( stephen is easy to find, mantled in red against the earth tones and spring greens of their surroundings, just the person mccoy beelines to, bearing cold dewdrop tea for him, and a dry statement. )
[ Asked wryly of the tea, but he accepts it gladly into a plant-wrapped hand regardless of how sober it'll leave him, expression layering gratitude over the remains of frustrated tension. Lightly, as though it's an entirely unrelated question: ]
Did you know Joel Miller's my roommate?
[ What a time to be alive. But they are alive, with an orb under their belt and hope in their hands, and despite the odds and the arguments and how much of his time now is dedicated to pouring everything into the door that, if hope bears fruit, will see the Hivawei off of this planet in time to save them - Stephen looks as energised as he is exhausted.
A lift of tea in toast, little smirk hooked into the corner of his mouth as he brings it up to sip. ]
[Natasha considers checking in person, maybe bringing a breakfast sandwich or a bagel, something like that, but ultimately decides against it. If Strange isn't up to company yet, easier to ignore a call or to get back to her at his convenience.
But she does check in. In the hours and days after the evacuation, there's bound to be some feelings floating about and unfortunately this sort of situation, it's sort of familiar to both of them.]
I hope you're resting up. Seems like just about all of the magical types are exhausted about now.
It's both unexpected and - not completely a surprise when Natasha Romanoff appears behind his eyelids. As it happens, he is resting at the moment the message reaches him, eyes closed and breath measured in not-quite-meditation as he begins to make a plan for the rest of his day.
So it's easy enough to respond, the visual indeed one of a man who appears to have had at least 8 hours of sleep (though with the sleep deficit this mission left so many of them with, that may not really be much of a boast.) ]
I'm resting.
[ He doesn't speak to the exhaustion, partially because he's managing it and partially because it's not the worst he's felt the morning after a hard week at work. What he says instead is - ]
How about you? That mission wasn't a breeze for any of us.
[ Said lightly. You can't play doctor at a doctor and expect not the have the turns tabled, Romanoff. ]
[ The video opens up on everyone's best friend, Cloaky, carefully upending a plate of gingerbread cookies into a fold of his fabric-body. A few fall to the ground, cracking unceremoniously into crumbs.
[As Steven Strange leaves his room for the new mission, he will find himself either narrowly avoiding or walking straight into the prank stretched across his room door: nice, transparent, beautifully durable plastic wrap. Be careful, bro.
But to even things out a little, Cloak is given a new little metal box with buttons — Hotel California is now American Pie by Don McLean, yes, but more importantly, there's a dangerous button that houses the Crazy Frog Song.
Gina helped get some of the older kids talking. It looks like Ghost Matter causes an autoimmune disease. They were pretty vague about the symptoms, but from what they described it’s pretty typical of those kinds of disorders on Earth. Slow to start, but without effective treatment the body turns against itself and shuts down.
Could be more to it, but the children aren’t going to know.
I looked through the orphanage files, too. Everything looks to be on the up and up there. If the government is involved in anything sketchy, they aren’t leaving a paper trail here.
[ An autoimmune disease... well, that's awful, but it certainly tracks. Makes for sense for a substance to trigger the body turning on itself than for the substance itself to be doing the harm when the symptoms he's heard tell of from the people at his support groups have all largely seemed so disparate. ]
Thank you. I'd love to say I had something to offer in return, but no dice yet.
How are things going over there? Enjoying being back in the saddle?
[ marta would never be so comfortable as to say life on the ximilia has ever been easy, but it would be a lie to say the team's inevitable return to the station weren't occasions she looked forward to. more often than not, the planets they would have to visit were so jarring that marta would eventually grow to miss the fluorescent lighting and metal walls of the ximilia... at least it was familiar.
all that to say, she's been uneasy since their return from naephus, and it wasn't even entirely because of the strange memory trips the scattered orb shards were forcing upon them all. she rather missed the arm chair she'd pilfered for her room, her stack of weathered books she'd begun collecting.
at least the kitchen still stocked coffee. seems even the previous team had their shared vices.
she's cradling a mug of it between her hands when footsteps into the space causes her to turn. the man she recognizes from his times in the network during missions, but he might not recognize her in turn. ]
[ It's been one hell of a day. By the time he realises he hasn't eaten in a while it's been eight hours, a few memories tossed back and forth, a glimpse into a possible future and a panic attack since he last took a chew of dehydrated space food or a slurp of extra-terrestrial mush, and with no small amount of displeasure about it he drags himself up from the moderately comfortable corner he's found for himself and makes the trip to the kitchen.
He's not really expecting company, though time is hard to keep track of aboard the Ximilia at the best of times and even harder to be ruled by. So when he finds the kitchen occupied he hesitates only for the briefest moment to see if the intrusion's going to cause anyone a problem - no, apparently not - before nodding his greeting and venturing more properly inside.
He recognises her. It's difficult not to when the quarters they all keep are close and he's so intent on having a handle on his own surroundings - but she's right that they've yet to really meet. ]
Stephen. [ There are certain people he'll leave to stand on formalities, but she's already greeted him with his title. No need to hammer it home. Instead he comes to a halt stop close enough to offer out a scarred hand. ] Pleased to officially meet you, Marta.
[ The smile is small, a little tired, but amicable. He figures he'll get a pass for the lack of extra enthusiasm, circumstances being what they are. ]
listen, strange. in approx. 1 minute i'm gonna call you up and act like we are part of a secret cabal of hybrid cubit chimeras. we were created by Professor Warren Ampersand and you and I are basically brothers. there are others like us, but we probably shouldn't give out any names. just, go along with it. i'll explain later. also, you can make magic cages, right? i'm just gonna assume that's something you can do.
tl;dr i need you to help me kidnap a lady. please hold for coordinates ty
[ One minute you're minding your business, taking a backseat, putting the (vacat)ion in mission. The next, a dog is dropping you a new mission file ft. elaborate backstory in preparation for a criminal undertaking.
Well. It was nice while it lasted. ]
Fun. Can't wait
[ The yes on the magic cages is silent. ]
Edited (mobile robbing me of seeing your edit don't mind ME) 2023-07-21 19:31 (UTC)
[ so here's the deal: lúthien, having first witnessed stephen help make the portals in ciraiwei as she assisted the locals on their way to them, and then having seen the man be completely unable to force some cubits to leave him alone in a forest some weeks ago — well, she believes she has formed a good picture of the man: incapable of not helping, and also in possession of portal magic.
and her situation being, currently, sitting in a holding cell in the wimseyview guard center... well.
form a picture. ]
Hello, Doctor Strange? [ he may not know it, but that is written as if "doctor" is his first name. she'd heard him called that, and just... assumed that was his name. tmw doctor's don't exist in tolkienland and she has persisted calling those of the same profession "healers" even in her time aboard the ximilia. ]
This is Lúthien. [ does he know her name? perhaps not, but she wonders if he saw her singing in ciraiwei, and decides to give it anyway. besides, it's polite, isn't it? ] May I bother you just a little? I find I am in need of some assistance.
[ He's got just about everyone's name on the Ximilia down at this point, irrespective of whether or not he's shared two words with them, so though he doesn't immediately know who to match up with the username, when she names herself the face clicks into place.
And then the request comes for assistance. It doesn't seem too urgent given the language, but his answer still comes with a wry edge that doesn't necessarily translate into text: ]
Bother away. Though if you're in imminent danger of being shot or otherwise harmed, I'd appreciate it if you lead with that.
[It's slow-going and comfortable on the Hawking this evening, which means the crew's taking advantage of the warm winds and temperate weather. There are games to be played, songs to be danced to; the faint strains of the twin captains' violin and voices carry across the deck as the ship drifts lazily into the painted colors of the red-pink-orange sunset.
And Yujin, one drink in, has a personal goal to fulfill while everybody else is distracted.]
It's a nice night, Stephen. Come up to the deck if you aren't up here already.
By the way... could I ask a small favor of you? It's not much, I promise.
I forgot this was going to happen I'm weakened and unprepared
[ Stephen, for his part, has been taking the merriment upstairs as an opportunity to enjoy a little solitude below decks. Not that he's disinterested in the lighter nights here, but the library's very rarely not busy. It's best to take your chances where they come.
He's the bulk of the way through a chapter when Yujin's words filter into his focus, and he sets the book down - the intrigue of one text giving easy way to that of another. ]
[ It's not so much as Jake didn't drink back in Ooo. He absolutely did -- strawberry wine, wizard sap, elder toad juice. You could get crunked up on plenty back home.
That being said, mead? Mead basically tasted like candy. Extremely high-proof candy. Add in the fact that Jake was spending half his pickpocketed loot on chocolate, and the effect had all the concentrated power as a triple vodka spiked with ten redbulls. Or, y'know, one Four Loko.
Feeling especially chatty after his second pitcher, Jake's mental rolodex spins until landing on the a certain goatee'd wizard. If you couldn't drunk dial the guy who shaved you to get matching tattoos, who could you drunk dial?
And lo, so unleashes the wall of sound that was Jake's drunken stream of consciousness. ]
Mr. Strange!!!! How are you doing? Are you settled in well? This mission is a little spooky so I wanted to make sure my new friends are safe! ε=ε=ε=(~￣▽￣)~
[On the station, every kiss had felt like one stolen. There was always something: some new issue in the infirmary, another crewmate knocking at the door. The real privacy they now share feels like an incredible luxury, even moreso after weeks of restraint. In retrospect, this last week feels like a waste. Trying to delay the inevitable was a fool's errand. They were the ones who'd wanted to live under one roof, weren't they?
But he has Stephen now. They can make up for lost time, easy.
Yujin laughs quietly, breathlessly, at Stephen's words. Always quick-witted, this one. At first, Yujin doesn't answer, merely relishing in the feeling of closeness, their foreheads resting against each other. Then he angles away. A moment later he renews that closeness, intensifies it. Yujin reaches out to touch Stephen's body, a broad hand mapping its way across his chest; he presses a kiss to the line of Stephen's jaw. Any lower and he'll feel Stephen's heartbeat, thrumming quietly just below the skin.]
Whatever we like, for once. [murmurs Yujin.] I'm not picky.
I'm only sorry that it took me EIGHTY YEARS to return, here we go
[ An unsteady exhale as close comfort shifts into something else: Yujin's hand at his chest, his mouth pressed to his jaw making unspoken promises that for once they're going to keep. It's not as though they've not been close before. He can't make a single claim to innocence with or independent of Yujin Mikotoba, but this isn't kisses thieved in briefly empty corridors, isn't barely daring to put hands to skin under threat of a crewmate finding them with their hands shoved into the folds of one another's clothes like a pair of frantic teenagers.
They're not teenagers. Neither of them have been teenagers for a very long time. And here the surroundings finally suit - suit a little too well, maybe, for either of them, but the illusion's nice. A house of their own. A bedroom with one bed, soft sheets, curtains pulled across a window to the outside world.
One hand moves to card his fingers into the hair behind Yujin's ear while the other stretches out, avoiding the glasses at his bedside to switch on the little lamp, cast a small warm glow over the pair of them as he angles his chin aside to encourage Yujin's quiet exploration. ]
[For safety, much of the crew still out in the wastes sticks pretty close together. Stephen's definitely seen Yujin around camp this morning, but there's an hour or two of conspicuous silence before he sends this odd video of... not Yujin's face, but his hat in the distance?]
I think something's happened to me, Stephen. Watch.
[A second of silence. Then Yujin clearly enunciates:]
I don't want to lose my hat.
[As soon as the words leave his mouth, the hat perks up, like it's been caught in a gust of wind. Just a moment later the hat hurtles toward the camera--] Gah! Wait! [--before smacking into what is evidently Yujin's face with a muffled fabric slap.
He slaps it away, but instead of hitting the ground, his hat sort of... hovers near his feet, waiting attentively like an obedient pet.]
[ He's not sure what he's expecting when the connection opens. A check in, an update... not a hat. He's squinting at the feed to check he's got the right idea when Yujin speaks the fateful words that very rapidly make it easier to confirm that yes, indeed, that is Yujin's hat— ]
Did you just -
[ He should ask if he's alright, probably, but that hat is not on the ground. The cloak floats over, hovering nearby at his puzzled expression, and he lets his focus shift between his own floating clothing item and Yujin's for a moment before his focus locks onto their shared feed. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
action; post-network spats
Welcome to the Ximilia, Doctor.
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[ Asked wryly of the tea, but he accepts it gladly into a plant-wrapped hand regardless of how sober it'll leave him, expression layering gratitude over the remains of frustrated tension. Lightly, as though it's an entirely unrelated question: ]
Did you know Joel Miller's my roommate?
[ What a time to be alive. But they are alive, with an orb under their belt and hope in their hands, and despite the odds and the arguments and how much of his time now is dedicated to pouring everything into the door that, if hope bears fruit, will see the Hivawei off of this planet in time to save them - Stephen looks as energised as he is exhausted.
A lift of tea in toast, little smirk hooked into the corner of his mouth as he brings it up to sip. ]
video; un: romanoff | post-mission
But she does check in. In the hours and days after the evacuation, there's bound to be some feelings floating about and unfortunately this sort of situation, it's sort of familiar to both of them.]
I hope you're resting up. Seems like just about all of the magical types are exhausted about now.
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It's both unexpected and - not completely a surprise when Natasha Romanoff appears behind his eyelids. As it happens, he is resting at the moment the message reaches him, eyes closed and breath measured in not-quite-meditation as he begins to make a plan for the rest of his day.
So it's easy enough to respond, the visual indeed one of a man who appears to have had at least 8 hours of sleep (though with the sleep deficit this mission left so many of them with, that may not really be much of a boast.) ]
I'm resting.
[ He doesn't speak to the exhaustion, partially because he's managing it and partially because it's not the worst he's felt the morning after a hard week at work. What he says instead is - ]
How about you? That mission wasn't a breeze for any of us.
[ Said lightly. You can't play doctor at a doctor and expect not the have the turns tabled, Romanoff. ]
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video; un: jtd (post ciraiwei)
Overtop this display: ]
Doc, if you were hungry, you could've just asked.
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Sorry. They're for Ciri. [ Whoops. ] Looks like it's being generous with the meaning of some.
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gomen for the wait my cloaked friend
no gomen necessary my furry pal
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Just before the next mission...
But to even things out a little, Cloak is given a new little metal box with buttons — Hotel California is now American Pie by Don McLean, yes, but more importantly, there's a dangerous button that houses the Crazy Frog Song.
Happy travels! :)]
Text; un: 苣屋 (during A Matter of Import)
Could be more to it, but the children aren’t going to know.
I looked through the orphanage files, too. Everything looks to be on the up and up there. If the government is involved in anything sketchy, they aren’t leaving a paper trail here.
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Thank you. I'd love to say I had something to offer in return, but no dice yet.
How are things going over there? Enjoying being back in the saddle?
action | late evening of the doctor-off
all that to say, she's been uneasy since their return from naephus, and it wasn't even entirely because of the strange memory trips the scattered orb shards were forcing upon them all. she rather missed the arm chair she'd pilfered for her room, her stack of weathered books she'd begun collecting.
at least the kitchen still stocked coffee. seems even the previous team had their shared vices.
she's cradling a mug of it between her hands when footsteps into the space causes her to turn. the man she recognizes from his times in the network during missions, but he might not recognize her in turn. ]
Doctor. We never got to formally meet. I'm Marta.
I can't believe it's been 2 weeks already rip
He's not really expecting company, though time is hard to keep track of aboard the Ximilia at the best of times and even harder to be ruled by. So when he finds the kitchen occupied he hesitates only for the briefest moment to see if the intrusion's going to cause anyone a problem - no, apparently not - before nodding his greeting and venturing more properly inside.
He recognises her. It's difficult not to when the quarters they all keep are close and he's so intent on having a handle on his own surroundings - but she's right that they've yet to really meet. ]
Stephen. [ There are certain people he'll leave to stand on formalities, but she's already greeted him with his title. No need to hammer it home. Instead he comes to a halt stop close enough to offer out a scarred hand. ] Pleased to officially meet you, Marta.
[ The smile is small, a little tired, but amicable. He figures he'll get a pass for the lack of extra enthusiasm, circumstances being what they are. ]
audio; un: y.mikotoba
Odd, considering how much I've heard about traveling magicians lately.
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I don't do autographs as a rule, but I'd make an exception. You only had to ask.
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video;
video > action; i'm sorry he's like this
stephen youre the worst
you flatter him
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text; un: jtd
tl;dr i need you to help me kidnap a lady. please hold for coordinates ty
text,
Well. It was nice while it lasted. ]
Fun. Can't wait
[ The yes on the magic cages is silent. ]
voice;
>action
action.......
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this man is an icon
just when he thought he was going to have a completely normal one this mission...
he should know better by now tbh
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stephen.... 😭
cw: sibling loss......
1/2; this started with a naked man falling through the ceiling, how did we get here, why am i crying
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3/3
at least your art of naked, bleeding Jake can now also be used as a meme for how I feel inside
thank you for using the word "art" to describe whatever that was, friend
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is this his second bail-out within one mission? sure is 😇 text: tinuviel
and her situation being, currently, sitting in a holding cell in the wimseyview guard center... well.
form a picture. ]
Hello, Doctor Strange? [ he may not know it, but that is written as if "doctor" is his first name. she'd heard him called that, and just... assumed that was his name. tmw doctor's don't exist in tolkienland and she has persisted calling those of the same profession "healers" even in her time aboard the ximilia. ]
This is Lúthien. [ does he know her name? perhaps not, but she wonders if he saw her singing in ciraiwei, and decides to give it anyway. besides, it's polite, isn't it? ] May I bother you just a little? I find I am in need of some assistance.
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And then the request comes for assistance. It doesn't seem too urgent given the language, but his answer still comes with a wry edge that doesn't necessarily translate into text: ]
Bother away. Though if you're in imminent danger of being shot or otherwise harmed, I'd appreciate it if you lead with that.
[ That's incredibly specific, Stephen. Maybe a softening follow up? ]
How can I help?
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text i'm sorry in advance
And Yujin, one drink in, has a personal goal to fulfill while everybody else is distracted.]
It's a nice night, Stephen. Come up to the deck if you aren't up here already.
By the way... could I ask a small favor of you? It's not much, I promise.
I forgot this was going to happen I'm weakened and unprepared
He's the bulk of the way through a chapter when Yujin's words filter into his focus, and he sets the book down - the intrigue of one text giving easy way to that of another. ]
I'll be up in five.
Sure. What is it?
>:)
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the mikotoba rizz strikes again
text; un: jtd (1/???)
That being said, mead? Mead basically tasted like candy. Extremely high-proof candy. Add in the fact that Jake was spending half his pickpocketed loot on chocolate, and the effect had all the concentrated power as a triple vodka spiked with ten redbulls. Or, y'know, one Four Loko.
Feeling especially chatty after his second pitcher, Jake's mental rolodex spins until landing on the a certain goatee'd wizard. If you couldn't drunk dial the guy who shaved you to get matching tattoos, who could you drunk dial?
And lo, so unleashes the wall of sound that was Jake's drunken stream of consciousness. ]
text; un: jtd (2/?)
text; un: jtd (3/?)
voice; un: jtd (4/?)
text; un: jtd (5/5)
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text | un: ~*~hagakure~*~ | sometime during the eyeball-sun mission
How are you doing? Are you settled in well?
This mission is a little spooky
so I wanted to make sure my new friends are safe! ε=ε=ε=(~￣▽￣)~
SHE'S SO CUTE
but also very kind? but also how does one speak to the kids ]
Hello Hagakure
Thanks for checking in
[ He can't even bring himself to correct her again on the title, this is too ??? ]
I'm good, thank you. Avoiding trouble so far. [ ... How Does One Speak To The KIDS ] Have you been going to school?
she's on brand then
text, pre-amaryllis grove going to hell
It isn't mandatory to bring a dish to the Harvest Festival... is it?
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nsfw eventually sorry not sorry
[On the station, every kiss had felt like one stolen. There was always something: some new issue in the infirmary, another crewmate knocking at the door. The real privacy they now share feels like an incredible luxury, even moreso after weeks of restraint. In retrospect, this last week feels like a waste. Trying to delay the inevitable was a fool's errand. They were the ones who'd wanted to live under one roof, weren't they?
But he has Stephen now. They can make up for lost time, easy.
Yujin laughs quietly, breathlessly, at Stephen's words. Always quick-witted, this one. At first, Yujin doesn't answer, merely relishing in the feeling of closeness, their foreheads resting against each other. Then he angles away. A moment later he renews that closeness, intensifies it. Yujin reaches out to touch Stephen's body, a broad hand mapping its way across his chest; he presses a kiss to the line of Stephen's jaw. Any lower and he'll feel Stephen's heartbeat, thrumming quietly just below the skin.]
Whatever we like, for once. [murmurs Yujin.] I'm not picky.
I'm only sorry that it took me EIGHTY YEARS to return, here we go
They're not teenagers. Neither of them have been teenagers for a very long time. And here the surroundings finally suit - suit a little too well, maybe, for either of them, but the illusion's nice. A house of their own. A bedroom with one bed, soft sheets, curtains pulled across a window to the outside world.
One hand moves to card his fingers into the hair behind Yujin's ear while the other stretches out, avoiding the glasses at his bedside to switch on the little lamp, cast a small warm glow over the pair of them as he angles his chin aside to encourage Yujin's quiet exploration. ]
I'm sure we'll think of something.
when i said 'eventually' it looks like i meant 'in my next tag' ok yujin
i love him
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(Mildly forward-dated sometime around the end of January.)
You're a magician man, aren't you? You have spells and things like that?
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I am and I do.
[ ??? ]
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video, around the start of the second log
I think something's happened to me, Stephen. Watch.
[A second of silence. Then Yujin clearly enunciates:]
I don't want to lose my hat.
[As soon as the words leave his mouth, the hat perks up, like it's been caught in a gust of wind. Just a moment later the hat hurtles toward the camera--] Gah! Wait! [--before smacking into what is evidently Yujin's face with a muffled fabric slap.
He slaps it away, but instead of hitting the ground, his hat sort of... hovers near his feet, waiting attentively like an obedient pet.]
I'm crying, rip yooj
Did you just -
[ He should ask if he's alright, probably, but that hat is not on the ground. The cloak floats over, hovering nearby at his puzzled expression, and he lets his focus shift between his own floating clothing item and Yujin's for a moment before his focus locks onto their shared feed. ]
- summon your hat?