❝You know what talent is? The curse of expectation❞
“I imagine you have been the object of one too many expectations, Doctor Strange.”
Caitlyn watches a half-eaten banana regenerate its full shape and wrap itself up in its peel. Transmutation of matter, achieved through reaching into the astral plane, into the very fabric of space-time itself. Some of the heroes she worked with used technology to appear larger than life. Some of the fantastic beings were born with godlike powers, others gaining them through unique mutations.
Strange and the disciples of the Sanctum learn magic, in the same way she had studied law and physics and philosophy. Caitlyn doesn’t remember a single time that a lecture at Chapel Hill ever allowed her to manipulate even the coffeemaker in her home.
Before taking the position of Sorcerer Supreme, Strange had been a brilliant neurosurgeon. He has not told Caitlyn how exactly his career transitioned from the medical field into the study of the occult, but she realizes that this is just another domain Strange is adept at. The doctor has a point; people may mistake talent for consistent supply to the masses’ demand. But Caitlyn has been around too many extraordinary people and things to think that all gifted people simply keep up appearances.
“Talent is a gift,” Caitlyn continues, turning her gaze to look at the New York skyline, “though you can ask any Trojan, and they’d agree that not all gifts are blessings. I prefer to think of it as a seed, and depending on how it is nourished and cared for, it provides all kinds of fruit for its cultivator.”
She walks up to the banana, again fully formed, on the desk. A nail scrapes against it. It’s solid, all right.
“You have been a diligent harvester.”