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Lorna sat on her bed in her dorm room, waiting for Tommy and Billy to go find Doctor Strange and ask permission to hide her away in some place called the 'Sanctum' while Tommy tried to track down where Creel was. At least, that had been the plan in question. A sigh pulled from her lips as she burrowed deeper into her blankets, tugging them closer as she waited. Dark marks stained her neck, finger prints large and livid. Tiny scrapes and nicks covered her hands, and knuckles from where she'd fallen..
She'd not gone to the hospital to get checked out, but had gone to the school clinic. She'd refused to file a police report on the attack because what good could they do against a man that could turn into anything he touched?
Still, she had tried to call her father, but it had seemed she'd missed him. Perhaps it was luck that a concerned school nurse at the clinic had seen the dark marks circling around her neck and the scrapes and had feared that someone at school was to blame.
So it was likely that Erik, or someone at the Xavier Institute, would have received a phone call from a very polite, very concerned older woman in regards to his daughter's injuries.
*
The phone call wasn't taken by Erik, for the man wasn't home. However, the message was transcribed and delivered to where he's staying, in the city. A small team of X-Men had gone to Mutant Town following the massacre, in an effort to show support. While they certainly had their work cut out for them, a call from the Xavier Institute had Erik departing at once.
A berry red, '63 Jaguar 3.8 pulls down the long driveway. Its driver, dressed in a long trench coat complete with a hat that conceals much of his features, steps out, and his gait is purposeful and intense. For those who know Erik Lensherr well… it isn't a good sign. Not in the slightest.
There comes a rapping upon Lorna's door. It's not quite a bang, but it certainly isn't a polite knock either; somewhere between the two places, just as purposeful as the strong gait that led him there.
*
Lorna jumped at the knock on the door, startled enough out of her thoughts that all the metal in her room twitched with it. She was on the edge, between the slaughter in Mutant town and the thought that someone was after her to do her harm, she wasn't thinking straight. Which was why she was off the bed and reaching for a chair before she paused and sensed that magnetic draw that was her father's unique magnetic pulse.
So instead of freaking out, she exhaled once, and waved her hand. The lock on the door clicked and the door swung open without her having to actually get to the door. But that didn't mean that she wasn't already rushing over.
"Tata!" Tears prickled at her eyes and she tried to throw her arms around him and just cling there, shivering faintly as she exhaled shaky breaths.
*
The story came to him on the winds of — well, Tommy, the pale-haired speedster, one of the two young men to also call the Sanctum home. It came with a request in permission for clemency for one Lorna Dane, relation-apparent to the Sorcerer's Consort, which was granted within seconds of its querying. The mansion on Bleecker Street is a Mystical equivalent to Fort Knox and anyone who came thinking they were going to storm the place was quickly taught otherwise by wards and wily spells alike.
With permission granted came a promise to check in on the young woman and this entails a foray to the Frost Institute. Having never been there before, it's upon him to not just Gate onto the building like he would at the Xavier Institute. Charles is lenient with him on this matter; the Headmistress, a Miss Frost, wouldn't know him from Adam and seeing as both Lorna and Illyana attend the place, it is likely not without its defenses. His Gate spirals down and out of existence not far at all from the high-class car that is parked before the main entrance. Dressed in a dark Belstaff and with crimson scarf about his neck, he seems nothing more than a visitor — which is what he is, even if he does masquerade as civilian rather than Sorcerer Supreme.
His travels take him to the front desk of the Institute, where he quietly explains his reasoning for visiting. It's not quite a lie, asking to check in on Illyana Rasputina (seeing as he is — or was — her mentor), just happy happenstance that Lorna shares a room. That being said, he finds his way to the hallway and to the room in question, but…hearing voices, Strange pauses. It's Lorna, he recognizes that voice, but the man's voice — this is a new person. Instead of immediately inserting himself into the conversation, he pauses to lean on the wall within hearing range.
Should either Lorna or Erik note him, it's by the buckle at his belt. The Eye of Agamotto at his neck resists their powers, acting null in place of its metallic state.
*
"Lorna." Erik manages two steps before she's hugging up, and he wraps his arms around her, turning his head down so that he might kiss her on the top of her head. Whatever anger might be brewing deep within, it doesn't show yet. Instead, he simply presents himself for his daughter, allowing her to find what comfort she will in his embrace. It is likely to last for a long time, before he finally pulls away enough to inspect the damage to her neck.
He looks at it for a few fleeting moments, before seeing his daughter's eyes. There comes another silence, which is eventually broken by a quiet yet unnervingly strong voice. "Who did this?"
A strange thing tickles at the edges of his magnetokinetic awareness; a thing that does not fit. It brings the hairs on the back of his neck to stand up on end, but this deep within the Frost Institute, he is not worried. Still, that being said, a small item rustles deep within the left pocket of his trousers; an old Deutschmark, reserved for the promised vengeance upon the man who killed his mother. If danger comes to Lorna Dane… he might have to make an exception and use it twice.
*
A faint sniffle followed as Lorna clung to her father, and by the time that he lowered his grasp, pulling back to inspect the dark and livid marks on her neck, tears were bubbling up from those green eyes. Water splashed against her eyelashes and trickled down her cheeks and she rubbed at her nose with scabbed knuckles. Her lower lip trembled and she blinked back the blurriness of her tears as she struggled to answer.
"There was this guy.. he .. he was this guy that at Mutant Town when Tommy was helping me unload. But then.. the next d-day when I was in the park.. he showed up with giant iron ball and chains." She sniffled again, her throat bobbing with a warbly voice.
"He s-said th-that he .. that he was gonna h-hurt me 'c-cause I made someone angry. I didn't know he was gonna grab me. A-and I threw the a-a bench at him and he turned into iron.. and I-I got a-away.. B-but he.. he s-said someone wanted me dead.. I don't know why." She hiccupped, now crying quite openly.
"T-That it was supposed to be a-a message o-or something.."
*
Leaning as he is against the hallway beyond the cracked door, Strange glowers at the baseboards across the way as he listens.
Poor Lorna, it's exactly as Tommy relayed to him. He's still not certain as to the reason for the presence of the man inside, but as his light eyes flick up towards the door, he's beginning to wonder if this is Lorna's…guardian. Certainly it could be gleaned from the man's initial line of questioning and tone. Not enough information gathered, however, and so the Sorcerer chooses to remain where he is, continuing to listen with arms tightly crossed and hands folded away. No need to interrupt, not just yet.
*
"A message?" answers Erik, momentarily befuddled. He draws a deep breath and lets it loose with a long sigh. His hands rise to grasp Lorna's face, holding either cheek with a sense of warmness. Thumbs brush away her tears to the best of his ability, but when he shakes his head and speaks, the warmth isn't quite there in his voice, not fully. "This man does not yet comprehend the gravity of his actions."
Erik's hands drop to Lorna's shoulders, and he pulls her close again, wrapping his arms around her. His chin comes to rest upon her head, chest rising and falling with a measured rhythm. "I will not let him lay a hand on you again, my daughter," he promises her. Indeed, Erik is deeply considering a move that would guarantee he would never lay a hand on anyone again. Such a thing is difficult to do when one has no hands.
"You did well to defend yourself, my dear." He pulls away again, maintaining his grasp upon her shoulders while looking her in the eye again, his own dancing back and forth from one to the other. "Describe him to me."
*
Eyelashes fluttered as she tried to blink back tears as her father wiped away the ones on her cheeks. She sniffled, her features red and splotchy from her crying and she easily folded into his embrace a second time and just clung. Her arms winding around him and giving him a squeeze as she rested her cheek against his shirt. Listening to the measured beats of his heart.
As he pulled away again, she rubbed at her eyes, and bit her lower lip.
"I got distracted. He threw the b-ball at me a-and he was s-so dense, like solid iron. Heavy like a car." Of course she'd describe him in his iron form first, she'd sensed that inside and out.
"And he was really tall, and really muscular, he talked about being a wrestler before." She rubbed at the space between her eyes next, struggling to remember details. "And he's bald.. Uhm.. Tommy saw him too at Mutant Town." Her voice warbled slightly. "He called himself the Absorbing man.. a-an-and kept telling me to not fight h-im be-ecause so-someone else m-might c-come after me and k-k-i-kill me." She hiccupped.
*
Ah-hah, and there's his answer in a baritone succeeding in the lilt of the soothing care: the man is Lorna's father. Wait… The good Doctor stiffens in posture though doesn't detach from his nonchalant stance against the wall.
Father. Father to Lorna. If Lorna is cousin to Wanda, this is…gods below, this is Wanda's uncle. Wanda must…she must know about this man?
If curiosity killed the cat, it's the good Doctor's constant companion, immortal as he is. With a sigh, he prepares himself to meet yet another relation to the Maximoff bloodline and takes the few steps left to pause before the door. A polite knock-knock with a black-gloved hand and then a step in retreat, said hands returned to coat pockets.
"Miss Lorna? It's the Doctor. Tommy sent me," he calls out in order to be heard beyond the door. "He thought you might need assistance?"
*
Listening carefully, Erik nods his head once or twice, encouraging Lorna to keep talking. "The 'Absorbing Man'," he repeats, a detuned note to his normal baritone that suggests… dishonorable thoughts. He opens his mouth to speak again, but the rapping upon the door brings him pause.
Erik turns then to look at the door. He lifts a hand, and the door suddenly swings open, much faster than when Lorna committed the deed. Once it's done, Erik looks upon the man revealed, and folds his arms across his chest. One eyebrow lifts upward, and his neck turns so that he might judge Lorna's reaction to this visitor.
*
Lorna missed the deadly note in her father's voice, still trying to remember exactly what details she might have accidentally forgotten. Still, when the voice echos in the dorm room she perks up, her brows lifting upwards as her father swung the door open and stood with arms crossed. A sniffled, a hiccup, and Lorna rubbed at her nose, a strained smile on her lips.
"Hi Doctor. Tata, this is Doctor Strange. Miss Crystal took me with to meet him before. Apparently he's with Wanda? And Tommy's dad. And Tommy is Wanda's son." She added, as just in case he'd forgotten or wasn't sure which Tommy she was referring to.
"Tommy wanted me to get checked out since I said I didn't go to the hospital." She bit her lower lip. "But I dunno if you're that kinda Doctor or anything. It's okay. But he wanted me to stay with you 'till he found out where the guy is that hurt me.." She glanced at her father.
"It was his and Billy's idea."
*
The sudden swish of the door is surprising, especially given the disconnect of hand to any visible part of the door proper. The first impression is of a glaring man, clearly not happy to see him, and all the good Doctor can offer at first is a quick glare of his own before his expression melts into polite neutrality, one he practiced for years on end as a neurosurgeon. There is Lorna, in tears and sporting what appears to be bruises at her neck, standing before the man. Sympathy leeches into his eyes, taking away some of the steel in their grey-blue hues.
Then comes the barrage of introductions in which Strange has no say in what information is thrown out for inspection. He rolls his lips inwards against a correcting retort and instead, he lets Lorna finish out her thoughts. Clearing his throat, he approaches to the cusp of the door and no further. It seems Lorna's father would prefer the space, after all, and he's not about to force his presence where it's not needed.
"Yes, Mr. Dane, nice to meet you. I'm…Tommy's father and Wanda is my…girlfriend," he manages after a millisecond's pause, absolutely unable to offer up the term of 'Consort' to the man. Stellar impression he's making here, at least in the view of relationships. "I'm here on Tommy's recommendations. Lorna, you know of Illyana's abilities? I can offer the same, geared towards healing rather than…other things." Other things being summoning demons. His gaze rests on those splotchy marks and the knitting of his brows is unavoidable. "The Sanctum is, of course, open to you should you choose to take shelter there. I can keep her safe there," the good Doctor adds, addressing Erik now in a respectful tone.
*
Once Strange exhibits sympathy, Erik's steely expression wanes. It might be understandable for the man to consider any strange face a threat; his daughter's life is in jeopardy. It's a well known fact that the quickest way into a dangerous spot… is to put threat to a father's child.
Eventually, the tall man unfolds his arms and looks from Strange to Lorna; he's pinpointed that strange nullification in his senses now, but has the good sense not to begin staring at Strange's belt. No sense worrying the man into believing him to be a queer, after all. Erik may be European, but here in America, well… there's no telling what might trigger a sensitive response.
"Lehnsherr," he corrects the Doctor. "Erik. You…" He turns back to the Doctor, eyebrows rising in confusion. Tommy's… and Wanda's… if Wanda's cryptic revelations are true, that would… it… alright. For the moment, Erik just… files all of that away into a corner of his thoughts.
"I will not leave her side," Erik explains, and turns to move back and stand beside Lorna. "Not until I know she is safe." There seems to be no budging in his tone upon this subject, however, the stern demeanor melts into a softer demeanor that displays a deep sense of appreciation. "If you'll have us both," he offers, and turns from Strange to look at his daughter once more. "I think it might be safest for her to be somewhere this 'Absorbing Man' wouldn't think to suspect."
*
Lorna glanced between the two, green eyes rimmed with red and puffy from her tears. She still trembled every now and then, a hiccup escaping her lips in a tiny sound that had her wincing as it ached against the bruises on her throat. Her hands pressed against the splotches on her neck, far tinier than the livid marks that still remained there.
She didn't interrupt as her father spoke, though her brows furrowed faintly until he settled beside her. She leaned against him, biting her lower lip to fight off another hiccup. "Uhm.. can you? 'Cause sure.. Wanda already made my hair brown with magic. That won't cause trouble right? And Illyana I think did something to our dorm room. I dunno. It was confusing." She didn't understand magic, especially not when comparing all practitioners she knew.
A hand reached up to clasp at her father's, her gaze turning up to him.
"Tata.. aren't.. I.." She released a breath, any idea of a protest dying on her lips.
*
Annnnd there we go. Strange can practically read how Erik files away the facts and barely stops himself from giving an accepting nod for the judgment at hand. The man's names, last and first, are noted and he opens his mouth but for Lorna to chime in. A shrug and he glances to her father once more, this time nodding in agreement, at least in the sense of need for a protective presence. Over the years and through dabbling in the Mystic Arts, he's gained the ability to make a rough evaluation as to a person's character — for his own safety, since Mystics tend to be wily and weaselly sorts at worst, unpredictable at best — and he suspects that anyone who attempts to cross Erik's path aimed with the intent to hurt his daughter will quickly regret the decision. Good.
"I'll need to return to the Sanctum and prepare for your arrival, should you wish to accompany her," he explains to Erik. "Wanda should be forewarned as well. We don't get overnight guests often, you see, only passing visitors. Oh, and call me Stephen, please, Erik." Another courteous incline of his head towards the man before his attention shifts to Lorna.
Indeed, the young woman's hair is brown as can be, the standard shade, and he finally smirks. A simple change in hair color can pass — for now. "Your hair color currently doesn't have an impact on the Fate of Earth." His grin is slightly sardonic, ultimately good-humored. "No need to worry, Miss Lorna." Glancing behind him, the Sorcerer considers the empty hallway before raising a hand. In a swirling set of counter-gestures, he summons up a Gate beyond view of the door frame proper. The faint crackling can be heard like the rustling of paper burning. Glancing back at the two mutants, there's a hint of Mystical light in his eyes that changes them from dusky-blue towards frosted-violet. "It might be a bit cold, but it won't last long." A gloved hand rolls fluidly towards Lorna and even as he whispers the Word for the healing spell, a breath of sky-blue magic slithers towards the young woman. It should wreathe her neck with a brush of spring air and a shivering feeling of numbness that quickly fades away to reveal the complete regression of bruises and sore muscles alike, all within a triad of heartbeats.
"If you'll excuse me then. Miss Lorna, Erik." With a final polite nod, he turns on his heel and marches through the Gate which rapidly collapses into thin air.
*
Once it is secured that he will be permitted to accompany Lorna, Erik's intense expression fades in favor of a truly appreciative smile. He's a man of many talents and passions alike, but that dark spot at the center of his heart does not extend to another needlessly, and he would see to it that no harm come to anyone associated with Lorna. He nods his head slowly, and strides forward to offer his hand in greeting at last. "Stephen, then," he acknowledges. Crows feet rim at the edge of his eyes, a suggestion that brooding is certainly not the only expression he's familiar with. "Thank you."
When Strange admonishes Lorna on the color of her hair, Erik finds a sudden and unique opportunity to gang up on her. He turns to his daughter, eyebrow cocking upward in a conspiratorial manner. "I agree… the green wears better on you."
With that said, he turns back to Stephen in order to watch something truly fantastic. Erik has seen a few things… from occupied Poland to the hidden land of Attilan, but he's never seen a feat so mysterious and powerful as this.
The Master of Magnetism remains utterly quiet until Stephen has gone, and his silence even lingers a moment or two longer. He then turns partly toward Lorna, a smirk forming on his mouth. "This Absorbing 'Square' (Yes, that was a very bad attempt at using some of the lingo he's heard the kids using) has no idea who he's messing with." He nods his head and squeezes her shoulder for a moment. "Pack your things. I will wait outside."
*
The comments about her hair as the teenager pouting, and grasping at the perfectly brown locks with a pout aimed at her father. "Tata.." A drawn out tone known to teens everywhere as they were clearly put upon by parents that just didn't understand the finer points of fashion. Green simply clashed with everything in her wardrobe and not in a groovy way.
Then there was magic, and she blinked, her eyes going wide in a stunned fashion as she feels the chill sweep over her skin and the painful bruises vanish within moments. Her hands reached up, patting over the skin and finding it undamaged.
A smile pulled at her lips, before it lessened faintly at her father's attempt at slang and she shoots him a look, while trying to hide her smile.
"That's not how you use it tata," She groaned, before turning to collect her things and her books for class. She was gonna fall so far behind this semester.
*