|
  |
Well Gidget had made her way out of her apartment finally after her houseguest had left. Figuring a cab was 'safer', she'd give the address to the driver before she started to tie that black scarf to cover her hair and pushed those sunglasses on her face. It was probably best she tried to not wear the same black items of clothing she was wearing a black high collar wiggle dress and black heeled boots. Staring at the card she'd then shove it back into her handbag just in case.
As soon as she arrived, she hopped out of the car and paid the cabbie before those heels clicked up steps to make it to the door. Looking up at the building she seemed to be a bit nervous but just took a deep breath. "…calm, Gidge….we don't need an incident…." Slowly she would look the door over and rang the doorbell. Her hands having a deathgrip on that black handbag, she stood there nervously for a moment.
As she waited she touched her chest before she would just slowly stepped down from the steps and actually contemplated leaving. This was silly….some random home? Maybe the guy was playing a joke on her.
Invisible to those with no Mystical ilk, the wards of the Sanctum swish away to swirl about the Sorcerer as he makes his way down the Grand Staircase. Concern. Fashion. Black. Strange frowns to himself, attempting to parse out exactly who this might be before even opening the door. Alas, no luck, and thus, he pulls one of the large dark-wood doors open.
Imagine his surprise, his dark brows lifting high; the rest of his expression remains polite and he speaks formally as he stands in the doorway, broad-shouldered enough to block most of the view into the mansion.
"Ah, Miss Boileau. I didn't expect you." She's all in black, he's in a most interesting get-up. The family and friends of the Sorcerer Supreme will know it as the storm-blue battle-leathers of his mantle. Vaguely Scythian, complete with lapels and even the wrist-wraps in multi-hues of celestine, he looks the part of Shakespeare meets martial artist. About his waist, the gathering of multiple belts and boots on his feet made for traversing all dimension, not just the one they currently occupy.
As soon as that door opened she'd stop and cursed softly under her breath. So much for escaping. But then she heard the voice and blinked. Turning around she'd see him but frowned in confusion. "Um…..afternoon…." Slowly she would dig in her handbag for the card and just stared at it. "I think….I'm in the wrong place….." She'd shove it back into her purse then looked back at him. A tilt of her head and she'd smile. "….I like the outfit. Seems like you have plenty of arsenal for a party, Doctor….." She'd turn and waved her hand. "Sorry to disturb you though…..I don't know how I ended up here."
She's considered at where she stands for a moment and Strange finally cracks a half-smile, more knowing smirk than anything else.
"I don't hand out those cards lightly, so someone that I know well must have passed it on to you. You're in the right place if the address starts with 177A. This is Bleeker Street," and he idly gestures out to either side of the doorway, directing attention to the quiet afternoon bustle of this part of Greenwich Village. "Plus, they're only handed out if you've got a problem outside of the norm. So…Miss Boileau, you're welcome inside to discuss your issue over tea — if you'd like. Otherwise, I do have a check-list to complete. I don't wear this get-up as entertainment." For as delightfully archaic and decidedly esoteric as the battle-leathers are, he manages to retain a sense of dignity. They work.
She'd look around for a moment then slowly made her way up those stairs. "Some young man named….Pietro gave me the address…." She would trail off before she would watch him carefully. She had remembered what Robbie told her but at least felt like she could trust him…at least for now. Clearing her throat she would nod then as she stepped inside past him and nodded. "….thank you…." Once she stepped inside she would slowly pull that scarf off of her hair and then sunglasses before folding them up neatly into her purse. "I just don't know why he sent me here….I don't think a doctor can help my problem….no offense…"
Closing the door behind them both, Strange watches her divest herself of her glasses and hair-cover. The brother-in-law — Pietro may as well hold the title, considering his sister claims title of "Consort" to the Sorcerer Supreme — handing out cards. That's something new.
"Here, to the living room," he says first, leading the way into the foyer and then off to the left, through an open door. The room itself is airy, bright for the three tall windows lining the outer wall, and decorated with a conservative plush. What is present gleams and lacks the taste of knick-knackery. "Pietro would not have given you the card if your problem was something a mundane doctor could solve. My work extends beyond the mundane these days. Please, take a seat." He points to the high-backed chair on the left before the fire, charmingly called the "Petitioner's Chair" by the Witch. His own chair, on the right, bears the subtle indents of long use. Over the back of this particular chair is slung a crimson scarf, silk with a fringe. It lays there as if thrown lazily to hang…for now.
"What tea will you drink, if you'd like some? Also, cream, sugar? Honey?" The Sorcerer begins to work on his own cup even as he glances over at Gidget, his scarred hands working accurately despite lack of total attention. For himself, a black tea tasting of summer blackberries and the sprinkling of baking spices with a stir of honey through it, the golden syrup sourced from northern New York.
She'd silently follow him that foyer into the living room. She was quiet as she looked around taking in her surroundings. "…beautiful home…" She'd nervously hold onto that bag trying not to let her emotions get the best of her.
Looking him over she'd stare as she heard him but slowly sat down in the chair that was offered. Those brown eyes looked around for a bit before looking to him. "Oh…um….if I do it's some stuff my father got during the war. I don't know how common it is but….I'm fine thank you….."
Her hand went to her chest then as she felt that heat in her chest but good think she was wearing that thick dress. "I still need to go to that tea shop you were telling me about. They might sell what I have….." Trailing off she'd set her purse next to her and smiled.
"Mrs. O'Riley does have the widest selection of accurate tisanes I've met this side of the Atlantic Ocean," the good Doctor replies, giving the fashionista another passing smile before turning his attention back to his cup of tea. "If you change your mind, the bags are found here — " and he taps a finger upon the wicker basket, full of satchets with colored tags and labels; " — and the water never grows cool. Perk of a heating charm."
The clink-clink of the honey spoon upon his demi-tasse, to knock hanging drops from its silver surface, signals the preparation complete and he then goes to sit in his own chair, the "Listener's Chair" — again, dubbed so by the Witch. A sip, an appreciative hum, and he sets the cup aside on a saucer resting atop the side table. Each chair has its own, though only his has a small drawer. No one opens that drawer. Nobody.
"So, Miss Boileau. What's the issue?" With a booted ankle resting upon his other knee and hands folded across his lap, Strange is right at home in that chair, master of the manor wearing an expression of professional interest.
"Well….that's very good to know….." Shifting nervously she would look down at her lap, slowly pulling her hand bag back to her legs to rest then. "And thank you. I may take you up on that later…." Those brown eyes would peek at the basket then back to him. "….heating….charm?"
Gidget would then look over at him and sighed softly. Fidgeting she would look around as if making sure no one else is around then back to him. "I….can't explain….." She'd close her eyes then as she took a deep breath then as she put her hands to her chest. "….I can show you the simplest problem….." And with those words her hand bag started to lift from her lap up to about eye level. When she opened her eyes she'd look to the table next to her chair and would quickly slide itself onto it and then off to the floor. "…crap…."
Standing up quickly she would move to pick up her hand bag and sat it back down. Though faint, there was a golden glow coming from beneath that buttoned up dress near her chest. "I….I'm still trying to figure it out." Quickly she sat back down and looked to him. "There's other things too….one of the other two is…destructive…."
Up go the dark brows once more, though that's the extent of Strange's surprise at the events happening. The silvery wards slip out from the woodwork of the Sanctum's bones and linger above his chair, looking at most like dust caught in passing ray of sunlight.
"Heating charm, yes, on the teapot. I imbue it upon each new pot brought into the Sanctum. I don't have time to wait on the water to heat." The hand-bag is scrutinized by those steel-blue eyes and then he looks back to Gidget. "By your reaction to the levitation, you either didn't expect to gain this ability or you don't want to gain it in the first place. Be plain, Miss Boileau. I can't work with vague information. Tell me precisely what occurred and we'll see what I can do for you as Sorcerer Supreme."
Gidget would look at him and then raised her brow. Gidget frowned slightly as she stared at him. Finally she would unbutton her dress but stopped obviously very far from exposing anything that shouldn't have been. "Okay then…" She'd pull it open and tilted her head. On her chest was looked like a gold tattoo that slightly glowed on her chest. The symbol consisted of the Eye of Providence combined in a configuration of triangles and circles.
"Well let's see….this used to be a gold pendant that decided to imbed itself in my chest. First thing that happened is I tossed my friends like rag dolls, put up some…..barrier around me…..and then exploded." That purse of her started to shift but she looked and closed her eyes as she calmed herself. "It wasn't exactly on my bucket list of things to do….." Taking a deep breath she quickly buttoned up her dress and looked over at him finally. "I don't now how much more plain I can get….but it's rather frustrating and I'm tired of trashing my apartment everytime I have a panic attack….."
With a practiced distance to his once-over, stare lingering on the marking just long enough to begin to commit it to memory for subconscious musing, Strange then listens to her explanation. A minute nod, encouraging, and once she's finished speaking, he sighs.
"And you want these abilities removed from your person? It's simple enough, if so. I would treat it as an exorcism, in a sense, since the pendant is foreign to your person and you haven't accepted its presence. This is likely why it continues to react beyond your control."
Gidget would just stare at him then, her brow raising as she folded her arms across her chest. "….my friend that found info on the thing said it couldn't be removed…" Leaning back she'd cross her legs now as she watched him carefully. "….what if trying to take it out kills me? I may not have much of a life outside of work but I'd rather not be literally dead to the world." Running a a hand through her dark short hair she'd sigh a bit. "I got sent here because they thought you guys could help me figure out how to control…." Letting out somewhat frustrated laugh she'd shake her head, looking out the window. "I had just gotten used to this crap happening to…..I just don't now how to focus it."
"I have no interest in killing you, no." Strange laughs quietly to himself and shakes his head. "No faith in my abilities, tsk. Pietro must not have fully explained what I am and what I can do. No matter."
He shifts in his chair again, resting two fingers alongside one silvered temple now. The other hand drums fingertips upon the arm of the chair. "I need to know more still of this pendant before I can truly aid you. Since absorbing the pendant, do you hear voices? Or feel compulsions? Does it seem triggered by your emotions alone or is there a critical trigger point, such as blood pressure or heart-rate?"
"No offense, Doctor…but I had no idea it was even you I was meeting. He just gave this address….." A brow would raise then as ehe looked him over and nodded. "And you're right….no clue what you can do. All I know is you're a doctor I"m making a costume for…"
Relaxing she would just shake her head. "All I know is when I found it….I heard music but though it was coming from the house of the estate sale I was in." Clearing her throat she would continue on then. "No voices. No….compulsions. I just started to get headaches and then one day when I was just…overwhelmed at my friend's bar…..my headache got worse and all I knew is I wanted to get away. I was scared. And that's when stuff started flying….that….weird barrier thing surrounded me….then I exploded essentially." Clearing her throat she would shrug a bit and sighed. "It's always my emotions. Like I'm outwardly moving stuff that's agitating me or around me in the environment that's causing the agitation."
Strange raises a hand and shakes his head, still smiling faintly.
"I'm not offended, Miss Boileau. I don't go about waving my own flag. Please, continue," he interjects, before hearing of how mysterious music led to the bar incident.
Another nod and a click of his tongue. "I can offer you advice, of course, based on this information. It begins simply enough: control your emotions, control the immediate lash-out of the powers. If you were to consider practicing, I would begin with the telekinetic ability in an empty room with closed doors and a soft object, perhaps a couch pillow. Nothing sharp or that could injure upon impact for your safety. Focus upon the object once you've located the thread of power — or however you choose to process it: thread, thought, sentience, thing — and lift the pillow. Let it fall." He upturns the hand resting upon the arm of the chair. "Simple."
Sighing she would just close her eyes as she listened intently. There was silence as she seemed to be deep in thought. A hand going to her temple she would take a deep breath and chuckled. "I see….." Opening her eyes to look at him she would stand up and just shook her head. "I have no clue why your friend, I'm assuming, sent me here. If that was that easy I'd just dump out my poor studio apartment and practice." It was obvious she's frustrated with stuff acting out around her. "Thanks, doctor…." Chuckling she would shrug a bit then pause. "….Gabriella got you your costume, correct?" Grabbing her handbag she would open it up to pull out those shades and scarf. "I'm going to have to try to find somewhere to deal with it I think. My place is not conducive. Then it's the matter of the weird….barrier or as my….." She'd trail off then. What the heck was he? "….someone I'm seeing says, 'force field'…..and the whole exploding thing. I suppose you guys do this with trial and error….."
The Sorcerer lifts both hands, one from the resting place upon arm of chair, the other from its place upon his silvered temples.
"Unfortunately, Miss Boileau, it is that simple. You can either embrace your powers or fight against them. You are the architect of your own Fate through your own willpower." The hands land back where they rested before, at least briefly. "We, of the Mystic Arts, prefer not to do trial and error if it can be helped, but sometimes a little experimentation turns up the right results." He gets to his feet and remains standing by the chair, entirely formal still. "Pietro sent you here for a solution and one seems to have been decided upon. If you have friends who aren't afraid of your newfound abilities, enlist their aid, especially if they have powers of their own in turn. They may be able to check yours if it spirals out of control. In the future, if you feel that your abilities require more corrective measures, don't hesitate to stop by again. I always have tea available if you wish to simply chat as well."
He walks to the entrance to the foyer and pauses, turning to look back at her with a small smile. "Yes, Gabriella did get my costume and my thanks for your efforts, Miss Boileau. I intend to pass on your name should anyone ask. When do you need the rest of the deposit? I can get it to you whenever it is needed."
She'd shake her head as she situated her dress and nodded a bit then. She'd murmur to herself in French for a moment, then shook her head. "Forgive my….impatience…." She'd clear her throat as she took in everything that he said. What was she expecting when she got here anyway? Well not the good doctor but eh. "Thank you for at least….hearing me out at least. Though…I don't even know what a….Sorcerer Supreme is….does."
Following after him to the foyer then as she seemed to deep in thought before look up to him. "Oh you can drop that tomorrow at the office. I haven't been there since the…incident but I do pop in after hours." Hesitating she would then nibble her bottom lip and nodded. "If you…." She'd stop then and looked up. "Are you wearing this around….everyday people or……I just need to know so I can tell you who to tell made it….."
Strange pauses before the front doors and hears her out. That little smile, solicitous, never shifts in intensity.
"I would be attending an event with guests both Mystical and mundane ilk alike. If you have no issue with the Fae or a shifter arriving and asking after your work, I can tell them of your name alone. If not, I respect this as well. Regardless, the remainder of your fee will be in your hands tomorrow if not sooner." He inhales and sighs, shifting his weight to one foot.
"Change, especially abrupt change, challenges us all, Miss Boileau. Don't apologize. Frustration is natural, but in your case, must be overcome. I have faith in you." His irises suddenly take on a faint glow, their hue melting to a brighter violet color. He looks her over again and nods, mostly to himself. "The Sorcerer Supreme protects this world from invasion by Mystical entities, from within and beyond this dimension. It is my job to keep the Fate of this world upon its road and allow none to divert it. To do this, I utilize the Mystic Arts — what you might call 'magic', not sleight of hand in the least — as well as the power of the gods." The shrug is absolutely normal even if the explanation might defy usual logic. "It's a day-job."