Template:Featured Articles/2-2025

Moment of Awesome - Clea: Meeting with Namor to get information on Atlantean magic, Clea finds herself on the end of some rather pointed questions. The other man's head cocked to the side only by a few degrees. "Now that we're finished, Clea the Faltine, I have spent the whole of this conversation with a question of my own." He gestured vaguely as to encompass the whole of her. "Why? Why do you work so hard to blend into a people not your own." Clea looked at him for a moment, "Because I don't know my own." She said simply and sighed, "I was a baby when I was brought to this dimension and adopted by my parents. I must have been barely a year old or so. From the records I can find, the Faltines are from a Hell Plane and are very secretive and rarely venture out of their own dimension. As for the Dark Dimension, I know that Dormammu came and took over, which led to a rebellion and the fall of those people. Even then the books I did find don't offer much. From what I saw, it was mostly in ruins. I don't even know if there are survivors that managed to make it this far." She paused again before saying, "I guess we are kindred spirits in a way. We both lost our homes." Tapping her notebook, "Maybe in my search for answers, I will find what I've been looking for." "Yet, you could know them." It was a blunt statement. "I would violate everything sacred under the sun to bring my people back. You hold the power to tear open the way to other dimensions – I have seen what human mages can do. Surely you are more. Even then, We have our own portal. There are ways." Clea looked at him in silence. No one ever mentioned that she could go to them for answers. She knew it would be dangerous to open a portal to the Dark Dimension, not without the risk of Dormammu finding out. Were those people, her people, alive? There was a possibility. All she did see were parts of the capital city and the castle, not the rest. "Isn't the portal unstable at the moment?" She came back to her senses. "Nothing great is guaranteed," Namor said. "You have been too molded by human masters. 'Unstable,'" and his voice pitched higher in mockery, "'Risky.' Those are words used to keep pawns in their place. If that is what you wish to be, so be it." Clea looked down at her notebook, her grimoire in the making, "They have been trying to mold many to be like them. It is why I haven't chosen that path. Despite the rocks, they keep sending." She sighed heavily, "Growing up in a world you thought you belonged in, only to have that reality ripped from underneath you. It makes you feel alone and naked. So, I have been grabbing at anything that will help that feeling lessen and hiding behind the bubble persona." Clea looked at Namor, "I don't know why I am telling you this. I don't want to be a pawn. Ever." Namor didn't even blink. "So you play spy. Do those masters have you stealing from the mountain for their own gains? It is not ignoble to be a pawn. There is a cost to making difficult choices, and those who are content to serve simply refuse to pay." "I play spy because I want to. And XF aren't masters, they pay my bills, so they are my bosses. That isn't a pawn, that is called being an employee. I am allowing my skills to be used and I can quit any time. As for stealing from the mountain, that was my idea." She looked at him for a moment. "Pawns don't get a choice in the matter. I am searching for who I am, and yes, there may be people out there that wish to put me under their thumb. But I can assure you I am too stubborn for that." She reached into her bag and pulled out a hundred dollar bill and placed it on the table. "If I wasn't, I would have joined the Winding Way the moment I received the first rock invitation. Maybe I am using them to fill up the void I feel, to satisfy my hunger for knowledge." Grabbing her grimoire off the table and placing it safely in her back. "Like I said, I don't ever want to be a pawn. Making them think I am - that is a different story."