+ with his legs crossed and reached out with his hands to start picking the flowers and grasses around him. A handful, a small pile, a heap. When he’d gathered what he thought would be enough, he picked up a few at a time and gently started weaving them together.

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They all found the same fate and ended up in the same place. Ever since his first visit here, Strange had come to a sort of peace when it came to death. He knew what awaited him now, and the whole eternal rest thing didn’t sound so bad anymore. After a short walk, he stopped and sat down +

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+ A smile tugged at the corners of his lips. Ah, sentimentality. He’d always been a tad weak when it came to reminiscing about the past. Stephen was in no rush. He simply walked along and offered a glance or two at the wandering souls he passed. Rich men, poor men, unfortunate men . . . +

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+ The sounds and smells around him changed along with the very feeling of the air. A heaviness and a lightness all at once around him, and when he opened his eyes again, the familiar sight of those silvery plains stretched infinitely before him. He wondered if perhaps,,, “So,” +

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+ The coin lay flat in his palm, unmoving, and yet it seemed warm and almost alive, as if responding to his thought. His plan. He had some time and knew what to do with it. With a click of his fingers, the coin bounced into the air and spun a few times before he caught it with his eyes closed. +

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