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[[/cell]]
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*
Saturday morning, and the streets are full of color. Families with children are venturing out for back to school shopping or weekend trips to the park or the museums. Crystal walks through the crowded sidewalks without a true destination in sight, though her steps lead her toward Central Park. Westchester has quiet, natural places, but they're all too often occupied by people she knows. People she feels she might owe some explanation to. Here, she can think without interruption.
*
Amora had spent the day doing what a nigh immortal goddess stuck on Midgard often did. Shopping. She sat on a bench, one handsome young man standing off to the side and holding a veritable pile of shopping bags—the cost of such a spree would boggle the mind based on the names printed on the bags and boxes alone. Another sat beside her, singing her praises via an acoustic guitar, comparing her beauty to everything imaginable. And a third young man stood behind her rubbing her shoulders while she sipped at an iced drink of some kind.
To put it simply, Amora was lavishly spending her time and enjoying herself. She drew the eyes of nearly every passerby—either by women with gazes darked with jealousy or even some interest, and men often distracted to the point of crashing bodily into objects or other people. A green silk top dipped low around her collar bone and fluttered in the breeze. A white polka dot mini skirt of matching green hugged her thighs, leaving her long legs exposed to end in overly high heels that simply looked painful.
"A little to the left, no, no, higher. Yes, that's perfect." She murmured, her eyes fluttering closed as she leaned back on the bench.
*
It's the disruption in sidewalk traffic that catches Crystal's attention first, though once she sees the source, a faint, wry smile tugs at one corner of her lips. For a moment, she hesitates. Private thinking time had been the plan, and another encounter with the Enchantress is almost certain to end in more thinking. But ultimately, she approaches the other woman, stepping around a man who's a good six feet away with his head turned behind him. "My lady," she greets politely, looking over the day's haul. "It looks as though you've had good hunting this morning."
*
The strumming of the guitar stops when Amora holds up a hand, she sits up, dropping the sunglasses to perch on her nose. She looked with all the utter contempt and irritation that a goddess could muster, a golden brow hitching upwards as her lip pulled back to reveal a flash teeth in a sharp smile. The man behind her still working to massage her neck and spine even as she sat up.
"What is it that you desire? I highly doubt you've come and interrupted my moment of peace to flatter my choice in shopping." She drawled, green eyes narrowing faintly as she settled back against the bench.
*
"Mmm. Happy coincidence, it seems. But having seen you here, it would have been terribly rude of me to have passed without stopping." Crystal keeps her distance still, hands clasped lightly behind her back as she looks over Amora's entourage. "Has Scarlett had a chance to speak with you recently, perhaps?"
*
A tilt of her head followed Crystal's words and she waved off the man rubbing her shoulders. "No. Last I saw Scarlett darling, I left her in Norway with his highness. Some crackpots had summoned us and she got caught in the spell circle that involved me. I did my duty to clean up their mess and left Scarlett and the Thunderer to mete out whatever punishment they saw fit beyond what I had done."
Amora's brow shot upwards as she picked her sunglasses off her nose, "I suppose you'll inform me as to what exactly Scarlett needs to speak with me about?"
*
"That sounds like an unfortunate interruption," Crystal sympathizes, as though being summoned to Norway is a completely normal interruption to a day. "I hope it didn't interfere with anything important." As the man steps back, Crystal takes another step forward, enough to move out of the right of way on the sidewalk and lower her voice to a more conversational level.
"I have been thinking on our last conversation," she begins. "And your concerns. And I believe that many of them have merit. You're quite right, both the legitimacy of your return to your home and your freedom to roam once there are important considerations. So I had a thought."
Her smile quirks, self-deprecating. "You are the goddess of love, skilled in charming all manner of mortals," she gestures toward the men. "What if a naive young princess begged you to accompany her as her advisor on affairs of the Asgardian court? I doubt anyone would find it odd that you would take the opportunity to keep an eye on me and perhaps nudge me toward some mistake. And by the same token, they wouldn't be surprised if you sought an excuse not to be at my side."
*
As Crystal approached Amora crossed her arms beneath her chest, her head tilted to the side and spilling golden locks over her shoulders. A frown pulled at the corner of her lips and she leaned forward as the Princess spoke, first with a flattering tone and then with the quirked upturn of her lips. A shadow darkened Amora's features, her eyes narrowing as her full red lips thinned to a line.
"I know what you're attempting to do, little Princess." She hissed, her voice low and soft. Quiet.
*
"I certainly hope so. It's my most nefarious plan to find a solution to this quarrel that ends with everyone happy," Crystal replies, arching a brow. "You have a debt to repay, as you said yourself. And I have some sympathy for the pains of exile If all I need do to help you return home, repay that debt, free Loki, and ease some of the tensions in the royal family is to pretend not to realize that you'd be much happier with the world in general if I completely ceased to exist, it seems a very small price to pay."
*
Amora raised a hand, and the three men around her simply froze. Not a breath stilled from their lungs. Not a breeze touched them. They looked more like wax statues than mortal any longer. A thickening of the air around the Enchantress occurred, much like the pressure in the air before a storm hit, but there was no shadow or darkening of the sky above them. Slowly, Amora rose to her feet, sound from around them blurring into nothingness. Crystal and Amora could be, and where, the seemingly only creatures alone in this tiny bubble of the world.
"You think that it'll please me to gambol in your walks and treat at your side? To return to my home at a base angle such as your shadow? Where I return not in triumph but in faded tones and hues to be an outsider's scheming and false advisor played? A debt I owe the Trickster God, of such I desire to be rid of." She paced, circling like a predator.
"My magics cannot reach him, not even in the realm of dreams. Which means that he is encased in Asgard's prisons or captured by some else. Since the /Queen/ did not mention him once, I cannot imagine that it is the latter. To release the Prince from such a state would name not only myself but he a traitor." Her head cocked to the side as she paused before Crystal again.
"In such a way I shall not keep myself. In such a state as your foul shadow? None alive this day would think it possible." Her voice was sharp and could slice steel.
*
"So be it, then." Crystal speaks as lightly as if she offered a coffee date and they couldn't find a time that worked for both of them. "I felt the offer needed to be made." The heaviness in the air doesn't go unremarked entirely, as a rush of cool air burst out from around the princess, clean and fresh with just a hint of ozone. "I should leave you to your pursuits, then."
*
The pop of ozone and fresh air had Amora arching a thinly sculpted brow upwards, her lips peeling back briefly as she scowled. "I did not say that I would not do it, merely that none alive would believe it possible. But heed me, and you might live yet in Asgard when the court descends. I have no friends in the court, by this merit offer, you shall make a great many enemies as well." It seemed to be an effort for Amora to admit that no one actually liked her in the golden court, but she rolled her shoulders back as if in a faint shrug.
"If you marry the Prince, you bind yourself to him and his fate. Currently there is a chance yet that he will not inherit the crown. Be you ready for such a chance? Because you need to know now, Princess.. that there are many forces at work in Asgard.. but none so impossible to move as the line of Odin when their pride is at stake."
*
"I don't expect them to believe it possible, my lady," Crystal points out. "I expect them to believe you've seized an opportunity both to come home and to sabotage a potential match. Which suits me as well. If I misstep, I received poor advice. If I don't, then I was clever enough to see through your machinations. I am an outsider, and well I know it. That I cannot change. But I can and I will use it to my advantage, because have no doubt: I will do what I must for my kingdom and my people. If that means learning to navigate the Asgardian court, then I will do it."
*
The pressure abates, though sound and outside distractions still do not return to the little bubble that Crystal and Amora stand in. The goddess continues to frown, as is unwilling to believe that someone so measured honest could exist. As if there were some ploy at the heart of the matter that Amora did not yet understand or know.
"Then I will play the part of the jester and fool to your title of advisor. However I do not approve of you, nor shall I ever. No matter what the outcome of this venture, note and mark me, that I will never accept you. Be you Queen or no. I do this for my own amusement, nothing more."
*
"I would expect nothing less." Crystal dips her chin in a somber nod, still holding her ground. When she watches the other woman, there's sympathy in her features. She knows what it is to be away from home. She knows what it is not to get what she wants. To have power but not be able to achieve her ends with it. But she also knows pride when she sees it.
"Now, if you will excuse me," she says quietly, smile flickering. "I'm afraid I really must see to some wardrobe issues."
*
What sounds almost like a growl follows the mention of clothes, at the sympathy wreathed upon the woman's features. A rumbling not unlike that of an unhappy feline. "You'll find nothing suiting to Asgard's climate or tastes here on Midgard. If you want even a chance of looking like something other than a peasant girl that crawled out a hay loft then you'll have to go to another of the Nine Realms. Ljosalfgard in Alfheim might do, or perhaps one of the cities in Vanahiem. Honestly, do you have any magic at all to you, or is it just the raw sort of power that the mortals all seem to possess these days?"
Amora let the magic loose around them with a wave of her hand, the pressure popping their ears.
*
"I'm afraid my people are more scientists than mages. But that comes with its own arts." Crystal reaches up to shake a hand through her hair, a dry look cast toward Amora at her shopping suggestions. "I agree, I'm unlikely to find anything in…" Waving a hand, she gestures down the avenue. "Macy's. But if I could venture into Attilan, then I suspect I could acquire something appropriate. It would just be a bit of a risk."
*
Amora settled a hand on her hip, another wave of her hand sending the mortal men about to whatever orders she had given them. The world moved apace once more and the Enchantress arched a disdainful brow upwards. "In Asgard they are much the same. Your worth, as a woman, comes from your ability to use magic. It is a symbol of status. Even my mortal apprentice, Scarlett would hold a better rank for the meager magic she can summon." She muttered, and made a heavy sigh as if she were greatly put upon.
"We are not going to some backwater for clothes. Ljosalfgard, the city of the Lightelves might just be able to rescue you. It's where the Princes of Asgard are sent as youth to train. The elves fashion beautiful garments that will even suit you.."
*
Arguing that Attilan is not a backwater is tempting, but…not likely to be productive. Still, there's a moment where Crystal looks like she might protest. Perhaps some small part of her is just looking for an excuse to go home, no matter how briefly. "Well, I'm afraid I'm short of magic. Though I've no idea where your people would classify what it is I can do," she admits, shaking her head. And for all she claimed advise would be only an act, still she gives the other woman a cautious look. "It would not be seen as presumptive to visit this Ljosalfgard before a more formal meeting?"
*
Amora rolled her eyes, and made a huff of a breath. "Please, there are pleasure elves. I've been going to Ljosalfgard since I was a child. It's their capital city. And Alfheim is one of the most welcoming of the Nine Realms. They're peaceful and dedicated to magic, and study and the arts. I would have gone there during my exile, but my princes have remained here up 'till now. So I saw little and less in leaving." She held out a hand, irritation clearly written on her features.
"And come along."
*
Crystal takes a breath, bracing herself, then steps forward to take the offered hand, trying not to listen to the voice that says she's probably going to regret this.
Belatedly, though, she looks back to Amora. "Do I even want to know what pleasure elves are?"
*
Laughter escapes Amora, "They have three joints, and they're exactly as they sound. So are the moon elves, water elves, elves of air and ice and spice. The rivers run with champagne, naturally." She grinned, a flash of teeth as her manicured figures close around Crystal's hand and in a flutter of light and magic, the two women were transported.
Naturally, Amora herself, alone could not so easily traverse the realms at half her strength. Not while carrying a Midgardian along. But whatever secrets, whatever plans and hidden knowledge The Enchantress holds, gets them there. Between one blink and the next, Amora—no longer in her mortal guise but the tall, golden haired goddess of desire and resident of Asgard, appears with Crystal in tow. The two stand there in the field of verdant greens and trickling streams.
The air was fresh, cleaner than anything on Midgard. The sunlight filtered through green leaves wider and larger than a hand span, with the trees sweeping high above, taller than a redwood, and ancient by their size alone.
Laughter chimes around and above, giant toadstools giving shade to several winged individuals that glance curiously toward Amora and Crystal. "Welcome to Alfheim, the most magical of all the Nine Realms. I suspect we will have a greeting party arrive within the—" As Amora trailed off a handsome looking elf flashed into being before the two women.
He was tall, impeccably dressed in curving greens and blues, his blonde hair feathery and trailing down his back. At the sight of Amora he stepped forward, to greet her with both hands out and a cheery greeting in his native language.
*
Crystal is accustomed to teleportation, though the twist of magic is still a new sensation. But when they materialize in the elven realm, she's taken aback. "Oh," she breathes, drawing in one deep breath, and then another, eyes half-closing. The sights are something, without a doubt. But the sheer purity of the air, the water, the earth? For an elemental who's struggled with pollution sickness in just the last month, it's almost like a drug.
As she releases her breath, so too does she let her senses unspool, sinking into the feeling of the realm itself. "It's stunning," she starts to say to Amora just as the elf arrives. As greetings are exchanged, she takes a moment to compose herself, though she can't help but keep a tendril of consciousness in the environment, like stroking a piece of velvet.
*
The greetings follows with Amora throwing her arms around the elf, and him twirling her around once or twice before setting her on her feet once more. She wore her Asgardian armor, which was considerably little to the imagination and explained a good deal about her fashion sense and why she seemed rather comfortable with the recent mortal fascination with mini-skirts. Still, she was smiling and for once the shadows of her exile, of heart ache were not present on her features. Finally, she turned back toward Crystal, and waved a hand. "This is Volundir, a friend from my younger days. He's been elevated to watcher, he's a Ljos-Alfar, a bright-elf. And he is particularly skilled with magic and bow-craft."
The elf, Volundir, bowed toward Crystal with his hand over his heart and smiled, easily shifting to the All-speak that would allow Crystal and him to speak when he noted Amora's pointed focus. "Amora tells me that you are expected in Asgard and require clothing." He seemed amused, a constant twinkle in his eye and a vaguely British sounding accent to his warm voice. "You are most welcome to ask our tailors for such goods, if you need aught else, please do not hesitate to ask. A friend of the Enchantress of Asgard?" He elbows Amora playfully and winks.
"Volundir, do you not work? And do not make jests at my or her expense!"
The elf chuckled and avoided a light smack of his arm, "With you, Amora? Nay, never. The tailors will be most thrilled to be creating more garments. You employed them for months at your last visit!" And just like that he vanished in a glittering spray of light, his voice echoing in the glade around them with more laughter long after he had vanished.
*
"It is a pleasure," Crystal smiles swiftly to the elf, watching the interactions between him and Amora - and the change in the other woman - with a certain warmth in her features. The Enchantress may not be her friend, and yet she still finds some pleasure in seeing the other woman more relaxed.
"This…realm is beautiful," she murmurs as the elf disappears, allowing herself a single turn to take in what she can before she pulls back, doing her best not to act like a tourist, even if her current attire brands her all too clearly. "So fresh, so clean. I've never felt anything like it."
*
An amused breath escapes Amora as she watches Crystal regard the realm at large, "Asgard is much the same. The realms at the top of Yggdrasil are the most gifted. Asgard, Vanahiem, and Alfhiem. They share borders with Nornhiem and other smaller realms. Though Asgard doesn't have Alfhiem's campagne rivers nor candy farmers. This is the realm of the fay and all it entails. You'll have a spider-silk dress and garments spun from moonlight—well, if the moon-elves agree to fashion one for you." She drawled, stepping along without so much as a pause to look around her.
"We'll take a flying vessel to the capital— I wouldn't arrive there via magic without previous invitation. But it's only a few minutes from air. This realm is peaceful, the only thing that they do not permit is iron. For obvious reasons." She murmured softly, not waiting to see if Crystal followed her or not. The Enchantress led her to the base of one of the towering tree trunks, waving a hand before her where a door's outline formed and opened up before her.
*
For all Crystal revels in the purity of the place, she's listening as well, to words both said and unsaid. Happily, she's brought no iron with her, but it's something to note for the future. As the door opens in the tree, her smile deepens a bit further. She was young enough when they left Attilan to have been a child when she first heard European fairy tales, and there's no denying where they claim inspiration.
"Is the magic as thick in the air as everything else?" she asks as she follows Amora through the doorway. "I can feel it everywhere else. Not the magic. Just the…rarified nature of it all. Elements in their purest expression."
*
If Amora inhaled a deeper breath at the mention of magic in the air, well, it wasn't entirely due to Crystal's words. She exhaled the breath in a sigh as she climbed stairs set inside the tree, going up and up and up. A perfect spiral inside a clearly living, and healthy tree. There was light from within, tiny flickers of silverlight that bobbed at shoulder height for Amora and Crystal's head. "Yes, magic here is just as present as it is in Asgard. If not more so. Where Asgard encourages young women to practice magic.. it is a family basis, and one for women alone. It is often frowned on when men practice it." Such as Loki, though that went unsaid too.
"Alfhiem has very few warriors, and they are a peaceful people. They're allied and have been allied to Asgard for ages untold. The Queen Aelsa Featherwine of the Fay, is very strong in the magical arts. And is extremely beautiful. There was an incident once where Thor attempted to steal a lock of her hair. She burned off his beard— which did not grow back for months afterward." As Amora recites the tale, a smile warms her features even more. Her voice took on a softer tone, and it was clear how so many could fall to her charms. Inherent as they were.
Finally the two made it to the top, where Amora opened another door to a balcony that looked more like a dock, and a balloon with a ship attached at the base sat serenely. A winged fairy bobbed over to them, wings beating the air as she smiled and discussed with the Enchantress passage. Whatever it was that Amora promised it seemed fitting, and the fairy was quick to attend to the balloon.
"Come along.."
*
Crystal presses her lips together, not quite holding back a laugh at Thor's expense. "Burned his beard off," she echoes, amusement still rich in her voice. "Which implies that he was certainly well old enough to know better." She watches the exchange with the fairy, taking in the balloon at the same time until it's time to continue.
She has no fear stepping aboard the vessel, either trusting in the magic or trusting in her own abilities should the magic fail. "I gather that his highness has been, as some mothers say, energetic."
*
Amora settles against a railing of the air-ship as it jostles away from the tree and lifts off into the air. It rises some height above the trees, and the fairies seem to work in tandem with the wind's movements, and the world of Alfhiem opens up all around them. Lights of every color dance in the air, leaves of green so dark they catch the light and appear purple almost. Waterfalls pass beneath them, and singing, oh the singing of the residents follow along with laughter.
More airships float lightly around them, going their merry way to and fro—helped along by air-elves who seemed to be enjoying the excuse to dance around on the wind and clouds. Then, there not too far away, is the capital city. Towers of ancient looking plants reach upwards, surrounded by a moat of glittering blue water. The buildings shine golden, but a natural hue more plant-like than of metal. Many of the spires on the towers appear to be shaped like closed blossoms, just waiting for the right time to open.
"I don't think you understand how long we live, Princess. Thor was young by our people's standards, he still is. A beard does not mean much in regards to age, not when it comes to Asgardians.." She arched a brow, folding her arms under her bust. "The Thunderer and his brother have constantly gotten into trouble, most of it by their own hands."
*
"I have only a sense," Crystal admits on the topic of age, though her attention seems to be on the world below and the view. She's been so careful, so composed, but at the moment, she smiles warmly out at the realm below, one hand dangling over the edge of the basket to take in the gentle currents of the air.
"I know how old the legends are. I know how old our history is. It gives me a sense, though true understanding of something so vast is difficult." She probably didn't intend to make that sound like they're all old. Possibly. "It makes me wonder, why even worry about someone like me? We're longer-lived than humans, but still little more than a season to you."
*
As the boat sails loftily and easily along toward the capital, sailing over the trees that reflected the sun's warm light, Amora remains where she was; watching Crystal lean out over the edge to peer at the capital rising before them. She smirked, a chillier expression that had not been on her lips since they had left Midgard. "Because the last mortal that Thor brought to Asgard failed the All-father's tests. But she was pure mortal. She had no powers. Nothing. You?" A brow raised upwards. "By Scarlett's own words, you are a princess not be trifled with. Therefore, you have a chance. You are a threat. A new one. There are Asgardian women, aye, for certain.. but Lady Sif is a manly, ugly, sow. One that's been there and will continue to be. It is an old rivalry our's.."
"But you, you are yet untested.. and might yet pass." She murmured softly, waving a hand up and letting it fall as if to gesture to Crystal. The balloon lowered slowly, coming to a slow halt at the base of the giant, towering city that it had approached.
*
Crystal presses her lips together against a smile, looking back over her shoulder with raised brows at the description of Sif. Manly, ugly saw. Noted. With some amusement, apparently. "I have a suspicion, my lady, that no one passes the All-father's test unless he already wants them to," she says thoughtfully, stepping back from the edge as the balloon lands. "But that is politics."
*
Amora sniffed once, "Yes, well, the All-father is King. He doesn't like me much either. Frankly, I don't believe there is a woman out there that he believes suits his sons. But that may be just as well." She muttered, stepping away from the railing to gesture to the city that sprawled out before them. Vibrant with color and a riot of magically gifted structures that gleamed before them.
"Welcome to Ljosalfgard, the capital of Alfheim. You'll find no better tailors for such fantastic garments as will be required of you in Asgard's court." She turned then, moving to the ramp that was set down. A twist of her hand had a purse summoned, and Asgardian gold passed hands to the fairy that waited at the end of the ramp.
"Shall we, Princess?"
*
Crystal so did not dress for this when she went out this morning. Sigh. At least she's working on remedying that issue now. Smoothing a hand over her skirts, she moves to follow Amora into the city. While her attire might not be much, as they venture into the city itself, gone is the relaxed posture of the young woman in the balloon, taking in the sensations of a new world. Instead, she stands to her full height, shoulders back and chin high. Yet still, she has a smile for anyone they pass, radiating warmth.
*
It was uncertain whether the heads turned toward the two women for Amora's beauty, or the unexpected appearance of a /mortal/. Asgardians visited, but those from Midgard? Crystal stuck out even more, with her posture and demeanor. Even as they weaved through the streets, Amora didn't pause to make sure her companion followed, she just assumed.
At every street there were singers, musicians, dancers, players, mummers, magicians with light shows. Children laughed and ran through the polished streets without care. The whole place was neat and tidy. Everything had a place. There were no ramshackled houses. No foul smells of waste or industry.
Fairies and elves walked of all different shapes and sizes and skin tones.
Even with the unexpectedness of Crystal's appearance, the elves were polite, and not a one stopped them to question their business as Amora led the way. Eventually, she stopped outside of a homely looking shop—a needle and thread brightly emblazoned above the birch bark door.
"Here we are, first— a word of warning.." She held out a finger toward Crystal. "Do not offer thanks, it will mean that you think you are in their debt and owe them something far greater than is fair for their work."
*
Perhaps Sif had been there all along. Perhaps Sif had heard news of this new Princess that her best friend was presently courting, and she wanted to see for herself. Perhaps she wanted to be a thorn in Amora's side for a time as a way to get her kicks. Possibly anger her, invoke her ire, suffer a spell and gain a good fight. Or perhaps..
"I shall name you, my pretty.." Sif was not drunk, but she was enamored by the tall, thin elfkin upon her arm. Or rather, the tall, thin elfkin that had his fingers pressed into his shoulders as she awaited her garb. There was a different state of dress here; long flowing reds that danced along slightly pale skin, her dark hair curled to dance along her shoulders, covering the faded bruise from the recent battle that she partook in.
Whether anyone knew that she stepped off of Midgard and Asgard both was a mystery. But it was a matter of mere coincidence that she was there in that same shop, bare feet kicked up upon an ottoman which was attended to by a smaller elfkin, the two perhaps lured from the street with a promise of..
..(THIS PARAGRAPH HAS BEEN RATED NC-17.)
"Miss? How further? If I must I shall wait but I must'nt tarry long!"
*
That is a worthwhile warning, and one that Crystal takes to heart, nodding slowly. Something to note and to keep at the forefront of her mind. Then again, she's not entirely sure just what's fair for the work, either, but at least an elemental has access to things like gold.
Warning heeded, Crystal follows Amora into the shop itself, carefully keeping her hands to herself. She hasn't had a thing to eat or drink, but she might be a little bit tipsy in her own way. After most of a lifetime fighting the pollution of earth, the clean, fresh air of this realm is intoxicating.
*
A step up into the shop and Amora had swung the door open, she smiled at the keeper—a fine looking elf that had always served her well in the past, and who had earned more a small fortune for the dresses that she had commissioned. He greeted them both with sweeping nods and called for more of his apprentices from the back… And then Amora's eyes landed on Sif.
Today was not in fact a good day for The Enchantress of Asgard. Showing around Thor's newest conquest to be and then running into the warrior maiden who had been her constant rival since childhood? No. It was not a good day at all.
"Oh, by the Nine Realms. I see the coal-black maid of the sword. Lady Sif, not of the warrior's three. We were just speaking of thee, were we not, Princess?" She arched a shapely brow upwards, a hand settling on her hip as she shifted forward on her toes.
An apprentice of the shop came forward and Amora turned a parting glance over the smaller elf. "Your best spider-silk, if you will. Princess Crystal is Prince Thor's betrothed, and she will be attending court in Asgard soon. So it must be done in a hurry.."
*
The breaching of the quiet shop gains Sif immediate attention. Her hand lifts to press to the slender hand of the elf who works upon her shoulders, halting his progress at working out the knots that were placed there due to stress. A lean forward allows a narrowing of her eyes and a slight smile that touches her lips. Slight. Not wide, not glad to see you, but slight none the less. In a place like this, surrounded by beautiful linen, garb and men, it was best to at least show a touch of decorum where one wasn't.. deserved.
"Beautiful Amora!" Sif speaks out with mock surprise. "I pray that they were all good things!" Even though she knows it was not. A shift of her foot tugs it free from the grasp of the man, and with a turn of her hips, her feet touch down into the elaborate slippers that were obviously purchased from this particular shop not long ago. Soon she stands, preparing to greet the sorceress, but the introduction of Princess Crystal has her brows upward.. then down into neutrality.
"Ah. So it is she." Sif intones quietly. "I would say that there is a wish for better circumstances in which to meet but.." She looks around, a smile drawn upon her unpainted lips. "..who could ask for better at this very moment?"
*
"Lady Amora's admiration was clear," Crystal smiles to Sif, a slight hook to the expression. Admiration. Recognition as a threat. Six of one, half dozen of the other. "And you are even lovelier than she described." That much is true. "But I'm afraid she slightly overstates matters. We intend only to ask for the All-Father's permission to court."
Towered over by Aesir and elves alike, in a cotton dress that might well have been hand-made ten years ago, she nevertheless holds her ground. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Lady Sif. Though…" She points before stepping closer, moving as though to make an adjustment to the other woman's dress. "There we are. With a quick pin, no one will see the bruise." As if covering bruises is nothing to worry about.
*
Amora hooked her hands behind her back as she watched Sif with eyes not unlike that of a hissing feline, her lips curving into an equally wicked and saccharine smile. "But of course, I regaled her with tales of Thor's troubles as well. Since they're practically intended as it stands, I thought I would inform her of his younger misadventures. Though, I think you would hold a better tale to it, seeing as you are his best friend. Well, besides his brother." She paused, and cocked her head to the side.
"Speaking of Loki, you might be able to assuage my curiosity. What happened when he returned to Asgard? The Queen came to pay me a visit and carefully said not a word.." Then her attention was shifting toward the apprentice tailor and she plucked up a sample of various silks.
"Now, Princess, which color do you prefer?"
*
"I'm sure it was, Princess Crystal." There were times there was laughter amongst the men, quiet laughter. The names that Amora called her were a running joke, though jokes that were easily quelled by the butt of her sword. "And I do appreciate your kindness. You are a true gem." Though, once Crystal steps forward to adjust her garb, there was a certain, newfound stiffness to her form. Her fingers even clench, but soon unclench to press at her thighs as a reminder to be kind. Once a fighter always such.
Though, the smile thereafter was gentle, her head bowing in a muted thanks and a lift to inspect the slight change to her wardrobe. Her hand lifts to smooth it down further, though all niceties were soon dropped in the case of.. Loki.
"So you have not heard?" Sif questions. "..Oh. Banishment. I've must forgotten." She purses her lips, her gaze near vacant. "From what he tells me, from the dungeons of Asgard, that he was quite rude with the All-Father. And he saw fit to teach him a lesson." Sif steps aside, allowing Crystal the visuals of the entire shop, instead of blocking her view. "Though I'm sure speaking of it now to you yourself will gain me a minute bit of ire, I'm due to a small meeting with him soon."
*
As the others discuss Loki and his current status, Crystal explores the materials in the room a bit. She's listening, but she does at least try not to look like she's eavesdropping. Instead, she answers Amora's question. "I'm somewhat partial to yellow and blue," she muses, looking around. "That crimson," she adds to Sif, "Is quite stunning, though I'm afraid it would look dreadful on me." No doubt Amora is aware that most of what she's worn in their encounters has been green. But Crystal is apparently ceding the color to the Enchantress.
*
A flutter of thick eyelashes followed Sif's words and Amora leaned her weight back on her heels, "Huh," Green eyes narrowed faintly in thought and she glanced toward Crystal as the woman spoke of being partial to the yellow or blue. "Let us try the yellow then," She waved an imperial hand toward the tailor's apprentice, and he proceeded to bring out bolt upon bolt of yellow fabric from every hue imaginable.
Then her attention shifted back to Sif, and her head tilted to the side. "I was with Thor, so I missed what happened in Asgard." A dig, that Sif had not been there, "Does he know what has befallen his brother in all of this? He was of a mind that Loki had simply chosen to remain in Asgard."
Amora ran a hand through a length of her golden hair seemingly an idle motion, perhaps. "I can't say that I'm surprised that Loki said something he'd regret. His mouth has gotten quite away from him in the last century. Color me shocked that it landed him imprisoned though.."
*
It's rare that a conversation with Amora has Sif wanting to blurt out her truths. It is also rarer true, that there weren't insults traded outright. Crystal's color choices does have Sif tilting her head, her gaze fogged at imagining the garb against the Princess' skin. Red would look terrifying, not in a sense that it would cause Crystal to look as if she were tied between a dog and a muskrat, but like an evil Princess, bewitched by Hel. Blue.. would be lovely.. but Sif does not interject.
Hearing news that Amora was with Thor has her shifting. "Oh." Arms lift to draw folded along her chest as her weight shifts unevenly. "I'm very sure that he is unaware. For if he knows, he'd certainly approach the All Father with the same candor his brother showed that landed him in such a trife." Her jaw steels, and for once, they could agree on something.
"Yes. But speak thy mind. Many suns have passed since. Surely you would think the All-Father would have released and shared meal with the younger, no?" She shakes her head, but remained perplexed.
*
It seems either Crystal is fascinated by the fabrics - which, to be fair, she is - or she knows well enough when there's more to be learned from silence than from questions. One by one she brushes her fingers over the material, holding it against her skin to see how it compares. A near-sheer rose-gold almost the same color as her hair is set aside, along with a pale gold, thoughtful. "Blues would also be worth looking at," she murmurs to one of the apprentices, offering an almost conspiratorial smile.
*
If Amora leaned more to the gold than blue it was out of sheer practicality, the golden hues offsetting the tones in Crystal's hair beautifully.. And did not remind her at all of a sibling long since lost to her. Not at all. So Amora moves, plucking up a few cast aside swatches of golden fabric and moving to hold it up against Crystal's features.
"You are a mortal of Midgard and will be surrounded by immortal beings. You wish to be the one betrothed to our Crown Prince? Then you must look the part. You need stand out." She tossed the golden fabric aside and rounded on the tailor's apprentice. "She needs to shine, like the sun. A dress of molten light and starshine. Nothing less will do. Fetch it." She commanded with an arch of her brow before her attention swung back toward Sif. The fact that Amora was actually offering honest advice to Crystal of all people should have been shocking in and of itself.
"Thor is in denial that ill might have befallen his brother, I however guessed at it since Loki did not return. It is odd in and of itself that not only did the All-father imprison the younger prince, but more so that the Queen did not speak of it to me when she visited on Midgard. She was carefully, very carefully, silent. It speaks to some foul thing, I know it not. Perhaps linked to why Loki was on Midgard for so long? Perhaps linked to why Thor refused to think that something happened? Who can say. But there is something in the royal family that we know not, Sif. Mark me. It shall cause trouble for all of Asgard if this continues." If her voice held a note of prophecy, Amora did not catch it herself.
*
One lone apprentice approaches with the blue swath that Crystal requested. But at hearing Amora's words? He wisely, very wisely, slowly backed out of the central saloon to disappear behind its depths. Good, gorgeous elf.
"Thor had always thought that the.. how did my comrade once said.. 'Nary a sun or moon sets upon his buttocks..'." Sif tch's loudly, still holding that hard poise, though this time her jaw quirks with intense irritation at the prospect.
But Amora's words shook something within her. Maybe it was like a stick from her own behind because her shoulders doth falter. Even her hand withdraws to brush away dark strands from her eyes in order for her to rub their lids and pinch the bridge of her nose.
"Milady! I shall return within two nightfalls for my garb!" There was ruckus in the back, Sif's hands lifting to give a quick snap of her fingers towards the elfmen who rubbed her shoulder and worked upon her feet. "You're right."
Frigga turned into a frog.
Odin came up with a case of mad cow disease and Loki turned into a woman.
"Princess Crystal?"
*
Crystal shouldn't trust Amora. It's not wise. But sometimes one must extend trust to earn it. Besides, no sense in arguing with elves. And there's the fact that the Enchantress is entirely correct. At least on the matter of a dress. The matter of family politics is something she knows from a different angle.
As talk turns to strangeness in the court, she looks to the other women more attentively, gaze sharper. Before she can offer any question, though, she quirks a brow at Sif. "Yes, Lady Sif?"
*
A quirk of her golden brow follows Sif's comment about suns and moons, but the rest of her reaction was missed as the Enchantress focuses on the gleam of fabric that the apprentice had pulled from the back. A fabric so imbued with magic, that it defied all reason and scope of what fabric should be. It was almost in point, a silk of woven sunlight, or at least it appeared to be where it was caught in the sun's rays from the windows.
"Ahh, perfect." She murmured, stepping forward to scoup it from the apprentice's hand and bring it back around to Crystal. "Here." She unrolled a sweep of the fabric, and wrapped it around the Princess of the Inhuman's shoulders, bathing her in its refracted light.
"I think that will do nicely. No?"
*
Before Sif even approached Princess Crystal, she stood back and watched the show of fabric that caressed the woman's skin; darkness brought to the light. There was a tiny smile, that smile marked approval even though it was possibly not wanted, or needed. It was then that she takes a step forward, a hand slowly and..
..very awkwardly patted upon Crystal's shoulder. It was akin to a 'there there' and an 'its okay', even though it was meant as a 'nice to meet you' and 'you look great'. The kindly gesture falls short, though the smile all the more makes up for such a sad sight. "You will be a lovely bride and an addition to our.. extended family, Princess." Hand now removed, patting over.
"Though I am unsure if I will see you at court. But it is a gift to finally meet you." Now, without a word, she turns.. snapping her fingers twice. The elfen men have their work cut out for them, for ..
(THIS PARAGRAPH IS RATED X.)
*
Sif has left.
*
"Oh." Crystal's breath catches as the fabric is brought out, eyes wide despite any attempts to stay collected. "It's…" And then Amora drapes it around her and she brushes her fingers lightly over the material, awed. "It's stunning. You were entirely right, I would never have found anything like this, even in Attilan."
At Sif's gesture, she looks to the other woman, smile quirking. She'll take it. "And an honor to meet you, Lady Sif. I hope you enjoy the rest of your evening." It certainly looks like she's going to, after all. Once the warrior has departed, she looks back to Amora, rueful. "If your plan was to further convince me of the hopelessness of my wardrobe, you can consider this a success."
*
A smirk finds its way to Amora's lips, her brow lifting at the awkwardness of Sif's departure and she couldn't help a rueful laugh as the other woman departs. A slow shake of her head follows as Sif left and a sigh fell from her lips. "Yes, quite. The elves are talented at spinning magical fabrics. They just tend to keep it for themselves." Her voice dropped at the end and she chuckled lightly.
"It will cost a fair amount, but I fancy that Thor will repay the amount for thee. Now, for the style of the dress.. that I shall leave to you. My tastes.. well, they run scandalous even by Asgard's standards." She arched a brow upwards, and rolled a shoulder back as if to dispel all thought on the matter.
"This shall be your introduction dress. If I know the Queen, she shall have the court at the ready to welcome her son back with cheers. So you must make an impression… The rest? You need a full wardrobe, Princess."
*
"I would prefer not to impose on him unnecessarily," Crystal murmurs, though there is recognition there as well. Of necessity, these things, these alliances…they create their own tangled webs. "And you are right," she sighs, starting to scrub a hand over her face and stopping herself in time to push it through her hair instead. "I suspect this is going to turn into a very long day, isn't it?" For a moment she looks wistfully after Sif. She looked like she was going to have a good, carefree time…
*
Amora inclined her head, "Indeed, we shall need a full wardrobe for you. For we know not how long you might stay." She pursed her lips together, tilting her head to the side as peered down at Crystal with a faint frown pulling at her lips.
"You are a Princess of another Kingdom, if you wish to be respected as such… then you must look the part. Not the part of a mortal peasant." She muttered, drawing back as she waved the tailor's apprentice over. "Bring her at least seven day's worth of other fabrics, purples, pinks, oranges, and so on. They will be required immediately."
Her features twisted into a faint grimace as she looked down at Crystal. "I would suggest you bring something that you might run in. If things go ill, and I am not present, you cannot count on the Thunderer to get you to safety. Not if it goes against the All-father and the choice is for his brother…"
*
"My lady, I am not in the habit of relying upon anyone to get me to safety," Crystal notes with a flicker of a smile, settling in for the long run when it comes to dresses. "But. As you mention it, I think it might be wise to bring Lockjaw with me. He could likely find me at need, but the time…It would be wiser to be prepared." Weirder, maybe. It's always fun to explain how what appears to be a giant bulldog is part of the royal family.
"The Lady Sif, it seems, is a warrior," she observes, looking back to Amora. "I've read legends of Valkyries, which suggests such a choice is not…impossible, even if it might be unusual. Is it? Unusual, that is. Or are all of the women of Asgard as trained in combat as they are in magic?"
*
Amora arched a brow upwards and she shook her head slowly, "There are things in Asgard that, powered as you are, might give you pause." She paused and plucked up a bolt of purple that sparkled with a red sheen beneath. She held it up and frowned, then set it aside to pick up one of a shimmering opal that changed in the sunlight.
"It will be interesting to see how you explain bringing one more to the realm eternal. Since the Thunderer was so against my suggestions.. but oh well." She muttered, wrinkling her nose as she continued to pick up fabric swatches and breeze through them in an unhappy manner.
"Lady Sif is not the usual. Nor is she a member of the Valkyrie. They're different. Lady Sif.. is not considered a woman by Asgard's standards. She holds no training in magic. She is hard. She is considered a warrior."
*
"A member of my family to serve as chaperone is hardly untoward, is it?" Crystal counters, setting aside a swatch of deep teal fabric for later consideration. "I find it interesting how you separate task and skill from gender," she muses, moving toward a window to watch the people move through the streets, picking up bits and pieces of fashion. "In Attilan, gender is…Well, not immaterial, but certainly no guide of what one might accomplish. In the rest of Midgard, yes," she wrinkles her nose. "So many rules. But among our own, it would be almost blasphemous to disregard one's gifts."
*
Amora tsked under her breath, shaking her head as she tossed aside a ruby toned swatch and rolled her eyes at a glimmering, inky, black swatch of silk. "It is not /my/ beliefs, but rather that of my people. I am … frequently seen as a less than moral woman because I choose to live without a man in my life. I cannot tell you how many marriage proposals I have turned down. How many women .. do not speak with me. As I said. I am.. I do not have friends in the court. You will have enemies because of your proposal to seek my advice."
Amora set down another fabric swatch and sighed. "I do not begrudge Lady Sif the strength of arms she holds. To break down the barriers that women are to be or not to be.. My people are ancient and long lived, nigh immortal. It is not as human society. Where change happens rapidly. Things are slow to change. Slow to move.. in Asgard."
*
"Well. The women are intimidated," Crystal shrugs, matter-of-fact. "A goddess of love and beauty, with no one and nothing to keep her in check, to keep her from taking what she pleases, and nothing they can do about it? Of course they're afraid, and so they keep their distance. Understandable, but unfortunate."
And yet, here she stands, looking through fabrics. "And the men…I cannot pretend to understand men," she chuckles, shaking her head as she takes a look at the black fabric. "Lady Sif breaks barriers in her way, and you in yours. It seems his highness attracts women with strong wills."
*
A laugh escaped her and she shook her head, "His highness goes through women as often as I men. The difference being that he often gives his heart to such." She shrugged, a rueful smile pulled at her lips. "Most think me a whore, let us be honest, shall we not? The women hate me because I have often stolen a man of their's or not. The men desire to tame me."
"I have had a long time to get used to such taunts, however you have not. Asgard's court is decidedly unkind to outsiders. To put it lightly. Even cruel to those that are not. Thor doesn't see it, for he is a good man and much belov'd. He sees the good and not the bad. One of the reasons.. that he is having a hard time believing that his brother is being held against his will."
Amora sighed, shaking her head again. "Enough of such things, we need to get you shoes and accessories."
*
"I have been an outsider for more than half of my life, my lady." Crystal turns back from the window with a small smile. "That, I am used to. So, if we're planning on being able to run, I hope that those ridiculously high heels I see in the fashion magazines in New York are not in style here, hmm?" she asks, rolling with the change of topic. "Besides, you're all so tall. High heels would just make it look as though I was trying and still failing to be as tall myself."
*
Amora smiled faintly and waved over the tailor himself, "Please make sure that all of these are ear-marked as important. I need a rush delivery to Asgard on the dresses—they're for her." She waved to Crystal and the elf's apprentices swarmed, measuring tape wielded to wrap and straighten around and over Crystal's figure with impressive ease and skill.
"Well, heels are less of an Asgardian fashion. They are much more based in Midgard. Sandals, boots.. such things are common. But I have always favored heels. But that's just me."
*
"You have the legs for heels." Crystal holds still for the measurements, watching the elves swarm with amusement. "Sandals sound just fine for me. Boots sound nice, but unlikely to go with anything this fine," she adds with a glance toward the fabric. Her stomach flips as it all sinks in. This is happened. This is suddenly very, very real.
*
Whether Amora cares, or even notices the sudden change in Crystal's demeanor; she doesn't react regardless. She turns, a hand propped up under her chin as she watched the elves go to work on the measurements required to create a variety of dresses. "Indeed, but you are short and it will be apparent. I would venture for you to wear heels upon arrival. It will leave a good impression." A sigh followed and Amora plucked up a swatch of green silk that was particularly beautiful in the sunlight.
"I'll have a dress made in this as well, thank you. You still have my measurements?" At the tailor's nod Amora smirked, "Good, lovely." She returned her attention to Crystal.
*
"I am short," Crystal laughs softly. "I don't think heels are going to convince anyone otherwise. Falling on my face when my heels catch in my dress, on the other hand, is unlikely to leave a good impression." She takes a few deep breaths, drawing in more of the rarified air of the elves and letting some of the tension out as she exhales. When all else fails, losing herself in awareness of the elements around her brings a moment of peace. "Besides, if I lack the power or presence to appear powerful, then I might as well use being underestimated."
*
A roll of her eyes followed Crystal's words, The Enchantress of Asgard looking none too pleased with the matter of high heels but willing to relent. "No one will truly believe it possible for you to have snared The Thunderer's heart. You will be thought of as just another mortal that the Prince is using to upset his father and prove that Midgard is worthy of his attentions." She moved closer to Crystal as the elves moved away to scribble at measurements and how much fabric would be required.
"They will think you as weak as his previous mortal lover. The one that failed the All-father's tests. Use that."
*
"I suspect it is for the best if they don't believe I've snared his heart," Crystal muses, settling into a chair as the elves go to work. "I understand the source of much of this strife is that he's avoided his responsibilities. Even if I'm an unsuitable bride, it might earn him more credit with his father if he believes he's chosen a bride based less on his heart and more on politics. My suitability, my strength, would then be more of a secondary concern. But if the bar has been set by a human, then that, too, gives me an advantage."
*
Amora settled in beside Crystal, leaning against the wall as she watched the elves move about the room with a purpose. "If it comes to it.. Thor will choose his brother. The brothers both choose one another ultimately. If Thor finds out that his brother is being kept in Asgard's jails?" She arched a brow, her hand lifting as she cast a spell of silence around them again.
"Thor might very well commit treason to see his brother free, and in the process, in which case he will lose the Crown and his standing.."
*
"It is my hope that this arrangement can ease tensions enough that he need not stoop to treason to rescue his brother," Crystal sighs. "But if the All-Father is willing to destabilize his realm by disowning both of his sons at once, then I think there are greater concerns, as you and Lady Sif noted earlier."
*
Amora grimaced, dragging a hand through her hair and combing it back from her face for a brief moment. "It is possible. The All-father and his sons all share a remarkable amount of pride, even by the standards of my people. If he is willing to lock up his other son for running his mouth? For being rude? Then I think we need to consider what happens if the All-father does not listen. Loki is the most skilled of all in terms of words— he is the silver tongued God for a reason. And yet he is now lost? How can Thor hope to manage without?"
She shook her head, pushing off from the wall. "Come, let us get you back to Midgard. The dresses will be shipped to Asgard and will be ready when we arrive."
*
"One should perhaps be sent ahead to Midgard?" Crystal suggests, standing as Amora starts to depart. "So that I can be ready when we arrive, rather than needing to run to change. Better prepared than not." She smooths a hand over her dress, taking another deep breath of the fresh air, even from inside the shop. This place…is somewhere she would very much like to return.
"Lockjaw," she murmurs to herself. "Hair. Gown. Preparation."
*
Amora waved a hand, rolling her eyes skyward at Crystal's concerns. "I can summon it for you prior to leaving—they'll deliver them to my palace. Along with your hair and the alike. It shall not be the long and tedious affair that you are used to. Magic has its uses, and there are many reasons why the women of my realm adhere so strongly to its school." She smirked, gesturing to herself with a raise of her hand.
"Now come, we need get you home."
*
"Yes," Crystal says quietly, summoning up a small smile. "Home." A complex concept, home. Especially given her situation. Attilan hasn't been home for over a decade. And Xavier's…While it feels like home in so many ways, that brings its own complications. And all of this is certainly part of it. Things she would much rather not explain to certain people there. She follows behind Amora, taking a last look around as she walks.
"Lady Amora…" She pauses. "I hope that everything goes smoothly. For everyone."