＃ ＮＯＴ Ａ ＭＡＧＩＣＩＡＮ

⟢    
                                                  ❪ a͟r͟c͟ ͟ i. ❫ 
                            ┊chronicles of the sanctum,
                                to,    @ssogeungo-mi           
                               from,      magictied.
            ⧉                                  •           •          •
            
                     s͟trange,   stephen.
                       ❪ the sorcerer. ❫ 
                 ━━━━━━ ━━━━━━
             ❛ THAT’S A S͟M͟A͟R͟T͟ OBSERVATION...         
               I’m   definitely   n͟o͟t͟  ,  your  Strange.  
               And  you  are  a  far  ways  from
               home  young  spider.   ❜
                 ━━━━━━ ━━━━━━
            
                     ໒    ᴬ   C⃨ ᴼᴹᴾᴴᴿᴱᴺᔆᴵⱽᴱ  G⃨ ᵁᴵᴰᴱ    
                             ᵀᴼ ⠘   NAVIGATING
                                          THE UNIVERSE.     ◞
                       ─┈┄─┈┄─┈┄─┈┄
            
            *    ╱︎          [I.]    D͟E͟S͟P͟I͟T͟E͟ ͟T͟H͟E͟ ͟S͟M͟O͟O͟T͟H͟ reply,  he’s too busy trying to resolve through all the possible reasons why 〘  another  〙 spider was here in his universe.   T͟H͟E͟Y͟ ͟W͟E͟R͟E͟ ͟D͟R͟O͟P͟P͟I͟N͟G͟    left and right, so what was going on in the multiverse?   
                   S⃨.⃨S⃨        〳          LIPS WOULD CURVE, RESULTING IN AN APPREHENSIVE SMILE.    ⧼     it wasn't long before Stephen found himself pacing back and forth to analyze the stranger.    ⟯

@azureIux !͟ ͟              they weren’t.  not until the scarlet witch got a hold of it,  and subsequently myself.  *  THE SORCERER’S WORDS DRAW OUT WITH WEARINESS,  and mild annoyance.  *  i was hoping a clear mind might help me find something i couldn’t see before.  the dark hold exacts a heavy toll,  you know..  

* ; obviously me 

╱     !

// !!

@promethuse 
            *  THE  SORCERER  SUPREME  STRAINED  AGAINST  THE  OTHER’S  GRASP,   EXHALING  FORCEFULLY  THROUGH  HIS  MOUTH.   his  greatest  strength  currently  being  constrained.   orange  fluorescent  lights  set  the  scene,   it  being  nearly  dawn:   therefore,   the  streets  were  empty,   appearing  as  a  ghost  town.   doctor  strange  was  last  seen  attending  to  business  matters  regarding  the  sorcerer’s  at  each  sanctum.   (    ❛❜  i  should’ve  let  wong  handle  the  london  sanctum…    ❛❜   )
            
            the  cloak  of  levitation  made  no  advances  to  writhe  itself  out  of  the  predicament  ——  TO  HELP  HIS  COMPANION.   yet ,  there  was  no  leeway  for  stephen  to  feel  confused  as  to  why.   though  later,   his  sentient  object  would  be  hearing  nothing  short  of  a  scolding. *
            
            look,   i  don’t  know  who  you  are  or  what  you  think  you’re  doing,   but   in  situations  like  these,    things  don’t  usually  work  out  for  the  opposing  party  ——  so  i   / ADVISE /    you  choose  your  next  actions   V͟E͟R͟Y͟    carefully.
            
            *  HIS  INFAMOUS  REMARKS  INSPIRE  WIT,   AND  THEY  MAKE  THEIR  DEBUT  THIS  MORNING.   there  was  little  to  no  waver  in  his  voice  to  suggest  nervousness.   though  perhaps  caught  off  guard.   it  seems  the  sorcerer  supreme  is  quite  used  to  these  types  of  dilemmas.   they’ve  become  sort  of  like  overkill.  *

*       sucks  ass  but  idc

{4:50  AM,    CENTRAL  LONDON:    THE  CLOCKTOWER   (OR,    “BIG  BEN”).}
            
            [   THE  WEATHER  FORECAST  PREDICTS  THE  SUN  WILL  BE  RISING  SOON.   not  much  of  a  good  thing  for  a  body–snatcher.      fortunately,    she  was  nearly  at  her  destination.     this,   here,   is  a  restless  task  she’s  been  doing  for  years.    a  direct  order  from  agatha  christie:    “BRING US THIRTY BODIES THIS WEEK;  WE SHALL LEND WARRIORS TO FOREIGN LAND”.    within  bags  there  were  four  men,   it  is  wednesday   ――   14/30.   ]
            
            [   gravel  paths  crack  beneath  leather  boots   that  thuds  loudly  from  every  step.   the  ‘man’   in  all  muddied  black  does  not  struggle   with  the  bags.     she  wears  a  pendant  with  a  locket,    inside  is  a  picture  of  her  on  the  porch.   a  girl.   smiling,    posed,   framed.      she  refuses  to  acknowledge  that  she  is  different  now,    she  is  worse.     faded  beyond  all  comprehension.     a  different  person,   a  different  being.     the  blood  on  these  hands  are  undrying,      mary  likes  to  ignore  it.   ]
            
            [   within  the  walk  to  the  tower  she  noticed  a  man  with  an  odd  outfit,     he  was  around  the  same  height  as  her  in  heels.   if  it  was  not  for  sleep  deprivation  she  would  think  he  was  called  by  christie  and  greet  him  formally    (even if he wasn’t, she still would’ve done so).     instead,     she  registers  him  as  a  threat  of  some  sort.       the  walking  turns  into  speed–walking  turns  into  running  towards  the  figure.     bags  drop  and  black–gloved  hands  takes  hold  of  his  arms,    holding  it  behind  his  back.   in  the  accent  of  an  american  man:   ]
            
            I  ORDER  YOU  TO  /HALT/.     WHAT  DO  YOU  THINK  YOU’RE  DOING  HERE,   MAN?

oh,  nothing  really  special,  just  running  a  few  mildly  dangerous  errands  for  the  good  nation  of  new  asgard.  and  you,  steph?  have  you  been  up  to  anything  interesting?

@liarliar 
            i’m  feeling  generous  .   tell  me ,  what  gambits  have  you  found  yourself  delving  in  since  we  last  spoke ?

how  sweet  of  you.