How are things settling down in Thorne after everything?
What is your status?
Currently in a semi-unfinished bunker I helped construct.
Currently in a semi-unfinished bunker I helped construct.
i'm not sure if i should be offended that you left without saying anything
[Of course he’s no stranger to nightmares.
As a sorcerer, it’s difficult not to be harried in the dead of night by visions of the myriad ways in which the world might end. How the universe might shatter. The lives you might have led if you hadn’t tread the path you did. Dreams—back home, anyway—are sometimes just the lives of a variant, distant from your own.
But even before he was entrenched in the world of magic, even when he was a successful surgeon, he wasn’t immune from them. They simply took another shape — and more often than not, they took the shape that Stephen Strange is often experiencing now.
The crispness of winter, the large expanse of a frozen lake. The shine of a giant swath of frozen ice covering its surface, crystalline in the winter sun. He’s always standing in the middle of it, looking down. Seeing there, just beneath the surface of the lake, the face of his sister, pressed up against the ice, clawing at it with splayed fingers. Her face and hands so, so blue. Panic runs through Stephen’s system at the sight—it always does, it feels just like then, the helplessness—but he can’t move. He can only stand there, and stare, the rest of his body utterly frozen, as though he too were encased in ice.
When he wakes up from such nightmares, his heart beating drum-like in his chest, the corner of his eyes stinging wet, he always curses—]
Shit.
[And he can never fall back asleep. Sometimes he’ll read in bed, sometimes he’ll just stare at the ceiling above, or look out the window to see the bleak starkness of the night. But tonight? Tonight, he decides to move into the common area of their home, and—
God, he doesn’t know. Just go for a walk?
Along the way, however, he finds Thancred already awake and in the common room before him, and Stephen clears his throat.]
Rough night?
As a sorcerer, it’s difficult not to be harried in the dead of night by visions of the myriad ways in which the world might end. How the universe might shatter. The lives you might have led if you hadn’t tread the path you did. Dreams—back home, anyway—are sometimes just the lives of a variant, distant from your own.
But even before he was entrenched in the world of magic, even when he was a successful surgeon, he wasn’t immune from them. They simply took another shape — and more often than not, they took the shape that Stephen Strange is often experiencing now.
The crispness of winter, the large expanse of a frozen lake. The shine of a giant swath of frozen ice covering its surface, crystalline in the winter sun. He’s always standing in the middle of it, looking down. Seeing there, just beneath the surface of the lake, the face of his sister, pressed up against the ice, clawing at it with splayed fingers. Her face and hands so, so blue. Panic runs through Stephen’s system at the sight—it always does, it feels just like then, the helplessness—but he can’t move. He can only stand there, and stare, the rest of his body utterly frozen, as though he too were encased in ice.
When he wakes up from such nightmares, his heart beating drum-like in his chest, the corner of his eyes stinging wet, he always curses—]
Shit.
[And he can never fall back asleep. Sometimes he’ll read in bed, sometimes he’ll just stare at the ceiling above, or look out the window to see the bleak starkness of the night. But tonight? Tonight, he decides to move into the common area of their home, and—
God, he doesn’t know. Just go for a walk?
Along the way, however, he finds Thancred already awake and in the common room before him, and Stephen clears his throat.]
Rough night?
[ It's admittedly been a teensy bit longer than she would have preferred it to be. Art projects don't typically take this long for her to complete, but with everything that Abraxas has chose to throw at them, it's not wonder it takes her as long as it does to create as many cards as there are in in two functioning Triple Triad decks.
But the day arrives when they're complete and now that they are, the only right thing is to deliver them to the intended person. Or one of them at least. ]
𝘛𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘥, 𝘩𝘪! 𝘙𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘮𝘣𝘦𝘳 𝘮𝘦?
But the day arrives when they're complete and now that they are, the only right thing is to deliver them to the intended person. Or one of them at least. ]
𝘛𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘥, 𝘩𝘪! 𝘙𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘮𝘣𝘦𝘳 𝘮𝘦?
[ at some point over the wintertide & solstice season, shortly before their invitation and arrival to the nether, thancred will find a package delivered to his current home in nott, containing a handmade knitted gift for the occasions. she thinks she's funny for her choice. he's lucky she couldn't figure out how to give it a mouth full of teeth. ]
wrapped neatly and tied with a bow, please find inside a gray scarf with a green cactus woven in. there's only a short note that simply reads:
Happy Holidays
From Annabeth
A few hours after the portals close at the end of the event
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
cryptsleeper
2024-12-31 07:56 pm (UTC)(link)
Are you in Thorne right now????????
[It is with the word of "friend" that Dion wakes, quite suddenly, feeling as if a great weight is pressing down on him at the same moment that he feels as if some darkness around his heart has eased its hold. Was it only a dream? But it cannot be. At that last moment, he felt something... a pull. The same he feels in the Horizon.
Pray forgive my sudden message, but I must ask... are you well, Thancred? Unharmed? I had -- a startling dream, but I fear it was not a dream at all.
Pray forgive my sudden message, but I must ask... are you well, Thancred? Unharmed? I had -- a startling dream, but I fear it was not a dream at all.
[ Himeka normally takes time to write as neatly as possible (in stark contrast to her artistic abilities), but her current handwriting appears rushed. ]
Thancred! Where are you?
Thancred! Where are you?
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