Strange has Foster's attention. So, Strange takes this as an opportunity to ramble. As he talks, he gestures with his hands, quick, sharp gestures full of excitement.
"In my world, magicians of old used to work hand in hand with faeries. The stories used to go that they were faerie servants, but having stayed at the carnival, I have a feeling the playing field was more equal than the magicians of old would admit. It was commonplace enough that a few hundred years later, after the revival of English magic was well underway, people would ask my friend and I if we had any faerie servants to begin with."
Something which Strange finds intensely amusing: a wry smile plays at the corners of his mouth.
"I briefly worked with one fae myself. I don't know his exact name or what he wanted to be called by—the master of Lost Hope, perhaps? He was a tall man, with hair the color of thistledown." He says, like of course Foster knows what the hell color thistledown is to begin with (fun fact: it's pale white). Said fae also hated Strange and tried to fuck him over so oddly enough, that part of the story is briefly getting skipped over.
"To the best of my knowledge, there isn't as stratified a court system in my world as we have come up against. The realm that my world calls faerie is, I believe, a series of interconnected kingdoms, some ruled by John Uskglass, some ruled by other fae, all connected by either the king's roads or aspects of faerie itself."
no subject
"In my world, magicians of old used to work hand in hand with faeries. The stories used to go that they were faerie servants, but having stayed at the carnival, I have a feeling the playing field was more equal than the magicians of old would admit. It was commonplace enough that a few hundred years later, after the revival of English magic was well underway, people would ask my friend and I if we had any faerie servants to begin with."
Something which Strange finds intensely amusing: a wry smile plays at the corners of his mouth.
"I briefly worked with one fae myself. I don't know his exact name or what he wanted to be called by—the master of Lost Hope, perhaps? He was a tall man, with hair the color of thistledown." He says, like of course Foster knows what the hell color thistledown is to begin with (fun fact: it's pale white). Said fae also hated Strange and tried to fuck him over so oddly enough, that part of the story is briefly getting skipped over.
"To the best of my knowledge, there isn't as stratified a court system in my world as we have come up against. The realm that my world calls faerie is, I believe, a series of interconnected kingdoms, some ruled by John Uskglass, some ruled by other fae, all connected by either the king's roads or aspects of faerie itself."