1964-10-10 - Tea Shop Tango
Summary: Amora goes to Strange for help in finding out what the Mandalay Gem is
Related: If there are no related logs, put 'None', — please don't leave blank!
Theme Song: None
amora strange 

A dreary day calls for a cup of tea and where else to find a fine tisane than O'Riley Tea Shop? For once, it's fairly crowded. Strange managed to corral his chair and table in the usual place, back to the wall, and for once, he's without a book in hand. Instead, he sips at his green tea, redolent of citrus and jasmine; the barest kiss of blackberries gives it a fruity sweetness and tempts the mind to consider the doldrums of lazy summer, now in the past.

He watches the rain drops drag down the wide glass windows in their sterling rivulets and frowns to himself. The expression is foreboding enough to keep folk out of his business and he's been looking beyond the panes for near to an hour now, only disturbed once by old Mrs. O'Riley bringing him more hot water.

Teasing the threads — that's what he's doing now, putting metaphysical touch to the pulse-point of his reality. Something is disturbing it, sending vibrations along the tendrils, and it's not making him happy.

Amora appeared in a shimmer of light, one that for once, was not visible to the mortals. She appeared redolent of a goddess at ease. A gossamer green gown that hugged her curves and dipped low past her bust. A tiny chain of intricate knots fastened below her bust and dripped with tiny emeralds that glowed. She was practically soaked in magic. Charms hung on her in a heavy, oppressive air, almost to the point that one could smell it in the air.

Overall of that came the musty scent of old books, and dust that came with intensive hours of pouring over tombs old enough that most should have crumbled centuries ago, and would have, if they were not magic either.

And beyond all of that, was a pinched expression at the corners of her eyes. One that told of tension and worry unchecked that had dogged her for the past few weeks. In her hand was a chalice of some kind or another, and she sipped it delicately. The other hand drumming against the table as she reclined in a chair that appeared just for her.

"You know darling, tis a rather bother to find you without that little bit of spell work. I have been searching for you for some time. Dreadfully annoying." She purred.

The sparkle in the corner of his eye brings him, of course, to glance over as the Enchantress appears in her usual abrupt manner. No jump this time; perhaps the peripheral vision warned him just enough. It's in favor of Amora, however, for instead of a proper glower, she gets a lift of his tea cup and a sip in silence before he replies,

"All the better to vex you, my dear. You should count yourself lucky that I was able to talk the Witch down. It could have become an inter-world fiasco shortly. Still, here you are," he gestures an empty hand towards her lazily, " — and here I am. Something weighs on your mind?" The bland tone is surely deflection at its finest, the only real way to avert the Asgardian's propensity to treat him as a toy. Only his eyes fail to hide the glint of wary interest.

Amora sighed as if she were much put upon, and flutters her eyelashes, her free hand rising from the table to trail down the side of her neck and downwards… She glanced back toward Strange. "I shall take it as a compliment that you work to vex me so. It means you think of me, and that is some measure of comfort I suppose." The humor in her voice lent credit to the idea that she knew better.

Still, it was in her nature to prod and flirt and push boundaries. Even if she no longer so much as touched the man.

Then she was sittin up, leaning forward and dipping her finger into he chalice. As if tasting it, ran her finger along the edge of her lips. A spell coming to life and fading there. "Know I speak truly, and without lies. I fear for Asgard and all our lives. The veils between worlds have been shorn. I watched as their Prince-Thor died in mine beloved's arms. He spoke of the Mandalay Jewel. And I know it not. I formally ask for your aid."

The air in the tea shop flickers to the magic acting as aversion to twists of tongue. Strange completely brings his focus upon Amora, not too unlike an eagle narrowing attention upon an object of interest, and once she's spoken her piece, the air again frissons. People glance up and around, wondering at the fleeting sensation of their fine hairs rising to passing pressure, and he closes his eyes briefly. A veneer of weariness passes through his expression before the well-known steel settles in. His aura settles down once more, slowly moving about him, bringing to mind the old adage that still waters run deep.

"The gods be damned," he whispers to himself as he sits up straighter in his chair. Eyes now faintly a-glow with the Arts rest upon her. "This confirms my own suspicions. The weave of my reality trembles. Still, I heard you correctly, Lady Amora? Their Prince? The true Prince remains alive at this time?" All the while, he racks his memories for anything in regards to the Mandalay Jewel.

Amora pursed her lips, and nodded slowly. "Aye, he should be. Unless reality has bled over and their world is attempting to become ours. Attempting to make the two one." She exhaled a breath. "In which case I fear I shall be of little help or use. Their Prince died, and named Loki and I his bane. Their world was set on a far darker path. The two that were made whole, were once more broken. And sought to take control." She traced a path of condensation on the edges of the chalice that remained on the table.

It's image flickered and vanished. Her expression twisting briefly in anger and annoyance. "I have spent what knowledge and resources I have, and I have never heard tale of this jewel. Tis not of Asgard nor her realms. It's powers must be great if their world's Thanos sought it out."

|ROLL| Strange +rolls 1d100 for: 1

The name of the Mad Titan is enough to put the Sorcerer more on edge. The edges of his enamel squeak past one another before he quits the action, knowing it will only tip him to the point of a proper headache. Still, his cheekbones stand out for his displeasure at the chaos infringing upon his Realm proper.

Still, in the end of rifling through the section of memories dedicated to enchanted gemstones, he finds nothing of interest or use — and gets another titch grumpier for it.

"Vishanti spare me from parallel universes and weaponry from other worlds," he growls before taking a huge sip of his tea, all but draining the cup. "Nothing comes to mind in regards to the Mandalay Gem, Lady Amora, which means that, indeed, it isn't from Midgard either. Your search likely lies beyond our borders and those of Asgard. However, your concern as to this universe's infringing upon my own borders is noted and will be addressed forthwith, I assure you." Another crackle of power, visible to her eyes, dances through his aura like lightning hidden away in thunderclouds. "What of Prince Thor? What does the Royal family intend?"

Amora leaned away in her chair, sitting up as she let her hands fall to her lap. The soft tinkling of her jewerly echoed in the silence as Strange ran down the list of his knowledge on magical items. And came up blank. Golden brows furrowed at his response, her expression growing ever more concerned before her mask slipped back into place. Her jaw tightening in faint glimmers of determination. She would find out what the gem was, even if it meant she had to go beyond the stars.

"I know not. He means to fight the portals. That much I know. I had to hold a barrier up against the largest in the very center of Asgard as it formed. The All-father was able to seal off the doors, but t'was a close thing. Thor nearly remained on the otherside, attempting to save Asgardians that were fleeing." Her tone of voice made her irritation at the stubborn, and well intentioned Prince quite clear.

"I have been occupied searching my scrolls and that of the other wells of knowledge within the Nine Realms. None have bore fruit. I saved Midgard last for 'tis a realm that holds little and less magical works and artifacts than most." She exhaled a breath, and shoved golden locks back from her features.

Strange nods to himself, taking solace in hearing that the crown Prince did his damndest to save whom he could before the closure occurred. A being near and dear to his heart, and the unspoken brother gains more laud for his actions.

"I'm glad to hear that the Prince and the All-Father were able to stem the tide. Still…for what few artifacts we hold here, think no less of us, Enchantress. We may be human, but we are mighty in the end," he reminds her coolly. "And I can't be perfect, despite everyone's wishes, all of the time. It would set an unreasonable standard." The slip of keen amusement gives him reason to smile thinly before settling back into grave musing. "I know you formally asked of my aid and I grant it as I can. My mantle may take me to the front lines of my Reality rather than into my tomes, Lady Amora, be mindful of this. Your search for information on the gemstone may need to continue of your own volition and perhaps beyond even Midgard itself."

Amora flashed Strange an irritated look, even as she reached out to settle her hands upon the chalice. "If their world had such an object, it stands to reason our reality does as well. I shall do more than find what it is, if I venture that far. I shall find it. And I shall return it to Asgard. If it is the reason for the fissures, then it stands to reason it shall close them."

Though even as she spoke, she sounded half convinced. Worried even. There was some haunted in her eyes.

"I think less of the mortal realm for a great deal more than it's lack of magical artifacts of great power, Doctor." She murmured, looking more like her old self as she dismissed the chalice as it fizzed in and out of reality. As if she couldn't stand the fact it seemed to want to realgin with the alternative reality that was threatening Asgard.

"And yet you come asking my aid, for considering us all so much lower than yourself," Strange replies with cutting dispassion of tone, giving her a look devoid of any form of awe. "How shameful, your stooping. Prince Thor would be displeased to hear of it, I'm sure, what with his myriad reasons for courting my aid time and time again."

He shifts in his seat, resting a silvered temple against fingertips as he continues to eye Amora with that same lack of ruffled feathers. "I don't disagree that parallel universes often contain twins of powerful artifacts. You're certain to find it eventually and yes, I agree — its presence will likely counteract the actions of its twin from another reality entirely. Be mindful of magical feedback," he adds, likely knowing full-well that the Enchantress knows of the concept, probably simply to needle her further. …okay, to totally needle her further. He's in a mood. Still, diplomacy reigns in the end. "If I find any information regarding the Mandalay Jewel, I will be in contact with you post-haste."

Amora gave Strange a flat look. "Your aid is not the realm's pathetic attempts at brewing and cooking. Which can never rival the realm eternal." Clearly, that was what truly mattered in Amora's estimates. "Tis a poor reflection of stronger, more potent," Her voice dropped as she trailed her eyes over Strange's personage. "..Brews." She drawled.

Then she was smiling that hooked smile. "Which my beloved Thunderer has time and again agreed with me on." She added with a little flutter of her eyelashes. A toss of golden locks over her shoulders followed as she leaned forward. Her hands spreading out to drape over the table's edge. Just as she made sure that certain, the dip of her dress pulled as she leaned.

"But your aid?" She mused, her fingers moving to trace over her arms. "Aye, the Thunderer enjoys it. So much so, I am certain when he is King that he shall be ready for an alliance yet. We have spoken a good deal about such things. To aid the realms." She smiled, and it was anything but kindly. "Midgard included."

Then she was leaning back and fluffing her hair. "I shall wait with baited breath for your news if you find aught concerning the gem."

The bronze key on its thin chain about his neck seems to glow in warning beneath the layers of dress shirt and Belstaff alike for the Enchantress's actions. Strange's cool gaze never drops below her nose, even if his metaphorical hackles rise at old actions that once put strain on his person. He remembers that unsettling once-over well enough, mincing mockery with flattery into a fine balm set to poison wits. A faint click of his tongue can be heard as he unsticks it from the roof of his mouth.

"I'll be certain to discuss the appropriate level of aid to grant with his highness. In regards to our Midgardian brews…it seems you haven't had a chance to properly sample them. A shame," and he shrugs, aiming a knife-like smile in her direction. "But yes, you will be privy to any information I find. Anything else I can aid you with at this time, Lady Amora?" The question is asked so very drily.

Amora seemed utterly delighted at the Sorceror's annoyance and irriation. It was an old game, one that she took such pleasure in. Even if there was no more intent behind it than a cat well fed and contented. Even so, the banter seemed to warm her expression to a fine point. One of utter amusement as she dragged her lower lip between her teeth and slowly released it. "Mm, Doctor. You should show me some of the finer samples then sometime." She rolled her shoulders back.

She fluffed her hair and laughed a soft, velvety sound that had melted lesser men. Of course, it never seemed to have such an effect on the Doctor. Which perhaps, was why she used it.

"For the moment, I have little else to ask of you. At least formally. I do so love our chats, my darling."

"Mmm." His smile is absolutely forced, not reaching his eyes for all they glint like crystal facets. "Indeed, these are delightful chats. Unfortunately, I have a Realm to protect and cannot help you with sampling such exquisite rarities on Midgard. You'll need to look to your Prince for such a thing."

There the Sorcerer sits, wearing that cutting smile, and then he sighs, shifting to reach for the teapot. He pours himself a warmer on what herbs still sit in the bottom of his cup and murmurs, "Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to meditate on where the incursion of this alternative reality may come. There are a good number of folks in here aware of your presence, so mind the manner in which you leave. I don't want to speak to the police about hallucinogens in Mrs. O'Riley's teas and will take it as a sleight. May I suggest walking out the door before you vanish yourself entirely." It's a rather pointed suggestion for the subtle underlay of stone beneath it.

Amora reached up a hand to drag through golden locks, catching sight of herself in the window's reflection she blew a kiss to herself and glanced side long back at Strange. She flashed him a sharp grin, all white teeth, and rolled her shoulder back again. A half shrug that left her sleeve slipping over the side and exposing her shoulder. "You are utterly right, of course. I really should ask him for such delights." She smirked, and it was all at once flirtatious and coy.

"I would love to leave by the door, however, I am not truly here. Tis only a projection." She wiggled her fingers in his direction.

"As always darling, lovely to chat with you. Tata." She winked and vanished with another subtle glimmer and was gone.

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