Steps to Become a Sorceror

[madimpossibledreamer]

Main Points:
Dr. Strange Genderbend
Summary: Training to become a sorceror has some unexpected pitfalls.
Word Count: 670
Rating: Gen

           Strange had certainly left large parts of her training out when describing it later to Dr. Palmer.  She, for instance, only mentioned how life-changing the experience was, but didn’t give much in the way of details, such as her run-in with an imaginatively named Relic, Eurystheus’ Trials.  Someone had taken it from one of the Sanctums and placed it within the library, and Steph, nosy bastard that she was, realized it was out of place and checked it out.  Unfortunately, she’d already been stranded on Everest, already begun to accept magic, already become much too adept at astral projection—useful and even a protection in some instances, but dangerous in others.  In this case, it allowed the Relic to easily remove her soul from her body when she touched it, leaving her slumped beside her Wang-approved book stack.
           It was Mordo that found her.  Wang was teaching for the day, a more advanced staff-fighting class (probably) than Strange was in, which explained why she wasn’t involved.  Mordo was actually worried the minute she saw Strange supposedly sleeping.  The woman was driven, a quality Mordo admired, often pushing herself until her hands bled, until they shook too badly to even hold a spoon.  Despite this, she pushed herself even in her sleep, using astral projection to study.  The Ancient One had been meaning to talk to her about it, since it didn’t give her enough of a recharge through the grueling training routine, but by the looks of things the other day, that particular conversation had yet to happen.
           On the other hand, that meant the good Doctor’s habits were well known.  She wouldn’t have fallen asleep in the library or anywhere else out in the open normally (paranoid, possibly, of leaving herself vulnerable even amongst people she knows—a sentiment Mordo can understand and applaud), and even if she had she wouldn’t be just sleeping when she could be working to improve herself.  So it was that the signs were, well, disturbing.
           Strange’s hands always trembled like leaves in a storm, even when asleep.  That was, Mordo gathered, the reason she had made the pilgrimage to Kamar Taj.  The only time they didn’t was when she was astrally projecting.  They were currently perfectly still, but Mordo couldn’t sense Strange’s astral projection anywhere.  She threw herself out of her body, just to check, and Strange was nowhere to be seen.  She popped back into her body before she’d even hit the ground.
           “Ancient One!” she yells, and he’s inside the room before she even finishes the second word.
           He steps forward to take her pulse and then frowns at something on the desk.  “Oh dear.”
           She’s been with him long enough to know that’s not a good response.  “What is it?”  She glances in the same direction as the Ancient One’s gaze, a Relic in the shape of a wine jar.
           “That’s a very dangerous Relic.  It shouldn’t be here.”
           If she’s not mistaken, that’s almost fear in his eyes, and he’s fiddling with the fan behind his back.
           “Will Strange be all right?” she asks, suddenly worried for this—this almost-friend of hers.
           “I—” He actually aborts what he’s going to say, for a second, and then continues again.  “I don’t know.  I hope so, but there’s nothing we can do for her, now.  We need to move this so that no one else will be affected.  It’s up to her, now, and, well.  If nothing else, she is strong.”
           A thought occurs to Mordo.  She doesn’t want to voice it, but somehow, it seems worse not to do so.  “How many initiates have dealt with this—whatever it is?”
           “A few.”  He must sense her skepticism, because he continues, “…none have emerged.”
           Mordo shivers, but it’s not like she hadn’t expected something along those lines.  “Well, let’s hope she’s as truly as exceptional as we hoped.”
           “I have faith in her,” the Ancient One whispers as he carefully picks up the jar with a blanket and walks away.