Owner	Pose
Xiang Zhao	For all of his wanderings around the city, this is the first time Fate has managed to bring Xiang Zhao to this place. On the one hand, the Chinaman looks woefully out of place, like he stepped off the set of an Asian period drama. Today, the robes are shades of blue ranging from pale to dark in what seem to be random patterns. Thread of a silvery color picks out swimming carp along the lower hems of the outer and inner robes, while coppery colored thread has phoenixes in flight along his arms and shoulders and back. His long, black hair has been partially pulled back into a tail atop his head, a long streamer hanging from it with a plain reddish wood stick shoved through it. An open folding fan is held in his right hand, and it moves with the lazy motion of Xiang Zhao's hand. His left is held tucked at the small of his back, and his expression is serene as he looks over the building he has come to stand in front of. On the other hand, in this place he might fit right in. To those with the ability to see such things, Xiang shines with a well of power. Power that upon closer inspection is almost completely stoppered, preventing it from being used. On the surface, he seems perfectly at ease. And what can be seen of his own mystical powers matches what shows on the surface. Serenity.
Doctor Strange	The Third Eye. It was a wonderful creation. It could see into the darkest and most sturdy of mystic illusions to reveal the true ability and powers of an individual. Even if they pretended to be mundane. Of course, his robes made the Third Eye nearly unnecessary, he stuck out like a sore thumb. Like he just came out of ancient China. He damn sure might've. The doors to the building open and emerges a man with a beard on his face, long hair pulled into a ponytail like some kind of sage. Stephen Strange. The Sorceror Supreme. He notices Xiang Zhao standing in front of his Sanctum, a tilt of his head. He's rarely seen someone with their magic so...suppressed. Usually means the person in question is dangerous or doesn't want to use magic at all. A rare outcome indeed. "Can I help you?"
Xiang Zhao	Xiang Zhao's garb and mannerisms sure make it seem like he stepped out of ancient China. Alas, he didn't. His person is rooted in this time reality. As the doors open, Zhao's eyes lower from their looking over of the building to settle upon the man who emerges. It's possible that his power is suppressed to keep him contained. Zhao himself doesn't even seem aware of that aspect of things. And it's not entirely blocked off. It can be seen flowing through his body in an orderly pattern, much like a second circulatory system that can't be seen by the naked eye or even by microscopes, but which can be seen by those with magical senses. "Ah, help," he says. "Help is a relative term, is it not?" He sounds as serene as he looks, and the fan doesn't slow nor speed up, but remains a constant, almost lazy speed. His accent definitely pits him as Chinese, as if his looks and dress weren't enough to do that all on their own. At least he is speaking English though, right?
Doctor Strange	Well, he's rooted in this reality. There's nothing about his signature that makes Strange believe he hails from any other time but the present. That's good, means he doesn't have to send him back home. Time magic was nothing to be trifled with. Stephen watches Zhao completely. Though Strange can feel his phone buzzing - but there's no notifications. It even starts to ring, and with a gesture of Stephen's hand, his phone's electronics starts to calm down and Stephen looks at Xiang. "Is that you?" the thing making his electronic - his only electronic - to start going off the fritz! "Relating only to the receiver and not the giver." Stephen suggests, but he tilts his head. In fluent Chinese, Stephen starts to speak. "Where are you from? You look lost. Or just serene."
Xiang Zhao	Definitely not a time walker. Or a reality shifter. He's misplaced beyond a shadow of a doubt, but that's more of a continent thing than anything hinky. Zhao tilts his head as the ringing sounds, as he can hear it. But he has little experience with cellular phones. His eyes shift back up to the Sorceror Supreme, and he looks enigmatic. "Almost certainly. The things of this place do not care much for my magic." Stephen Strange, being the Sorceror Supreme as he is, may well have heard of an odd Chinaman fighting the occasional demons and ghosts at street level during the nights for the past year, but this is the first their paths have crossed. As languages are shifted, Zhao shifts easily, and his words are much more fluid there. The accent falls away. The way he has of saying some words mark him as from somewhere on the western end of China. "Tibet," is the immediate answer. "I am.. learning. This place is still strange to me. It is, I have come to learn, much like the rest of China, but where I am from is remote and far from anything else." Being Tibet, it's probably on top of a lonely mountain.
Doctor Strange	'Tibet'. The dialect of Chinese and perhaps his accent and the way his Cantonese/Mandarin falls into his verbal step. Stephen's brain is already moving. He's not entirely sure how he feels about it, but sometimes he doesn't really get much of a read or necessity to act on such things. "Your magic being..?" Well, chaotic might be a good definition. He has heard of a 'Chinaman' fighting demons and monsters in the streets. Strange hasn't seen much of a need to summon him to the Sanctum and remind him of the price of not making him aware of his actions. Demons and other dark forces flock to where the mystic artists gather. "Would that happen to be a lonely mountain, like the tip of a needle?" Metaphors!
Xiang Zhao	Chaotic isn't right. Programs just don't like the ambient energy Xiang Zhao puts off. It's actually quite serene, his magic. But there's also a sense that should his mind get out of balance, the effects could be catastrophic. Internally, rather than externally. "Neijing," he says. His voice is soft. As it has been since he started speaking with Strange. Not out of awe, more like he is soft spoken by habit. The word he speaks though, speaks of a martial arts and magic style common amongst Taoists. Which is not typically the same as Buddhists practice, which tends toward external martial arts that focus on strength of muscles and bones, rather than internal that uses qi manipulation. Given where he is from, there is a very good chance that Xiang Zhao knows nothing of the Sorceror Supreme. His magic, at a glance, works nothing like Strange's does. Nor even most other wizards or mages. "A lonely mountain, yes. Like the tip of a mountain. It is very remote. Xiang clan. Not far from Namcha Barwa mountain." Stephen may have heard of that place. It is known for producing monks and mages, most of who'm practice that ever elusive cultivation methodology.