MAEGYA | xiii. "IS YOUR TINGLE TINGLING?" DUNGEONS & DRAGONLORDS
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PATCH THE CRACKS.
That was what Stephen Strange commanded Theadora Valaryen to do, with an extra helping of arrogance. It was truly a miracle she didn't trap him into a Pocket World of endless torture and bad hair days. But she knew he was right.
"Your little Sliding Doors fantasy is fodder for whoever escaped here," Strange had told her in no uncertain terms. "It's a defect in the order of nature, one that could put you and the entire Multiverse in even more danger."
There wasn't really an argument after that.
When Thea opened her eyes, she was back in the townhouse. It was dimly lit, warm with the fire burning in the mantle. She could feel its heat scorching her skin. The snags in her silver hair were brushed out and even her clothes—the gray cami she wore beneath her cream blazer and the flared pants—were mutated into her "costume": her softest pair of joggers and a maroon sweatshirt. Peter's sweatshirt. It was roughly the same attire for every visit. Only now, her dragon helm materialized on her head in wisps of flaming light.
She could see everything so clearly. Then the scent of smoke and fabric softener, mildew, and the saltiness of dust weighed on her. She was in the Undercroft still but her mind and heart were elsewhere.
Even the fervor of the mantle's flame didn't stop the feeling of ice-cold fear threading through her body. The woman made soft, delicate steps towards her. It was like she was floating through the air. Thea looked at the woman, her silver hair and pale blue eyes shining. The gold flecks in her irises glimmered like stars, energizing her kind, oblivious face.
Then she saw the weight tying her back to her real reality: scarlet licks of flame dancing with black tendrils of light, trimming an imperceptible line hanging above the pale moon.
"You have not forgotten me then... and you will not forget me now," she reminded, raising a pale soft hand to brush a silver lock away from the girl's face.
Can I forget someone I never knew? The words caught in Thea's throat. She did know her... but not really.
"Have you forgotten your lord father? I wonder if you knew him too, beyond the words of others." The woman's eyes were blue, her long hair spun silver. A tear rolled down her cheek but she didn't wipe it away. She only held Thea's hands tightly, almost tugging.
"I'm sorry, I don't want to hurt you," Thea said, oddly choked. Tears began to burn her eyes and blur her vision but Thea didn't care if they fell. Where else would she cry than in her mother's arms?
"It's okay, Teddy. Just... wake up. Wake up. Come back."
When Thea opened her eyes after she tore down the world, it was Peter's hands holding hers.
