1964-07-27 - Wishes of Luck and Joy
Summary: Amora asks Doctor Strange for a tiny, little, favor.
Related: None
Theme Song: None
strange amora 

The weather is too warm in the city proper. The Sanctum isn't stifling, but somehow, it is…and so the Sorcerer Supreme finds himself Gating out towards the coast. Beyond the reach of most development, his tear upon reality leads him to step forth into the fresh gust of salt-laden air off the Atlantic Ocean. The Montauk Lighthouse stands against the spray of the sea and its gales as it has since time of the first President. He dressed more warmly, with the crimson scarf about his neck and black bomber jacket against the possible chill. Otherwise, it's dress slacks and shoes, as always.

Leaning his forearms on the barrier between himself and the wave-slapped shoreline, Strange broods. Let's face it. He's good at it and here, at the edge of earth and ocean, he can indulge in it. His brows knit and he looks at the distant horizon, opposite of the sunset. What eldritch thoughts cross his mind, none but Fate knows.


Amora appeared in the reflection of the glass off the lighthouse. Her image flickering before she appeared in a more solid form, seemingto grow out from the relfection itself. A glitter of arcane light followed as she materialized, and a click of her heels followed. She wore a thin green dress, cut off at her knees, with a halter tie around the back of her neck. Flowers dotted her thick golden curls in a crown and a golden belt with loops in the shape of hearts swung low around her ample hips.

"Doctor, why so very glum looking?" She practically purred.

Her green eyes flickering over his figure as she mocked his pose with her own beside him. "Tell me your woes?" She fluttered those dark eyelashes' of her's, a wicked smile painted on her lips.


The scent of juniper and wine backflows around him, in opposition to the wind blowing inwards, and the Sorcerer Supreme drops his chin near to his chest as he sighs. A composed expression greets the Enchantress instead, his smile mild in the same manner that antifreeze might taste wonderful before causing slow kidney failure.

"Some of us have responsibilities beyond simply doing whatever we wish. Or whomever," Strange dares, truly in a mood. "I was mulling over possibilities and impossibilities both. Those are my woes." The curse of an overactive imagination — it's absolutely a double-edged sword.

"I'm going to do us both a favor and assume you're here beyond simply annoying me." He narrows his eyes.


Amora swatted at Strange lightly, rolling her eyes in a most put upon way at his comment of 'doing' whomever. "I would have you know I have turned down past bedfellows for my darling beloved. He asked it of me and I am in his graces for it. We are very happy." She sniffed once, fluffing golden hair over her shoulders. "We are exclusive." She added after a moment, as if that mattered greatly.

Then finally, her attention swung back to him. "I am leaving for a few weeks possibly. There's a meeting of the gods of passion, desire, lust, love and so on and so forth. We are concerned about what took place with the death gods. And unlike them are not interested in going to war with one another."


Not moving an inch, Strange appreciates the whift of her swat narrowly missing his arm. Oh good, there is some self-control on her part. A portion of his mind makes a mental note to thank the eldest Prince for this intervention — though why the Enchantress continues to haunt him is beyond him if they are a monogamous pairing now. Something to mull over once he has his lighthouse to himself again.

An arched eyebrow communicates his disbelief in her statement regardless. Sharp words are kept behind his teeth this time around, not needed for his general glower. Instead, diplomacy takes the front. "I can't imagine that the gods of such care for any death beyond the smallest sort. Why bring this to me?"


Amora rocked her shoulders back as her lifted her chin. "We would very much prefer our worshippers alive and well. Death makes them another's duty and not our own. However, our kind, in our domains are particularly ruthless if we wish it. I need to not share details, I am sure you are well aware, Doctor." She murmured, and stroked her hands up her arms and into her hair again, letting the sea breeze tease it up into the air around her.

"But I am worried about Thor. I have .. naught been so beyond reach before since he was returned to himself." She pursed her lips, "I could very well ask Loki or Kai.. but Loki is still a wanted man in Asgard. I.. if you could keep an eye on my beloved whilst I am gone and just.. check in to make sure he is well for me?"


Color the good Doctor intrigued and damnit it all. If the lift of his head doesn't show it, the shift in stance to a proper lean against the wooden railing, arms folded, certainly should.

"I don't need details, no, I'm privy to a goddess regularly." He must mean the Witch. "Keep watch on the eldest Prince of Asgard? He's not exactly helpless, Lady Amora. A check-in?" Strange sighs. "I'm sure I could engineer a reason to stop by the Embassy, but why? Do you suspect a threat upon his person that would exceed his personal guards?" Then, the Sorcerer snorts and waves a hand dismissively. "Who am I kidding, he never keeps his protectors about his person."


Amora inclined her head, wiggling her fingers around the railing of the lighthouse as she leaned against it. "He is weak to magical attacks beyond the wards I have established on the Embassy and beyond the ones in Asgard proper. I simply always assume there is someone out there that would target him. I have yet to be proven wrong in all my centuries on this. Only now, well, his brother is less likely to be said cause." She shrugged, and cocked a hip against the railing as she turned to face him.

"I merely ask that you check in, a scry or two. Ensure that at least, he needs no further help. As I said, I would ask this of Loki, but he is a wanted man and any hints of his magic may very well attract the wrong attention."


Strange tilts his head in a ho-hum manner before shrugging.

"I wouldn't scry, that's not effective enough. An illusion can meet an illusion and cancel out. I'd attend upon him in person if I chose to do so. I still have a petition of yours to put forth…or do I? Did this…decision on monogamy entail an increase in proper communication as well?" he asks, drawing a circle in Amora's general direction.

"You have no fear of me drawing any inappropriate attention to the Prince. Midgard's reality is stable." Said with all the usual confidence inherent to the man.


Amora exhaled a breath, rocking her weight back as her hands curled around the railings and she considered the far distant horizon. "Mmmm, there's no real need. I have discussed details with him well enough. After he was curious as to why you might stop in." A shrug followed, a delicate roll of her shoulders that sent her hair fluttering back behind her.

"A simple check in from time to time would greatly ease my concern for his well being. Thank you."


He has reason to be cautious, truly, but still — like the gentleman he is, he dips his head to the Enchantress and replies quietly,

"I find the Prince to be pleasant, if unpredictably-loud company. It is no hardship, especially in light of keeping peace between the Worlds. I suspect he'll survive your absence, Lady Amora," Strange adds, his lips rising into a ghost of a smile. "He's no toddler wobbling about attempting to pick fights with things much larger than himself."


Amora arched a golden brow upwards as she considered Strange, her magic pulled in to the point that beyond her natural beauty, there was no additional draw to her. She had taken pains to appear as she had, it was obvious. "No, he simply is the Prince and Crown-heir to Asgard and picks fights with things larger than himself." She murmured dryly.

"And most times he wins. He simply is not the best at diplomacy nor has much skill in defeating magic."


"I aware of the Prince's proclivities," Strange replies dryly, unable to resist smirking at her briefly. His eyes flick out to the distant horizon, where the moon has risen over the last few minutes.

"He will do as he pleases. I think you had better accept this in light of your decision to remain his and his alone. Stifling his nature by setting me as his guard bodes no good in the long term, I think, but — " and he holds up a scarred finger, " — I will check in on him one time. I cannot deviate from my duties as protector of reality here on Midgard to babysit him. And I owe you no favors," he adds, his solemn expression and sharp glance daring her to argue otherwise.


Amora glanced side long at Strange, her hands reaching up to comb through her hair as she considered his words. Her features leaning into the ocean breeze as she let it play about with the golden locks about her features. "Tis no favor for me, merely his highness." She murmured, "And thank you. He has guards. But I am still loathe to leave him without at least someone of the proper magical power to make sure all is well."

Her hands dropped as she leaned her weight back in her heels. "And I thank you for it."


The ocean breeze plays about his figure as well. The crimson scarf lifts momentarily, playing in the wake of the salty rush of air, before settling down docilely once again. Strange takes a moment to fix what bangs have been moved out of place, but ultimately for naught. That's one stubborn fringe. What a surprise, given the mulish nature of the one coiffed as such.

"You don't need to thank me, Lady Amora, though if you must…you're welcome." He says it somewhat stiffly, his brows unable to avoid the faint creasing of a frown. "It's part and parcel of my mantle as Sorcerer Supreme. Even without your intervention, he, as a visiting member of the Asgardian Court, is granted my protection from Mystical threats while on Midgard."


Amora inclined her head in a most imperious way, turning her gaze back out to the distant sea's horizon. "It is most appreciated to hear such words." She murmured, leaning forward against the railing and stretching a hand out. Her green tintd magic playing idly over the picture of the waves before her, a trailing of glittering dust that came and went with a trick of the light.

"I do not.. enjoy the thought of leaving for weeks without contact. Even though I recognize the need of it. Tis a diplomatic affair that is most important."


The Sorcerer watches the waves curl about the verdant magic and break without its touch, simple white foam crawling up the shoreline instead.

"I have reason to leave this reality every now and then, though not for long and I freely admit that the passing of time is different between the planes and realms, as you well know," he murmurs overtop the hiss and rush of the ocean. "Wanda guards in my stead. I fear little. Have faith in your Prince, Lady Amora. He would be unhappy to hear its lack." He looks to her, measuring and aloof as is his usual manner in her presence.


Amora flashed Strange a smile, and she exhaled a breath. "I do not ask for lack of faith, Doctor. Simply out of the fearful heart that dreads the thought of losing someone whom I have just found once more. I am.. happy. And I do not desire to lose him again." She glanced away, thick eyelashes fluttering.

"I wish you luck and joy with your Witch." She murmured, and vanished in a fount of glitter, smoke and arcane power.

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