001 // @strange.magic: video

[suckstobestrange]

Consider this a little public service announcement, and my good deed for the day.

[At first it’s just Stephen Strange, looking even more like a magic hobo than he usually does, before he moves the feed to focus on a mini-fridge sitting in the corner of the communal kitchens and wouldn’t be anything to comment on if not for the heavy chains wrapped around it keeping the door shut, or the padlock that really looked like overkill.]

If you see this fridge here, missing its padlock or even worse open and I’m not already there dealing with it? I recommend either finding me, or a flamethrower immediately.

[The mini-fridge, which had been sitting quietly until this point started to shake, the sound of something inside smacking against the door making the chains around it rattle. Stephen came into view just long enough to smack the top of the fridge with the handle of a broom which seemed to startle whatever was inside into silence again.]

It should be in the floor 5 kitchen so if it’s not, even if it’s still locked, you’re going to want to come get me and I’ll deal with it.

And if you value your continued good health don’t eat anything that comes out of this thing.

Comments

[ragnarsson]

So if the food gets out, what will kill it?

[Always a practical consideration. Vikings love two things: fighting and killing.]

[suckstobestrange]

Crushing tends to work well. Nothing in there has a hard shell so that's not too hard if you're quick about it. Stabbing won't kill it, but it will pin anything that slithers out, but be cautious about cutting bits off as they'll wander off on their own and grow.

Honestly the best way is fire.

Also be cautious, even the ones without any discernible mouth can bite. Somehow.

[ragnarsson]

Sounds like a good time.

[He sounds far too eager at the thought of fighting. Strange better keep that thing locked up tight, lest a certain Viking decide to test his battle prowess against the nasty creatures within.]

[suckstobestrange]

Messy is more like it.

[Said dryly, though he hears that eagerness there you, clearly he'll need to keep that fridge locked tight for everyone's sakes.]

[ragnarsson]

Battle is always messy. That's what makes it fun.

[Sorry, Strange. You get to live on the same floor as the Viking who loves battles and fighting.]

So what do I call you, oh magic-wielding one?

[suckstobestrange]

[Not too much different than dealing with Thor, this one seems at least a little less... loud in comparison.]

Doctor Strange. Or Stephen if you'd rather keep things informal.

What about you?

[ragnarsson]

Your name is Strange? Really? Guess your fate was fixed then.

[Vikings are big believers in people having their fates set in stone.]

My name is Ivar Ragnarsson. Some call me Ivar The Boneless.

[suckstobestrange]

It wouldn't surprise me if any combination of gods were taking great amusement in just how weird my life has become.

[He's not a fixed fate kind of guy but gods fucking with things he could absolutely see.]

Good to meet you Ivar. Though I am curious why 'The Boneless' it seems an oddly specific nickname.

[ragnarsson]

[He takes the phone and pans down to his legs, which are tied together. There's a clear lack of muscular definition to them. Then he returns it back up to his face, the pale blue sclera of his eyes the other marker of the brittle bone syndrome he possesses.]

I've been a cripple since birth. My father took one look at my legs and gave me the nickname. [He'd been none too fond of it as a young child, but eventually, he decided to own it.]

[suckstobestrange]

[Now, he knows better than to diagnose something over the phone. But really, the hallmarks this time are super obvious. However he's not going to go shouting about it because really, as severe as it seems Ivar's case is, the most that could be done is perhaps easing some discomfort.

It's also a question of if Ivar would even accept help. Always hard to tell.]

An unpleasant thing that. But I take it you haven't let it stop you.

[ragnarsson]

[Ivar's always quite touchy when it comes to the subject of his legs, justifiably having a huge chip on his shoulder about it. Any attempts to help him are usually met at best with a frigid prickliness and at worst with blinding rage. He relaxes his guard only around a select few people, hating to think someone might be pitying him or seeing him as an object of derision. He waits to see Strange's reaction and something hard in his eyes relaxes just a little bit when it comes.]

Never once.

[He's tough as nails and no mistake.]

[suckstobestrange]

[Stephen can understand that. His physical limitations aren't as all-encompassing as Ivan's seem to be, ruined hands instead of legs, his own hubris versus the unfortunate genetic lottery, but he knew how much he hated when someone pitied him, whether they said it or not. The living embodiment of the old chestnut that doctors make the worst patient, he had been a right misery for anyone to work on especially if he caught even a whiff of pity or mockery.

His temper might be on a better leash nowadays, but it doesn't change his feelings on the matter.]

Good.

So Ivan, where are you from? [No need to linger on the issue, nothing was gained from it for either of them, and he could only guess that Ivan would rather it not be treated as anything to be fussed about.]

[ragnarsson]

[He appreciates the good sense the doctor seems possess and relaxes a little at the change of subject. Ivar doesn't like to linger too much on thoughts of his legs, much as they tend to rule his mind. Better to talk of other things that don't bring up fury inside of him.]

Norway. From a long, long time ago, if you're from the same place everyone else on this floor is.