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It's midday in Manhattan. The sun is bright but it's starting to cool off to the point most people find it comfortable to cool but don't yet wear jackets. As is usual, mortals are walking up and down the street on the way to where their destinations. Today though, the paces have slowed and some have stopped to watch what's unusual even for New York. A man in gold and purple armor (though sans helm) sits on the stoop of one of the townhomes that line the street. The unusual part are the six pigeons, three cats and a dog also sitting on it (with three of the pigeons on his shoulders) that he's talking to and idly petting in turn. Even stranger, Balder pauses periodically and seems to be listening to them.
*
The thought of tracking down any of the Princes of Asgard had been the furthest from Amora's mind. The Enchantress, well, former Enchantress, did not have her heart nor the consuming flames of hatred anymore—but the memories burned deep and the rememberance of why she was in the position she was in now? It scorched whatever memory of emotion that still rattled inside the hollow of her chest.
But it was awful hard, if not possible to ignore a command given to her by the Norn-queen, considering the woman held her heart in hand.
So she had scried, figured out the location and set out in search of the bold Prince, her figure cloaked in a mortal guise as she got out of the taxi. She hated not being able to teleport instantly, and figured it was another way to get at her. Never had she had to walk as much as she did now—finding a car to drive to the address? That was easy, but it still galled.
The taxi driver continued to yammer on at her, and disgust peeled at her lips as she practically tossed the green paper currency at the man and slammed the door shut behind her, the groan of metal and rubber following her movement. She hated not having the magic to scour the man's mind clean of her, but such as it was.
The blonde attracted the eyes of everyone is passed, magic unecessary to do so; she was the most beautiful creature on practicaly any realm after all. Her heels clicked as she stalked up to the stoop, eyeing the number on the building's front. Her irritation at the mortals cooled as quickly as it had flared and she paused before the sight of the Prince petting various vermin and mongrels. She bowed. Low.
"My prince?"
*
A woman's virtue is her armour, so if Scarlett's trenchcoat measures her integrity, a story it might tell. Dusted by a fleck or two of ash, torn slightly upon the sleeve, she otherwise looks quite chic among the wealthy souls avoiding the hoi polloi of less desirable quarters. A mystery lends a suspiciously hemispherical shape to her backpack, possibly a helm of some kind or another; it bounces, too, with her stride. Being a girl about town, she heads up the pavement until the slowdown blocks her past. Green eyes obscured by the brim of her hat measure the pigeons, first, then the cats and the nature of the perch. An address is utterly unnecessary. Slipping around an affronted lady who lunches, she approaches the property in time to see Amora, the surprise setting her gaze to full roundness for a second, maybe two.
When a break in Balder's conversation presents itself, her warm greeting comes quiet but clear. "Good afternoon, your highness."
Let the proud republicans chew on that, as Scarlett dips in a curtsey. They'll only remember the blonde bombshells, anyways.
*
Balder, his gauntlets tucked into his sword belt, stops scritching one of the cats and looks up, a smile already forming as he starts to look at whomever it is who has figured out or was told his identity. The smile fades as his face registers surprise on seeing who it is. "Amora? What do you here on Midgard? Have you somehow escaped the realm of the Queen of Norns?" Thus defying the All-Father as well. "Do you need transport back before your absence is discovered?" Though that will surely be a futile attempt. All of the gathered animals have turned to regard the other Asgardian, ten pairs of eyes then shifting to Rogue when she approaches. Eleven when Balder does so as well. "Scarlett is it not? I have been meaning to speak with thee. Bide though if you would while I assist my fellow Asgardian."
*
Amora straightened slowly, her green eyed gaze sweeping over Scarlett without a flicker of interest, merely a cold detached notice. Then her attention returned to the Prince amongst the beasts, and she settled her hands behind her back. "My prince, I think it would be a foolish assumption to think me capable of escaping Nornheim or Karnilla when your father hath placed such bound upon my power to leave me little more than a child. Summon Loki, if you believe me not. I am still bound as required."
Manicured hands lifted up before her, green nails catching in the sunlight as she held them up as if for inspection. "I arrived here two days ago, knowing not how nor why. Merely that it is so. Has there been a call from the All-father proclaiming that I am a wanted criminal? That I have broken my punishment? I suspect, you would not ask me to be transfered back, if it is so. The All-father stated that I was under the Queen's command. So there in.. it needs must be her command that I remain here for some reason. I sought you out, in hopes you might aid me in this puzzle."
*
No buried fury or tightened leonine smile flattening to teeth from Scarlett, whom rises from her curtsey to slip her hands once more into her coat pockets. "I understand. Of course, my lady's situation must be determined ere all else. I am glad to abide." The Norns give her little other choice, she the shortest lived of those in proximity.
The downward sweep of her chin blots out her gaze, the jaunty angle of the brim eclipsing her face. Smoothly pivoting aside, she places herself closer to the felines and out of direct line of sight for either of them. Such should it be, allowing Amora and Balder to hold court on potential diplomatic violations. Her shoulders draw back slightly, and almost fondly, she blows a soft purr through rounded lips at the supple, regal cat.
See if Amora has any sting. It's very hard to say.
*
The possibility of such an escape under exactly those circumstances is exactly why Balder was surprised. "I need no such assurances and will take you at your word. Nor have I heard aught that would require me to take you back. Perhaps Thor or Loki know more. You are welcome to remain to question them and perhaps after as well if it is thought best. So." he continues, looking around for Rogue and then offering a smile. "I have been told you encountered the Jotun. I would be in your debt if you were to inform me of what happened."
*
As if things could not fit more perfectly into what she'd been told to do. The Norns seemed to be playing the order of things too perfectly for her. Still, better to go with along with such a path than balk. Amora inclined her head, and settled off to the side as Balder turned his attention toward Scarlett. At least this Odinson didn't seem to rouse what echos of emotion she had.
"Very well, if you mind not, my prince." A delicate step, a click of her heels, and she settled on a step not too far off. A cross of her shapely legs followed, tucking the white mini-skirt carefully beneath her as she eyed the nearest animal with a quirk of her brow.
*
Averting her attention towards the cats permits Scarlett an opportunity to at least appear not to eavesdrop, lending what illusion of social privacy they might enjoy. Only when the conversation concludes and Balder mentions her by name does she rejoin them, at least audibly. She reaches up to flick away a shard of glass buried in the weft of her coat, the tiny fragment soaring in a sparkling arc off towards the street. Minor hints, as it were, for her business prior to coming here. "My lady Amora, it is good to see you returned to our company again." Her voice holds its customary warmth, unmitigated by Amora's change of circumstances.
She meets the smile from Balder with its like, and she nods, her round hat throwing a distorted moon upon the ground. "I should be glad to assist you however I may. Both Hrimhari and I encountered the jotun in Central Park. Or rather, it encountered me while meditating, and started hurling logs, branches, anything it had at hand. The Prince was swift upon its heels and immediately attacked, until he vanquished the jotun a short time after. Though it struck with its fists and kicked, it seemed able to shake the very earth too while they fought. I saw its wounds seemed to ooze clay, not blood, and the giant collapsed into boulders, dirt, and stones when Hrimhari killed it. Some of these I kept before we departed, trying to avoid too much attention."
*
"Not in the least." Balder assures Amora. "Perhaps you will have some thoughts on the Jotun as well, sparked by what is said. You are welcome to speak your mind or ask what you will." Falling quiet, he listens to Scarlett's account till she finishes. "Yes, I had heard that the son of Fenris was involved as well and that the Jotun was neither ice nor fire." The two most common giants. "Unfortunately, it seems that there is now a great disturbance in this park which has surely destroyed any traces that may have been left. Are such things common here on Midgard?"
*
Amora smoothed her hands down the front of her shirt, a wry, plastered smile crossing her lips as she propped up her chin with a hand. She remained silent as Scarlett spoke, having already heard the tale previously. She offered nothing further, at least not until Balder posed his question. "Midgard does not usually have such rifts in the veil between the realms. I saw Doctor Strange, the resident Sorcerer Supreme close one of the veils.. It most assuredly connected to Jotunheim. Otherwise, I would venture that the jotun was rather just a clay construct made to draw our attention. But the giants of all manner have been roused as of late. Muspellheim.. and now Jotunheim. Either they sense that something in the winds are changing, or something has pushed them to test the waters of Midgard's defense." Another pause and her gaze swept the street before the stoop.
"Though, it could simply have occured because the Thunderer took up residence in Midgard so publically a few months ago.."
*
"I do not know whether this aforementioned gate to Hell spilled over into the vicinity of the jotun's appearance. I do not believe they are nearby, as I choose to meditate in quieter corners far from the popular paths." Scarlett folds her arm across her midsection, cupping her other elbow as she draws a delicate line with her fingers. "I assure you such gateways happen very rarely. Both the kind that brought out the jotun and the one spitting out demons and monsters. I cannot speak for the strategies the Sorcerer Supreme uses to address the rift, but I had an unpleasant encounter with a carnivorous herd of deer and can speak to the threat." A pause follows, and she inclines her head. "I can show you the location, or Hrimhari might take you there if you wish. The jotun was rather more like stone or clay than ice or fire, but it exhibited intelligence. It altered its tactics for dealing with the Prince, so I hesitate to suggest it was a construct. Whether it spoke anything, I could not say. I do not comprehend Aesir." Ah, All-Speak, the very tongue she did have in Asgard. How we miss ye!
*
"Then as it is not common, perhaps they are connected in some way." Balder suggests. "Or perhaps the Norns are merely having a jest at our expense. In either case, it would be wisest to assume there is a connection until proven not. To do otherwise could put an enemy at our back that we are not expecting." Just then, the door to the townhome opens and one of the servants steps out with a tray bearing four plates with sliced raw meat and six finger bowls of seed which he sets down. "Go eat, my friends." Balder tells the animals, who promptly pad or fly over to their meal. "I believe constructs can be given a semblance of intelligence, Lady Scarlett." he continues then looks to the Enchantress. "Is that correct, Lady Amora? You are more versed in magic than I."
*
Green eyes flicker toward Scarlett as the mortal speaks and Amora stares in silence unbroken until the door opens and the servant feeds the animals. A quirk of her golden brow followed and she shifted faintly on her seat when the prince turned his question toward her. A grimace pulls at her lips as she leans back, sitting up straight once more, twirling a length of golden hair between two fingers.
"Aye, one who creates a construct might.. But it requires more magic. Moving the spell to a higher plane of ability entirely. But such things are rare. Many a caster has lost portions of their mind to such things. More often a less skilled practioner will connect their own mind to such a thing, and risk feedback or damage to their mind if the construct is destroyed." She paused, exhaling a sigh in consideration.
"Most oridinarily though, such constructs are given simple orders to follow 'find this item here', or 'kill any enemies here'. They aren't able to reason fully on their own. It would require a mind to steer it, or something like a mind. It is why such constructs are not popular for armies."
*
Scarlett forfeits what she knows of golems and constructs to the Enchantress without complaint, glancing up to watch the symphonic display of beauty and intelligence playing out in such a creature. One suffering by circumstance, devoid of those deeper animating passions, but fascinating nonetheless. Curiosity is a powerful ointment to mild regard. "It would beg the question why such a creature came to Central Park in the first place, if that were true. It most certainly crashed about in the forest with intent to be in the clear. Ours was not a happy reunion, though I am almost certain it came alone. No arms, no equipment which it left behind, either, though it did wield whatever it had at hand." Her brow pinches as a thought manifests from the void, and she runs her hand up the back of her collar. Another piece of glass tumbles to the ground, one she stoops to pick up rather than let someone cut themselves on it. "I do still have my yoga blanket that it tried to filch, and bits. Though I realize these are far from useful. At one point it scratched the earth, I suppose, and seemed mightily unhappy after it did so."
*
"It scratched the ground and did not like what it found?" Balder asks, seeming confused at that point. How strange. "I wonder would it might have been seeking. Does this behavior mean aught to you?" he asks Amora. "Or would the bits and pieces of it that were left behind? Might you, or this Dr. Strange that's been mentioned, be able to use them to gather information on it or the ones behind it?" His gaze strays to the feeding animals and their single minded pleasure replaces the frown with a smile.
*
A rise of golden brows follows and Amora eyes the prince and then back to Scarlett for the briefest of moments. Then she shrugged, a roll of her shoulders and toss of her hair back. "I could trace if there was a spell there at all, which a construct would leave behind if I had been there immediately. Or if I had a piece of it. If I was at full power. However, my dear Prince. I have no more power than a child." Her voice was flat, and clipped in tones.
"You'll have to ask your darling brother Loki for anything more than a cantrip." She pursed her lips together, managing to look annoyed and distraught all at once.
"It has been weeks, and such magic does not tend to linger. The crossing of energies with this new rip in the realms will contanminate whatever spellwork had sent the creature there too." Never mind that she had inspected the area around it previously, and had taken her time there when the good Doctor Strange had been hard at work to seal the breach.. but she didn't feel too particularly inclined to offer more.
*
The young woman nods, her net of flame-touched braids swept over her shoulder and reaching in licks of copper dust down her spine. "I have often thought upon it scratching the ground like that, then making an unutterly harsh sound right after. At the time, it meant nothing; I was trying to keep it from caving my skull in. But afterwards, why would it be so infuriated after tearing a line in the grass? Two of them, actually." With a shake of her head, she leaves the question to be answered by another, clearly unwilling to muddy the waters by speculating.
Amora does that quite well enough. Her fingers uncurl, hands slipping out from her pockets again as she stoops to pet one of the cats. It can hardly be helped; there is a mutual fondness there. "I can provide such assistance to my lord or the Doctor. I preserved what I could from these last encounters in case Professor King," oh the amusement of using that name, "wished to review them, at his scrutiny. Though the connections between the gate in the park, and the jotun, and now vampires and other assorted undead in Hell's Kitchen, a section of the city, isn't exactly clear. However, I managed to obtain what I could. It never hurts to be prepared."
*
Balder nods at what Amora says. "I see. Well, you will regain that in time, Lady Amora. It is not as if we are in short supply of it. And you still have the knowledge and experience if you are willing to lend your assistance while you are in Midgard. I am certain that we all, in addition to myself, will appreciate your aid. And yours as well, Lady Scarlett." he says, turning his attention back to the mortal. "If you could see to having it done, either with my brother or the doctor, what it will reveal could hopefully prove to be of import."
*
The dip of her head indicates assent, and Scarlett smiles. "My loyalty to my lord, and your quest as given by your father, demands no less. I should be happy to offer the assistance I can, and if it prevents conflict, I will be glad of it. Name what you need, your highness, and I will do what I can in that direction." The sunny smile flickers into being, an unfurling bloom chased in the radiant glimmer to her eyes. Whatever her emotions are, that dancing spark spreads like wildfire through her. "If I may, though, I should deliver this before the hour grows too late. My lady, I wish you well in your day, too. Until our paths meet again, no?" And then she turns for the stairs. "If you will pardon me?"
*
A grimace pulled at her lips and she waved another hand in a flippant manner. "Perhaps, perhaps not. Who can say, my prince. As far as my knowledge? I cannot swear to be able to lend anything that your brother will not be able to do as well. I am without use of my library or anything I have gathered over the centuries. It is easy to forget a minor detail that is important when time passes. If I did not use it frequently, I can not say that I will remember it. My specialty was never in summoned constructs nor in the giants."
A minor wince followed her words, and she reached up and rubbed at her temple. "I will aid you where I can, my prince." Her voice flat and she looked toward Scarlett as the mortal bounded off. Her full lips pressed into a thin line of thought before her gaze turned back to Balder.
"I thought this had already been shared with your brothers? Has something happened to make it necessary to return to the matter?"
*
Balder nods to Scarlett and watches her leave before giving Amora his full attention. "Nothing has happened, no. But information gained second or third hand is never as precise and sometimes more is learned that may have been missed the first time. As it is my task to discover the purpose of this Jotun, construct or not, coming to Midgard, and whether or not it means they are preparing for war or something less obvious, I prefer to start from the beginning."
*
A rise of golden brows follows and Amora leaned forward slightly, her chin propped up by her hand once more. "I was wondering why you were here on Midgard, my prince. Your brothers often spend their time here, but I have never seen you to follow their proclivities. So you have been tasked to discover why the giants have started their moves upon this world?" She tilted her head to the side.
"I fear I am slow to follow the whys. Wasn't it enough with both Loki and Thor looking into this? Does it really require all of Asgard's heirs to see to these incursions? I thought these were just the happenings of stragglers..?"
*
"Ah, you are not aware." Balder says. "No, of course not. The tasks were given after you had left. The All-Father decided that discovering the purpose of the Jotun would fall to me. Loki is now the Protector of Midgard and it has fallen to Thor to deal with the more diplomatic issues that may arise. There is a certain overlapping of purposes here which is why we three are here on Midgard."
*
There was a decided pause at Balder's words, and Amora's expression remained carefully controlled at the orders of the various princes. A blink, a flutter of her eyelashes followed and she sat there in a stunned silence for at least a breath, or two. Then she was turning away, to look out at the street before them. A delicate motion, and a quirk of her golden brows followed.
"Loki.. is in charge of Midgard.. and Thor is to .. to be diplomatic.." She didn't seem phased at all that Balder would be sent off to deal with the Jotuns, but his brothers?
Her hand rose and she combed it through her hair, pulling it back from her features. "Am.. I am not mishearing you, correct?"
*
Balder can't help but grin at Amora's reaction. "You have heard me correctly." he agrees. "It is the will of the All-Father and I would never question the wisdom of his orders." Not publicly at least. "I am certain that his reasoning is well thought out and sound and that it will be for the good of the Realms."
*
A laugh escaped Amora at that, light and chiming. Her hand leapt up to muffle the sound and she turned disbelieveing eyes over the youngest prince. "Thor, being diplomatic? Truly? I don't believe that has ever well and truly been considered to exist in the same sentence before. Did he not try to cut off a lock of hair from the Queen of Alfheim when he was a boy? Or insulted the representative from Svartalfheim by flirting with her when she was a married woman?"
Amora twisted around fully to face him and cocked her head to the side. "I mean.. Loki is the silver tongued God for a reason.. I thought it was always intended that he play as the Crown Prince's advisor? I mean.. someone.." She trailed off, and her expression dropped and she looked away. She fell silent, whatever humor had woken in her gaze, whatever warmth had been there faded away.
"Forgive me, my prince it is not my place to question such things.."
*
"The All-Father's commands are not to be questioned." Balder agrees gravely though there's still a bit of a crinkling around his eyes. "But it is not forbidden to speculate on his reasoning. So if one were to speculate that perhaps the All-Father wishes to provide some experience in the areas that his sons are lacking…" He's still trying to figure out which gap his task is supposed to fill.
*
A sigh drags from her lips and Amora smiled faintly, her hands dropping to circle around her waist. "Aye, well, it will take a goodly amount of time for such things settle. No one ever accused the Thunderer of being the God of logic, or reason, or subtle thought." She muttered, her lips pursing together into a thin line.
"I mean, I can see why he'd make Loki protector of Midgard. He has spent the last century at least here. He's most familiar with it and its needs. Granted putting the Trickster God in charge of Midgard when so long ago the mortals saw Thor as the protector of mankind? The thought boggles the mind.." She shook her head, wrinkling her nose up.
"But what does that make you, Balder the Bold? The son to be loyal and true? To be treated with the task most assuredly tenuous and requiring both tact and strength?"
*
A bit of a smile plays around Balder's lips as he watches Amora and listens to her speculate. He's sitting on a step of the stoop, armored and with his sword, while six pigeons, three cats and a dog eat from plates or small bowls that have been set out for them near the door. "Perhaps the All-Father intends for me to spend more time outside of Asgard. As you noted, it has been a very long time since I visited Midgard. Long enough I barely recognize it as the same Realm." With metal machines traveling over roads and through the air and boxes showing images of talking horses. "The mortals have learned much since they began to turn away from us and we withdrew. I am thinking it is time for them to remember us once more."
*
A look of surprise paints over Amora's features and a glittering smile pulls at her features as she leans forward, sitting just a step below the Prince of Asgard. Still wearing her mortal guise, with a lime green, sleeveless shirt and white mini-skirt. She fit right in with the other mortals around that passed on the street. Well, save for her unnatural beauty.
"Oh! I can say for certain I have come to have a very thorough learning of Midgard since I have spent months here previously. We should go out, my prince. I can show you were to shop, the best places for food.. and this place called 'Coney Island'. It is fascinating. The structures that the mortals have built for entertainment are marvelous there. Though the summer is fading here.. I'm sure the weather still calls for plenty to see the beaches there yet.." She tilted her head to the side, reaching out to poke at the armor of his wrist.
"You'll need to at least appear to fit in to move freely about. I think a suit would look rather smart on you.."
*
It is a question to be grappled with; do they move ahead and declare themselves gods returned, or something more kindly? Their believers will always believe in them as they were, and those that only now recognize them may be more comfortable knowing they are protectors and guardians rather than overlords. That, however, they always have been, but from a distance.
The front door opens from the inside, revealing a rather casual-looking Thor with a glass of mead in hand, looking in good spirits, Mjolnir nowhere to be found. "I was told—" Blue eyes are bright, looking at his younger brother before he catches a glimpse of who is yet with him. His head cants and for a moment, he looks puzzled.
"Amora.. this is a surprise.." Understatement of the year, yes.
*
The lady of the sunset hair follows forth after the Prince of Asgard, or rather, the Thunderer rather than the Trickster or the Bold. Her footsteps are light and whatever dome she carried in her backpack is long gone, along with the bag proper. The task fulfilled, she prospers outside the time set aside for business, and may no doubt follow her own leisure. Thus Scarlett returns to the outdoors in Thor's wake, a few steps behind.
And surprise does root her to the ground for a moment.
*
"You are not the first to say so." Balder says, glancing down at his armor. "For the time being, I prefer to stand out rather than fit in." Indeed, there are mortals just standing by and watching, whispering to each other and even the ones just passing by and turning to look as they walk. He's attracting less attention though now that he's not talking to the animals. Who look up as the door opens but then go back to eating: chopped raw meat for the cats and dog, seeds for the birds. "What were you told, my brother?" he asks, enjoying Thor's surprise since he was in just that position not long ago.
*
Of course, of all the son of Odin, it had to be the golden haired Crown Prince to open the door. Amora should have expected it, but hadn't even thought to ask where the other two brothers might have been at the given time. Her mission had to be carried out, and she had been doing just that..
So when the door opened and Thor strolled out, Amora was on her feet and pressing herself back with a quickness that was entirely given to her Asgardian nature. She was standing on the street, quicker than she would've considered possible without magic. Her green eyes lingering on the Thunderer, though no true expression crossed her features. They were flat, wary at his reactions. Her gaze, held nothing of the emotions that normally lingered there at the sight of them. They were dull by comparison.
One hand settled on her chest and she grimaced faintly. Then she bowed her head, looking away from him. "Odinson."
*
"That someone was creating a zoo, and it wasn't Hrim," but the words fall flatly as Thor stares at Amora. Thor is most definitely surprised at the Enchantress' presence, and taking the few steps further, his arms cross before him. Twisting around, it seems Scarlett has the same reaction, so she didn't know. Balder didn't know..
"Amora." That too is given a little warily, but now he straightens and looks at her, his head canting. "Are the terms of service complete, or has the Queen allowed you freedom from her side?"
Balder is given a questioning glance as well; maybe he can fill him in on this one?
*
"I was hearing about how the mortals treat their animals." Balder says to Thor. "You can learn much by how someone treats the ones they are responsible for." And he sounds like he's learned too much in some cases. Given his question, he looks to Amora, letting her explain things since it's hers to tell.
*
Amora straightened, her gaze settling firmly upon the Thunderer with an odd coolness pervading her expression. Detatched. Her hand falls from her chest and she rolled her shoulders back. "Not that I think you will believe me," She started off, her words clipped. "But I awoke here two days ago. I know not why Karnilla sent me here."
Green eyes shifted to peer at Balder and she smoothed a hand through her hair as her attention shifted toward Thor. "I am still bound as the King's orders." Her voice was stiff, formal and her cool expression revealed nothing further. Even as she kept her spot on the sidewalk before the stoop. No longer, or perhaps unwilling, to be on it now that the Thunderer was present before her.
*
It behooves the redheaded belle to keep her mouth shut, to observe with all the wit gained from a confrontation with the Queen of Asgard and again walking the blessed high realm. She knows the value of silence, believe it or not, as much as getting to a point when it matters. Of course, all those braided words and confounding phrases work wonders when necessary to elude others. Silence is easier, here. The situation is measured, reflected, and dissected before she deigns to muster any kind of answer, beyond the dip of a curtsey to Thor as soon as she realizes she stands behind him. It undoubtedly followed on one inside the townhouse.
*
Scarlett tips her head slightly, and glances to Balder to ascertain his reaction to the cool reception.
*
"We slaughter them to feast upon their meat?" Thor is teasing his brother, "And quite tastey they are." It's not that he's missing Balder's point; he's just picking on him. Soon enough, he nods, "It is true. I think that is why our ancestors chose the title 'All-Father'." At least one of the other religions refer to 'Father', right? "As a Father to his children."
Scarlett's brief bob is given a distracted nod; rather, he's watching Amora closely now. His brother's words ring in his ears from when they'd gone and rescued her from Muspelheim, 'It's not her.. can't you tell?' Now, Amora's been mad at him before. Furious. Livid. She's been a boon companion with none of the trappings of love, longing, desire.
"I believe you." Three short words. "And you know not to what purpose." Thor shakes his head and takes a couple more steps, his arms dropping to the side so he can descend one step and take a seat, arm resting upon a knee. "Where are you staying now? In the apartment?"
*
Balder just nods, not rising to the bait. "It would be difficult to escape the notice of the Norn Queen and All-Father." he notes. Probably impossible even. Unsurprisingly, the dog finishes eating first and looks to Balder who says "Yes, go. Bring the bitch tonight. She will be fed and given a place of safety to whelp." It seems the townhome is going to have puppies shortly.
*
Despite the fact that Thor settles on the stoop, and speaks softly, believeing her. She does not change her stance, does not approach, nor meets his gaze. Her eyes instead linger on the bottom step, staring at it in a fixed fashion rather than look at either of the Princes. She remains silent for a long moment, and slowly folds her arms over her middle.
"No. I am not." She offered softly, and then fell silent. Her attention shifting toward Balder as he defends her statements with a matter of fact, and speaks to the animals next. Nothing further was offered either Prince, and her gaze shifted back toward Scarlett briefly in silent consideration.
*
The glimmer of Scarlett's eyes never falters in regarding Amora, though that phenomenally lovely, wide-brimmed hat excels at lending her some privacy to the whole activity. "Your lightness is unexpected, my lady." No more, no less. An offer that might hover upon her lips is forestalled for whatever reason, though her gaze does flicker up to the building and back to Balder with undisguised curiosity coming out of eclipse. "Fortunate hounds, to enjoy such surroundings in a city as this. I hope they properly treat their home with care."
*
"I did say I believed her, brother," Thor repeats. "Of course there would be nowhere she could go without the All-Father knowing, or the Queen. Or Heimdall." To hear Balder's conversation with the dog, however, brows rise. He doesn't say anything about it, however.
Instead, Thor rises to his feet and looks to Amora, "Do not put words in my mouth in such a way that others then feel the need to come in your defense." Turning, he exhales in a soft chuff, his mead forgotten, his mood dampened. "I am going back to Asgard this evening to speak with Vanaheim on the morrow. Before I depart, I hope to speak with Queen Medusa. Fandral may stay behind should he be needed here."
*
"I did not say you did not." Balder points out. "Not all here are as familiar with the All-Father and Queen of the Norns and the powers they wield as we are." This includes the closest mortals who are shamelessly listening. Balder's playing to an audience. One by one, the cats and birds finish and with a look to the god of light, they depart, a couple of the cats brushing past him on the way. Thor's pronouncement gets a nod. "If you would inquire if they have heard aught of the Jotun, it will save me a journey there. Or if they have heard much, I know I will need to visit shortly."
*
A Thor rose, Amora took a reflexive step backwards. Yet otherwise, her expression remained bland. There was no spark of anger. No emotional reaction as he chided her and his mood darkened further. She bowed her head, golden hair falling over her shoulders with the motion. "Forgive me, your highness. I had not inte—" She broke off, the same words as she had said in the court rising to her lips and dying there. Each word was flat however, without a spark of inflection what so over.
Instead she bowed lower, her hand rising up to her chest and resting there as she exhaled a breath. "I beg your pardon.." She offered off up, softer again this time. Nothing further following. Just a dead, flat nothing in her voice.
*
"May your trip be a prosperous one with the outcome you seek." The words are meant well, kindly tendered by the redheaded girl who sketches a gesture with her palm. Scarlett breathes out a sigh and stretches out her arms in front of her, allowing the tension to climb up her arms and lodge into her spine, one of those simple stretches that eases the discomfort in her spine. "May I ask you what Vanaheim is like? I saw enough of it in art, but not actual fact." This, from the handmaiden who spent every free hour in the city or the library.
*
"The first question I will have for them is regarding the Muspell and if Surtur is truly being troubled by others within his realm." Thor considers it for a few momente before, "Perhaps that is why the Jotun have not moved. Because they do not have their allies? If what Dr. Strange said was true, that they were working together to an end in that Limbo." He nods slowly and his tones soften, "I will let you know and if the Jotun do come up, I will ask them to hold counsel with you." Each of his brothers gets a realm, and he gets to juggle.
Looking over his shoulder at Amora, there's something in those blue eyes of his, and Thor sets his jaw, cheek twitching. "As you were, Amora."
Another step, two, are taken towards their front door again, and Thor pauses at the Scarlett's question. "Very much as Asgard. The Vanirs are more akin to nature than we, but we hold to the same ideals. It is not only the Norns that can see into the future, so they say, but also some of the Vanir." At the conclusion of the answer, the prince takes hold of the door, enters the house, and as it begins to close behind him, empties his glass of mead and throws the empty on the ground just as the latch catches.
*
"Fair travels then, brother." Balder says, glancing after Thor before looking back to consider Amora. Though after studying her a moment, he looks away. "Are you one of Queen Medusa's people, Scarlett? What is it they are called? Inhumans? A strange name to call oneself."
*
As Thor spoke she straightened, her hands falling to her sides as she stared at him in a deepening silence. She kept her spot on the sidewalk, expressionlessly staring at him as he spoke to Scarlett and departed inside. The shattering of the mug caused a slight flinch, but otherwise, she didn't seem to react. She kept silent, even as the door shut behind him.
Only then does her gaze return toward Balder and Scarlett still outside. Yet she made no movement forward toward either, much less to say anything. A hand rose to brush her hair back from her face and she glanced in an idle fashion toward the mortals that passed by.
*
So many people on the street, so many buildings clustered in the depths of America's socioeconomic powerhouse. The Upper West Side represents the neo-modern nobility of the country, just as other nations had their monarchs and their oligarchs, their sultans and their priest-kings. Nestled among the opulence and glory of the twentieth century, the embassy of outsiders and foreigners as never dreamed. The irony is not lost upon the young woman. She dips her head for a moment, observing Thor's departure. His kindness to answer in turn receives a farewell of a kind.
"No, I do not belong to Princess Crystalia or Queen Medusa's people. If there lies a kinship between them and I," Scarlett ventures after a long pause indeed, wetting her lips with the tip of her tongue, "I do not exactly know of it. From Medusa's own statements, they have not been widely known in living memory. Perhaps longer than that. I am considered to be a mutant by some, without evidence to the contrary. My abilities would, perhaps, indicate that if not a curse by the threefold god of the Abrahamic religions or some evidence of the Norns' wrath. Nonetheless, I consider them similar enough to understand our predicament."
*
"Don't cower, Amora." Balder chides gently. "It's unbecoming of a goddess. You erred, you apologized, you're serving your punishment. Stand tall in front of the mortals." Giving her an encouraging nod, he looks to Scarlett as she speaks. "Ah, a mutant. I have been told of them. Midgard has indeed become an interesting place."
*
A pause, a hesitation more than anything followed and Amora approached once more. She settled on the bottom step, and looked away from both of them. Her hands settled on her lap. She didn't argue, didn't defend herself or so much as say a word. She merely sat, crossing her legs and rolling her shoulders back. Her gaze didn't return to either the Prince nor Scarlett either as the consideration continued on, instead she stared down any mortal that so much as looked at her.
More than one man stumbled and walked into a nearby lamp post, as she met his gaze and kept it locked. At least one nearly walked into traffic.
*
"Would there was clarity further than what we possess, mm? Midgard has a great many people, each of them unique. Do you wish to know anything of mutants, or are we but another facet of this strange, unexpectedly developed realm?" A delicate wave of her hand swivels through a figure-eight surrounding Scarlett, engaging the cut of the fanciful mansions around them and the skyscrapers further south. She dips her head, the long fall of her braids swishing and soundlessly strung together. "My lady, you are no different to me now than you were before. Whatever passed between you and the All-Father is your own business, and no business of mine. You are as you have always been, and I accord you the respect accordingly."
*
"I am planning on going to Mutant Town with Crystal to see them for myself." Balder tells Scarlett. "She has said many are ill treated. How those in power treat the ones under them says much about them and I desire to see this for myself." Mutants and pets. "Perhaps after that I will have questions for you." Stretching one leg out, he leans back against the railing, watching Amora to see how she reacts to what is said.
*
Only when Scarlett in turn addresses her directly, does Amora turn around and interact with the two. "I am a lady no longer, Scarlett." She offered softly, green eyes lifting to settle on the mortal woman as she spoke.
"Therefore I deserve nothing as I currently stand. You need not concern yourself with such things." She looked away then, staring back out at the mortals that passed. Falling silent once more.
*
Is it worth arguing with Amora? Possibly and possibly not; for the redheaded young woman knows the futility of trying to change that particular mind after a few months' exposure on a nearly daily, if not weekly, basis. Instead she sketches a gesture, rolling her wrist around in a circle, and tips her head almost evocatively in a question that holds no verbal component whatsoever. Fingers press print to thumb, another round line drawn. "But of course." Whatever that is meant to mean.
"Mutant Town is near to a ghetto as one can have," she tells Balder. "The conditions there vary from questionable to terrible, and anyone who believes all mutants should be interned in such a place ought to spend a week or a month deprived of their liberty in such a location to see how they like it. I'm not certain how anyone with a conscience can stand it, but then I dislike any notion implying we are somehow other or less than human."
*
"Exactly why I wish to see it." Balder agrees. "It is those with the least to lose who often need something to believe in the most. Mayhap we can offer them that at some point." Gods of the Norse. Gods of the mutants. He has plans, he does.
*
Amora rose then, a glance spared to Scarlett as she glanced between the two. "Excuse me, but I feel as if my presence perhaps is not wise to remain here. I have nothing further to contribute. If you have need of me, my prince.. Scarlett.." She trailed off, not exactly offering a means of contacting her. Her voice leaving it up in the air on whether or not it would be a consideration.
Instead she bowed to Balder, stiffly. Whatever previous humors and smiles she had offered him on her approach were long since gone. "Excuse me."
*
Fandral arrives on the scene just as Amora is taking her leave. The dashing swordsman is dressed in his Midgardian clothes and appear to get even getting more aclimated to the culture. He gives a wave to them and crosses the street, unaware of any awkwardness going on, "Greetings my friends…did I miss anything?"
*
Scarlett inclines her head at Amora's imminent departure. What more can be said, if not already stretched between the space when she sent the Enchantress on a jarring breakneck ascent and then witnessed her nadir at the court, a mere few steps or so behind Loki Odinson and Stephen Strange, sorcerer supreme of Midgard? There are some things which need no speech, no explanation between them. The cold filling the space where passionate heat ought to blaze away into the night curbs her from speaking further on whatever conversation presents itself. "My lady, fare theewell tonight."
Then her eyes close a moment, giving her the liberty of composing her thoughts once more into a mask of warmth, an overlay of friendliness to acknowledge Fandral with. His is an unexpected arrival, perhaps, though she is already on the stoop to the Asgardian embassy she helped her errant lord protector of the realm discover; a brush of a nod follows. It becomes a wave when the energy coiled within snaps free. "Varied and sundry excitement, like a dog coming to whelp later on in the evening, the announcement your lord is headed to Vanaheim after meeting his betrothed's sister, and the possibility of mead being thrown out the window."
*
"As you wish, Amora." Balder states, inclining his head. "Do leave information on how and where to contact you with the servants, please." Loki can surely find her whenever he wants. It's a bit more problematic for others. Smiling as he sees who approaches, he stands, reaching to clasp Fandral's forearm. "Fandral, my friend. Nothing of note." Resisting mortal garb, he still wears his armor though his gauntlets are tucked into his belt and his helm is nowhere to be seen.
*
Even with being told to leave information with the servants, Amora did not seem too inclined to do so. She turned immediately, rather than progressing inwards. Her mission had been accomplished as much as she might, as per her orders. Never mind the fact that the Odinson who had so long brought out her emotions.. had well, nothing had happened. An empty, all consuming nothing had yawned up inside her. A cold, bottomless, empty expanse of emotions, where fire had once sparked with all the passion one could imagine for a Goddess of Desire.
Such was the blank expression on her features as she made to depart, her green eyes once so sparked and crackled with energy, with her emotions bursting forth… now was nothing. So as her gaze slid over the Dashing swordsman she merely inclined her head and continued onwards. Her heels clicking after her the only sound that followed as she wove into the throng of mortals and disappeared down the street.
*
Fandral was all smiles for the trio until Amora takes her leave and barely seems to acknowledge him. He looks at her retreating form with a thoughtful look, "Is Lady Amora unwell?" He asks Balder who was standing there longer than himself. He keeps an eye on her till she turns the corner and then forces himself back to the now and present, returning Balder's clasp, "That's good to here I suppose. How is Sif getting along?" He does appear to wish to hear news of his cadre member that left to go track down the Jotunn.
He then turns his attention to Scarlett, giving her smile, "And Scarelett, it has been too long since we've last spoken. Since arriving to the city, I've been working to get things settled for our party. But I have not forgotten you."
*
The diminutive arc of a smile for Balder and Fandral reunited holds Scarlett fast, even as the expression she wears gains an edge in Amora's absence. Off stalks the blonde to points unknown, likely causing half a dozen traffic accidents and spurring into motion three bands separately composing songs in her honour for the torment she will cause them. "Her gravity is shifted, somehow. If I say she has an unexpected and unusual lightness, I do not mean well. The lady always pulls people in, but the center is hollow rather than full of the crushing weight of her personality, her passion. Something about that is absent, and whether broken or hidden away, perhaps you may know better than I." An explanation the best she can give under the circumstances, the student of seidr lowers her eyes, brushing her fingers down the slope of her nose as though she can banish the pressure building up like a summer storm.
A blink and she flexes her fingers, as though shaking off sticky honey or gloves. All said and done, she smiles up slightly. "I apologize. Distracted from what you said. You mean to give hope to people in Mutant Town?" See also: mutant, this is relevant to her. Her braids wave and twist around her shoulders. "I am glad to hear I am not forgotten, Fandral. With this many souls in our city, we can easily lose sight and track of one another. It heartens me to know I've not entirely been forgotten."
*
"First I must see them." Balder answers. "And then I must get to know them. And then we will see. But it would be good to have followers once again just as we used to. And for whatever reasons, we are here now and not where most of our worshippers used to dwell. As for Sif" he says to Fandral, "I know not. I've yet to seek her out. First I wish to learn as much of the encounter with the Jotun here as possible."
*
Fandral frowns at the mention of gathering followers. Unlike Balder, he does not appear to relish the idea of regaining his god status, "Balder, I think you give the Midgardians too little credit. They have moved past the point of needing gods." He feels strongly about this and it comes out in his voice, "Rather, they need advisors, those that have lived longer and perhaps can help them transition to the next stage of their evolution." He does seem to believe that mutants are a 'better' version of the mortals on this world, "And perhaps act as examples so they can see how Asgardians have evolved their civilization to be one of honor, courage and valor."
*
The redhead is never quite without one or two things, and a notebook tends to be among them. She takes it from the pocket of her coat, a pen buried in the twisted metal. A little spiral-bound pad hardly constitutes anything illustrious, but she does sketch a few curious little curlicues along the well-creased pages, and hastily inks out an idea taking her from the conversation for a moment. Then she will return to it, but not before sketching out a neat summary of lines and at least two helpful pointy arrows with a question mark. Scarlett then taps her pen and tucks it back in.
"You may find a great number of opinions on the subject. Not everyone here is prone to following the same lead," she says gently.
*
"I do not see those roles as being mutually exclusive, my friend." Balder says to Fandral. "And I think perhaps you give them too much. The popularity of the Christian god proves their desire and their treatment of each other proves their need. It will be a slow process but the seeds can be sown. The mutants might be a fertile field." He inclines his head toward Scarlett at what she says and adds "Those so inclined." It's been a long time since they gained worshippers by the sword.
*
Fandral shakes his head and tells his friend, "You are welcome to take followers, but I think this god will stay retired." He has no interest in being an object of fertility again, "Even if the orgies were fun." Yes, there were some perks to the job, Fandral isn't going to deny that, "But the other things…no my friend, I am content to be seen as just an Asgardian, nothing more." Of course Asgardians are rather impressive but he's not going to make any boasts. He gives Scarlett a little wink.
*
Rogue taps her fingertips to the edge of the notebook and tucks it away into her coat again, straightening the casual tie off of the belt around her waist. "Look into the great writers and thinkers of the Age of Enlightenment, a time approximately two centuries ago. Some consider it the first great flowering of modern thought, begun in Scotland of all places. It was then a good many wise men questioned the purpose of God in a rational, orderly, scientific world and they came to a good many conclusions about the need — or lack — for religion. We've since been fighting with it, all the way through the Wars that shredded our innocence over the past fifty years, the acts of bravery and evil we committed upon ourselves, and that frightful creation of a bomb so powerful, so potent, it strips away life fore miles in its fall. For some of us, I fear there isn't any divine left. Others wish they could march us all back in history to a perfect union with God, or the gods, and some never stopped believing but changed to the times." Her thumb traces along the dish of the button holding the garment shut over her breast, a row of them headed right through the skirt of the trenchcoat. "Orgies or no orgies, please consider we're a diverse lot. Some of us are violent, some of us are peaceful, some will believe, and some will try to do whatever they can to push you off a pedestal and prove you are nothing. I do fear a little that your revelation will not be taken well by the general public, but the majority of the populace is altogether likely to shrug and go back to their daily lives. I wonder if it was always so."
*
"We are what we are, my friend. Merely changing your name doesn't alter that. But as you wish. It is not my desire to force ourselves upon anyone nor force them upon any of us who do not wish it." Balder assures Fandral then glances over at Scarlett. No, it's highly doubtful that he'll be doing that. There are giants to fight instead. There are always giants to fight and there always will be.
*
"I understand…" Fandral tells Rogue with a nod as she gives them a history lesson, "Actually, from what I can see your people seem more fascinated by these actors in the movie theaters or rock bands on the television." See, he's been learning a little more about their culture. He then turns back to Balder with a joking glance, "I don't suppose you feel like joining a bardric trio?"
*
"I do not understand the fascination with what they call television. I tried to watch it and there was something with a talking horse that made no sense." Balder shakes his head, not having found the humor in Mr. Ed. "The mortals have become very strange over the years." And then he looks even more puzzled. "Join a what?"
*
"The Beatles…no they're not bugs, just English band who play instruments, sing and women seem to flock to them screaming in worship," Fandral shakes his head as if it's the most rediculous thing on the planet, "I don't understand it even though a young college girl from NYU tried to explain it to me." He gives Balder a smile, "Somehow I don't think that you'd enjoy that." Even Fandral who enjoys attention from ladies doesn't want a throng of crazed women.
*
"And you say they no longer want gods." Balder points out with an amused look. "Though they sound more like the Greek wine god's worshippers than ours." No, he wouldn't like that. Not now. "And you say you no longer want to be a fertility god. I think you just want all the fun without the responsibility, my friend. But speaking of fertility, let us go inside. I need to prepare a corner somewhere out of the way of most people. There will be a young bitch arriving to have her litter and she is underfed and nervous around people."
*
"Yes…it does sounds more Greek than Norse, doesn't it," Fandral does agree with his friend and then snorts when Balder claims he doesn't want the responsibility, "You have that right. I have enough on my plate without trying to save everyone." Just a few here and there but not everything, "And if you have a young bitch arriving, perhaps I can soothe her, make it easier."
*
"I'm sure she would appreciate that once you gain her trust." Balder agrees. He turns and starts collecting plates off the stoop: 4 small ones and 6 finger bowls. "Her former master neglected her then drove her off. A hound I spoke to earlier will be bringing her tonight once it becomes dark."
*
Fandral nods thoughtfully, "Well, I can spend my time here, waiting for her." He gives a light smile, "It's not like I currently have plans." Although with Fandral that can change easily if he wanted it to, "Have you met up with our Prince of Wolves recently? I believe he's still in town."
*
Balder shakes his head as he balances the dishes in one hand and pulls open the door. "Not here, not yet. As he encountered the Jotun, I've been meaning to speak with him. She will probably not whelp for a few days yet so you can go find another college girl if you wish to."
*
"Ahh then. If you don't need my help, I think I shall find a distraction for the evening," Fandral tells his friend with a laugh, for in some ways he's dressed for a night out in Midgard, "But I am here, if you need me. You know that right?" Despite his playboy ways, he does want to be there for all three Odinsons.
*
"Of course." Balder assures Fandral. "She will be here when you return and more comfortable with her surroundings than when she first arrives. You can introduce yourself to her then. Till then, have fun."