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The fact that Karnilla hadn't contacted her spoke volumes. So it was that Amora dragged herself back to the abode of the princes. Thankfully, Balder had invited her in previously, rather than turning her away… soe she was welcomed inside. Rather than bother with the usual excuses, Amora had wasted little time in trying to track down Loki… Only to not find him. At all. While she waited for that prince, she grew bored. And like any other time she was bored, she caused trouble.
So it happened that the wards on Loki's door really weren't that impressive and she was more than able to get passed them and find a rather deliciously soft green button up shirt. She promptly put it on, and tramped to the main floor, sprawling out on a sofa with various notes of the arcane on her lap and around her.
A servant had dropped off tea at some point, and Amora ignored it in favor of her work. An idle sketch of various runic markings filled the paper, books on the Jotuns lay scattered about her as she lounged back with her feet on an armrest and her head boosted up by a pillow.
*
Thor's spent a good portion of the day covered in turtle blood, and finally.. finally there is an end, that is, a shower. He emerges, towel wrapped around his middle and a towel in his hair, padding down the hallway to head back upstairs before others begin arriving home for their final meals and drinks. A song is on his lips, sang in a bass tone; something vaguely rousing and yes, in Old Norse. (A song not heard, undoubtedly, for centuries!)
A servant catches him headed the opposite direction before he reaches the stairs to take them up to 'his' floor and bows, giving the Prince a warning in the manner of information. "Pardon, your Highness.. but Lady Amora is in the sitting room. I believe that Prince Balder did give her access to this dwelling, sire." Just in case. Thor pauses, foot on the step, one hand on the bannister and one wrapping around his towel when he nods. "Alright. Be sure she remains there while I get dressed."
"Yes, your highness."
*
The song drew her attention from her books, a curious lift of her brows following as she shifted on the sofa to better catch the snatch of song that floated down the stairwell. Then a sigh pulled from her lips as it ended and she returned to her 'studies', or more accurately, her idle runic drawings that could no longer be invoked by her. Still, it kept her somewhat entertained. More than the 'TV' that the mortals spoke of. Which, she had turned on some time ago, but the swirl of colors and various mortal news stations had grown boring very quickly.
Still, turning it off involved getting up—which was something Amora wasn't too interested in just then. She shifted, reaching up to drag her hair back from her face, a tiny pink butterfly clip catching on her finger and she grimaced as she avoided it. It looked like any other plastic thing the mortals made, and she had added several to various braids with beads and feathers to her hair.
It all made a rather odd look for the Enchantress. Dressed in stockings, Loki's stolen shirt, and her heavily decorated hair.
*
Thor takes the stairs, two by two, and once up, remains so for a couple of minutes before there is the distinct sound of a person descending. With wet hair hanging, towel draped about his neck, and in a pair of jeans, the Prince enters the drawing room. He slows a little, watching her consideringly, studying her. Aside from the fact she's in Loki's shirt, all the.. stuff in her hair just doesn't seem quite 'right'.
"Amora." A stool is pulled up, and Thor sets himself down on it and leans forward, his arms resting upon his legs, his hands, fingers entwined. His head is ducked slightly, but he's looking forward, at her. "Stay and speak with me."
*
The former, Enchantress, lifts her gaze up from her arcane doodles to stare evenly at the Crown Prince. Then she promptly looks back down and continues to sketch whatever it was that she was working on. "Yes?" She arched a golden brow upwards as she reached for another book and seemingly sought out a page before adding something else to the notebook on her lap.
"What can I do for you, your highness?" Her voice was flat, and she didn't give him so much of a second glance. Her gaze remaining quite firmly upon the paper before her. Not lingering on him. Not even seeming to care that he had pulled a stool over to sit down beside her.
*
Thor chuffs a soft breath, and watches her for a couple more moments. The runes, he's familiar with. Ish. What they do; he was such a bad student in that. Odin despaired but took comfort that all around his son were those who knew and understood their power. Part of the All-Father's anger was that his son's weakness would be to Asgard's potential detriment.
"Answers." The word is given quietly. "These few days, you have been on Midgard. Have you discovered to what purpose? Do you have any recollection of your punishment meted by the Queen in Nornheim?" Thor shifts in his seat, trying to look into those eyes of hers as they are downcast upon the page. "Speak to me."
*
A shrug followed his questions, and Amora did not pause in her idle sketches. A mark seemed to displease her and she erased it, brushing off the bits of rubber away with a manicured nail and blowing the rest off her notebook. Then once more, continued in the circular pattern that she had been sketching out on the page. Rune after rune after rune. An intricate spiral that branched out in seemingly endless shapes and circles.
"I have already spoken my piece of my presence here. I thought you believed me." She offered up, her voice flat. Clipped even in tone. As if his presence annoyed her, or irritated her in some manner.
Even still her eyes did not lift from the page.
*
Thor has a response ready in regards to her tone, but he bites it back. "No, Amora.. I do. My question was about before you came to Midgard. Not how you came to be on Midgard." He exhales again and shifts so he can seen if he can get a good look at her face. "And then I asked if you've learned anything new since last we spoke."
He straightens on the footstool and sets his hands upon his thighs, looking around the room briefly before he returns his attention to Amora. "Where did you get those little things for your hair?"
*
The sketching pauses and Amora sets the pencil down against the notepad on her lap. Her green eyes, those oddly empty eyes, lift and scan over him. "Your highness, can I help you with something? I'm attempting to write down various runes that would be of use to Lady Scarlett if she wishes to pursue the idea that the Jotuns sent a construct of clay to Midgard." A pause, and she exhales a faint breath, looking back to the notepad and picking it back up again and continue her sketching.
"I am not important. Your highness, I see little merit in asking one such as me anything about my time else where. It has little bearing on anything. Please excuse me if that is presumptuous of me to say so."
*
Those eyes. He knows those eyes. They'd held fire, flame, warmth, humour.. and that? They'd been friends for millennia, closer still for a short period of time within that. Before, Thor wasn't sure what he'd seen, or rather, what he hadn't seen. Now?
Magic… that the All-Father may have known would be used when turned over to Karnilla. Or he may not have known.. but to believe the All-Father ignorant of possibilities is to be, well, ignorant. Is this a fate better than no magic and full exile? Or perhaps tucked away in the dungeon?
"It is presumptuous and I would have you answer me. My reasons for asking are my own."
*
A shrug followed and Amora continued to sketch, "I was returned to Karnilla's court. What else? I tried to escape. I failed. I ended up here on Midgard. Thus, here I am." She offered softly, pausing again to eye the circle of runes and she arched a golden brow upwards. Her head tilting to the side as if she was displeased by the runes and the order she had drawn them.
"I have since spent my time in New York. I came to visit your brother as I was unsure what else to do." She didn't specify which brother, but considering he had seen her outside with Balder? But then again, who could say with her?
*
Thor rises from his seat and pulls the towel from his shoulders so he's got something to keep his hands busy. He glances at the pad to see if he couldn't catch what so displeased her upon the paper, but again… runes simply aren't his 'thing'. "You attempted to escape. What was her punishment, do you believe? Banishment here?" He looks at her closely while he paces, and tries to discern anything physically different, not that he could see all. No markings upon her, no runes, no feeling of magic, anyway.
"So you sought safety where you believed you would find it." It's a statement. Thor runs a hand just under his lip, wiping or scratching a brief itch before he shakes his head, looking now back the way he came. "I thank you for your honesty." He's done. It's been a long day, a long couple of days, and he would retire to his bedchamber.
*
Amora shrugged, and her green eyes lifted up toward him as he rose and shifted on his feet. "I know not. I did not choose to come here. If I could have helped it, I would never have shadowed your highness' door. Much less the same realm. That I shall swear upon… my heart." A cold and sharp smile pulled at her lips as she fluttered her eyelashes and tilted her head back to peer at him from beneath them. Then the expression, dropped and returned to the dull nothingness of before.
"Worry not, your highness. I have no interest in you, nor Asgard. Nor designs on your little mortal or Midgard. Does that answer your highness' questions? Or should I continue? I'd hate for you to doubt my intentions."
*
A couple of steps are taken towards the entryway leading to the stairs, and Thor turns about and gives her a studied look. "You mistake my intentions for asking, Amora. I am not concerned about your interest in Asgard or myself. I am not worried that you will go after the Princess or even Midgard. I am asking for only one reason." What that reason is, however, is unspoken as he returns to his path to the stairs, ready to ascend.
He must be passing servants in the corridor as he can be heard instructing, "Have mead sent to my room. Bread, cheese."