2012-08-17 We Need A Doctor

{{RPLog
 * Title=We Need A Doctor
 * What=Zatanna is visited by Doctor Strange, who was a bit busy when her ritual struck. He reluctantly joins the Shadowpact, if only to keep those crazy kids alive!
 * Who=Doctor Strange and Zatanna
 * Where=[{Elsewhere/Shadowcrest|Shadowcrest]] - Elsewhere
 * When=August 17, 2012
 * Tone=Classic
 * }}

SOME TIME AGO

"I summon the spells of Oshtur the Omnipotent! These innocents--" All around, the souls of a dozen kids who dreamed of falling and /didn't/ wake up before that final, crushing moment look on with glazed, barely aware eyes. "--will be /free/! By the Hoary Ho--" The Doctor's eyes suddenly widen, beads of sweat form on his brow(and promptly turn into a cloud of gnats that buzzes away) and the ribbons of primal force dancing around his body still.

Suddenly, he wants a drink so badly that he's having flashbacks to his wilder, pre-med years.

"--ggoth--what sorcery...?"

NOW

Stephen Strange gently raps on Shadowcrest's door, having found a few hours in his busy schedule of fighting monsters and meditating to visit the daughter of Zachary Zatara. He is dressed (relatively) simply: a bright red overcoat with gold trim over a dapper black suit, complete with a matching black hat and grey gloves.

The door swings open, and a tiny mote of light greets Strange. It bobs up and down in welcome, then beckons him to follow, a magical Will 'o the Wisp to lead him into the mansion. Shadowcrest is as mysterious as ever, and Stephen could swear he was being led in circles if the hallways didn't seem different every left turn the light takes. Finally it zips through the open doors of the massive Library of the Zatara family.

Zatanna is there, curled up on a sofa in her jammies. She clearly wasn't expecting company. She's wearing a Gotham Knights jersey that falls to her knees, and pink fuzzy slippers, with her hair in pigtails. Not the most dignified way to welcome the Sorcerer Supreme mind you. She seems complete wrapped up in the dusty old tome in her lap. Something about Paracelsus it seems.

Stephen keeps his eyes on the Wisp and follows closely, just to be on the safe side; while he's confident in his ability to find his way back to the entrance should he get loss, he is /less/ certain of his chances of not accidentally opening the door to a hostile dimension or infinite void or something.

Of course, that could just be /his/ Sanctum...

He heads right into the library when they arrive, clears his throat... and catches a glimpse of his hostess. "Ah," he murmurs before clearing his throat and turning his eyes towards some high-shelf tome. "My apologies; I see that I should have /called/ first..."

Zee's head snaps up, she registers Strange, and then she turns bright red. "Meep." Yeah, that says it all. "Snaej dna eet!" she casts quickly, and suddenly she's in a pair of comfortable jeans and her jersey has become a Gotham Knights t-shirt instead. The slippers are still there though. "Doctor Strange, I'm sorry, I was reading. I sometimes miss the mystical doorbell." She looks sheepish about it at least. "Can I get you something to drink? Please, sit."

"This is not - to my knowledge, anyway - a social visit." He quirks a brow. "Though I /am/ pleased that you seem to be doing--well, despite calling on me."

That makes Zatanna blink a few times, owlishly, before her lips form the classic "O" of realization. "The ritual! You felt it? I wasn't sure it would pull on you, since you're not on this plane much. It wasn't urgent, but I wanted to ask you if you would like to be a part of a private magical council, the Shadowpact. Those of us working to protect the Earth from magical baddies, and save it when only magic can. All equals, all with equal weight of opinion, sharing information as needed." She snaps her fingers and a plain black business card appears in her hand. She passes it to him.

"These are temporary tokens. If one of us needs to call a meeting, simply go to where you wish the meeting to be held on the Earthly plane, and rip the card in half. Everyone else with a card will have the address appear and the name of the summoner," Zee explains. "The cards are attuned to the first person they are given to, so they can't be handed off or stolen and still activated."

"A--?" Stephen's eyes flick down at the card, then back to Zee. Wide as they are, there's no hiding that the proposal caught him somewhat off-guard. His interlocked hands slowly rise until the tips of his index finger are resting thoughtfully against his lips; at no point does he look like he's anywhere /near/ to reaching for the proffered token. Instead, he regards it - and she - with thoughtful silence.

"Young lady," he murmurs some seconds later, "I have dedicated a great many years to that very task; in that time, I have seen things that would drive most to madness--or /worse/. And now... you would have me /share/ it? You would invite /others/ to open themselves up to the horrors that lurk Beyond? I--" He closes his eyes a moment and lets out a slow sigh.

"/Whom/?" he presses, peering at Zatanna through still-lidded eyes.

"Quite a few people already. De la Vega, the current Ragman, John Constantine, myself, and some other, fresher faces," Zatanna explains.

As soon as she says 'John Constantine', Strange unlaces his fingers and just pinches the bridge of his nose; by the time she finishes, his eyes are shut again.

"Then," he mutters a few moments later, when his eyes have opened and his hand has fallen back into his lap, "you've begun making preparations; you're set on this path, I imagine." He reaches and gently plucks the card from her fingers; after turning it over to examine it, he sits back in his chair with a weary sigh. "Alright," he murmurs, slipping the card into his breast pocket. "I accept."

"I am. Being a part of the Justice League has made it that much more obvious to me that a lot of mages and magical beings are working with blinders on, only aware of a tiny fraction of what's going on in the universes," Zee explains. "I'd like to consult Jason Blood when I can track him down as well. Perhaps some others. We have several very young people who could also use a guiding hand of your caliber, Doc."

"So long as you understand," Stephen replies, doing his best to maintain an even tone despite the wealth of arguments and fears swirling in his head, "and /they/ understand the full scope of what they'll be called on to fight; no good could come of bringing novices to do battle with Dormammu. There is a world of difference between gathering to share our wisdom and resources and sending the - as you say - very young - to their dooms." He rubs his forehead for a moment, then gestures to her. "But I'm sure that you understand that, mm?"

"I do understand. This council is about making sure the people best capable of handling specific threats get to where they're needed. The bad guys tend to try and prey on the weak. We have to make sure they don't get that chance," Zatanna murmurs.

"There are only seven billion or so souls to watch over; a reasonable enough task." Stephen's tone is still neutral, but he does offer a small, fleeting smile to soften the remark a little. "Thank you for your time." He holds his hand out to her as he stands. "I trust - and pray - that you've thought all the way through this."

"I have, Doc," Zee says, arching a brow a bit as she shakes his hand. "I'm not leading this group, I just brought the idea to the table. And this kind of magical think tank is needed. There are things brewing out there. I can sense them." She grimaces as she walks him out of the library and down one hall, back to the front door. Despite all the twists and turns that took him there. Weird.