"YOU'RE TELLING ME THAT YOU KIDNAPPED ME TO FIGHT WITH CAPTAIN AMERICA AGAINST IRON MAN? NO WAY."
In which Alison Marnell deals with the casual life of a superhero while also trying to balance homework, tests, and the regular plights of high school...
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"Like it or not, Miss Marnell, you desperately need my help, or you won't stand a chance against Absinthe."
New York Sanctum Santorum, November 2016-
Alison officially hated portals. It wasn't until after going through one that she had agreed on the fact that she really hated portals. Stephen Strange had forced her into one (well not really, she had eagerly leaped through into to escape the weird reality that she was stuck in) and she felt like she was going to barf.
That, and she hated that was in pitch blackness after being transported through the portal, seeing nothing but feeling her stomach scream at her that portals did not mix with super speed superheroes. The darkness was like sleep, and Alison was confused as to where she was even going. When the man had appeared into wherever she was earlier, he looked to be coming in from a building, not from pitch darkness.
In an instant, all of Alison's confusion was cleared up, as the pitch black gave way to a building that was soft in colors, and a blend in modern shapes and sharp edges with an almost rustic wood feel. Stacks of worn out leather books were stacked on the coffee table right below Alison, the girl waking up on a sofa in the middle of a place that she was unfamiliar with.
Sitting upright, Alison looked around, trying to take in the weird clash of the modern and rustic tones that was surprisingly working. As she scanned the room, the brunette's eyes landed on the huge circular window, where her "rescuer" was standing, looking off into the New York skyline.
Hearing the girl rustle awake, Strange turned around to face the girl. "Nice to finally meet you in the real world, Alison Marnell." Stepping towards the girl, it was almost like he was floating just above the ground, his red garment behind him carrying him, or maybe levitating him. "The name's-"
"Stephen Strange." Alison yawned, stretching her arms as she looked at the man with a knowing look. "Yeah, you told me that." Looking at the man's outfit, it looked like he was some sort of monk, or at least his clothing gave the appearance of one. Well, except for his big red cape (cloak? Alison didn't know the difference) floating behind him.
"I wasn't sure if you'd remember. I had to do some spells to make sure Absinthe didn't meddle with your brain or curse you, anything of the sort." Strange explained, gesturing with his scarred hands towards her head and then to the couch. "Might I take a seat?"
"I'm going to pretend you didn't say anything about meddling with my head, and just trust that you won't kill me." Alison muttered, talking underneath her breath. She looked at the empty sofa next to her for a second, before shrugging at the man. "Go ahead."
