❝ 𝒊'𝒗𝒆 𝒏𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓 𝒎𝒆𝒕 𝒂𝒏𝒚𝒐𝒏𝒆 𝒍𝒊𝒌𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖. ❞
❝ 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒊𝒔𝒏'𝒕 𝒂𝒏𝒚𝒐𝒏𝒆 𝒍𝒊𝒌𝒆 𝒎𝒆. ❞
a journey into mystery that stretches across time, space and many dimensions ━ this is the tale of a lonely sorcerer and a grieving woma...
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ONE YEAR LATER
Today marked the anniversary of those that lost their lives in the cataclysmic event that poured from the Dark Dimension.
'One year to the date,' Stephen Strange thought somberly to himself.
He stood where the entrance of the Empire State Building once was and let a low, quiet sigh part from his lips. He had come to pay his respects on this day, but not for long, of course. He did not want to attract any unnecessary attention, but the Cloak of Levitation seemed to want the opposite. The velvet cloak could change its form and shape at the behest of the wearer, but only when she so desired. Strange had asked her politely to don the appearance of a trench coat, but for some aberrant reason the cloak had refused him.
So, there he was, standing in full Kamar-Taj attire at remnants of an unfortunate devastation.
He glanced down at the crimson maroon cloth and shook his head. "You might be used to this, but I think we look ridiculous."
The hem snapped at him in reply.
Strange had no idea why he had always thought of the sentient item as a 'she'. It could have very well just as easily been a 'he' but referring to the cloak as anything opposite felt wrong to him. She tugged at the nap of his neck, forcing Stephen to turn his wavering attention back to the memorial that had situated itself organically after the tragedy.
The city had erected a fence around the ruins almost overnight, and immediately the chained links became headstones and tributes to those lost; flowers, photos of families, stuffed animals, jewelry and candles saturated the sidewalk in honor of the dead.
He pressed his lips together thinly and exhaled slowly at the sight.
As the months passed, mourners continued to come, adding even more items until their self-inserted memorial had grown to such a size it prevented the city from beginning construction on a new, Brobdingnagianbuilding to replace the Empire State Building. Strange thought it was just, seeing it inappropriate and inconsiderate to rebuild such an eye-sore so soon.
The Cloak tugged at him again.
"If you want my attention," Stephen said. "There are better ways to do it. "
Stephen felt the Cloak shake her response to him.
Crowds of the grief-stricken had begun to thin out and the gray clouds that hovered over the city when Strange had left, were now a dangerous black. The air hung pregnant around him, eerie and warm; the wind pushed through nearby trees and forcing the leaves to whisper about nature's malicious intent. Stephen slightly tilted his head up to the sky and wondered if the ensuing storm could wash away the guilt, he had felt not being able to save everyone.
