1964-12-29 - Crows and Cake
Summary: A thoughtful Reno drops by the Sanctum to deliver pound cake to Doctor Strange - though the cleanliness of the windows is cause for minor impact issue.
Related: If there are no related logs, put 'None', — please don't leave blank!
Theme Song: None
strange 


One might sing "Who's that knocking at my door?" Unless you lived in the Sanctun Sanctorum where in there was a light crunch against the second story window and then just a repetitive tapping at the chamber do- er, um, window pane. But there was a crow, the same soul signature that Dr. Stephen Strange knew. And that crow was standing on a modest retangular baker's box.

Tap? Tappity-tap?


No throwing his tea this time, thank the gods. Thermal burns were a literal pain. But what was it with creatures slamming into his windows?! Maybe next time, Strange decides, he'll instruct the wards to do a moderately good job of cleaning as opposed to demanding "spotless". Looking up from inking another note into the Book of the Vishanti, he spies the outline of a dark bird on the outer sill of one of the Loft's smaller side windows. He hazards a guess even before the warding spells swirl back from the window and report: Crow. Shifter. Bakery. A mild frown of curiosity from the Sorcerer — bakery — but he still closes the Book and places the charmed quill back into its ink resevoir.

Striding over, he unlocks the window and opens it inwardly. The cooler and yet moist air wafts in and there Strange leans, arms lightly crossed.

"To what do I owe the honor, Mister Reno?" He smiles in a friendly if not reserved way down at the crow. Of course his light eyes flick from box and back to beaky face.


Reno apologized with a wing out looking, well could birds look a bit guilty? Apparently so. "Sorry, man. There was like this updraft or something. Nice window. Sturdy. Oh me? Yeah I just wanted to check in wit'choo." His head looked up, down, and dialed to the side in a way that resembled an egg timer. "You look like things went alright with those lil dudes. I was just makin sure you were like okay and stuff and I brought you a thing. You know. in the spirit of the New Year and whatnot."


"You're far too kind — and please, don't apologize. I should be thanking the warding spells for doing such a thorough job, though if it happens to be a hazard to winged beings, I'll instruct them otherwise." The spells themselves linger just behind Strange's shoulders, imparting a sense of quiet observation, not too unlike a watchdog placed in a sit with ears perked. "Little dudes?" The Sorcerer pauses before popping his lips. "Ah, yes, the sylph neonates. Yes, they were returned safely and grateful for it in their own way." Take a moment and imagine the amount of mussing to his hair that he received. Can one get high on the freshest air possibly found in existence? Just maybe.

Reaching out beside one of Reno's scaled feet, he taps the bakery box lightly. "And what thing did you bring me?"


Reno held out a wing so that the edge was maybe two-three inches off the top of the box. Yeah, Strange, those little guys. Bout this big? There ya have it. He looked down at the box and with a flap and a flutter geeently stepped off the parcel. His wings shrugged up in lieu of having sholders in this shape. "Aww man you know, it's just a pound cake. I know you like don't eat and stuff, but my Tia Louisa? She said 'If someone has unexpected company over you have to have something to offer em. Always keep cake on hand'. Then I was thinking like woah man, like you don't eat and stuff. What if you is having company at you …totally… nearly unfindable home thing. Like it could happen? And I thought to myself, Cordova, you have got to fix this. Sooooo" He drifted off and looked up curiously to Strange, "Pound cake?" Oh the things that hit the top of his priority list. Aliens outed themselves to the world and here's the bird going, man if aliens drop by do we have clean dishes? Apparently the saying 'go back to what you know' is truer for some than others.


The revelation and reasoning of the contents of the bakery box is enough to startle a bark of laughter from the Sorcerer Supreme! Points to the crow, it's a rare enough sound from time to time.

"I follow your impeccable logic, Cordova." There's the last name, very good. Knowledge is always worth having. "Again, thank you. Would you like to come in? I'm certain that the kitchen must have some foodstuffs about. My fiance is able to enjoy the food of Earth moreso than I." After a moment's hesitation, he offers out a forearm. "Or perhaps my shoulder?" Strange continues, "Unless you find that an insult and, in which case, I apologize."


Reno hopped off the ledge onto an arm and then off the arm and unfolded back into being a person with, remarkably there was still snow in his hair. he went to shake it out but patted down his windblown coiffure. "Heh, thanks man." He actually cleaned up alright but was, notable, absent a jacket. "No, no insult taken. Fiance huh? I take it she knows all about this weird stuff?" Strong guess. He warmed a grin that was genuine enough to barter mercy from the world in all its irony, "Either that or you'd have to convince her that everyone's gettin older though, I suppose… they kinda are ain't they?" One day at a time, birb, for the lucky ones. "I didn't mean to intrude or nothing."


With bakery box taken up beneath one arm, Strange continues to offer up that mild and worldly smile to the shifter.

"Oh yes, she knows more than I do from time to time. She is a singular woman, in…many ways," he finishes more quietly, the fondness muted in front of company. He pulls the window shut and locks the bolt once again. "Go on then, shoo." That's for the silvery wisps of guardian-spells. They swish away with enough disturbance in air to ruffle the Sorcerer's hair and disappear back into the woodwork of the Sanctum. "Walk with me," he says to Reno, "and please, don't touch anything."

The Loft itself is lit mostly by the ruddy glow of Edison-bulb sconces set into strategic points on the walls, but also through the broad natural lighting shining through the Window Upon the Worlds. Emblazoned with the Seal of the Vishanti, it reveals most of the glass cases and these in turn reflect the ambience. Still, the shadows are deep in other places and therein lies the lingering haze of mystery that will never be lost to the mansion. In the storm-blue battle-leathers and tunic, the good Doctor walks at a decent pace across the Loft and towards the stairs leading down to the open hallway of the second floor.

"She is very aware of the weirdness of my world — of the world as a whole," he continues on a previous subject. "The taxation of magic on her body is less than mine, but still hard at times. You won't anything overly harsh on the system in the kitchen. No donuts, candy, nothing overtly seasoned. Bread, we have. Fruit." He laughs softly, nearly to himself, and glances over at Reno as they approach the curved arm of the grand staircase. "I have the suspicion that you'll know who she is the very moment you meet her, should you ever cross paths. Oh, and do you drink tea?"


Reno was wide eyed looking around. This place was fine, fancy-fine in a way people like himself (those too often in the company of the wrong people) never see unless they were delivering the towels. At the warning of don't touch *anything* there was a concerned look and both hands were stuffed into his pockets immediately! "Woooooah" managed to pass his lips with a low whistle. "Hell of a place you have here, Doc." He paused and squint at somehting he could swear moved on its own, and frankly he wasn't convinced it didn't at that! "Hmm? Tea? Like beer without the bubbles right?" He blinked and turned up a wry grin at the corner of his mouth. "Tea's good I'm messin with you."


The quirk of lips is returned with a dryly amused glance to boot as they descend the stairs.

"Good. Do you have a preference? Or shall I brew up the usual blend for guests?" The foyer is expansive as well, cathedral ceiling holding more lingering dim corners. The mosiac-patterened wooden flooring is pristine, newly waxed and yet not slippery per the whims of the Manor's master. Various benches and minor relics decorate the broad space, large enough to allow one hundred people to stand elbow-to-elbow with ease. The kitchen is housed off to their left and it's a far more homely place. Smaller, with white marble counters, its island hosts a tea set with the steam already rising from the chrome tea pot. Strange puts the bakery box off to one side on the surface before plucking two tea balls from a nearby wicker basket. Two mugs, seemingly of glazed clay and Asian influence, each receive one of the mesh spheres on chains and he pours the hot water over them with little fanfare.

"The Sanctum is also singular," he says belatedly. "I inherited it along with the mantle — the only one of its kind here in America."


Reno arched his eyebrow not queite expecitng that. Sometimes the small things matter most to little people. "What's that mean? Singular? Like there's just one of em or like it's not pregnant?" When the explaintion was given there was a frown on teh birdman's face; sympathy. "Sounds kinda lonely. If you ever gte one of these down in the Islands? I can tell you mi mama is the best cook bar none. I know this cause I questioned her cooking once and got hit with a spoon so you know it's good. Also really good seamstress. I see you like them lil paisleys. She can hook you up." He didn't touch anything as perscribed but he hoped the chairs were safe being there for utility and all. "Really though this is a serious nice place. Says a lot about the carpenters that built it ya know? Smome places, some other cultures they don't have a whole lot but they decorate the hell out of what they do have. Ukraine and sevral nomadic people is like that still." Of course he knew cultures, he's a messenger there to fix the undone minutiae of people's personal lives post-mordeum.


Strange nods and idly touches the side of his mug, as if testing to see that the warmth would be enough to soothe the cold-sore bones of his hands.

"I'll keep that in mind, Reno, thank you," and he gives the shifter a faint smile. "I don't get vacations, however, and there is no need for a Sanctum nearer to the Equator at this time. Between myself, here in New York, and in other locations, we are able to keep the Earth safe. It's not lonely, however. I have my fiance as well as Aralune. I'd rather she not intrude at the moment, however, so today, you are spared her…interest." He's well aware of the vague nature of his comment by the quick change in topic. "The Sanctum has been located here ever since the 1800s, I believe, though the land itself has seen many Mystical events beyond written history. Its interior decorating reflects the major influences of the time periods it has withstood. We don't subscribe to a particular style, seeing as the relics come from all over the world and magic itself cares not for class, race, or morality."


Reno perked up at this with a tilt of his head. "Why? She cute? She know how to Salsa at all?" Curious eyes looked around at the brief history tutorial and that was? Impressive? Distressing? Well it was pretty spectacular, but for whatever reason it inspired Reno to tuck his elbows in a bit. "Yeah, probably best I don't touch a lot of stuff then. Be harder to replace and there's that… thing. Still, it explains the wallpaper a bit." The cup was taken with a murmured, "Gracias." After consideration he chewed on teh inside of his cheek and looked to Strange earnestly, "Hey, if you're not doing anything later tonight I'm having some of the guys over for a poker night. You wanted to meet my cousin and they're sort of all a bit different anwyays. I'm sure the goat won't mind."


"Aralune knows nothing of salsa or anything of the human, mundane world." Still, he coughs into his mug as if covering a laugh. And perhaps he is. "She is a Malk, Reno. A feline of the Fae pursuasion and patently unkind to unknown visitors from time to time. I'll not risk you being scratched and eventually hallucinating that you're some crow-cat." After swallowing his mouthful of tea, Strange leans against the island.

"Poker? You wish a Master of the Arts and sleight of hand to play poker? With a goat?" One dark brow lift high even as the Sorcerer curls a sly smile. "If my evening doesn't get away from me with any form of Sorcerous necessity, I may be able to join your table. Don't wait on me. The mantle does take precedence over all else." He informs the crow shifter with no real relish of this fact of his life.


Reno had reason for concern there. "Maaaan you did not warn me you had a cat. Yeah that's fair." He went to drink his tea and paused looking at Strange like he grew a second head, "What? Naw, we're not playing poker withthe goat. The goat cheats. Monte might clean house. But yeah man, ya know, save the world first. That's important too. Can't play poker with no planet to play it on." He looked around and pulled out a small notebook finally, "Here. here's the address. I mean you probably don't need it but I don't like to assume. Short description of the roof of the buildin' if you're flyin over there."


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