madimpossibledreamer

          Willow Danielle Rosenberg is Sorceror Supreme.
          She really hadn’t intended to become that, of course.  It was just kind of a side effect of a lich stealing her girlfriend’s mind at a party.  The thing had called herself Glory, and, of course, had used a glamour to not look like the undead bitch she was.  She’d explained when confronted that she needed the energy to continue to live, and she had to get that from somewhere.
          And Willow would serve as a good snack, too.
          She’d met her girlfriend at an occult club.  They giggled about how hokey it was, or were occasionally annoyed.  But there were a few more realistic things, and she calls upon the power of the Vishanti now, and a protective dome appears above her and Tara, and the next thing she knows there are strange people in robes bursting in.
          She huddles in on a lost Tara, stroking her hair and whispering that everything’s going to be okay, even though everything’s not going to be okay, as the fight with the lich makes the house crumble around them.
          And then the robe people use some sort of spell and they appear in the party and nothing’s destroyed and they explain that she’d accidentally pulled them into the Mirror Dimension.  Somehow.
          From there, going with the strange people in the robes to learn to use the magic she’d always believed in, especially when they tell her that she might be able to learn to heal Tara, is an easy decision to make, in that it’s not even a decision at all.  A decision implies that she has a choice.
          It’s not easy after that.  Tara finally gets to the point where she has good days, which is something.  And her mentor and the Ancient One die, and she has an issue with drawing power from the Dark Dimension, but she becomes the Sorceror Supreme eventually.
          So when her mentor shows up again and tells her that the universe is in danger, she signs up immediately.  He’s not from this universe, obviously, but other dimensions are old hat by now.  She leaves Tara in Kamar Taj.  It’s safer there than where she’s going.  She’d leave Tara in the Sanctum, but it tends to get attacked a lot.

         Miss Calendar’s still staring at him in shock and he shrugs halfheartedly, dismissing the mandala-shaped shields.
         “But…” she protests.
         “I can actually do the whip, too, but it’s harder to hold.”  He demonstrates, pulling a glowing golden form of light into a long, lethal line and whipping it at a vase.  It fizzles out in midair.  “My senses for magic are a lot better, so if we ever run into something and wonder, ‘hey, is this a potentially lethal magical artifact’, I can tell, but in the meantime combat’s something I’ve gotta work on.  I mean, you can use a shield as a weapon—look at Cap—but it’s not the easiest to maintain.”
         She continues making fishlike faces at him and finally says helplessly, “But that’s not how magic works.”
         “I have a theory about that, actually,” he continues, like it’s nothing.  The Sorceror Supreme in his head finished the majority, but after a few of the other Tonys got over their kneejerk ‘I hate magic’ reactions, their curiosity led to them hanging out in what he’s designated the main room of his mind.  And once they got the concept that magic followed rules, they decided it worked as well as an alternate science (thanks Arthur C.) and were enthusiastic about learning all the rules, just to prove that it wasn’t random nonsense.  “Chaos magic is designed to bend the normal rules.  Of magic, too, or it wouldn’t be chaotic.  In the Marvel Universe, magic is what happens when you draw on the power of other dimensions.  It doesn’t matter what’s possible here, what’s important is that it’s possible somewhere else.  My magic, I think, works off that principle.  So I don’t think I can learn traditional magic, which is kinda why I came to you and not Giles for this stuff, because that’s rules for this realm and not for the one my magic’s actually based off.  The whip, we think, goes out like a bad firecracker because it’s gotten too far away from me, and is suddenly having to conform to the rules of this world.  I can probably stabilize it if I focus it somehow and/or get stronger or a better power source, but right now that would take my life force and probably kill me, so I don’t think I wanna try.”
         She continues to stare at him, gobsmacked, and then shakes her head.  “You’re a marvel.”
         He smirks.  “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

          In the end, she goes with simple—a nice silk blue button-up shirt that brings out the grey in her eyes nicely, a grey skirt that’s dressy and fun to twirl and not too confining because she hates pencil skirts with a passion, a blue silk scarf, and some rather beautiful grey dress boots that she’s tempted to use on a daily basis until she remember the ichor present in some of the idiotic monsters that love to attack Earth.
          The Mirror World only protects architecture and people, not clothing.  Unfortunately.
          She doesn’t miss the impressed surprise from Chris as she opens the door when he knocks.  He’s suddenly shy and dumbfounded again and it’s a nice feeling.
          The Cloak is sulking, but is slightly mollified by the fact that it’s Chris.  Wang is doing her library work from the Sanctum Sanctorum, as there’s been no others assigned to this Sanctum yet and no one feels comfortable with leaving one unguarded so soon after—
          She swallows.  After Dormammu.
          Chris notices her sudden tension and takes her hand, lacing his fingers through her own.  It’s more reassuring than she remembered.
          She’s glad that he chose to do their little date after Valentine’s.  She’s not sure she can handle the crowds yet.  At least she’s admitting that now.  And that, rather than driving her anywhere, he’d opted for ‘a romantic walk’.  She’s sure that it’s a concession to her fear of cars, now, and equally grateful that he’s not saying a word about it.
          He brings her up to date on the latest hospital gossip, which includes West looking stupid all of her own volution.  He listens patiently and doesn’t interrupt as she explains several of the creatures she’s fought since then, though his grip on her hand tightens slightly.  He’s more at ease with the few stories she has of some of the novices at Kamar Taj.  Actually asks about possibly visiting, to which she smiles shyly.  “Well, it’s not like I don’t visit you at work often enough,” she responds dryly.
          They have to stop at the park for Chris to sit in one of the benches long enough to stop giggling helplessly.
          And then they reach their destination, and one of her eyebrows raises.  “Santiago’s?  Really?”
          “It’s expensive, I remember, though my salary has gone up since you…retired?”  He almost swallows the last word, but she waves him on.  “I have been eating ramen for a few days to save the room,” he admits, and that earns one of Strange’s deep, resonant laughs, and they step forward together, ready for the world, and Palmer thinks he’s never seen anything more beautiful.
          (Strange privately agrees.)

Stephen.

I’m not going to apologize.

Funny, I’ve heard that before.

I saved lives.

What about your life?

That was you.

…I don’t expect you to apologize for that, either.

          It’s after it all when she can’t sleep that she starts experimenting again.  It’s an excuse to practice, not to sleep, and of course she can’t learn anything without research and practice.  She briefly wonders if it’s a bad idea, pushing herself like this, but it’s easier than dealing with everything that had happened.
          Her only call to Chris got a hurried message in response.  Apparently he’s swamped.  She swallows and tries not to second-guess it, tries to ignore the voice saying that he’s avoiding her, because she’s experienced these types of hospital rushes before and knows it’s likely not an excuse.  Or rather, not just an excuse.  He probably still needs some time to process.
          A few lesser scale mystical threats arise.  Mordo seems to be biding her time, which is more worrying than an actual attack, but given that people appear to be looking up to her again, she can’t show her worry or she’ll run the risk of making them worry too.  They need to be prepared, not demoralized.  It’s when she starts experimenting in the field that things go wrong.
          She tries to banish some particularly creatures that had been wrecking havoc back to their home dimension.  What she actually accomplishes is to throw herself through a portal instead.  At first, she thinks she’s just teleported to a different street in New York City, but then she sees an advertisement for the Hero Registration Act.  Stark is clearly out of her mind, but then, she’d come to the conclusion having met the woman years prior.  Anonymity was sometimes the only thing that protected some of them, though she doubts Stark understands what it means to stay out of the spotlight.  The Iron Woman pictured there is, well, different than the one she’d known, though.
          The armor’s…well, no way to phrase it delicately, it’s designed for a man.  She’s already exhausted, but she closes her eyes and pushes her senses outward, trying to figure out where she is, and instantly senses an aura fairly close.  A very familiar aura, one she knows as well as she knows her own, and there’s a very good reason for that.
          It’s practically her own.  Just feels a touch more earthy.
          “This isn’t good,” she states quietly, aware that it’s all her own fault (but there’s no time for yelling at herself, no matter how much the stupid mistake annoys her) and it’s a complete understatement.
          Surely she can’t have been the only one to have done this.  There has to be some sort of precedent.  But even if it had happened before, that’s no guarantee that it hasn’t already destroyed other worlds, or that it won’t have consequences, or even that she can get help from a world in which she doesn’t belong rather than being locked up as an interloper or worse.  At least her counterpart won’t…wait, she can’t say that with any certainty; it’s more like isn’t likely to kill her.  Or let her be killed.  He won’t sit passively on the sidelines.
          She shakes her head, ignoring the looks from passersby at her garb (that had been one of the easiest skills to acquire) and starts heading to the Sanctum.  It’s not a sure thing that she’ll be able to get help there, but it’s a start.