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His sigh buffets the wreathing of steam rising from his cup of tea. Another day, another indulging of blackberry and clove at O'Riley's. At this point, the Sorcerer has a running tab there and old Mrs. O'Riley expects him to pay once a week; she's far too kind and he endeavors to slip at least $10 into her little tip jar, devoid of the Smuckers jelly it once held.
Back to the wall with chair-wood literally touching the surface, a lesson hard-learned, Strange sips and reads a small diary sent by a fellow practitioner. It once belonged to a wizard in Africa and the magics of that region are something he can always brush up on. Not cornered, but more middling in alignment in the room, this table of his, and the place is quiet but for him and old Mrs O'Riley sitting in the corner working on belated holiday letters to her family.
Truly, his mind is focused entirely on the cramped hand-writing before him, possibly worse than his own — and that's saying something, given his predilection for the title of 'Doctor' — and he squints as he rolls a mouthful of tea back and forth over his tongue.
*
A deep, rich laugh escaped Amora as she //appeared beside Strange. Blonde hair looming over his person in brilliant curls of spun gold. Whatever presence she'd had before, whatever power of attraction she'd held? It paled in comparison to the rich and vibrant draw that seeped from her person now. Magic mixed with a heady scent of frost and juniper berries swept over her figure. Which, wrapped in a mortal guise, had morphed to be the utmost perfection of beauty to whomever viewed her.
Whatever cap on her magic Odin had placed upon her, it was abundantly clear that she'd broken those bounds and revelled in it. "My my Doctor. The way you sit belies a lack of trust.." She purred, green nails tracing patterns on the table top.
The Enchantress looked to be far too pleased with herself, green eyes shamelessly raking over his figure.
*
Thank the gods for the fact that he set down the tea cup in order to turn a page not five seconds before she appeared. Black tea is hard to get out of clothing and the Enchantress might have been in a fine snit after being splashed by pure startled accident.
Regardless, she no doubt gets the audible inhale that she wants and Strange stares wide-eyed at the diary for a second before putting his face in his hands. Already, the scent of juniper berries is drowning out the gently-sweet vapors of his tea and he knows exactly who it is by the magic signature alone, not even needing to acknowledge the color of the nails tracing patterns atop the table's surface.
"Lady Amora." Spoken in flat acknowledgement, much as one would comment on the incidence of a fly buzzing about their head. "You recover from grudges quickly. Back to speak with me so soon? And no Merlin to offer up bangles to your mercurial moods," he mutters, closing the diary and leaning back his chair to look at her.
Whoa. That's different. Her aura is electrified with power — a quick mental slap upside his head in self-recrimination at not noticing this immediately, along with the ultra-boosted glamour about her. At his sternum, not the Eye, but another relic entirely: a bronze chit on a chain hidden away beneath his dress shirt and coat alike, warms to his skin. It sends out a pulsation of spider-lightning, low-key and more heat that static, that reaches into his bones and draws a natural reaction of amaranthine to both his own aura and irises alike.
No doubt the Asgardian practitioner will note this, with her naturally-heightened Mystical state. The suspicion of needing said gift hanging about his neck has been affirmed and thank the gods for the sanity-bolstering effect of its presence. He swallows, but the action is part in apprehension at the smug glitter in her eyes on top of the typical response from him: unsettled in his skin.
"What do you want?" Aiming for cool diplomacy, as always.
*
A wave of her hand and a chair slides to her side, the magicaly scent in the air a heady delight as she inhales the scent of the active relic upon his person. Green eyes glow with a warmth of power and she crosses her legs as she reclined before him. "Oh darling, I don't forget such things. I merely take what I truly want." She crooned.
"Your apprentice is mine after all." She fluttered those black eyelashes once more, and smirked.
"And as you can see, I have broken Odin's decrees. Isn't it lovely?" She breathed, a flash of white teeth sparkling behind ruby lips a she grinned at him and tossed her hair back over her shoulder.
*
The Sorcerer looks at her with all the affection of a chef to said errant fly in the kitchen. Sucking at his teeth behind his lips, he then sniffs and answers her first by taking a fortifying sip of black tea. Blackberry fights with juniper and crisp frost to momentarily win at the back of his throat. The diary is dog-eared to mark his spot and then set aside. Keeping his hands wrapped about the tea cup seems safest (not a good idea to strangle her, especially in front of old Mrs. O'Riley) and then Strange meets those glittering emerald eyes once again.
"It's delightful. Karl will be so thrilled." Acidic, that compliment. "And I'm aware of Illyana's acceptance of your offer. I hope you're up to the task." Having been on the receiving end of Illyana's sheer obstinacy on more than one occasion, the Enchantress had better be up for explaining things multiple times and especially in the vein of why NOT to do said thing.
*
Oh Amora looked pleased as was physically possible for the goddess without openly grinning. No she was trying at least to muffle that smirk, though it still turned her lips upwards in utter delight. "Well, she has been most entertaining. In matters of the heart, teenaged girls are quite predictable. You only have to listen for a few prayers before they start to repeat." She arched a brow upwards.
"Also, the Bifrost is broken and Asgard has fallen. So you might expect a few more interesting creatures to start appearing here and there." She teased.
"Be prepared Sorcerer Supreme, Midgard is and will be the gem of many a worlds now.."
*
That the Bifrost is broken is news to him. The Sorcerer becomes very still, never breaking gazes with the Enchantress; he looks through her as he processes precisely what this entails, including her comment as to the precious commodity that his Realm has now become to interdimensional interlopers.
Finally, he huffs a dark laugh through a smirk as wily as the one worn by the practitioner sitting beside him. "I relish a challenge and thank you for the forewarning, Lady Amora. The Witch and I will enjoy reminding the trespassers just how much it stings to be hexed back to your own dimension." Oh, believe him, he gets a kick out of booting the interesting creatures out of his reality. Something is so satisfying about dusting his scarred hands off afterwards.
Another sip at the cooling tea and Strange returns to the topic of his Apprentice. Or rather, former Apprentice. "Be careful with Illyana. She's about as entertaining as a hedgehog. Adorable until you get stabbed mishandling her. Don't push her too hard or too fast." Hey, he can offer a forewarning as well. Diplomacy and all.
*
Amora propped her chin up with both hands folded, elbows resting on the table as she leaned forward. "I look forward to seeing your exploits. From what I gather there are already a number poking at the edges of the realm. Interested in what pieces Asgard has left behind. For her armies are now split. Too many Asgardians trapped with no recourse make for easy pickings. Scattered and divided as many are. Asgard has many enemies.. and they have no knowledge of this world. I would suspect they'll be arriving in due time."
At the advice offered toward 'teaching' Amora shrugged and leaned away. "I am not the Norn Queen, my teachings are hardly what one would call.. taxing. Besides the fact that she desires my apprenticeship in a different recourse." She smirked, green eyes smoldering as she stared at him.
"But, tis all I came to tell you."
*
"That's all? A forewarning and reminder that Illyana loves the fairer of the two sexes?" And the Sorcerer cants his head to one side, smirking at her with those half-lidded eyes barely concealing a dry delight. "Then I await any updates involving your endeavor to educate her on the finer things in life, should you so choose to…show up unexpectedly as you always do."
At his sternum beneath the dress shirt, the bronze key thrums gently, like a plucked harp string, and grants him additional composure in the face of the sparkling presence of the Enchantress.
"But yes, Illyana told me of her paramour. I admit, I was surprised. I never thought she would latch on to another, much less her own sex, but love is…love." He shrugs and the tiniest bit of relaxation enters his posture. "Powerful thing. Some of us would kill for it." Those dark-lashed eyes, averted momentarily to the surface of his tea, rise to meet hers again with a coolness of warning. "Mind Illyana, Lady Amora. She may not have the self-control that I possess."
*
A laugh, and Amora prowled closer, a hand lifting to brush the air around his shoulder. Not quite touching him. "It took you by surprise because you knew not her heart. I am long accustomed to such matters, and in my realm, to love is love. No pause given to those who desire one flesh over another. Such passions when mixed with magic are the most heady ingredients of all. In this realm or any other.." She breathed, leaning forward.
"As far as her lack of self control?" She grinned, a flash of perfect, white teeth against ruby lips. "Oh darling, I've never had any." She winked and leaned forward as if to steal a kiss, before she vanished into a cloud of green smoke.