Stephen Strange is, as we all know, not the best and most tactful at navigating this sort of thing, tending to barge in with typical rifter arrogance and suppoedly-enlightened modern rifter opinions and looking down his nose at these barbaric old-fashioned practices. But he has tried to understand. He has been trying. Ever since Gwenaëlle first tore into him about it.

There’s a lot of information and context in what she’s giving him, and it does make sense, sort of, at least in terms of the public’s attitude towards mages and templars overall. It’s easy to fear a class of people if you’ve never met them and if the rest of the world’s telling you to fear them. But one detail sticks out like a rusty nail, caught in the back of his throat, even as Gwenaëlle folds her hands over his.

“Why would you ever,” Stephen says slowly, with something quietly ferocious in his voice, “want to diminish anything of what makes you so uniquely you?“