Stephen glances over at her. They're not deeply acquainted yet, but he's started to get a better and better sense of the woman, the more time they spend together — what with Wanda taking up residence (or sanctuary) in the Sanctum Sanctorum, burying herself in the library and trying to understand more about her magic. Adding a bit of amiable chaos, both figurative and literal, to the sorcerers' lives here. It's been nice, having the company around; she helps as a tie-breaker whenever he and Wong are squabbling over something deeply banal, like which Spotify playlist to put on in the library.
But right now, he has a fair idea that she sounds sheepish and a little hesitant. He's pretty sure he understands. Her powers are like catching lightning in a jar and then not knowing what to do with it, not wanting to bite off more than she can chew.
For all that his duties relate to maintaining balance and harmony, he isn't all that good about self-moderation. When Stephen Strange saw a challenge, he liked to chase it. When he saw power, he wanted to seize it. So perhaps it's a good thing he's not the one trying to fix this on his own; he'd probably have already flooded Greenwich Village.
He makes a decision. Shakes out his damp sleeves and rolls them up. "I'll shore up the edges of the spell, contain it in the lobby so the water doesn't spill over into the parlour or kitchen or through the front door. And then you can take a crack at it."
The man starts to concentrate, a distracted expression crossing his face as he stitches together the threads of a containment spell. He knows the Sanctum like the back of his hand. He can stabilise the foyer. He can set the stage for Wanda to carve out her puzzle pieces.
no subject
Stephen glances over at her. They're not deeply acquainted yet, but he's started to get a better and better sense of the woman, the more time they spend together — what with Wanda taking up residence (or sanctuary) in the Sanctum Sanctorum, burying herself in the library and trying to understand more about her magic. Adding a bit of amiable chaos, both figurative and literal, to the sorcerers' lives here. It's been nice, having the company around; she helps as a tie-breaker whenever he and Wong are squabbling over something deeply banal, like which Spotify playlist to put on in the library.
But right now, he has a fair idea that she sounds sheepish and a little hesitant. He's pretty sure he understands. Her powers are like catching lightning in a jar and then not knowing what to do with it, not wanting to bite off more than she can chew.
For all that his duties relate to maintaining balance and harmony, he isn't all that good about self-moderation. When Stephen Strange saw a challenge, he liked to chase it. When he saw power, he wanted to seize it. So perhaps it's a good thing he's not the one trying to fix this on his own; he'd probably have already flooded Greenwich Village.
He makes a decision. Shakes out his damp sleeves and rolls them up. "I'll shore up the edges of the spell, contain it in the lobby so the water doesn't spill over into the parlour or kitchen or through the front door. And then you can take a crack at it."
The man starts to concentrate, a distracted expression crossing his face as he stitches together the threads of a containment spell. He knows the Sanctum like the back of his hand. He can stabilise the foyer. He can set the stage for Wanda to carve out her puzzle pieces.