1963-07-21 - A 'Tiff'
Summary: Loki returns to the apartment to a pissed off, tipsy Amora. Fights ensue.
Related: None
Theme Song: None
amora louis 

Amora had seethed for some time after she'd broken through the wards Loki had set up and found the apartment empty. She had destroyed and rebuilt the apartment in droves via her magic, and the scent of her spells lingered heavily upon the building from within and without. Yet her frustration had given way to a misery that was fed in droves of magically summoned martinis and she sat on the couch, her legs propped up on the arm and, for the first time since she'd arrived, sported her unguised form.

A large circle of magic spun images around before her of different places in the world, and she waved a hand from side to side to flit from scene to scene. Amora was bored. More than a little tipsy and filled with a seething misery and anger that left her a moping pile. She took a swig from the glass, finishing it off and glaring at it until her magic flickered over the glass again and it refilled on its own.

"Maybe.. I should just summon a bar tender.." She muttered.


The first hint of his arrival was a feeling of power surging almost casually past what wards remain around that apartment. His own previously placed ones seeming to grow and swell despite having been shattered, their age giving them a touch of strength. But then that power wilts as there's a flash of light outside in the hallway that manifests in the apartment only in a slight flare underneath the door. It might be small enough to go unnoticed. The heavy /thud/ of a body leaning heavily against the door out there is much more difficult to miss.

For a time there's the sound of keys scraping around the door, perhaps not entirely fitting the lock. Then there's a mechanical click and the door swings open, allowing a somewhat ragged Louis King entrance to the dwelling. He stands rather well to be fair, his silhouette limned by the hallway lights. He reaches behind him gingerly and grabs the door, swings it closed.

Finally he takes a few steps into the room, digging around inside one jacket pocket with a hand as he moves. Then he catches Amora in his line of sight, bleary gaze looking her over as he lifts his gravelly voice. "Amora. How are you today?" He says with a summoned smile.


Anger hot and bright burned from her eyes at the sight of one Louis King without the God of Thunder behind him. She was on her feet in a flash, and a snarl curled her lips back as she stormed forward. Her green clad figure catching the light where it hit against the Asgardian armor that hugged her form. She stormed toward him, her long hair flowing freely in a mass of curls that tangled about her features as she reached for his shirt front.

"You asshole! You -fucking- asshole! How /dare/ you? How /DARE/ you take Thor from me? I was this close!" She screamed, her voice roaring as she tried to shake Louis and then if he had been caught in her grip, fling him back against the wall.

"I did everything you /asked/ of me! I didn't tell him anything! I brought him here as a vote of confidence and you shat all over it! You bastard!"


Wincing with one eye scrunching shut, he holds up a hand with middle and ring fingertips touching the tip of his thumb, other fingers extended. A faint glow of eldritch power flickers to life and Amora will feel the slight surge of power as Loki affects a spell with that gesture. A flare of energy around him makes it seem so very difficult to get a grip on him and she gets the distinct feeling that in the middle of her rant she might have been… muted? Oh that bastard.

But it becomes clear that's not entirely the case, since he does respond to her as he shuffles past. "I did no such thing and you were nowhere near completion of your task, I assure you."

She is, however, able to get enough of a handle that she can at least shove him and he tumbles onto the end of the couch, rolling over to fwooompf into sprawl on the couch. He rubs at his temple and scowls.

"Must you shout?"


Amora snarled, beating against the wards with a flare of magic that haloed her clenched hands as she reached for the couch to try to yank it out from under him. "I will rip you apart, I swear by the Nine Realms you lying, sniveling ass!" She screamed again, untroubled by his magic or perhaps egged on by his lack of concern or apologies for her perceived slight.

She gave up quickly of shoving the couch around, she could, it was just magic was naturally her weapon of choice and she flung a beam of unfocused power at him, raw with rage and without real intent behind it other than to cause damage of some kind. A frustrated cry escaping her lips as she continued to hurl curses at him.


Things escalate and Loki is knocked to the ground, not that he puts up much of a fight at first. He rolls onto his hands and knees and starts to try and push himself to his feet even as his mind focuses slowly, roughly, the power of his shield growing only for it to be struck with the /WHA-ZAM/ of her unbridled rage. _That_ serves to smash him back into the wall and destroy that lovely liquor buffet, the bottles shattering around him and soaking his suit with booze and showering him with shards.

Scowling he looks up and snaps, "Damn you, woman. If you make me get rid of this buzz I so painstakingly gained, you'll learn what it means to be truly wronged." His jaw sets as he affixes her with his most stern look, his features sharpened like a blade free of its sheath.

The effect is then ruined as he looks down and for some reason snickers.


Whatever his words where, the warning, everything was lost at his snicker. A shriek of rage escaped her and she raised her hands up in front of her, summoning a hovering ball of magic that she squeezed between her hands as she screamed whatever magical curses came to mind. It was a nasty, sickly green ball and she hurled it toward him, though decidedly her anger had her aim considerably off and it tore into the poor drywall above Loki's head with an explosion of green light and smoke.

She howled with tears stinging her eyes in rage as she stomped her foot down with enough force to wreck the flooring and break it beneath her heel. "Stop laughing you-" She struggled with another string of verbal curses before she summoned up even more destructive energy to rain down on the Trickster God.


Eyes narrowing and drawing upon magical reserves, Loki gains his feet, helped up by seemingly invisible arms of some kind. He holds out his hands, fingers spread as two halves of a sphere seem to manifest around her even as she gets that sphere to shatter the wall with a ragged crack and sundering of wood and drywall. Abruptly he brings his arms closed and the spheres close around her, enveloping her in the energy for a time cutting her off from the draw of what power she has access to on earth.

With a moment's respite he snaps, "Hold off, Amora. Hold, I say." His eyes narrow as he almost grudgingly closes his eyes for a moment, and with a spell murmured under his breath he opens his eyes again and now they are clear. His focus is there, and the Asgardian ale he consumed apparently having gone to waste since he looks… entirely sober.

"You will have more chances, and if your goal is to truly fulfill Odin's wish then granting Thor time with his brother steals naught from you. You are immortal, and yet patience has ever eluded you."


Amora released another piercing scream of anger as he closed the magical energies around her. Her hands curled into fists as she struggled against it. She stood trembling with seething rage as she stood encased by his power. She looked wild, her eyes burning with anger and hatred at him. Her blonde hair a mass of tangled gold that hung around her heaving shoulders. She spat at him, for lack of anything further to do.

"If he knows you're here, he will /not/ leave Midgard. His precious brother." She spat, "He'll be too interested in /you/!" She growled, her glaring and straining against his spell.

"Maybe I'll just tell Odin where his other son is, I'm sure he'd be fascinated to hear it."


A rough laugh comes from him, bitter as he snarls back at her. "You think he would stay here on my account? No, Amora. You, once again, misunderstand the situation entirely." That arcane shield swirling around her seems like gasoline dropped in water, a myriad of colours swirling about somehow on the surface of that invisible sphere. "Thor goes where Thor wishes to go. He is only here because his father denies it him. Oh assuredly he does care about the mortals, but that does not mean he will spend all of eternity here."

Then, perhaps beseechingly he adds, "You, for hating them so, continue to think as a mortal. What you expected to seduce him in an evening, return him there the next day? Expend your rage elsewhere, woman."

Then, scowling he heaves a wry laugh. "And your threat against me is as nothing. You think Odin does not know? That if he /cared/ he could not have found me? You underestimate what Odin _is_, Amora."


Amora attempted to teleport out of the swirling energy of magic, honestly she did, but found herself smacking up against the bubble's edges. A muffled sound of frustration escaped her as she reverted to physically struggling against it. Throughout Loki's speech about her lack of understanding her rage boiled and she started her struggles anew.

"He'll be focused on solving the mystery of why you've stayed here for so long. He'll figure out your plans, whatever they may be and he'll try to put a stop to whatever they are." She hissed between clenched teeth, giving up her struggles as she closed her eyes and sagged against the magical energy. Exhaustion had her panting for air, shuddering her frame.

"I think that you know magic well beyond what the All Father cares to think that you know." She muttered stiffly, turning her green eyed gaze, still furious at him.


"And what if there are no plans, Amora?" Loki says that almost mockingly, "What if I, as Thor, have come to find the mortals so very interesting? To find their evolution into what they are now to be something worthy of understanding and time?" He shakes his head, "That is the thing you have never understood about me, Amora. Do you imagine I sit down at times and create a terribly ornate chart detailing my terrible terrible plans to make sure of my growing power and to destroy my enemies?"

His eyes narrow, "Or do I perhaps let you assign motives to me that may or may not be there?" And with that he slashes his hand to the side, and the sphere is gone from around her.

Shaking his head he adjusts his coat, the hang of his tie. "Do what you will with this place. It is yours now. I will not return." That having been said he turns and starts to walk back towards the door.


Amora collapsed against the floor, shaking from anger or perhaps exhaustion from the magical energy she had spent. She pounded a weak fist against the floor, a sound of frustration escaping her as she sat there, breathing hard. She hung her head, her magic flickering lazily to return her back to her mortal guise. Her hands pressed against her temples as she broke down into tears, either from honest sadness or frustration or some other unknown emotion. It was pitiful either way. As he turned to leave she stumbled to her feet,

"Wait! Please.. don't.. don't leave me alone." She called out, her expression drawn into one of pinched distress at the thought of him not returning.

Regardless of the fact both got under one another's skin, he was also one of the few if -only one- that she could in fact call a friend. Even more so now that she was stuck in Midgard. So she went after him.


Turning back towards her, Loki pauses with his hand upon the door. One eyebrow lifts as he looks to her. "You will still be able to find me, Amora. And if you need me I will still aid you. But this…" He gestures towards the room as a whole, the wreck, the ruin from their oh so brief tiff. "This shows that you need something for your own. To make as you would. If not here, then elsewhere. But take what time you need."

His brow furrows as he takes a deep breath, "Do not despair. We have fought before in the past. I am sure our ire will fade in time. It always has."

That said he opens the door and outside there are several men standing there, a few people holding fire extinguishers. Suddenly they're no longer alone, with mortals observing them. But, to his credit, Loki handles it as he says lightly. "Preparing for opening night." He gestures with a thumb over his shoulder, smiles…

And somehow the mortals eat it up, lips parting, smiling, nodding their heads. Even the ones that might be suspicious somehow find that they're not.


Amora rubbed at her eyes as he paused and turned toward her, irritation still coloring her green gaze at his calm, at his unflappable ease. While she was a mess, her hair a riot (tucked into short curls as it was in her human guise), her eyes were reddened from tears and her makeup was smudged to complete the picture of a hysterical Hollywood star—complete with a green skirt that swished with each step she took.

As he opened the door and several mortals stood outside, clustered around she smiled weakly, fluttering her dampened eyelashes as she waved at them as they departed.

Her gaze turned toward him, and she hugged her arms around her middle and the last of the mortals left. "But I need you now. With me." She bit her lower lip at the admission, lowering her gaze as well.

"You're the only one that understands."


"You will be fine, Amora." And now it's Louis that looks to her, the manner more gentle, more calm. He frowns a touch and rests a hand on her arm gently. "If you are in danger, or you require aid then do not fail to call on me. But for now…"

He gestures to the side as if to signify that this must suffice. With that he takes a step back, turns, then starts walking down the hallway and away.


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