Doctor Strange Imagines

(#39) Perspicacious [Female Reader]

Once upon a time there was a doctor who became a sorcerer.

The doctor used to hold a trusting belief in his methods of science, often times undermining those who went against them. He also claimed to be the most knowledgeable of all yet chose to ignore what lied on the limits of reality and the mysteries of the cosmos.

Until his hands went numb and his life nulled gray.

The despair that overtook the man was unlike any other, dark, enveloping him in a cocoon of depression and anger. His dreams, the world he had built around himself, all gone at the hands of fate. It laughed at him, yet consoled him with wise, whispered words.

There's more ahead of you.

At that time he understood little of what that meant. In his perspective, his life was over, he had no reason to keep fighting for something he couldn't change. His medicine had proved to be a traitor to its biggest believer. The man never stopped believing in the science of healing, yet his trust with it shattered, a spark that gave its last blink before withering into nothing.

Until he discovered sorcery, albeit by chance. Humans tend to drive themselves mindlessly into a new stage of their lives, especially upon being enslaved by invisible demons. This, he questioned to himself, as his mission to heal was suddenly interfered by a threat he thought to be a fable. There were people who created intricate shapes, bright, powerful, just with their own strength of mind.

Fate had lead him to become the Sorcerer Supreme, even though it meant for his saviour to leave the world of the living.

It was crazy, he thought himself crazy, probably a man gone mad on his own wounds and the loss of his world to create a new one where ultradimensional beings existed and objects were suddenly sentient.

But probably the wisest were the craziest, for the ignorants lived a happier life when they knew nothing about their vulnerability.

And Stephen Strange, oh, the man probably knew too much already.

And this huge conundrum had origin from the fact he was attending a ball on a dimension where the sky was purple and the most common food that could be found there was, apparently, spicy moons.

The music wasn't bad though, although he had his doubts on several genres such as space sonata and flipping stars.

But he couldn't really complain when the inhabitants of said planet considered him a savior for preventing mass death and ultimately liberating them from the entity that had incited only fear for centuries.

He supposed that's what he did now, travel through impactful dimensions and helping those with a bit of sorcery and a grand cloak of levitation.

Alas, the short-lived ceremony had lead up to a ball, the celebration at one point sending him into a wondrous daze at the spectacle of colours and flowing gowns behind dancing women and their partners. The men wore intricate suits, the cloth made from the softest material he has ever seen, sewn delicately with an endless number of details and patterns that swirled and framed them like a piece of art.

The gown's worn by women, swirls of colour, changing with every turn and swirl of silk. It created the perfect picture of colorful flowers throughout the room, a piece of art framed with gold, motions frozen in time, a beauty that seemed to never end. He wondered how they did it, manage to change the design of dresses, colours and textures with movement. Or maybe it was just a mere illusion created from the saturation of colours.