The crimson magic collided against his seidr with the grace of a battering ram, knocking him off his feet and propelling him to a great height within the span of a heartbeat. Automatically, his own defenses began breaking down and redistributing the casting, lessening its momentum though not dispelling it entirely, so that he was able to guide the arc of his descent onto the top of a bookcase several feet away.
Well. That was... fascinating.
Seidr was, at its purest, stemmed from the collected and condensed energy of nature. It was the birth and death of a star, a million atoms colliding, leaves falling from their branches and new growth in the spring. In essence, it was life.
However, what his own magic had deconstructed was certainly not seidr. It existed within the girl and was undoubtedly a part of her, but there was an element of corruption to the aura it cast, a chemical taint to her power that tasted sharply metallic on his tongue.
Inefficient. Unfocused, yet powerful enough in its concentration to be plainly visible to the eye. Such a feat would have taken an Asgardian mage decades to master, decades the human witchling clearly did not have.
"I thought you said she was a magic user?" Loki called down to Strange, adjusting his tie and smoothing the wrinkles out of his shirt. His meaning may not have been clear enough, however, for the response he received was an impressively obtuse, "She is."
After stepping off the side of the bookcase, Loki slowed his descent to a manageable pace, then strode forward, gesturing impatiently,"This isn't casting." The girl bristled at his approach, wisps of scarlet peeling from her clothing and skin. "There's no technique, no finesse. No grace." He was well within her range now, if she could project her blasts as he suspected, which begged the question of why she was holding back. Cocking his head in a manner he'd been informed on many occasions was particularly infuriating, Loki dismissively concluded, "It's the magical equivalent of a temper tantrum."
There was a quiet hiss as the witchling suck in a breath through her teeth, her eyes narrowed into slits. The side of Loki's mouth ticked upwards in a goading smirk.
Strange glanced between the two of them, wary. "Is that your way of saying it's sympathetic to her emotional state?" When he saw Loki cast him a sharp look of annoyance, the sorcerer merely shrugged. "Not all of us speak asshole."
"And yet," Loki grumbled, "you appear to be fluent."
That the sorcerer appeared pleased by the implied admittance only served to spoil his already ruined mood. As luck would have it, however, a pulse of crimson swept over the ground, phasing through them without harm while leaving impressions of anger, fear, and confusion in its wake. As one, they turned their attention to their young guest, who trembled with the potency of her rage. "Will someone," she gritted out, palms raised and swathed in her crimson aura, "please tell me why this maniac has brought me here?!" And she thrust an accusing finger in Loki's direction. Loki also pointed a finger at himself, feigning confusion. Seeing that, Strange disapprovingly shook his head. "You've snatched me from my hotel room, criticized my abilities," with each new grievance her voice rose, the walls began to shake, "and now you think you can just ignore me?!"
"Certainly not."
Her power abruptly dissipated as confusion clouded her features. Loki stepped forward. "There is little time to spare. The more you know, the better prepared you will be to face what is coming. A conqueror and destroyer of worlds is making his way to your planet as we speak, and the destruction he and his Children will wring cannot be imagined. It can only be experienced."
"Why should I believe anything you say?"
"I served him. Once." His expression froze for a moment, his eyes going glassy and unfocused, before a hand reached up to swipe at the tendrils of scarlet caressing his temples and his gaze cleared, though it narrowed at the smugness with which the girl feigned innocence. She appeared disappointed, though not overly surprised that the ploy had not worked. "It's very rude to attempt to infiltrate another caster's mind without their permission, youngling," he told her scoldingly. "Rude and dangerous." He forced his muscles to relax, reminding himself that he too had once done foolish things in his youth. Despite this, the fear of having his own horrors unearthed for her to see lingered in the form of a stubborn chill in his bones. "Is there anything short of allowing you access to my innermost thoughts and secrets that will convince you of my sincerity?"
"I hardly believe you are capable of sincerity." Loki closed his eyes.
He did not know how long they remained so, only that the sorcerer felt it necessary to call for him. Judging by the pitch and urgency, it wasn't the first time, and Loki couldn't help but be impressed by how convincing his concern sounded. Truly, the magician had missed his calling in the theatre.
When at last he'd gathered himself, Loki opened his eyes to see the witchling staring at him strangely. A smirk spread across his face, wiping that strangeness away, leaving wariness and suspicion in its place. His smile widened. "You're absolutely right about me." She tensed. "And I could not possibly convince of something that does not exist, so let us skip the part where I try, shall we?" Again, the sorcerer spoke his name. This time, however, Loki ignored him. "Just know this - I am asking for your help in dealing with this threat and his pet abominations not for my own sake, nor even for vengeance. He will destroy your families. He will force you to watch your loved ones turn to dust as they slip through your fingers. That is undeniable fact." There was something gratifying in watching the color flee her cheeks as the truth of his words made themselves known. It seemed she had some talent in the finer points of the arts, after all. "What I am offering you is not a victory." And here he took a step back, turning to address both of the human magic users. "My brother," and here his voice threatened to stutter, to dip, to crack over that one damnable word, "loved this silly little planet. He died fighting to protect not only his own citizens, but yours, as well. Will you, who were born of this soil, not do the same?"
The humans, it seemed, needed time to process his words. Deciding that this much time could be spared, Loki strode over to the sorcerer's book collection to give the pair a moment to discuss the ill tidings he'd brought. Strange had told him he was on board, so Loki knew he could tentatively count on his support should the girl decline. It would be understandable, really. Were he in her position, taken from her place of lodging by a mad man begging for aid against an heretofore unknown enemy, there was little doubt that he would do the same.
Running his finger over the leathery spine of an ancient tome on arcana, this one still managing to remain on the shelf despite the gale of force displayed by the witchling earlier, it was plain to see that the books were well-cared for, a wealth of knowledge entrusted to a man barely five-hundred moons old. What could the Supreme Sorcerer have seen in him to convince her of his worth?
There were fates that could not be changed, steps that must be taken in order for the stream of life and time to flow without obstruction. Loki himself had never cared overly much for the rules, but he was undoubtedly aware of them. Could any of the Midgardians say the same?
Frowning, Loki picked up another book, only to realize that it had been read recently, its pages coming apart easily under his fingers. The same was true of the next, and the next, until it became apparent that someone had taken the time and effort to peruse the entire shelf.
Upon returning the last book he'd removed to its section, Loki found his mood greatly improved. Additionally, the humans had finally reached a consensus.
The young witch stalked over to him, stopping just out of range, much as he had. Carefully, as though testing the waters, she began,"You are trying to guilt us into a suicide mission."
"Oh, most definitely", agreed Loki without hesitation, noting the sorcerer's resulting wince with not a small amount of satisfaction. "But first," and knives appeared in his hands out of the ether, causing the young witch's dark eyes to go wide, "let us see what you can do." He sprinted forward, tossing a blade towards her to test her reflexes, and she batted it away successfully with a single crimson-enveloped palm while the second propelled her backwards to increase the distance, but Loki wasn't having it. He increased his pace.
While they clashed, taking advantage of the furniture and walls for speed and height when necessary, Strange roared after them, "Do not break my sanctum!"
Almost immediately, the witchling misjudged her steps when ducking to avoid a blade and slammed into a pedestal bearing some kind of multicolored orb. It teetered precariously over the edge as the pedestal swayed before tipping over, its fate sealed, except the magician teleported to its location in time to swipe it out of the air, looking aggrieved.
"Sorry!" The young witch called over her shoulder, while at the same time throwing up a barrier to block the hail of daggers heading towards her. They pinged harmlessly off, clattering noisily to the ground. Meanwhile, Loki found himself standing next to a vase. It didn't look particularly important. He gave it a push. "Oops."
From what he'd gathered, her strength seemed to stem from a nearly bottomless stamina, which was all the more impressive considering the majority of her magical reservoir was fueled by her own power. It replenished itself at such an absurdly rapid pace that Loki was beginning to feel a toll on his magic purely from his attempts to force her to expend her own to any observable degree. Physically, however, she was at a disadvantage. She replied heavily on her untamed aura to defend her body from projectiles, and favored propulsion by way of expelling a portion of her endless reserves at the ground over dodging, running, or leaping to safety.
"You wield your magic like a blunt object," he sidestepped a blast, having grown accustomed to her pattern, and predictably, she gathered more energy into her palms, anger and frustration emanating from her slender form in potent waves. "The sorcerer, for all his inexperience, can at least serve as a passable hammer."
Strange blinked, pausing in the work of levitating displaced books and papers back into their places. "Did you just call me a tool?"
"Who trained you in the arts?"
"I trained myself," the witchling retorted, her arms raised and posture defensive in preparation for the continuation of their fight.
"I see." Tapping his chin thoughtfully, Loki continued, "Unfortunately, there is no time to teach you in the finer points of magic." He sighed. "I suppose brute force will do."
"I haven't agreed to anything!" At her shout, another pulse of her aura radiated outwards, eventually passing through the walls. It wasn't damaging, though several of the shelfs shook, as Strange wielded his own power to ensure the vibrations didn't dislodge anything else. Lowering his arms to his sides, he mumbled something about a man named Wong under his breath, shooting Loki a look of irritation while the object of said glare made a show of appearing momentarily affronted.
He turned his attention back to the young novice, the girl with power, little to no limits, and no guidance to speak of. What it must have been like to grow into maturity in a world where magic was so scarce and feared. Asgard, while perhaps not known for its progressive attitudes towards magic users, at least acknowledged and accepted its existence. "Instead of naturally tapping into the power within you," he started, conjuring a bit of his own seidr into his palm for a visual representation, "it seems to be as though you rile your magic into a volatile state to make use of whatever excess boils to the surface." Always close, Loki allowed himself to siphon off from the rage roiling within him, the sorrow, and the placid verdant orb floating over his outstretched hand began to writhe, its green shifting towards something murky and opaque. Understanding dawned on her features. "You are powerful witchling, of that I have no doubt, but more than that, I believe you have potential." The orb blinked out of existence as he closed his palm into a fist. "Help us now, and if it pleases you, I will teach all I know."
She studied him without speaking, her gaze sharp and aged beyond her time, before blowing out a breath. "My name is Wanda," she said eventually. "Wanda Maximoff. And you… tried to conquer New York. How can you possibly expect me to trust you?"
An easy smile, though not strictly a pleasant one, curved Loki's lips. Being distrusted was, after all, something he was intimately familiar with. "I would not recommend that you do. Rather, think of me as a resource." At her hesitance, he added, "I allowed myself to become a monster, Wanda Maximoff. Perhaps there is something to be learned from my mistakes."
"You call yourself a monster?" He watched her glance at her hands, her brow furrowing.
Ridiculous. The mere idea that her deeds, whatever they may be, could ever be equated to his own was patently absurd.
Time to end this. "I know what I am." Her mouth opened as though to argue the point, though it would get her nowhere, and Loki took a step forward, deliberately placing himself within her space. His lips curled back from his teeth, and for a split second, he allowed the Aesir illusion to slip, letting crimson bleed freely through his sclera. Pitching his voice to a low growl, he said, "And I think you'll find a monster a valuable ally for defeating a titan."
Strange appeared at her side in an instant. "Alright, that's enough!"
Loki glanced at him, then back at her, impressed to see that though she was evidently frightened, she was not by any means cowed, her jaw set with defiance. "Tell me, witchling," his eyes returned once more to their Aesir state, "are you willing to use your power to save the very humans that fear you? Or will you leave them to the mercy of a mad man?"
Her gaze fell, settling on nothing.
Human lives ended so quickly even when unhastened by violence or sickness. It seemed almost a sin in of itself to ask them to risk what they'd hardly experienced. But if a few did not, they all would perish.
She lifted her head. "I'll do it. But not for you." Fires blazed in her eyes. "I will fight so that those important to me do not have to."
Stacks of books appeared in Strange's arms. "Then let's get started." And he allowed them spill out onto the table. There were tomes filled with countless spells that would doubtless be valuable so long as Thanos remained vulnerable to magic, but one of the covers caught Loki's attention more than others. Following his gaze, Strange looked sheepish, "I must have grabbed that one by mistake." Instead of asking how he could possibly have envisioned the wrong book for the summoning, Loki gently extricated it from the others, then carried it off to find a quiet place to read.