"Master Hamir really sent for me and not Wong?" Strange asked one of the students leading him as he crossed the dimensional portal from the New York Sanctum to the Kamar-Taj's library, barely giving a look to the stand where the Eye of Agamotto used to be kept on. His tone was somewhere between disbelief and annoyance: more and more he was called back from New York to the monastery for issues he would have assumed had fallen under the Sorcerer Supreme's mantle. Stephen would have assumed such tasks and decisions would have been taken to Wong, but his victory against Dormammu and willingness to personally protect the Time Stone had gain him more popularity, so to speak, than he had expected. It was all if the other masters and students wouldn't whisper 'Sorcerer Supreme' when he was walking in a room, mostly at the fact that Strange would have likely scoffed at the title: he wasn't even close to be ready to take on the mantle of the Ancient One.
And yet, he was crossing the whole world in a manner of a few paces to resolve an issue in London:
"Yes, Master Strange...I mean, Doctor Strange," the student corrected himself after his teammate elbowed him at the mention of the title. Stephen barely contained the roll of his eyes before he crossed over to the London Sanctum.
He felt it the moment he walked into the Sanctum: the heaviness of the air, how the students of the interrupted class were ushering away from his path, whispers filled with barely concealed fear. And perhaps they were right to be afraid: Strange hadn't feel that much raw power since the last time he had fully used the Time Stone. The energy emanating from the waiting room was similar to the Stone around his neck, and yet different. But it was also similar to the same power the Master of the Mystics wielded everyday, but untamed and unbound whereas the Masters's would be disciplined and controlled. One thing was certain: it was so powerful and uncontained that even the recruits could feel it from outside the room their guest was in.
As he puts his hand on the door, one of the oldest adepts bows his head before giving him a concerned look:
"Please, be careful Master, they say she's a witch." Stephen can't help himself and raises an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed with the comment:
"Really. A witch. Of all the things to be afraid of, as a sorcerer..." he says dryly as he shakes his head, before opening the door to the waiting room.
He finds her curled up on one of the bigger chair of the room, soaked to the bones and probably cold and hungry. Clearly annoyed, he looks back at the doorway, where the same adept he's just scolded waits for blessing to take his leave:
"Get some tea. And something to eat, will you? That's no way to treat a guest." And with a wave of his hand, the door closes on the stunned student, before Stephen moves to the chair in front of Wanda. The Cloak takes a quick moment to unclip itself from his shoulders, floating to his right side before he sits down:
"Miss Maximoff," he starts off, leaving no doubt about the fact that he knows who she is, "my name is Doctor Stephen Strange. How can I help you?" There's a hundred questions he has for her, like how did she found the new Sanctum in London, but that one seems the most appropriate of the lot.
no subject
And yet, he was crossing the whole world in a manner of a few paces to resolve an issue in London:
"Yes, Master Strange...I mean, Doctor Strange," the student corrected himself after his teammate elbowed him at the mention of the title. Stephen barely contained the roll of his eyes before he crossed over to the London Sanctum.
He felt it the moment he walked into the Sanctum: the heaviness of the air, how the students of the interrupted class were ushering away from his path, whispers filled with barely concealed fear. And perhaps they were right to be afraid: Strange hadn't feel that much raw power since the last time he had fully used the Time Stone. The energy emanating from the waiting room was similar to the Stone around his neck, and yet different. But it was also similar to the same power the Master of the Mystics wielded everyday, but untamed and unbound whereas the Masters's would be disciplined and controlled. One thing was certain: it was so powerful and uncontained that even the recruits could feel it from outside the room their guest was in.
As he puts his hand on the door, one of the oldest adepts bows his head before giving him a concerned look:
"Please, be careful Master, they say she's a witch." Stephen can't help himself and raises an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed with the comment:
"Really. A witch. Of all the things to be afraid of, as a sorcerer..." he says dryly as he shakes his head, before opening the door to the waiting room.
He finds her curled up on one of the bigger chair of the room, soaked to the bones and probably cold and hungry. Clearly annoyed, he looks back at the doorway, where the same adept he's just scolded waits for blessing to take his leave:
"Get some tea. And something to eat, will you? That's no way to treat a guest." And with a wave of his hand, the door closes on the stunned student, before Stephen moves to the chair in front of Wanda. The Cloak takes a quick moment to unclip itself from his shoulders, floating to his right side before he sits down:
"Miss Maximoff," he starts off, leaving no doubt about the fact that he knows who she is, "my name is Doctor Stephen Strange. How can I help you?" There's a hundred questions he has for her, like how did she found the new Sanctum in London, but that one seems the most appropriate of the lot.