of New Yorker. A morning person, those vile beings that are awake early and actually *shudder* productive. How could they be?! They make everyone else look bad! Already, at a table nestled in the corner is a morning tea service set up, with a book resting upon a chair. Seems someone was up studying perhaps. There may be a guest at the mansion, for the tea is set for two, rather than just the one. Though, one wagers that Stephen could easily make it however many he needs. So...why two?

The answer doesn't come yet. Instead, Stephen himself moves for the front door. Apparently, he has decided that he needs to collect some items to make this morning tea more appropriate...and there is no better place to go than to the corner store for it. Despite the fact that he has told no one his plan...nor the fact that he could just conjure whatever he wanted. Some things...just should be done properly..

Susan Sullivan has posed:
    Outside the door stands a woman, or at least the vague visage of one. She wears a skull-themed gas mask and a stocking cap and a hoodie. Well, temperature appropriate if there was chemical warfare going on. She simply stands outside the door as if waiting. As Stephen approaches the door, she waves at him enthusiastically, her smile broad enough to be seen in her permanently bloodshot, blue eyes.

Illyana Rasputina has posed:
12'C is 'warm' by Illyana's standards, but her slate of experience stretches into the negative 40s as a typical Siberian. She barely bothers with a sweater but the long-sleeved shirt keeps her comfortable though the low-slung black pants are hardly autumnal. In the city that never sleeps, she remains wide awake, nursing a latte in a mint-green cup bearing a glaring cat on the side. Her long fingers flank the scowling feline.

"Do you want me to take a walk?" she asks languidly, head tilted with a shot of Arctic-pale blonde hair skimming off her shoulder. Her gaze flicks to the door and then back to Strange as he pores over books and tea. The unspoken questions lingering in her frost-kissed eyes don't stretch further than the undeclared weight, though they might well already have a measured rapport together. Some things need no communication aloud.

She leans lightly against the wall, watching the door and the silhouetted pattern of the clouds moving over the floor. "Mm," she murmurs when another shadow resolves as Demona. The blonde Russian sorceress sips her drink, and then nods in mute greeting.

Stephen Strange has posed:
"Oh no. You are quite welcome to stay as you are, Illyana."

The door opens...and Strange's head tilts to one side, as a slight smile curls around the corners of his lips. Was the visitor expected? There is no immediate reveal from Strange as those grey eyes fall down upon the red-rimmed blue of the visitor at his doorstep. A quick glance backwards towards the blonde within his home reveals that yes, she sees the strangely clad individual as well. A quick glance outside would reveal that the pedestrians in Greenwich Village also see the form upon his doorstep, with the curious glances before walking on. After all, this is New York. They have seen stranger.

"Well, hello there." No sense being rude. Stephen opens up the dialog. "I take it you're here on business?" Of course she's not....Strange knows that. The lilt in his voice as well as that infernal smirk of his betrays that he is jesting. "You are just in time for tea, though I admit we are short of strawberries at the moment. But, that can be remedied."

Joking aside, Stephen clears his throat lightly. "Doctor Stephen Strange, at your service. And you are?" There has not been an offer to come inside. At least, not yet. However, given the gregarious nature....an invitation will no doubt be offered soon enough.

Susan Sullivan has posed:
    "Hopefully business," she agrees with a nod. "I go by Demona," Demona says. She stuffs her hands in her hoodie's singular pocket like she's cold. "I'll take off the mask if you invite me in." She hesitates a bit, still outside. "I can't come in unless you invite me." She lets that statement hang in the air as people pass her like she's not even there.

Illyana Rasputina has posed:
The slender arc of interest raises Illyana's brows slightly, the heavy fringe of her bangs partly obscuring the change in her coolly expressive features. The cup hides most of her response as she indulges in the caffeine-stained bliss of her chosen beverage.

She sips it, ruminating quietly while the guest seeks attention from the Sorcerer Supreme. She doesn't rush to conversation, and the brief check of any other passing pedestrians in the vicinity of the Sanctum she partly calls home. Greenwich Village is full of characters and every sort. Not all of them are friendly.

The exhalation is almost a smirking note in place of an actual word or expressivity. It's not meant to be rude, but she is Russian and their famous fatalism is on display.

"Yana," she offers, raising her hand and watching the guest. She doesn't offer an invite to the threshold, since that is very much not her province. Sorceress Supreme elsewhere she may be, but not here.

Stephen Strange has posed:
The permission for an invitation does not strike Strange as odd at all. A glance to the weather, with it being cloudy, as well as a return to his guest...and Strange puts it all together. "Ah...yes. Of course." There may be a sense of examination for Demona....passingly but thorough...but not necessarily from Stephen himself. It appears that the manse itself wanted to make sure that the visitor was not a threat.

Did Demona pass?

With a nod, Stephen steps to the side, offering access within. "Demona, please feel free to enter."

Invitation is given.

Should she take advantage, which is nearly a given, Stephen will close the door once Demona is in. "It is not often that I have visitors. It is even less often that I have visitors of your nature. I would have said that, even if it is the season, it was a little too early for Halloween. But, I understand the precautions."

A pause...then an aside. "You see, jiangshi do not make it a habit of coming here." Oh, yes. He knows, most likely courtesy of those wards.

Susan Sullivan has posed:
    With a similar nod toward Yana, Demona enters now that she is free to do so. She does it a little cautiously, but also in awe of the building around her. She isn't surprised or even taken aback that Doctor Strange, of all people, knows what she is. She reaches up with both hands and slides her fingers under the back of her stocking cap. There are clicks, and she pulls off the mask and adjusts her hat.
    "I know it seems that EVERY monster says this, but I'm not like other Jiangshi," Demona says. "I fought hard through meditation and training to claw my way back from that new nature and stand as myself in my own body."
    She faces Stephen and says, "I came to you because I'm looking for a magic teacher, and you're the only person I could think of. I mean...who knows magic." She furrows her hairless brow. "That's not true," she quickly admits. "But the only other one I know makes me fear for my life, such as it is. I don't know if you'd even do apprentice type stuff."
    Demona looks away and down at the floor. "If I'm not welcome here, I can leave, but I didn't know where else to go."

Illyana Rasputina has posed:
As is typical for these affairs, at least as it might seem, Illyana keeps her distance and silence for quite a while. The wards ruffling around the guest on their doorstep like cats weaving around ankles already know her, and probably dismiss her unless something particularly dark decides to awaken from within such a seraphic exterior. No tells would indicate a problem or a danger from her, other than the general frosty demeanor that inherently follows pale Slavic blondes around. They embody a type; it's inescapable.

The shifting mystical pressure glazes in one direction and does not find Demona wanting, and therefore not at risk of a response. She looks into her cup and then moves her finger anticlockwise around the rim, and the level of the brew rises once more back to the rim with satisfactory speed and temperature. Not that anything short of blistering heat would get a second look from her. She once more resigns herself to swallowing an unhealthy amount in silent observation until the formalities pass. Introductions come and go, and the jiangshi makes her petition.

"Who makes you fear for your life?" she finally asks. The lilting cadence of her words doesn't match up with English much, proving it is very much her second (or nineteenth) language, one hollowed by the far eastern Siberian accent. "Why do you want to learn, and what do you want it for? Always good to be clear on, though he has his own requirements."

The subtext there passes to Strange on a lofted brow, a tilt to her head almost unseen. "Da, maybe I interfere with your proper contracting? I can be quiet, as you need." Then those dark lips turn upward in a fearless smirk. No teeth.

Stephen Strange has posed:
"Well...no. Not every monster. Not every monster would walk to the home of the Sorcerer Supreme and ask for an audience with him. Even less would do so once discovering that there were two sorcerers on the premises." The door closes and Stephen indicates to Demona to make herself comfortable. Which...may very well be the extra setting at the table. Or...really where ever.

While Demona decides if she would like to sit, Stephen continues. "honestly, I would have ventured to guess vampire initially...but there are subtle differences. The Sanctum confirmed your unusual condition as you crossed the threshold, though."

The sorcerer does fall silent as Demona launches into her reasoning to be there. And...the request catches his attention. "A magic teacher. I would have to admit, I have assisted, from time to time. But, yes, Illyana has the right of it. There is a reason you wish to learn. I know that I had my own reasons....reasons that have changed and evolved over time. It does help to know why you wish to learn just as much as what you wish to learn."

An indication over towards the Russian earns Illyana a knowing nod, with a slightly playful wink. "Oh, you might be an interference...but a welcomed one. I do not wish for you to be quiet at all. Feel free to interject."

Susan Sullivan has posed:
    Demona shrugs off her backpack. It does not hit the floor. Her feet leave the floor as she floats in the posture of a ghost. Her backpack rushes ahead of her and hangs itself on the back of the chair before she sits. "Okay, give me a second," she says. "That's a lot to unpack."
    Taking a deep breath, Demona closes her eyes and runs through the questions, in order. She holds up her right hand in a fist, then flips out her right thumb. "Friend's magic teacher armed herself when seeing me and actively opposes my friend about me on multiple occasions. Only person I've been tempted to bypass my promise to myself not to hurt anybody about."
    She flips out her index finger. "I can manipulate the flow of Qi already, and I think it's a short step from that to what I've seen on news footage and YouTube videos of Doctor Strange, though I've never smelled him do magic before. Not sure if I'm just imagining the connection."
    She flips out her middle finger. "I want it because I am a monster and I fight all the time to not be. I also think, if it is like qi manipulation, I don't want to remain self-taught and miss some danger and accidentally hurt myself or others."
    She flips out her ring finger, but is silent for a few moments. She opens her eyes and lowers her hand. "Doctor Strange didn't ask me his own questions, yet," she recalls.

Illyana Rasputina has posed:
"Or more," adds Illyana in a dry tone of voice, adding to the veritable anonymous threats said monsters might encounter if they so violated the Vishanti's shrine on Earth. She circles around the grand foyer, following like a bright ghost to Stephen's darker aspect.

Pausing briefly at a bookshelf, she glances to one of the seemingly innocent vases and drops her voice to practically a murmur, rippling sibilance of her native Russian offering a plain warning. <<Behave yourself. I know what you are about.>> The vase, certainly harbouring no terrible ideas whatsoever, proceeds to look like a well-polished ceramic object that certainly abides by no mischief and contains nothing suspect whatsoever. Nothing at all. No reason for the Demon Queen of Limbo to remain nearby in all her frosty-eyed silence for three heartbeats. On the fourth, she adds, <<<Tell the shabti. I am watching you.>>

No sooner has she uttered violence against an inanimate object, and an Egyptian tomb decoration, she proceeds to desecrate every ideal of good manners. Threatening objects so rarely turns out well. Her manners remain pointed and crisp, refined at the knees of a demanding taskmaster, and so glides in a little nearer to Strange's right side. The Sorcerer Supreme is himself fully capable of defense, but she carelessly falls in within arm's reach. That puts her not too close to Demona to be uncomfortable, perhaps, but well inside the circle of conversation. "Who is this teacher?"

It's not like the magic community is /that/ big, after all. Her thoughts trip back around. "Self-taught magic is what most have. In the end, all of it will be tailored to you. No one size fits every person option out there, magic is not like that. It is far more art than pure science, da? We learn rules, then we bend and break them. Important to know that going in, you will have to adapt. You get the basics, but then to cook? Time then to make your own changes to work with you. Not blowing yourself up in the process is a good thing, da?"

Stephen Strange has posed:
A laugh. A single laugh as Stephen nods. "You are absolutely correct. I did not ask you my own questions yet."

An oversight he means to rectify.

Of course....his question is the same as Illyana's. "Who was this person that threatened you?" Not that there isn't any malice in his tone. Perhaps he is just curious. Then, another question. "And...you want to learn to keep the beast at bay, so to speak? There are many schools of magic. Qi manipulation is one of them. It sounds like you wish to refine what you know...perhaps add to it."

A nod is given towards Illyana, as Stephen continues. "Yana is correct. There are schools, certainly, but magic is a personal art. I could teach you principles, of course. Give you a direction in which you can go. However, how you get there will be just as unique for you as it is for anyone. Is this agreeable to you?"

A side-eye glance is cast towards Magik's direction. There is no other indication...the face is passive. But...there might be a hint of curiosity at the remark towards the vases.

Just a little.

Susan Sullivan has posed:
    Demona glances around. "This place can't be spied on, right?" she asks. "Like...the person I'm talking about sent her familiar to follow me home. I stayed homeless that night until the stupid talking bird went away." She distinctly looks uncomfortable discussing the topic, but she did mention she was afraid for her life, so...

Illyana Rasputina has posed:
"No." Illyana narrows her eyes slightly. "You have bigger problems if they can." She raises the mug back to her lips and takes another sip of her coffee, rolling her shoulder in what approximates a shrug.

Stephen Strange has posed:
Strange frowns. "I assure you. The Sanctum cannot be spied upon, without my knowledge. No one may broach its confines without my immediate awareness." It isn't said to merely offer the Jiangshi comfort. The way that Strange phrases it, he would find it a rather severe violation. And....the house itself would not take too kindly to it, either.

"You are safe here. If you do not wish to reveal the identity, that is understandable."

Susan Sullivan has posed:
    Demona nods. "Okay," Demona says. "I don't mind saying, but I don't want her knowing I ratted on her and hurting my friend." She clears her throat and says, "I only know a first name, and it may be a nickname." She hesitates before she speaks one final word. "Nettie."

Illyana Rasputina has posed:
The name rings a bell, or a Belle as the case may be. A shiver of familiarity crosses Illyana's pale eyes, and she looks over to Stephen to see if the same expression can be found there. If not, she supplies an answer. "We had tea once. Witch who runs a tea shop and occult store. Interesting she would use a familiar. Not hard to find the shop, I can give directions, da?"

She briefly examines her nails and then puts the coffee cup aside.

Stephen Strange has posed:
A gentle nod gives Stephen's response. "I am familiar. Not that I condone the response, but I can understand it." Apparently, Stephen has also been to the occult shop at some point in time. "The familiar. Most likely a crow or another black bird. Maybe a raven." No...it's a crow. Most likely.

"Well, it does open a series of other inquiries that we might just have to inquire at a later time." After all...afraid for one's life, or un-life as it were, makes for erstwhile questioning.

Just...not now.

"A question. With the skills that I may be able to teach, what is your goal? I believe it is for keeping your monstrous self, as you mentioned, at bay. Is that the main purpose?"

Susan Sullivan has posed:
    Demona huffs out a thoughtful breath at Stephen's question. "That is part of it," she says. "I have learned much about the flow of qi through the land. I AM going to press farther into this. I don't want to lose myself to my new nature, but my primary goal is to make sure I don't hurt anyone. Losing myself to the Jiangshi part of me is just one way that might happen. I want to grow and expand beyond what I feel may be the infant's crawl into magic I've taken. You are almost certainly aware that if I do this less than carefully, I may do something that hurts someone, entirely by accident. The more powerful I get, the more important it is that I have someone there spotting me, to use a workout term." She shrinks just a little as she says, "I am a Disney Princess. We don't hurt people."

Illyana Rasputina has posed:
The keen focus turned back by Illyana carries an undeniable weight. She can deliver a glare that freezes infernal princes and can bring legions to their knees, if not scampering away at full run without concern for hide, hair or fellow citizens. It's a much milder version of that look narrowed down as an explanation is given, though she murmurs, "Da, crow."

She crosses her arms over her chest. "Self-control matters much. Before you walk, you know the dangers and when not to use magic. Life energy flowing here serves many though, like water from a river feeds fields, animals, city down the river." Downstream, but she hasn't the right lexicon for it. English isn't her native tongue, and it shows. "Lots protects the water, even for Disney princesses. You should be aware of that, playing with qi, mana, raw energy, this is /especially/ unforgiving."

Stephen Strange has posed:
"Well, I have to admit. That is the first time I had someone address herself as a Disney Princess." It does give Stephen a reason for pausing, with a hand reaching up to stifle the chuckle that threatens to leave. "Now, before you break into song for not apparent reason with an animal or magical companion. I would like to state that I do understand the implications. Playing with any primal force is dangerous and I commend the resolve shown that you wish to develop your control as to not implicitly harm others."

A flicker to his counterpart...and Stephen shows his agreement with Yana's commentary. "Self control is key, if you pardon the accidental pun. With that in mind, then yes, I do believe we can come to an understanding as far as training goes."

Susan Sullivan has posed:
    Demona looks at Yana for a moment. Though the foreigner had absolutely not asked for it, Demona offers up some exposition. "Through my mother's meditation training, I was able to regain my self after being enthralled to the Jiangshi who stole my breath. I wrestled with him at full strength until could suck the qi he'd stolen from others from his very lungs. I held my breath while I grappled him in the light of the sunrise.
    "I spent seven years literally blind, starving, and locked in a cage in a cave under a monastery. I had to force myself not to lose myself to the hunger within me and consume the monks taking care of me. Seven years with only my nose to guide me to the ambient flow of qi I needed to learn to tap into. Seven years of being blind, mostly deaf, my touch muted, isolated, fighting predators and pests for the smallest morsel while I grasped in the dark for the flow.
    "You speak as one who has touched the flow of the life force through nature; I breathe it. Trust me, I know how to be careful and not damage it. I use rice to clense stagnant qi from myself. I wear the mask to avoid smelling the qi of others or drinking if I lose myself for a moment. This thing--this ONE thing--I grasp."

    Turning to Stephen, Demona says, "So, you'll teach me?"

Illyana Rasputina has posed:
The Demon Queen tips her head and moves little indeed, but for the whole necessity of breathing and the occasional blink. She can make an excellent facsimile of statuary when she feels compelled to do it.

She lifts that delicate shrug again. "I speak as myself," she says, "and it is not so simple." Nothing further; the question is not for her.

Stephen Strange has posed:
The Sorcerer Supreme contemplates the person before him. Those grey eyes appear kindly...but they are knowing, too. And they appear to see much more than Stephen lets on. And...it is those eyes that regard Demona. The silence is only brief...a few seconds at the most.

But, it is also deafening.

Until, finally, Stephen offers a single affirmative nod. "Yes. I will teach you. This I will do not only because you actually took the time to ask, politely I should add...but also because it would be simply the right thing to do. You already can sense the flow and partake of it. I just offer more degrees of control."

Susan Sullivan has posed:
    Demona stands and bows respectfully toward her new teacher. "Thank you," she says, her upper body still lowered. "With everything that I am, I am commited to not letting you down."