1963-08-21 - Tinker Tailor Soldier Thor
Summary: The Enchantress comes around and swoons all over her favourite things.
Related: Keep The Home Fires Burning
Theme Song: None
amora thor louis rogue 

When consciousness returns to the female Asgardian, she will be greeted with a certain mustiness that is a scent that comes only with age. It's the scent that's present in between the covers of old books and the fur of long dead creatures that stand sentinel against the wall. A glance to the side and she might well see the great golden-furred bear standing tall and rampant as if ready to attack yet froze as if at the point of death. Or she might see the old elk's head looming down at her from over the stone doorway.

Yet that doorway would lead the eyes to the walls, stone as well and the room it encompasses is not as large as some of the better hotel rooms she's visited in New York, though still large enough for one to take their rest. In those walls are stacks of old books and a few rare offerings to the God of Brick-a-Brack. Yet there's also a fireplace with the required skin of several wolves set down before it… and bracketing the door to the bathroom seems to be a pair of armored suits that hold old spears as if ready to challenge an interloper.

Yet of all of that, what might draw the attention most would be the lone way one could get a scent other than that must. It would be the single window against the far wall that opens to the outside where the smell of the ocean comes from and that lets one know how high up they seem to be, as if someone wished to escape out that portal they'd have to have very long and very golden hair to rappel down with.


A fluttering of eyelashes announced the Enchantress' awakening. A squint and a groan as she turned over against the light of day followed as she buried her face in the pillows. It took several long moments, in the exhausted haze between sleeping and full awareness for her to realize she was not in the bed she had last laid her head down.

Then a gasp and panic settled into her chest as memeory slammed into her brutally and without forgiveness. A scream tore from her lips as she fought against the blankets and sheets and flowing garments. She stumbled out of the bed, landing with a hard thump of blankets and pillows upset onto the cold wooden floor. Terror and fear ruled out all reason, as memories haunted her waking mind with fires and torment.

Breathing hard, she attempted to summon up what magic she could, and found herself strangely drained of nearly all. A flicker of green light built on her finger tips and died. Her eyes rounded as she sat there on the floor, shivering and wildly twisting this way and that to place where she was.


The first notice of her awakening that was sent to Loki was the subtle jangle of alarm from one of his wards notifying him. Then another joins in to let him know that magical power had surged. Then yet another joined its voice to the other two to rail about someone setting foot in the room. It all leads him to assume that the Enchantress is once again aware.

He takes the shovel he had been holding, out there in the field near the old well and tosses it aside towards the wooden fence. A moment is taken to make sure he is the only sentient being within line of sight, and then a hand lifts for a green flicker of light to engulf him.

In the next moment, Loki appears in that room in the doorway to stand before Amora.

"Incantare, calm…" He holds out a hand, "You are safe."


Thor knows this sort of life; it's easy, and very close to being second nature. He's outside, moving logs, making minor repairs to the outside cold storage. If anyone would see this place, it does look 'out of time', but it suits the Crown Prince.

Loki's disappearance goes unnoticed by Thor, but as he rounds with his axe to speak to his brother, the shovel is there, but laying upon its side. Gone. Thor turns his gaze to the castle beyond and exhales, making his way the good ol' fashioned way. Walking.


Amora's hands fell to her lap, shaking and pale as she tore her eyes to the door as it opened and Loki stepped in. She did not rise, sitting there still in a halo of blankets and sheets. Even his words seemed to take a long moment to register, before a choked noise escaped her. A pitiable sight as she rose on shaking legs.

"Loki, where.. what happened? Why do I have no memory of events? How came I here?" She whispered, clutching at blankets and shivering as if horribly cold.

"Why am I so weak and feeble?" She shuffled toward him, her head canted to the side, golden hair spilling over her shoulders.


As for Loki, he looks rather unlike she's seen him before. He's wearing just a loose white shirt, and a pair of worn blue jeans that seem like they've seen better days. A pair of brown work boots cover his feet and his hair is pulled back into a pony tail. He rests his hands on his hips, however, and addresses her in that same clear voice. "Our adventure in Muspelheim, Amora. You were their prisoner, taken against your will. Something ill passed and you had your mind suppressed by the presence of one of their own nobility."R
The tall god steps in and holds up a hand for a moment, disabling some of the bindings to the room as faint yellow and green fire. Though she will still feel magic being generally suppressed to perhaps keep things safer for now.

"We rescued you," His lip twitches, "Returned you here for you to recover."


A shudder crawled up her spine as he spoke, her eyes closing as she struggled for remembrance and found little there, save a void of pain and oppressive heat. She winced, pale green eyes scanning over Loki's person again as she hugged her arms around her middle. "I fear I have no memory of such tidings. Naught, but that I am cold.." She swallowed a lump in her throat.

"How long have I slept? What came to pass in Muspelhiem?"


Enter Scarlett. 'Tis a poor piece compared to the sublime beauty and strengths of Asgard assembled, that lithe creature tumbled through sunset and spindrift to forge her making. Whatever clothes bequeathed are either another's or something that withstood the fires of Muspelheim, scrubbed clean as one can manage. She makes almost no sound entering into the room, if presumably the wards even permit her so. The scent of the sea and high altitude enfold her; while the others toiled in the earth, she ascended into the skies and cut spiralling patrols or took far, far from temptation to clear her thoughts. None but her are privy to what, if anything, the daughter of Surtur or the Enchantress bequeathed upon her in the rushed flight through the portal.

Though an unfair comparison to make of any of them: she's in absolutely radiant good health. It is upon this fashion bequeathed her but a golden sense of serenity. For her part, tranquility may be that balm needed. Or she has no sense of the danger she walks into, peeking around the corner with a wordless nod.


"A few days," Louis says as he walks further into the room and gestures back towards the bed. "If you are cold, I recommend getting back into bed. The covers are quite nice." He gestures to the side and pulls back one of the large stuffed comforters, motioning with one hand for her to resume her place. "We were able to get you freed of the other being's influence, rescued the young daughter of Surtur, returned her to her father and for now… things are at peace."

Loki sits down on the edge of the bed as he talks to her, crossing his legs at the ankles idly. "Ideally we should be free of their demands and predations. Yet Surtur is a subtle being at times. Mayhap we will know more soon."


A slow suffle followed his movement to the bed, her features pale and drawn as she curled up under the cover he pulled back. She sank into the feathered mattress, her form settling back against the wooden carved headrest and pillows piled high. She frowned faintly at the tale, her brows held high as she considered his words and pulled the blankets tighter around her.

"How did you break me free? I ask.. in mere curiousity. How did you know me to be under such constraints?" She pursed her lips together, her gaze flickering behind Loki toward the mortal that lingered in the doorway and back for a brief moment.

"I fear I am much addled by events.. How do you know for certain that such a creature does not linger in me in some manner?"


Thor the woodsman? Thor the builder? (Can he fix it?) Thor the one left behind outside is now within the castle walls searching for the ever elusive Loki. Down a hallway, and he catches sight of Rogue peeking further down the hall. Pressing his lips, he shakes his head and begins to make his way.

The room so ensorcelled, it's silent to him from the hall, but with the presence of Loki's.. companion, it's all but assured there is something going on in chambers. Thor moves up, then without word, he enters,

"Addled by events. I think that is the first time I've ever heard that admission from you. Even when I swore you had been in times past."


The redhead slips through the doorway, given just a wide enough berth to allow her through and for it to tip shut in her wake if it's inclined to do so. A worried line appears between her drawn copper brows, but Scarlett takes in the details as she might. "I apologize for the intrusion. I heard movement." A glint of curiosity fades through the surreal emerald burn of her eyes, and she loosens the golden chain looped around her throat and vanishing under her neckline with a lift of her thumb. "Thus far nothing has been tracking closeby. An unfortunate driver turned back some distance away."

Her voice lilts softly enough, and then she laces her fingers together. "Are you well, my lady?"


Placing the comforter back over her, Loki spares a glance for Rogue and gives her a nod with a small smile, before he looks back towards Amora. "These are all matters that are not important now, Amora."

But then Thor enter and he gives the man a wave. "The Enchantress has awoken. Forgive my haste, but the wards were breaking. I wished to make sure no ill came to her."

Loki turns back to Amora and says gently, "All you need to know at this moment is that matters are resolved for the most part." He stands up and rests his hands on his hips. "Now, are you hungry? Thirsty? You most likely should consume something to keep your strength up."


At the crown Prince's entrance, all else seemed to fade from the Enchantress' concern. A smile blossomed on her features and she held her arms out toward him, pale and clad in a loose fitting garment. "Thor! Do not make such a jest at my expense, I have no memory of what transposed. I fear that 'addled' is the least of my concern. Come here and cheer me, won't you?" Her voice had risen in an equally sweet fashion as her expression had. And, had it not been for the fact that she'd just been so settled back into bed, it was clear she'd have tried to risen once more.

Her gaze fluttered toward Rogue and she shrugged a delicate shoulder, and perforce to answer the question regarding her strength, so immediate a thing it was. She sighed, and nodded faintly in turn.

"I suppose.. However long I was kept in Muspelhiem I doubt they sought to see me fed."


"I thought perhaps as much, so I fetched up tea and a few other things." Should she sound mildly more suitable for the country they occupy, it's not a trick of the ear. Scarlett's accent by way of Savannah or Charleston wedded to New York actually makes her sound vaguely British, though it wouldn't be a dialect anyone round here could hope to decipher. "Would you like me to bring up a tray for you, and see what suits your appetite? The lavender scones are something else when served with honey." Mundane matters, in truth, for all that her presence all but flits like a sunbeam at the edges of other august presences.

"Would any of you like anything?" Might as well do a cup count at the moment. Her gaze flows across Thor and Loki, giving both of them a mindful nod. "I trust everyone else has recovered from their foray."


Of course Thor is concerned, right? Right? But Asgardian healing is legendary, though the assault on the mind of a sorceress is something that Thor simply can't truly comprehend. As a result?

Brows lift at Loki's fussing, yes, fussing over Amora and her health, and there's a quirk of a smile that plays. He'll not say a word about it, though. Not yet. Over a glass of mead. Later.


"Amora, stay put," is given even as he approaches. "You will obviously be waited upon hand and foot, so that should also aid in cheering you?" Thor reaches the bed, and a hand reaches out to rest upon the bedpost. "Now you have time to rest. It is a fair castle, and it should aid in your full recovery."

Glancing over his shoulder at the offer of food, Thor shakes his head. "I think in order to feed us all, a hunt should be called. I have seen the stocks and they are sad. So.." Blue eyes light; he enjoys the hunt! "When the sun lowers, we'll venture forth."


"Or," Loki holds up a hand, "Or, and this is just a suggestion." The trickster god steps back and away from Amora to address his brother, "I could perhaps take some of the coin on hand and exchange them for goods and services which will provide us with the needed stocks for our larder." As he says this he holds up his hands with fingers splayed as if trying to stay Thor from a course of action that might not entirely be wise with the settlements around and the likelihood of their game coming back pre-cooked from lightning bolts.

But then he turns back towards Rogue and gives her a nod, "If you could bring back some eggs or the like, there might be a bit of aged bacon…" But he steps back from the bed to give Thor more a place of prominence in addressing Amora and her needed recovery.


Amora had eyes for only Thor, the golden haired prince as he leaned against the bedpost and did not in fact take her hands in his. A faint pout crossed her lower lip and she reached up to try to steal a grip on his hand with both her own. "As amusing as a hunt might be, Thor, my darling. Your brother speaks aright in regards to not having such a thing prepared for this eve. Why not wait? He will not tell me tales of what heroic deeds you accomplished. Won't you tell me instead? I have no memory of what befell me in Muspelhiem, nor how I came to be here. I would hear you tell it." Her voice was near breathless as she tossed her hair back over her shoulder and pleeded up at Thor.

"Please, sit with me?" She fluttered her eyelashes and, if in the roll of her shoulder her shoulder was bare of her nightgown, then it was all in an accident.

Then her gaze was swinging toward Rogue and she inclined her head, "Tea, yes.. But please, don't trouble yourself overly."

And then her gaze was back on Thor, all pleading.


A faint quirk to Scarlett's lips betrays the patience held with those who may be three thousand years old, and yet lack the simple knowledge of a supermarket. "With all due respect, you might enrapture the poor shop girls in the village down the way by popping in for a pat of butter, a bag of biscuits, and a few bottles of milk. Doubtful you want all the attention when they start whispering about the Fair Folk coming down to charm their fresh, lovely young ladies and youths," she murmurs. Her fingers fan across her collarbone as she stares out the window for a moment, casting away a lure to the world away from their ward-enspelled existence.

"I took care of the essentials while out on my round. They welcome American dollars well enough up here, and for the excess, I can trade on my name…" Trailing off, some distant and dreamlike spell softens the lines of her fair visage, leaving an idle trace. "Delivering the last batches should take only a trice. I can carry a bit, once I figured how to load everything up."

It's on that note she simply rounds the opening door and descends down the stairs before the amorous intentions of the Enchantress upon her favourite quarry possibly make the dizzy redhead green with illness. Or borrowed desire. Or worse.


"Bah.. coin is no fun, brother. It lacks the thrill of chasing game. Have you no—" Thor exhales, and he slumps good-naturedly as he ribs his brother. "No, no you haven't." No fun! "Then if it is to be to the merchants…" A half-shrug lifts, and he looks as if he'll suffer with the decision. Loki's shifting of position, however, earns him a look.

Amora's attention isn't missed by the Thunder God, and he chuckles, shaking his head. "I think you should be resting rather than listening to mead hall stories of battle, Amora. When you are well, we will speak of this again." He'll sit, however, which means extricating his hand from under hers, and pulling up a chair. Dragging a chair across the short distance.

Scarlett's additions brings Thor's attention around again. "Was the larder then unused? It had food hanging," and he looks honestly puzzled for a moment. Still, her words brings a laugh and he shakes his head. "Okay.. okay. I will remain. But I will not forget your exaggerations," and he lifts a finger to waggle it lightly at Rogue.


"On the contrary, Thunderer." Louis steps towards the door not too terribly far behind Rogue and her departure. "Some good tales to distract her from her ills would certainly aid the Enchantress in the course of her recovery." He pauses near the door and leans there for a moment, hands sliding into the pockets of his jeans as those green eyes rest upon the two blonde gods. "Why you can tell her of that time that spawn of… what was it? The great poisonous snake that bit you, laid you low for a period of time and our mother…"

The grin on Loki's face widens perhaps at getting a look from Thor, though the trickster is unrepentant in bringing up the old tale that Amora might very well never have heard. He steps back then and slips out of the room.


A pout crossed Amora's features as Thor turned and dragged a chair over to her bedside, leaving her hands bereft. Yet as Loki in turn departs behind Rogue, her eyes hold only a spark of mischief. Of acknowledgement in meeting his own emerald gaze as he spoke of other tales. With nimble grace she slipped free from the bed covers, pale legs flashing in the sunlight that floated in from the window as she wiggled free just in time for Thor to settle at her beside.

"A serpent? Oh, I have not yet heard this tale. Please, it would do my heart joy to hear it. Please, distract me from my wretched state Thor? Please?"

More oft than not, Thor was not a subtle creature. So in many times Amora was not as well. She made a fainting sigh, as if to stand on her own and then swooned. Right onto the Thunder God's lap, slipping an arm around his shoulder while the other fluttered by her forehead.

"Oh, Thor.. darling, I feel so faint. Give me leave to sit here but a while yet?" She fluttered her eyelashes, head tilted back as she spoke in a sweet and breathless whisper.


Above, Amora has all the subtlety of a hand grenade in a barrel of cooked oatmeal. Probably worthwhile; the Thunderer is not a figure painted vast on the backdrop of history and mythology for his deep, abiding wiles.

Descending the steps two at a time, the mortal flattens her back to the wall and claps her hand over the lower span of her fey face. All the more essential to prevent a betraying sound from crossing her lips, laughter flashing to a feverish pitch. A stifled effort blocks her ability to breathe and thus averts treachery committed by laughter. Her face paints an expressive mask nonetheless, and such might Loki find her mid-descent over the step. One misstep and she'd be tumbling headfirst down the spiraling course, paying Tam Lin's tithe all the way.


"Loki…" and Thor's tones sound a warning. Who knows if he's serious or not at the moment? Only the brothers. "Don't you.." And, he did. THAT story, too. Of everything he could possibly have mentioned? "You'll get yours, brother.." is murmured now.

As Thor settles into his chair, Amora does the swoon-sprawl into his lap. "A-Amora…" He knows it's useless. He could speak until Ragnarok, but he knows a futile cause when he sees it. "A while, and then I will put you back in your bed where you belong. You should be resting rather than listening to -stories-.." and the last word, there, is most obviously directed at the departing Loki.

And oh look! Rogue doesn't help much. They're well suited.

"Right… story," Thor rumbles. "Um.. where to begin…"

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