8747/Beach Confrontation

Beach Confrontation
Date of Scene:	11 August 2019
Location:	Unknown
Synopsis:	Moves are made against the Supreme's sanctum...
Cast of Characters:	Black Cat, Loki
Tinyplot:	Weather Spheres

---

Black Cat has posed:
There's a plan.

And the plan is admittedly about as wacky it comes, given the influence of the plan-ees -- and risky, but worth the risk if it plays out in favor of one party or another.

As such, a glimmering oculus of light slowly opens upon reality. Sparkling, spitting, the fiery wheel irises out to admit the Sorcerer Supreme upon the white sand beach abutting the Hardy family's summer beach house. He seems...bored -- annoyed? -- resigned. A dismissive sniff and he gives himself a once-over. The battle-leathers and cotton-weave in storm-blue are smoothed down and the Cloak of Levitation subtly adjusted at his shoulders.

"Play nice now, okay?" he whispers under his breath at the relic. Then, clearing his throat, he strides out onto the sand proper before taking up a balanced stance, arms folded across his broad chest.

"Loki Odinson, I wish to speak with you." His resonant voice travels along the beach well enough.

Loki has posed:
A soft flutter of a laugh lands like soft raindrops around the Sorcerer on the beach. And abruptly, Loki appears, with a crackle of energy and ozone, a thickness of strong magic tightening the air, making it feel like the beach went several hundred feet upwards. It's meant to be impressive: and so is the visual Loki strikes.

Loki's in his full regalia, much as he wore when he moved to conquer New York city. The armor is brilliant and shiny with scales of emerald green, encrusted with magical runes that weave under and over it. His helmet shimmers into view even as he becomes visible, each of the long arching horns growing into existance as the powerful mage-god makes his entrance.

"Do you now? I have much to say, myself. And I have invited a friend of YOURS to witness us; I am sure you do not mind." Loki's tone is even, commanding, and appears to be level and honest - there's no sleaze in it.

Black Cat has posed:
The fine hairs on the back of the man's neck rise. His subtle immediate reaction is to shift his weight into something more balanced, as if immediately expecting an attack from the grandoise display. As such, a wisp of reality-warping slips before being caught up and away, at risk of appearing rude and 'trigger-finger'.

Fingers stretch and relax at his sides as Stephen seems to school himself. "I wasn't expecting company. Be more specific, I'm particular about friends. I'd hate to have to rain on your parade and tell you we're actually not friends at all." A spread of his hand at his side flashes the red lines of surgical scarring.

Loki has posed:
There is an odd little pause, as if Loki were quickly calculating. Determining something, perhaps.

"It is impeccable timing: I was about to speak with them. Instead, we can all talk. This should be no surprise," Loki says, coolly.

The air peels around them further, and three floating foglike shapes begin to emerge. Loki wheels backwards and smoothly bows towards them, one hand graceful against his breastbone. "Vishanti, creators of the seat of Sorceror Supreme: we beseech you, judge the current state of the seat," Loki asks, and flares his hand directly towards Dr. Strange. His eyes fleck with a calculated, uncloaked power, a churn of purple in the dark of Loki's pupils.

Black Cat has posed:
The Sorcerer's face remains implacably stoic as he looks dead back at Loki. His heart jumps high up into his throat at the measuring way he's observed. It has a tell of a card up a sleeve --

-- and a hell of a card it is. Stephen takes a step back, his front of imperturbable breaking as the arrival of the triumvate takes precedence on the beach. His eyes go wide and it's with a marked swallow that he drops his head into what appears to be a lingering nod of respect.

"I'm honored by your presence," he murmurs, steepling his hands before his chest.

Loki has posed:
The weighing look of Loki is nothing compared to the pentration of the barest of arrivals at the beach. The ozone scent grows stronger as their presence continues. It is as if the rift opened by them drew oxygen off the beach. Loki seems unaffected, of course.

"Stephen Strange insults by not appearing in person," deems the 'voice' of the leftmost of the Vishanti presences. "A judgement will not be made today."

Loki doesn't look dismayed, but instead, pleased. For good reason, because the Vishanti look to Loki, now. "Your request has great merit: the Supreme may not be suitable. We will give him the chance to step down, before our judgement is final."

Loki inclines his head, and sends a little sideways look at 'Dr. Strange.' A little smile.

Black Cat has posed:
Color drains from the Sorcerer's face. Game's up -- it's just that simple, especially when the god-heads of his mystical state share their edicts as they do. Stephen's hands fall to his belt and take up one of the loose lengths. It gets twisted tightly until the torque upon it begins to fret at the leather braiding itself; knuckles go white, proof of pain ignored in his hands...or none present at all.

"As...as the Vishanti wish," he replies as steadily as he can manage, still lifting his chin and giving Loki the best look he can down his nose.

Loki has posed:
"In many situations, honesty /is/ best," Loki advises, in a royal, firm way, as if gently reprimanding Dr. Strange. It is advice only, and swells with the power that Loki is deliberately flexing right now on the beach. It is to his benefit to show how the difference between himself and Dr. Strange, of course.

"Thank you for your mercy upon him; the human does try, though it is often ill-advised," Loki says, 'supportively' of Dr. Strange.

The Vishanti do not seem overly interested in the situation, though. Instead, the male on the right orients at Loki. "Loki Odinson - we appreciate your loyalty, and continued protection of the Earth realm, though it is not your duty. Continue until our decision is final. We will grant access to the sanctums." Loki smiles into the compliment, as the Vishanti portal begins to fade.

Black Cat has posed:
How the Sorcerer remains silent during the exchange is a wonder, especially of the personage beneath the visually-convincing disguise. If anything, his lips go pale from being pressed together as he waits for the god-heads to disappear entirely.

Once they're gone? It slips venomously from his mouth, all premise of natural Strange-ly composure lost.

"Fuck. You." And on that note, he turns on his heel and begins briskly walking towards the spinning oculus still left open above the sedge grass.

Loki has posed:
"Come try it, coward," Loki mocks smoothly, and digs one hand forward, a claw into the sand, drawing the sand impossibly longer, just to mess with 'Dr. Strange', force him to have to either fly or walk further over the weird conveyor belt of sand dunes that ripple at the call of the god. Though really, a lot of effort could also 'defeat' the situation. It wasn't about STOPPING things, just having fun.

"Come now, what did you want to talk about? To offer /me/?" Loki asks, serene, his tone saccarine.

Black Cat has posed:
"I can offer you a boot up your ass if you keep up your bullshit, Loki, just //go away//," the man spits out, at least incensed enough to try and continue walking at his current pace. "I've got nothing more to offer you now, you took it for yourself like you always do."

Interestingly enough, and probably more telling yet, he doesn't seem to think about the Cloak at his shoulders as a method of transportation at all.

Loki has posed:
"Fiesty. And entirely lacking in conviction," Loki observes. He walks past -- around towards the gateway - in the manner of simply walking up a riverbank while someone else struggles against the flow of the river itself. His armor wisps away, into a relaxed leather and linen outfit appropriate for riding a horse (or Asgardian goat).

"If you don't tell him, I am very happy to. In the Sanctum. Or perhaps the Vishanti will just make their judgement. You know what, let's just wait and see what they /do/. I mean, I'm curious, myself, but since it may involve permanent removal of power, and I don't really want to see THAT happen even if I'm still insulted by the /ban/ against me .... well. I think the lesson to not fuck around with me has been learned. What do you think?"

Black Cat has posed:
With a snarl, Stephen turns around in full fury, eyes flashing in a odd winkling of blue to jade-green and back. He throws himself bodily in the direction of the Trickster God only to be caught up short at the shoulders by the Cloak of Levitation. It's like a guard dog hitting the end of the rope. The relic then begins yanking him towards the oculus even as he grunts and fights, heels kicking and dragging at the river of sand.

"You -- fucking -- put me down, I'm going to KILL HIM MYSELF -- !!!" he spits, teeth bared as he yanks at the unyielding fabric of the Cloak.

Loki has posed:
Loki stares at this bizarre little show, and just starts laughing, and laughing. He pauses only to wipe some tears from his eye. "I look forward to working with you," Loki addresses the cloak. "We'll repair your thread; I fear your hem is slightly torn: no respect for relics, I fear," Loki says, though clearly suppressing the laughter. He turns away, his chuckles still easy on the sand, and fades into invisibility - or perhaps he left.

Black Cat has posed:
And through the oculus the faux-Supreme goes, still cursing up a storm and telling Loki -- or the empty air -- that he's free to do many anatomically-impossible things to himself at his leisure. The flickering gate closes out and leaves the beach silent once more but for the shush and ebb of the waves upon its white-grain stretch.