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EASTERN CENTRAL PARK: 6:15pm
'Hey Bob, come look at this!'
'At what?'
'This.. this I don't know what the hell it is..'
Oddly enough, the breeze that surrounded Central Park was stifling. The Hellmouth provided quite a climate change in the immediate area. If people weren't so afraid of what actually could come out of the sinkhole, most of the women and children would retire in the area and take chance of the slightly heated temperatures for picnics or a tossing of the frisbees. The sun waxes and wanes over the horizon, but still, regulated to that area is a slew of purples, oranges and reds.
Haunting, yet beautiful.
Despite the massive roped off area; there were a few agents on this side of the park. No one really reported much sightings, but access to this area has been limited as such. Men who wore black, some with clipboards shuffled in and out during the day, finding nothing of interest and leaving it.. which is perhaps how -THAT- thing, in which had no name, had gotten as far as it did.
'It.. I don't know. Like, what do you call this?'
'I don't know man, this looks disgusting.'
'Like.. it looks like snot.'
'Ew!' Says Harold, the most important thing he could have said all night.
'Go grab a stick.' Says Bob.
'No way man, are you crazy? We've got orders to patrol, you're no scientist. Leave that shit alone!'
'No man! Go get a fucking stick!'
The.. -THING-, whatever it was, slowly slides across scorched grass. Moving in all directions, the consistency of phlegm or jello. It was off colored, a pale and sickly green that occasionally releases a quiet, noxious little gas that..
'Oh what the fuck is that smell!' Says Harold.
'Oh god, I'm going to be sick.'
Everyone back at SHIELD knows that Bob wasn't the smartest tool in the box; there was a time when he plugged in an unfinished, modified toaster and was lucky to escape with his life. There is a patch of skin upon the back of his head where his hair refused to grow, but this time? His foot reaches out to nudge the moving.. -THING-.. when..
*SNAP!*
A tentacle reaches out, globbed as it was to wrap around the ankle of the poor SHIELD agent. It tenses and tightens like a constricting snake, winding it's way up the leg lightening fast, crackling and crushing the bones into dust which leaves his leg game.
The man screams a sound that no person should ever hear, all the while Harold joins in the cacophony of noise, backing up and immediately attempting to hollar out for backup or help. Radios.. while possibly a little too clunky to carry were ineffective. Yet the word of their mouths sent alarms throughout the park.
And as that thing slowly begins to draw itself from the ground and expand.. Harold too takes off running, but is caught by the waistline and snapped back with a breaknecked force..
AN HOUR LATER:
There was movement and bustling near the Easten end of Central park. Sif was there, armoured in her Sunday's best. Headgear left behind as two dual swords were held within her hands. Who knows how she learned of this, but the call was placed out towards those who would help and she was the first to come running. Sitting around in a large house meant for an actress from Scandanavia was boring as hell.
While most marveled at her appearance, some took the chance to take a coffee break and submit their resumes to other agencies. And while her eyes scanned the horizon, her swords joined together to slowly clang metal against metal, creating a haunting warsong towards.. that.. thing.
*
All that Liv wants to do this morning is take her young friend out to buy some new clothes. That's all. No more tentacled beasts, no more hellhounds, just a nice, quiet, uneventful shopping trip. She received no call. But then, she wasn't listening for one, either.
Not far from the eastern end of the Park, Liv steers her motorcycle down the street clad not in her Sunday's best, but her far more unremarkable street gear: jeans and a t-shirt beneath a leather jacket, and matching boots. Other than her height, the only thing remarkable about her is the sword attached to the bike itself. Surely, it's merely decorative. Surely.
"I know a shop not far from here," Liv tells the young woman riding behind her, pitching her voice to carry over the engine noise. "We should be able to find you everything you need. And there's room in my closet if you'd like more than one set. It's no trouble."
*
The good Lady Peggy had mentioned this particular problem; at first misunderstanding his concerns for her own in their brief conversation. By the end of their parkside meeting, it had flipped; her concern became his concern, though at the time, it was more a matter for Loki and should the younger brother have come back to say something, anything on the subject, Thor would have attended to it. Things do slip through cracks, and now the 'midnight bark' is replaced by the 'late afternoon screams'.
The new residence, or rather, temporary residence of Thor is to the north of the park, and given the intensity of those screams? Thor is down the stairs, out the door even before he can put his hand out for the basic motion for Mjolnir to come to him. (Thankfully, the hammer takes the route with the least amount of damage to the house!) He's not far; catching the north end of the park, and once trees may partially obscure his path, he can take to the air, landing just beside the resolute warrior Sif.. and he matches her stride.
"You've heard it too, then." The motorcycle? City noise.. for the time being.
*
There's a skinny human clinging to the back of Liv's bicycle. She's wearing summer clothing in faded pink and white, a execrable yellow leather coat, and a dirty pink ribbon in her long, blonde hair. There's nothing unusual about her except the contrast between her and the woman on the motorbike.
"I don't need…" Lucy is about to say something about not needing more than that. She doesn't need much. But something catches her attention and she points frantically. "Liv. Liv, what's that? Something's going on over there. Maybe those things that got away from us?"
*
The -thing-, as it was grew massive in size as the hours past. The cries of Bob and Harold were the first reckoning that a few of them would face. But once the thing had a taste of blood within it's mouth, it did not stop with just those two alone. There was Martha. A would be heroine if she wasn't at least sixty years old who was snatched up from the sidewalk. At ten feet, the being shoved her helpless little body into the gullet that lined his belly as rows of teeth attached to a gelatinous parted for her entry.
Then there was Richard. One man who was already attempting to run from the area so that he could get to his lowly desk job. He only took this way because the other ways.. there was no rhyme and reason for him to take this particular route in fact. Perhaps it was kismet. Perhaps he wanted to see for himself what the fuss was. Perhaps his wife nagged him too much and he wanted to throw caution into the wind and end up in the hospital with a few bruises and a story to tell as to why he forgot the eggs and milk.
He too, became a victim. Though not in the way that he expected.
By then, the thing was close to twenty feet tall, it's legs formed by bone and cartiledge, bent with a slight little glow. While it still tried to escape from the confines of the Hellmouth's area itself, it moved slow due to it's now massive size. (Or perhaps, the thing… sans tentacles, was too slow to begin with. But even your granny's moto-scoot could beat it at a game of tag ten to one.)
There was a shifting within it's body as it digests what little bit of the humans that it picked up that it could. There were more present, more that were snatched up and added to the collection. The collection that now begins to slowly hang from the mouth that lies upon what would be it's belly like drooping trees of sorrow.
Those bodies were limp. Their eyes were hollow, and they dangled with each, slow shifting step.
And perhaps the arrival of Thor, hard land that the man gave.. is what caused it to release a low wail. And that low wail? Followed by the different octaves that it's victims put out.
All the while, Sif continued to clap her swords together. Their stride, together, calm as it were carried a hint of tenseness that only a watcher of relations could notice.
"I hear everything." Sif states. Mimicking Heimdall. "But know, Prince of Asgard, your presence is not required. This shall last only but a minute, so you shall return to your mortal wife before she endangers herself by being attached to your hide."
(Sif's an ass.)
*
"Hmm?" Curious, Liv looks in the direction Lucy is pointing just in time to see a figure go sailing overhead towards the park. A familiar figure, clutching a familiar hammer in his hand.
Liv brings the motorcycle to a stop before her surprise can make her lose control, planting her feet on the pavement and staring with wide blue eyes. The good (or perhaps, bad) news is that staring after the Odinson in a state of shock means that she is able to catch a glimpse of the thing beyond the trees, and what little color is left on her face abruptly drains away.
"…shit. We, uh." Normally, Liv would not be hesitating at all to leap into the fray, but the presence of Asgardians — especially those Asgardians in particular — has her uncertain. But not so uncertain that she doesn't steer the motorcycle into the nearest alley to park it and retrieve her sword. She's just also quietly swearing the entire time.
"You don't need to come," Liv tells Lucy in a tight voice. "But if you do, just. Be careful. In and out, real fast. Okay?"
*
"Then you understand little," Thor retorts. Was that a 'Nyah'? "Your anger will not turn aside my presence here. You have not yet been released from your service by the All-Father, though when you do petition, I should like to be present." He's in step, and while he speaks, blue eyes don't drop from their pace forward. "And as the All-Seeing watches over us, he will see a blade slip." That one, the Prince is teasing. Mostly. If she can't kill him, there is always the 'making one's displeasure known'.
As the pair approach, Thor lifts his eyes and considers. "I'll go high, you go low? I will take its attention." He doesn't catch the Asgardian on approach, or rather, the one stashing the bike, but the chances are good the moment he catches the air, more will be revealed to him. As the hammer then swings its circle, wind gathers 'round, and does lift him into the air for a better view. And a better angle of approach.
*
"I'm not leaving you alone," Lucy says stubbornly. She hops off the bike and follows Liv at a trot, trying to keep up with the taller woman. "I can help. I'll stay back, I'll be your, your backup." She bounds along beside Liv, ponytail bouncing. "I'll help if you get in trouble."
As they come out of the alley and over a small rise, she catches a glimpse of the creature. "Okay, that's not the thing we fought before. That's really gross." Really gross. Lucy's standards are shifting rapidly. The average person is running and screaming. Lucy just tightens up her ponytail and then sheds her coat, tossing it over a tree branch as they pass. She'll get it later, keep it clean for the moment.
*
Lucy was right to shed her coat; this was going to be a nasty fight indeed!
Not that Sif would know that; though she was surely no priss. There was a time during her departure she mucked around in filth during a battle that..
..Story for another time!
"I understand all I need to, Prince Odinson." Yeah, she was mad still. Though there was a certain coldness to her words. Ones that would lash out and bite his arm if he was not careful. "But I do see that your time on Midgard was well spent. Keeping a woman, bound in servitude against their wishes. Tch." Men, amiright?!
(All over the world, there were high fives given.)
Though there was nothing more to be said; for once the hammer drops and begins to swing, Sif wisely takes a step aside in her stride. It almost felt normal again, the rush of wind that comes from Mjolnir causing her to wish for home in that instance; wish for better times and happier days than what she's faced the past few weeks. Why, there was even a little smile.
But as he lifts off into the air that smile drops, her blades drawing up, shoved into the sheaths upon her back beneath her shield. Her eyes shoot up as Thor takes the air, and a hand reaches out to cup her lips. "I'll be back!"
Did Thor even see it's approach? Perhaps he did. And perhaps he had trust in her skill as a warrioress. But he did not know that -this- is what she intended..
A tentacle slithers with a whipping speed against the scorched earth, right for Sif's ankle. With a quick step back and a lean-down to grab, it yanks hard enough to cause her to be airborne. Where one would scream, Sif's lips were hard-pressed, her fingers releasing the tentacle as she shoots into the air, only to be captured and sucked into the belly of the beast..
Meanwhile.. on high, one already approaches Thor from the space upon his body. That particular tentacle carried a set of teeth that snapped and gnashed at the air in it's torpedo to the Odinson's middle. If he was not careful.. he -too- would be sucked up.
Food for the beast.
Thankfully for Karolina and Liv, it did not see nor hear them coming. But they were also not banging their swords like madwomen.
*
As they emerge into the clearing where the battle has begun, Liv breathes one final swear. The look she gives Lucy is very apologetic. "…thank you. I think that offer of back-up is going to be necessary."
She bounces lightly on her toes once and gives her sword a light spin, readying herself — and then, as the tentacle whips towards Sif's ankle, Liv bursts into motion. As an Asgardian, she is average, but that still makes the speed with which she can run extraordinary by any other measure.
Still not fast enough to reach Sif in time, which means that Liv's presence is announced by a roar of frustration mingled with fury as she brings her sword to bear on the tentacle that had moments before been holding the Lady Sif.
*
ROLL: Thor +rolls 1d100 for a result of: 65
*
If Thor has a retort to Sif's words, it's lost on the air as he takes the sky. The sound of the wind that holds him aloft brings only the briefest.. and he looks down, his expression first one of confusion… Just in time to see Sif resheathe her swords and taken by the great beast.
"SIF!!"
Confusion turns to anger, and that anger boils into rage as Thor finds an updraft, only to lower himself, swinging and bashing at the tentacles, seeking to reach a spot; feeling for the way the creature gives (or not gives) beneath the blows of the runic hammer.
"SIF!"
Liv's presence is indeed announced by that howled roar as sword comes to life, ready to cleave the tentacle; but the 'plan' for Thor to distract while it is attacked from below is forgotten. Sif.. his Sif.. his friend of thousands of years is gone from him.
The creature shall pay for this.
*
Shit. That lady who looks like she knows what she's doing went right in and there goes Liv after her. Someone needs to stay on the outside, but this is already on the way to not being good at all. Lucy recognizes the big dude with the hammer and he seems really upset. This is grownup time, as her mother would say.
"You know what," Lucy says thoughtfully, stopping where Liv charges ahead, "I think it might be backup time sooner than later." She doesn't stop moving, she's watching the show and learning as she paces in a wide arc around the thing but she does undo the hair ribbon, ties a knot in the ends. She doesn't want to pull off the bracelet, she doesn't want to get involved, but New York City is ruthless that way — especially lately.
*
Sadly. Sif cannot hear the cries or shouts of anger. Not even her name.
But what could be heard was a muffled, Ricky Gervais type laugh that bubbles from the belly of the beast. At least someone was having a modicum of fun, right?
Despite Sif's crazy antics, the beast.. while slow, seemed almost in a perpetual state of motion. The tentacle that once held Sif in it's embrace was snapped off by a swing of the sword from Liv. It was an easy cut, almost like taking a knife to a finely cooked steak, but the blowback was incredibly horrid.
First, it was the smell. A mingling of bleak sickness and broiled flesh steamed from the bit that fell apart, the goop, green ichor of some unholy god sprays like a vein freshly cut. And this thing? It -felt- it. So much that the pain was extended to the now living dead people that hung from the other tentacles beneath it's belly. Ol' Martha begins to wail and shout obscenities. Howard begins to cry. Richard begins to thrash and shake his hands against the air as if he were choking some unknown victim.
Though Bob, Bob is the one to react. For that dangling monstrosity practically unhinges it's jaw with a scream as it's full weight was swung towards the attacking Liv.
The blows from the hammer were specific. The tentacles themselves -feel- tough as bones, especially near the end. For one swing knocks the chittering teeth from the tip, the other causes it to snap in half.. but a little bit lower, there was give. A soft and squishy give, the stuff of nightmares. That slight give causes another shock of pain that coarses through the things body.
Ol' Martha's cursewords fell on death ears and now she begins to 'EK' repeatedly. Harold is the one now cussing while Richard's leg swing back and forth like a pendulum.
While Bob was attacking Liv, it was Harold's turn to thrust itself into the fray, connectors and all, towards Lucy.
No one does their hair on Harold's watch!
*
If the stench is enough to give Liv pause, it's the reactions of what she'd been so sure were lifeless bodies of its victims that truly stop her in her tracks. She stares up at them with a new tightness to her jaw, backing away a few paces as she tries to mentally sort this out. All she's coming up with are echoes of Martha's obscenities. She agrees.
No further strikes ring out from her sword. In fact, much as Sif had done, Liv quickly returns it to its scabbard just in time to catch the full force of the beast's attack. Sloppy, allowing herself the distraction.
Liv lets out a yelp as the blow lands and she cuts a rather graceful arc back through the air, tumbling ass-over-teakettle towards the trees.
*
There.. with every strike of his hammer, Thor's rage increases until it very nearly becomes that which the stories once told of him, and where the vikings of old took their cue. A berserk rage. "Fight me, foul creature! Leave the others.. if you would have mine, then you must needs deal with me!"
At the Thunderer's anger, his grief, the skies darken above the place where battle is. The thunder rumbles in not with a gentle roll but with violence within it. Lightning doesn't simply dance from cloud to cloud, offering up light shows, but rather begin to fall in dangerous arcs around the creature. One, two are aimed for that gel, then, concurrently with the blow to his hammer. "Give up my Sif!"
*
Shit. Lucy tugs off the bracelet and, suddenly, she's luminous — shiny like Bifrost — and she leaves a rainbow streak behind her when she launches skyward out of reach. Sorry, Bob. She loops the bracelet onto the ribbon and hangs it around her neck, tucks it into her shirt for good measure. The lightning gives her pause but she has to keep going.
"This is super disgusting," she mutters. "And bad." Then Liv goes bouncing back toward the trees and Lucy's focus narrows. She drives a narrow lance of repurposed sunlight at the bulk of the creature. The blow pushes her skyward, makes her brilliance flare, but she doesn't go flying off like she once might have done.
*
*SMACK!*
That was the sound that their bodies make middair through the clash. Bob's body dangles with a twitch and a tremor that nearly threatens to dislodge the tentacle (which was jammed through the top of all of their heads, forgotten note.), his hands flailing to grip and grasp at his hair that comes out too easily in between his fingertips. The tufts were tossed away into the air which float to the ground like feathers, some even clinging to his shoulder as his body drops to the ground. The beast itself was beginning to be taxed, stretching that one.. solitary… Bob so that his limbs could reach the floor, his unhinged jaw dangling before it's chest as it quickly crab-skitters towards the fallen woman.
While one aspect (Bob) of the Hell-demon (Bob) attacks Liv full frontal, another aspect begins to creep and crawl up the side of the beast. Ol' Martha, swearing her obscenities smacks down upon the top of the beast with a hunched back and arms outstretched for a hug. A hug that was aimed towards Thor.
Despite his blonde ambition and terrible attitude, Ol' Martha took quite a fancy to him. While she may be dead.. she was certainly not dead, therefore this part was getting a little confusing but nevertheless..
For an old woman with a tentacle sticking from the top of her dome, she was quick. Though while the thunder begins to rise, the purplish sky begins to darken with rage, there was no give in her dash towards the Thunderer. Her mouth unhinges as well; the very essense of the beast gooping from her maw, her terrible, old fingers stretches out to try to clasp upon the Thunderer mid rant as he calls and cries towards the beast..
And the thunderbolts -HURT-. They all begin to react, each of them switching up their mannerisms due to being connected by one brain. Bob begins to swear, Harold begins to 'EK'.. Richard dangles like a limp log and soon arches his back, screaming with pain at the pound of the hammer. Something was getting upset!
Harold's fingers were all a-grab as he archs towards the apparently flee'ing Lucy. There was little hope there; Harold has the weakest of the link (or so the poor beastie thinks). Yet once that bracelet comes off, the hollows of Harold's eyes widen and the 'EK' sounds cease..
..Karolina's shot was true. The bright lance of her powers slices through the neck of Harold, taking out the tentacle he was attached to in one fell swoop.
Cue the spray of mucous. Disgusting indeed.
*
Liv has no time to offer Lucy any gratitude for the intervention. She has precisely enough time to grasp her sword by the scabbard and hilt before Bob is upon her, and she immediately shoves the scabbard up into his jaws to keep him at bay with her nose wrinkling in distaste.
Okay. Now that she has a closer look, maybe Liv didn't need to be so careful of these poor people after all. They weren't the ones screaming. The monster was. It was just using their mouths to do it.
Uncertainty banished, Liv releases one end of her sword and snaps her hand up to the tentacle that has sank itself into poor Bob's head and, with a resigned sigh, yanks hard.
*
ROLL: Thor +rolls 1d100 for a result of: 64
*
Many people have called Thor 'simple' over the recent time, and there are only so many maneuvers that the Thunderer can do before it all starts becoming repetitive. That time has not yet come (though, in truth, seeing red doesn't allow for a great deal of creative, tactical thinking on the spot.). He's angry, he's in full 'tank' mode, with the smashing of his hammer and Martha does get a scratched hold upon the warrior… but it looks like perhaps it won't be a hold enough as the bolts hit with force.
Thor swings again in order to attempt his release, as tenuous as it feels to him, ready to rise in the air once again. The hammer slips its bonds from his hand, the violent throw towards the beast, moving towards a spot upon the creature untargeted. The winds do try to keep him aloft in those spare seconds that the hammer is gone from him, allowing him a more gentle falls rather than plummeting, the roiling clouds still showing that measure of anger deep within the Thunderer's head.
*
Oh, hey. That worked. Lucy soars closer to the creature, balancing the next shot she fires at it with her flight. Somehow, the combined forces make for a larger burst than she expected, startling her so that it is something like a sunball that flies toward the monster where it holds Thor — shimmering and hot and, still, solid.
Lucy squeaks most unprofessionally — and you be a professional at this? — and tumbles to one side in a barrel roll that she has to recover from in order to turn back and face the thing again. She's so bad at this. Everyone can see her. And that thing is really scary with all the dead people hanging off it. The lightning unnerves her, the wind buffets her at higher altitudes, and she has to take a moment to gather herself again. Suck it up, buttercup.
*
The snap of the teeth upon the scabbard does one of two things; it dislodges what used to be teeth from Bob's mouth, bits and pieces of it rolling onto Liv's lap as she defends herself. The second is an after effect, mucous drops and drawls from Bob's mouth, making quite the mess, his hands stretched out to try to grasp and tug at Liv so that he could get her into a bear-hug as more food for the engine that drives.
And certainly, the beast did not expect Liv to snap the tentacle from Bob's head. Humans were weak. Food. It did not know that it was in the presence of strength.
For once the tentacle was removed from his head, Bob's body begins to collapse. The open hollow of his head pours with the ichor that consumed it's insides whole. While it doesn't burn; it leaves that all too gross smell behind, this time with an added touch of brain matter to the solution.
But with Liv's hand upon the tentacle, it begins to wind itself up, snapping itself back into it's body with the intent to bring Liv with if she doesn't let go.
God hope she does..
Martha's hold upon the Thunderer was fleeting. Fingers grasp and paw at a large arm until she makes one last ditch effort to attach teeth to vambraced forearm. But even that was fleeting in itself as Thor lifts himself into the air without the aid of Martha or the beast. But it was just as well, the shot fired from Lucy blasted Ol' Martha into kingdom come. It was a welcome death of a sorts; for Martha becomes unattached from the tentacle that holds her as her body is sent flying..
The throw of the hammer smacks against the beasts side with a loud *THRUM* which has it tilting on already rickety legs, stumbling.. unable to fix it's direction as it begins to fall…
…and it was a slow descent..
..so slow that you can time a heartbeat to..
..so slow.. that Lucy -and- Liv (if she manages to get away) have enough time to avoid what was to come.
The fall of the large body of the beast; the fall so long and with so much force aided by the Gods Hammer causes it to quite literally -SPLAT- and spill itself all over the ground. It was a river of sick; slime and dead bodies, even a few bricks, branches and rocks made a tumble out of the thing..
..as well as a sword or two..
..even a shield..
*
Okay. This is disgusting. The moment that Liv takes to reflect upon this is cut short when the tentacle in her hand begins to retract and yanks her free of Bob's remains in the process.
Thankfully, she lets go before she can be pulled more than a few feet closer to the beast itself. It is not a graceful dismount, the blonde once against plowing a furrow in the ground with her face before coming to a halt, but it sure beats the alternative.
Sputtering, Liv staggers to her feet and peers up at the bulk of the monster, beginning to draw her sword again — right up until she sees Thor's hammer bearing down on it.
"Lucy! Back!" Liv shouts, already starting to backpedal to try and put as much distance between herself and the impact-to-be. Which, as it turns out, was a wise decision. Thor's blow lands and the creature just kind of… erupts. As goop and debris wash up around her boots, Liv can't do much more than stand there and gawk.
*
The shot against Martha from Lucy is noted, but barely. If anything, it is identified as a potential aggressor, and as the hammer whips back into his outstretched hand, Thor is able to gain a couple of feet in order to see from whence that attack came. What more fills his vision, however, is the creature going down in its mess, slime and goo.
That takes his attention away, and immediately the Thunderer descends in the middle, searching the bodies, his hammer thrown to the side and away from him. "Sif!" The name is called, howled.. yelled as he searches for that familiar form within the ichor. "Sif!" The rage is beginning to depart, and there is another emotion that begins to seep into the Prince's brain. All those things that simply hadn't been present before in his life… fear. True loss. The loss of a loved one.
"Sif!!"
*
Fortunately for Lucy, she's out of the way when the creature…pops like some kind of demonic pimple. Sif has to be the person that this poor guy — Thor? — is looking for. The lady who got sucked in.
Lucy can do aerial support, though, once she sees that Liv is in one piece. She sweeps low over the mess, looking for any sign of the woman who got swallowed before Lucy and Liv managed to get to sscene. Thor's distress is contagious — Lucy feels for his misery. It's more palpable that this horrible stench.
*
At least the place was warm. There was no telling what Sif was doing inside the belly of the beast. But it was warm.
Exposure to the air was something that woken her up, not to mention the warbled sounds of Thor's voice, crying her name out in.. fury.. grief? Despair..
'Big oaf'.. would be one thought. Another would be floating away on cloud nine, drowning in the feeling of needing to sleep. But there was her name again, pulling her up and out of that slumber and something.. bright?
Just what.. WHO in the world is that?!
Her hand stretches and snaps out from the muck, sending the goop flying directly towards the bright light of Lucy that streaks overhead. Her hands slap down again, possibly creating a fray of it; the liquid, thick and caustic as it was parting for those few seconds as Sif drags herself up onto her knees. And then a cough. A cough that has a splatter drawing from her lips as she rises like the living dead, her head tossed back to the sky as her shoulder lift.. and then lower with a defeated slump.
The words that follow were one of a kind..
One that was possibly etched in the stars..
"Thor Odinson.. if you keep up with that racket.. I will (CENSORED) and (EXPLETED) then (CENSORED) your (CENSORED) with (OH GOD IS THAT POSSIBLE?!) mouth!"
But lets not forget about the fallen beastie, tentacles still worm and wriggle within the mess, slapping against it, attempting to find a chance at life. They were slowly dying, which was good.. for crews were starting to move in.
*
And Liv? Liv remains rooted to the spot as if bound by some unseen chains, her sheathed sword gripped loosely in one hand.
It's a curious feeling, guilt. It can drive one to take actions that would be otherwise unlike them. The more profound the sense of guilt, the more out of character it can persuade one to act.
But it isn't until Sif's voice cuts through the air that Liv acts at all. She startles visible, eyes going a bit wide, and then, very slowly…
…begins to inch backwards. Away from Thor, away from Sif. Away from the still-writhing mess they've made of the park.
*
Panicked moments, the heartbeats seem so long yet so fleeting as Thor searches the dead, the random bits of ick and animal and goo looking for his warrior brave… the one who had simply sheathed her swords and was taken into the creatures belly before his eyes.
"Sif!"
Thor isn't focussing on anything or anyone outside this mass of goo. He still searches even as she rises from the gore. Spinning around, his eyes land upon her, and as the breath returns to her form, he is immediately at her side, fussing and trying to clear some of the ichor away as if its presence insults him. (Which, well.. it does.)
It's as when a baby comes into life and it draws its first breath, the rush of air, lights, sound all send its senses reeling, and the best thing it can do is add its voice to the chorus before it. Sif's words sound just as happy a note as she roundly curses him. He's laughing, crying all at the same time, and unashamed of either, kneeling as he is in the slime. Immediately, he leans to wipe her face, to clean her off more… and any dry portion of his cape left is used to that end, to that task.
Does he notice the pair inching back and away from him? Them?
Not a chance.
*
There's the lady and she's okay! The relief ends quickly as Lucy takes the goop full on, ends up drenched in it and reeling back in disgust. Reeling, when you can fly as fast as she can, actually translates into an awesome looping arc that she can't recover from.
Lucy tries, she really does, but it's like a firework gone wrong. There's a glorious, glittering spiral of rainbow light as she completely fails to figure out which way is up.
She hits the ground hard, going at what's nearly her top speed for the moment, and rips a gouge in the earth before she loses speed. Not enough speed. The shiny rainbow rocket careens right into Thor and Sif's reunion.
*
Sif's hands lift as if she had touched something gross. In fact, she was covered in the most goop and it was utterly disgusting. The smell wasn't divine, in fact, it punched her right in the gut that was completely empty and devoid of food and it has her gagging. But still, there was Thor, rushing to her aid without a care. She almost had a mind to push him back, to keep him away so that he wouldn't be messy just like her. Simple care in that thought, a thought that was soon tossed away as he willingly touches her face.
And really? Who could stay mad at such a gesture? Where there would have been a scowl, there was a flat expression that soon leaks into a slight.. careful smile. A careful smile once her lips were wiped away of the ooze. Her hands lift to grasp his shoulders, curling into the armor that links his cloak.. the cloak that was soon used to wipe her face as reddened eyes soon alight upon his laughing.. and crying form.
"Peace.. Prince.." She tries to soothe. She was well aware of that delirium, the high of the battle, the anguish, the relief. "Have peace!" She too, begins to laugh, even as he fusses over her face yet again. "It wasn't the smar—.."
What she wanted to say, that it wasn't the smartest idea she's ever had.. but another spray of muck and a barreling starfire knocks her away from her Prince and right into the muck yet again. Face down.
FACE. DOWN.
*
Liv's retreat stops just as suddenly as it began as her eyes follow Lucy's patht through the air. Aaaaand… impact.
Well. Shit.
Wincing, Liv reverses course and breaks into a run for the trio, hurriedly wrapping her swordbelt around her waist so that she can free up her hands. Lucy. She has to get to Lucy. But now, there's really no way to do so unnoticed.
"I am so sorry," Liv says quickly as she comes up alongside the group, immediately reaching for the girl seemingly made of Bifrost. She's less sturdy than an Asgardian, she… thinks. "Are you all alright?"
*
Thor wouldn't be kept away. There would be no place that he would remain if it meant he was apart. As Sif appears under his ministrations, careful or otherwise, he's beginning to laugh in relief even as she smiles back at him; how he must look too! "It was the dumb—"
Incoming!
Thor moves and twists his body such that perhaps Sif may not take the full brunt of the 'attack' or of the goop from which they haven't fully emerged. The stench is pretty awful.. and the smell of the corpses only threaten to become worse. And fails.
Loop de loop de loop.. the bit of physical Bifrost flutters past them without control until… Thor actually winces with the being crashlands, though he's got more of a care for she who is newly returned to him and is immediately aiding her, though his cape might be a little less effective. It's when Liv speaks that his attention rises and stares at her. "By what name are you called?" The question sounds.. official. It's as if there's something in there that perhaps Thor recognizes, even if it's not a face, or a form… a countryman usually recognizes another.
*
Oh, no. Oh, no. Lucy has no idea that she was saved by her own — barely sufficient — force field. She's conscious and bruised like a peach someone knocked off the display at the supermarket…and across the aisle…and under the wheels of a cart pushed by a resentful mother of three on a mission.
"I'm so…" Her mouth is full of dirt and goop. She retches and spits as she struggles to sit up — and launches herself skyward for all of a second. Then she's back on her ass in the muck.
"I'm sorry. I'm so…sorry," she babbles Liv helps her to her feet. Still. She does have a highly developed sense of occasion, in spite of everything. She falls silent when Thor speaks.
*
If anyones resolve was broken, at this point in time it would be Sif's. Her shoulders hang at a heavy droop after she pushes herself back up to her knees, her hand reaching out to steady herself upon Thor's shoulder, thankful that he took the brunt of the blow. But a little bit angered that he didn't stop her face from being ruined.
A true Goddess. Vanity in all forms.
Her hand reaches up to smack against her face, drawing the goop down in scratches to fling to the side. Whilst they apologize, Sif was busy looking for a spot upon the cloak that was untouched by the goop. In fact, it looked like she was practically picking fleas from Thor's backside. Though, as he questions Liv, Sif stops her fussing to turn a blue eye towards the woman, her brows lowering as she glances from Lucy, to Liv, to Thor yet again.
There was a quiet thought that boiled into the back of her mind..
..she was going to bathe in the rivers of Minnetonka.
(Running gab that's where Prince had gotten his eternal youth from, perhaps the demon-goop and her Goddessness was the reason for that?)
"Aye.. She seems familiar.." A glance towards Karolina. "..as is her colorful servant. The mind sings to home."
*
Liv keeps her eyes on Lucy as she helps her back to her feet, her expression tightening as Thor speaks behind her. Her immediate reply — a hurried "Nobody, I'm nobody," — comes out before she can even think of it, and it makes her wince. Yeah, no. That's not going to work.
At least Sif gives her something to lean on as she regains her balance.
"She isn't my servant," Liv says in a far steadier voice, turning in place so that she can look back towards the far more noteworthy pair. She'd take a deep breath if she wasn't afraid it would make her wretch.
Despite the pool of muck, Liv takes a knee, instead, dropping her gaze to the ground. She knows when she's caught. "…Liv. My name is Liv, Daughter of Sigrun. This is Lucy. My friend."
*
Thor begins to rise slowly, reaching out to support Sif should she endeavor to do the same. No, the Prince isn't buying it; not for a moment. If anything, he's about ready to call her out on that very same thing before Liv herself decides to come clean, as it were, by kneeling in the creatures corpse.
"Liv Sigrunsdottir," Thor repeats quietly. He doesn't bid her rise, no not yet. "What have you .. " No, now really isn't the time nor the place. The mortals will be here shortly if they're not already nearly present. After all, even they can't miss this!
"You both will come back to our house at 121 West 78th. Then we will discuss your presence here." So says the Crown Prince.
*
At least Lucy's schooling lets her know enough not to ask what Liv is doing down on her knees. She doesn't have to kneel, though. It's not her king or whatever this Thor dude is to Liv. She steps up beside Liv, hand on Liv's shoulder, and eyes Thor warily while he speaks. She will fight him if she has to, if he's mean to Liv. But, instead he wants them to with him.
"Are we going?" she asks Liv. "We can leave if you want." They can fly away right now. She's pretty sure she could be fast if she had to be.
*
Sif does indeed take the offer of help to her feet. Her hand grasps his in a brotherly display, a soft little grunt given as she finally stands upon wobbled legs with a fling of her hair to the side. The darkness, even darker while covered with goop and wet, was squeezed out with a fairly even twist, her eyes narrowing upon Liv as she finally kneels and gives her name. Though the time to departure was soon, Sif draws herself away from the three, kicking her foot through the muck, picking up one sword.. and then the other, clasping them against the hilt until her shield was found, swords slammed into.
No too soon after, she was by Thor's side again, a slight lean against his arm to keep herself upright. She was tired. Though, what catches her words were Lucy's, a brow lifting in amusement. Perhaps she knew what the girls words meant, and she attempts to ease their minds with her.. kind words. And they were kind. Which was a shock.
"Prince Odinson will see to it that you two are properly cleaned and bathed. Fitted with linen deserving of warriors such as yourselves. And a feast! For this day, you have saved my life. And I, for one, am in your debt." Dangerous words, coming from her. She'd make them her servants yet.
"Please. Allow him this honor. No harm shall come to you both."
*
Without looking up, Liv reaches up to cover Lucy's hand at her shoulder. Still, the reply she murmurs to Thor sounds for all the world like a child being scolded, ordered to report to the principal's office. A quiet, contrite "Of course, my prince."
Which is why she looks so genuinely surprised by how Sif follows it up. Liv blinks owlishly and lifts her head, peering up towards Sif as if she's trying to figure out whether or not she heard her correctly. She couldn't have.
And yet.
"I… yes. Thank you." Liv isn't entirely sure what else to say, but she does cast a slightly baffled look up at Lucy. "I did promise you new clothes, didn't I?"
*
Thor's aid is different.. there's a shift there is how he offers leverage, gives some stability to her wobbling, adding strength in his presence. It's gentle but firm. And perhaps the way his gaze trails after her when she leaves his side for the moment, only to collect her weapons. His hand is outstretched once again when she picks her way back to his side.
There, Thor lends himself for her support, a hand out and behind her, ready to steady her, or catch her should she require it. It's Sif's words that fill the Thunderer's heart, however. Not what she says per se.. but how it is spoken. He is home.. beside a woman who understands, who feels as he does, that has been beside him all this time, and he's been too much of a fool. Blinded by his own thoughts and forgetting, no.. ignoring that which is before him.
Sif sounds every inch a queen on those words, and once she speaks, Thor nods his head; a gesture that Liv may rise in his presence. "And a feast."
*
"If you say it's okay." Lucy takes the filthy ribbon off and frees the bracelet from it. She snaps it on her wrist and her light goes out. Now she looks like any filthy, hungry, homeless kid. "I don't need anything," she says warily. She might not have anything but that doesn't mean that she's going to just take things from strangers. She has her pride and she knows nothing is really free in this world. "But thanks. I guess we're coming."
*
There was a grin that crosses her features at that moment. As Liv accepts the invitation, Sif accepts the hand and the arm that steadies her. It was as if some bit of his strength passes to her which causes her spine to straighten and every inch of confidence to leak back into her bones. "So it be done." She says as a finality. The three looked to (not down) and then herself, the sad and sorry states that they were in.
But yet, there was one more glance towards Thor that had her eyes widening, a slight side of a step taken as her hand doth lifts to clap awkwardly against his shoulder. And it tightens, then slips due to the goop that rested there, soon lifting again to brush whatever bit away that she could as her eyes nearly lower. "So it be done." She repeats again, then clears her throat.
And then gestures towards the three.
"Get moving." Yup. Get moving. That's all she could offer.
For the awkwardness was so thick that even the goop around them couldn't compete. Even a finger lifts, pointing in some random direction, her attempt at finding the words to.. well, she couldn't scold Thor outright. For there was a tiny flutter there that just made her uncomfortable all again. To kill away those.. feelings..
"I'm going home." And instead of flying? She turns to stagger off. It was a messy stagger, one that has her sloshing, tripping and stumbling as those crews begin to filter in.
"OUT OF MY PATH YOU.. (These comments are rated NC-17)."
*
Only once Thor gives his permission does Liv slowly rise back to her feet. The muck coating her is far lower down the list of concerns than it probably ought to be, frankly, but for whatever reason, this is clearly a conversation she does not entirely look forward to having.
When she gives Lucy's hand a quick reassuring squeeze, it's as much for Liv's own benefit as it is for her.
"It will be fine," Liv tells her quietly, turning to fall into step behind Sif. She is relatively certain that she will be able to go and retrieve her motorcycle after she is cleaned and fed.
Relatively.
"It will be fine."
*
Awkward… yes.. and Thor glances away once again, only stepping away when Sif separates and begins her own path. "Until later when we next meet."
It's probably the sloshing that really gets to him, and Thor picks up his feet a little more. Walking is probably out of the question, dressed thusly and coated with the goo. Flying… probably the safer bet in the longrun… and the hammer begins its spin, lifting the prince from the ground, heading towards his apartment building. The home Loki refers to as 'The Asgardian Embassy'.. whatever that means.
Time to get cleaned up.. and mead. Mead is in order!