[Voice Test] Lara and Stephen

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The library was new, since Lara had last been at the Inn. And it was truly fantastic in its variety, literally so; there were books in languages she’d never even seen before! All-new syntax to puzzle out, new patterns of thought... new to her, anyway. Some of the books were quite old.

One such book, on a shelf too high for her to reach conveniently, had words on its spine it was looked intriguingly almost like Mongolian script. Rather than cast about for a stepladder, Lara had simply climbed the shelf, ignoring the just-a-sting-really in her rock-abraded leg. Once she had the book, though, it seemed like a good idea not to jump down. Even if black yoga capris wouldn’t show blood, having to change and maybe explain that she’d reopened wounds because of impatience seemed like a hassle.

So she stayed where she was, considering other ways down that were gentle and wouldn’t force her to abuse the book.

Comments

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Very little crossover? Well, maybe. Certainly no one Lara had encountered was as free with power as this man seemed to be. And he hadn’t done anything the way she’d have expected Trinity to... but then, if they still wanted to ‘recruit’ her they’d know they needed to be tricky.

And none of it should matter in the Inn anyway. Lara smiled as pleasantly as she could. “I’m sorry to be so suspicious. My previous experience with magic has been rather on the apocalyptic side.”

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With a sigh, Stephen pushed on his knees to stand. Apocalyptic, she says. Yes, he was all too familiar.

"I have tales of my own. None that bear mentioning--they were resolved. But, enough that I can understand your leeriness on a visceral level." He paused to dust his jeans off. "No side effects to the replenishment enchantment, by the way."

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"Good to know. Thank you." The leg hadn't been the pressing wound, anyway - it was painful but seemed to be healing. If pressed, Lara would have admitted that her back had worried her much more. It was fresher, more open, and she'd been alternately dousing it in mud and Amazon river water. Not the best. "Trinity is... an organization focused on gaining power through exploitation of supernatural elements. They're not here, and I shouldn't be worried, but... I can't really help it." They'd killed her father, but that really felt like one of the smallest things that Trinity had done, even if it wasn't small to Lara. "I don't suppose you've heard of Kitezh?"

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"The Russian Atlantis." Stephen was familiar with the legend. His travels never brought him there himself, but no doubt one or several mystic arts practitioners had found their way to the city that rested beneath the lake. After all, legends had a way of being more than legends where he came from.

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Russian Atlantis, a good description. “According to some of the legends in my world, Kitezh was the hiding-place for a mystical power source, hidden there by the Prophet who founded Kitezh and capable of granting immortality.” She’d wanted it for other reasons. It had seemed reasonable that near-limitless magical power could be used to get her back to the Inn and Kitty. Somehow.

It hadn’t worked out that way. “Trinity wanted it. So their leaders could be immortal, or they could make miracle medicines and hold the world hostage, I don’t really know. Trinity wanting something is enough reason for me not to let them have it.”

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"Pardon my bluntness, but what does that make you? I'd take you for some manner of peeress crusader." To say nothing of what she was wearing, which Stephen respectfully declined to comment on. He could have simply caught her at a bad time--in more ways than one.

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"Good at revenge, bad at proportional response?" It was almost a joke, or would have been if it hadn't probably been fair. Lara shrugged a little. "I try to sell 'archaeologist' sometimes, but I usually get called 'tomb raider' these days." Also 'infamous'. Sometimes 'adventurer' but that seemed overly romantic, so Lara almost never claimed it.

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"Ah. A plunderer." Stephen rested his thumbs in his pockets. He was tempted to ask how many of her woes were caused by disturbing the very artifacts she sought after.

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Lara shrugged again. It was a fair enough assessment, really. The big things, the major artifacts - she often didn't have much choice about what she did with them. But she did tend to have magpie hands for what amounted to random treasure/junk along the way. If someone didn't want Lara Croft eventually stealing it, they shouldn't hide it behind a massive climbing structure loaded with puzzles.

And certainly, both Kitezh and Paititi - mostly Paititi - were her instigation. Though leaving both situations alone would have been worse. She had to believe that. "That's the reputation, anyway. I think I'm better than the alternative. But of course I would, wouldn't I?"

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"In a space-locked dimension, I'm sure my unsolicited judgements will do neither of us good." While in the past, Stephen Strange always found energy to bicker, he had at least graduated to Will Only Bicker If Prompted.

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Somehow that struck Lara as funny, but she carefully didn't crack a smile. Serious older men who introduced themselves as 'Doctor' weren't generally known for their senses of humor. But she couldn't resist playing a little. "Yes, do wait to judge me until something has actively exploded."

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Stephen cracked the faint traces of a smirk. "If you actively explode something, I am claiming no responsibility." From all appearances, there were surely plenty of other people for that.

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"Don't worry, I take responsibility for my own explosions." Most of the time, sadly, there wasn't really anyone else around and/or alive to blame. Except Jonah, but he was generally the one trying to pump the brakes.

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"Good to know." Stephen inclined his head an inch. "Unless there are other wounds you'd like attended, I'll leave you to your business of the literary kind." He gestured at the bookcase, as if she had been planning to go climbing once more.

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“Right! Yes. Thank you again for helping.” Lara showed off her book. “It looks almost like Mongolian, I’m very interested to see how much it actually is.”

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"Let me know your verdict." Stephen tapped on its surface. "The Mongolic language group boats some fascinating texts."

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“It does,” she agreed. “I found a few in Kitezh, mostly personal accounts and unusually well-preserved letters. Nothing bound, like this.” So: a doctor who did magic and had a head for languages. Strange was an appropriate name! “Where did you find yours?”

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"In my personal collection. It was inherited. Endless, almost." Few things were infinite, though the books in the Sanctum certainly could feel that way. He had taken to simply projecting his spirit during sleep to read. One night could turn into months of study.

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"I'd be jealous, if I honestly thought I could sit still long enough for that much reading." Before Yamatai, she could have done it, Lara thought. Before Sam had decided that serious student Lara Croft needed to be taken out of herself. Before fights to the death with ancient queens, deathless guards, and insane cults. Before a lot of things.

Now she tended to twitch when things were quiet. "I mean, I'd love to try. But I'm not really set up to be a scholar anymore."

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Stephen squinted for a moment. Hearing those words out of someone who appeared to be around half his age felt like a sign of the times.

"If I may be so bold, what are you setting yourself to be in the space we're in now?"

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"I haven't decided. I was a bartender my first time here, but it seems there's enough on that." Lara shrugged. "Maybe I'll teach something, there was a sign-up sheet for that. Or offer translation services. Or hunt!"

[st_rangedoctor]

Watching Lara go on was sort of charming. The woman was most certainly an utter maniac, but she had enthusiasm. And an unfortunate tendency to accrue injuries. Not unlike his late sister in the least.

He nodded at the towering bookshelves. "Crash course in indoor parkour."

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"If I do that, it'll be outside. Better climbing on outside walls." Lara considered, then shook her head. "From what I remember, a lot of people here will already be fine in that respect. I'll stick with teaching or shooting things, I think."

[st_rangedoctor]

Stephen reached forward to rap a few knuckles on her book. "If you find some quiet time to pour over that tomb of yours, look me up." With that, he made his exit. It was time for tea. Heavy contemplation called for something to clear one's head, though not while he was in the library. He had more tact than that.