1963-10-16 - Fiery Homecoming
Summary: Eisa Surtursdottir, the Firestorm, returns to Midgard, and is greeted upon her arrival by non
Related: None
Theme Song: None
eisa keiden 


Central Park. In a city that never sleeps, with towering monoliths of technology and light that are its bones, the honking, pollution spewing veins of traffic that are its blood, and the constant thrum of life of its populace that are either its nervous system or its parasitic infection, depending on who you ask, some might call this sole thriving space of green the last withered bits of the city's heart. A place to get back to nature, even if it's largely cultivated, danger-infested nature that's at the moment made all the more dangerous for fact that it's infected with dark energies and monstrous beings like a cancer. Here in this particular space of the park, a wild, untended, obscure little corner, there's still some of that pristine nature left, despite it all. A little copse of trees few ever wander far enough to enter, where peace can be found, possibly even from the monsters out in force throughout the rest. If nothing else, it's the sort of place a hero might be inclined to try and keep cleared of those beings, if one were of a people inclined to appreciation of the natural.

*

Keiden was happy to happen across this part of the Park called Central. Untainted, largely, by man or demonic influence. At least, so far. The elf is unglamoured, sitting on the branch of a tree, his bow clasped in hand, arrow nocked. In the distance, creatures roam, and occasionally venture too close for Keiden's pleasure. A moment to aim, and an arrow loosed finds its mark almost unerringly. He's been at this for a couple of hours, keeping the demonic invaders at bay for the time being. Perhaps it's fate which brought the elf to this corner of the Park, or maybe just luck; whatever the case, Keiden is in a cheerful mood, though that's not out of the ordinary. A nice enough way to spend an evening. The crisp autumn air, comfortable against his bare skin; a creature of arctic climates hardly needs more than a pair of shorts in this kind of weather, especially since modesty can easily be handled with an illusion.

*

Things for a time are peaceful again. The monstrous beings giving heed to the dead and venturing no further, the animals of the mini-glade even venturing out again warily into the night, a squirrel darting out on a branch a few feet from Keiden, fluffy tail twitching, its nose sniffing at the air for a sec before it freezes on seeing the elf there amidst its domain. Something tells it that he's no threat though, and so the scared little creature actually starts nudging forward towards the blue-skinned being, seeking curiously for potential food perhaps. Frankly, it's freaking adorable amidst all the darkness to beset this space. A little reminder that nature always finds a way.

Just as Keiden's cute little friend is about to try and climb him in search of nuts though, a sound comes from behind inside the circle of trees. A hissing, tearing sounds that resolves into a wooshing crackle. In a blink, the creature is diving for cover of its home tree again. Meanwhile, looking to that sound reveals a tearing fracture in space floating in the air. Like a crack in reality, white-gold flames spewing out of it as it spreads downward like the great fiery blade cutting its way down, starting to part to reveal something else on the other side. Some otherspace that doesn't line up with this reality. SOMETHING is coming through into this realm, and something probably not very nice, given the charred brimstone stench carrying on the breeze along with some scent that tickles at the base of memory but isn't important to catalog right now in face of that invasion.

*

Keiden is happily distracted by the cute little squirrel; animals tend to be inherently comfortable around him, Sadly, he has no food for the tiny creature, but is happy to let it approach. Until that awful sound breaks the relative peace and quiet. The noise startles the squirrel, and instantly draws Kaiden's attention as well. Insinctively, he nocks another arrow and readies his bow, keen eyes looking toward the disturbance. He's fought against all manner of creature here in the Park, beyond the scale of the average vampire and ghoul, but none have made an entrance such as this. Something new? Something more terrible? In truth, the prospect rather excites the Elf. He watches, and waits, to see what materializes, before making any further moves. Not much else he can do, just yet.

*

The rift spreads to another world. A place of golden light in a forest, but one far different than this one. More ancient, more natural, more beautiful. In fact, something again likely tugs a bit at the mind. Something about the leaves. Familiar leaves, not found anywhere else but one realm. Of course, those memories may all be completely subconscious at this point, given that the conscious mind is likely focused on something else entirely. The figure that seems to be opening this rift. A tall being, distinctly feminine and possessing of humanoid aesthetic, but also distinctly monstrous in her own right.

A figure of red-black flesh, shot through with glowing cracks, eyes blazing golden green, wicked black horns curving from her brow while a thick-based long reptilian tail whips behind her. Her hair, hip-length at least, is a writhing mass of whipping flames dancing around a body clad in tight-fitting, anachronistically-styled leather armor and gray fur cloak, her clawed hands dancing before her with arcane manner that seems like someone straining to do tai chi through jello, slow, fluid and twisting, but made frantic by the golden and red flames dancing around her hands, pouring out into that spreading rift. A fire demon of some sort! Trying to step into this world!

Even now staggering forward with the gateway opened enough for her passage. It's possible he'd even recognize that form, though it's not the one she wore when they met once on Alfheim. It was a famous face though of that same woman she met clad illusion to make her seem proper Vanir. A notorious woman that once was a terror in the realms in her fight against the Asgard who eventually defeated her (and some say freed her). Eisa Surtursdottir, the Firestorm. Then again, much more likely he'll see horns, tail, flames, and all that and instead just jump right to the demon assumption! Talk about your awkward reunions.

*

Fire Demon! is indeed the Elf's first reaction. Followed by a rare moment of panic. Such beings are beyond the ability of a mere Elf to vanquish, even one as spirited as Keiden. In the face of such a powerful entity, the Elf has little option but to conceal himself, casting a glamour over his form to disappear his physical self. Perhaps the Demon, which warrants the capitalization, will not sense him, somehow. Running is an option, but not a guarantee of survival. So he holds his ground, watching the being manifest into this world, hoping, praying to the All-Father she doesn't notice him perched there, in the tree, armoured only in his courage.

*

The fiery woman staggers forward two more steps, just past the glowing ring of white-hot fire searing open reality between two places. Two places that the mind might have time now to catch up recogition of. Those particular trees grow only on Alfheim! That scent, is a scent he knows from his homerealm. Does that mean Alfheim has been invaded by Muspelheim demons?! Whatever the case, as soon as Eisa is through into this world, she's letting out a groan and going down to one knee, letting her hands fall loosely, the flames flicking out from them, even as the flames of the rift dissipate, leaving it to snap closed behind her. Strangely, for all the magic that was just poured out, there's no sense of it where normally even a non-sorcerer would be able to pick up the thrum of power used. She masked it, kept it all contained at great expenditure to hide her travel from the likes of Heimdall or others. And apparently she's hurting for it now. Breath heaving, tail splayed limply behind her. Even the dancing flames of her long hair seem a little dimmer and less agitated.

"All-Mother protect me, I hate that damnable drain." What kind of Demon invokes the All-Mother? And…why does that voice somehow tickle familiariaty in turn. A low, throaty contralto, edged with a little resonant inhuman growl beneath it, but inflected in a way of one who told stories of the other realms and her travels to an elf once on Alfheim. A woman that, even as she's regaining her breath, is seeming to appear before him slowly, the illusory magic building around her, tail and horns fading, the fire of her hair fading to a fiery copper sheen as it settles into natural waves and lines, braided elaborately as ever. The flesh lighens to the pale cream perfection of the Vanir face he knew. The eyes are last. Golden green glow dimming bit by bit until finally only the cat's-eye green shines there with more natural glimmer in the moonlight. It indeed is Eisa Surtursdottir, and apparently that other face is true to the stories about her and what she really looks like. No great wonder she doesn't go traipsing about the Realms showing off that look.

*

Even as the illusion starts to form around her, realization strikes Keiden. The Fire Demon was the same woman he had met, so many years ago, in his own realm. As the terrific evidence of the being's emergence into this world fades, the Elf allows his illusory invisibility to fade as well, and he drops quietly from his branch, re-quivering that arrow. If she remembers him, as he remembers her, surely there will be no need of it. He approaches slowly, "… Lady Eisa?" He may not get the honorific quite right, but the tone of respect is there, and that is the intent. As he moves closer, his expression shifts from one of caution to one of cheerful recognition. "Thank the All-Father," he breathes out quietly in relief. Not an enemy. At least, he trusts, since their last meeting was on friendly terms, but that was many years past.

*

As movement of a body dropping drew her instincts, Eisa didn't waste time surging to her feet. Instead she was raising hand even before he'd hit ground, white and yellow flames erupting around it again, her eyes blazing with power, and an attack very, very nearly made as she's hissing out. "What the f…!" But then her name hits her. THe tone, the face, not human and familiar as this one was to him. The great glowing eyes blink once. Twice. Then start to fade, as does the flame around her hand. Stunned bemusement sets across her beautiful Asgardian features, parting lips gently, curving corners towards smile, the cat-green eyes glittering with questions, that finally come out as she's pushing herself just a little unsteadily to her feet and full six foot two inches of statuesque height. "It's…Keiden right? From…" She turns, looking behind her at the clear air that once held that portal, confusion mounting, brows furrowing in a way that's almost cute, if one were to dare call a half-demon daughter of Surtur cute. "Did you…somehow follow me through? Or…wait, no, you dropped out of the tree? What in the name of all the Nine Realms are you doing here?!" She's looking around now, eyes darting about with a tacticians attention, seeking an ambush perhaps. This is all just too bizarre.

*

Keiden smiles widely, even more as the Vanir's magical flame ebbs. "Adventure, my lady!" He exclaims, motioning around him. "I am flattered that you remember my name, Lady Eisa. When we spoke last, in Alfheim, I think you had a greater effect on me, than I on you," he says. "I have travelled, as you have, through the realms. I have fought alongside the Aesir, and trekked through the wilds of Jotunheim. I have travelled across Midgard, and mingled with its citizens," he says to the woman, the smile never once leaving his face. He may be a little bit too excited, but that's an Ice Elf for you. Keiden simply exemplifies his people. He calms a little bit. Just a /little/ bit. "I am relieved that it was you to appear through that portal, and not a true demon of Muspelheim," he says, obviously not intending it as a slight. "Your true form is a sight to behold, my lady," he closes with, his voice now deferential.

*

The bemusement lasts on her face, but slowly is twisting towards amusement instead, one corner pulling full lips toward easy smirk, the younger elf's talk of adventure and his enthusiasm bringing an approving sort of glint to gaze as she looks him over and nods solidly. It's only when he reaches that last that her expression shifts again. This time a bit to embarrassment, eyes dropping, a shake of head sending waves through the hip-length fiery non-fire of her hair and braids. "A sight. I suppose you could call it that. Few see it outside of the most dire combat." Eyes creep back up, narrowing just faintly, a flick of steel softened with humor. "And enough of this Lady stuff, eh? I wasn't nobly born for all my time in court, and even if I had been, exile tends to take a damper on one's titles." Her rich voice holds a sort of self-deprecating sardonic, rolling along in the cadence and structure of modern mortal's English, despite the language actually being something of their own lands translated through the Allspeak.

A dismissive, languid little gesture of one pale hand swings through the night air as she continues to look around. "Regardless, so were you here somehow knowing I was arriving tonight, Keiden? Or are you just prone to wandering the Park at night flashing all the pretty blue skin to freak out the mortals?" There's a hint of censure, but mostly it's just amusement, relaxing into knowledge she's back to the closest she has to home again, and that the elf seems to be alone and not immediately trying to kill her. Eisa instead then is focusing her energies slowly around them with a twist of hand in simple casting, turning senses other than eyes and ears to the Park. And almost immediately losing her smile, a deep frown creeping into a distant-eyed expression.

*

"It must have been fate," Keiden intones with glee. "I am, as you say, prone to wandering the Park, but mortals are not common here of late. Another portal, one more permanent than that through which you arrived, sits at its centre, pouring demons and monsters from other realms into this one. The heroes of this world are, I believe, attempting to stem the flow, but they have not yet been successful. My efforts are minor, but as a visitor here I feel I should do my part to assist," Keiden explains. "My appearance matters little to the creatures I hunt here, and should I come across the smallfolk, it is a simple matter to conceal my nature," he says with a smile. Yes, despite the presence of Terrible Things in the park, he maintains his positivity. "I will try to call you by a title more comfortable for you, my L—" he stops himself, "My friend," though even that seems odd on his tongue. "I apologize if I have offended, it was not my intention. Your mortal form is as pleasing to the eye as any Goddess of the higher realms," he says, hoping to smooth over the gaffe he may have committed by drawing attention to her demonic visage. "Have you been away from Midgard long?"

*

That last bit earns him a wry flicker of smirk again and quick quip of. "Flatterer." But it seems to have helped smooth things. Despite that though, she seemed distracted since those earlier frowns, and her hands have moved up to begin shaping unseen forces in the air, causing a flicker of glow to the green eyes. Even as she's working whatever magic it is she's doing, Eisa's replying back with an absent sort of air of someone focused more on another thing than talking. "A spare few months only. I get the wander itch you probably know well or sometimes divine that I could be of aid elsewhere, but always I seem to come back to here. Nine centuries of exile, it's vaguely like unto home now." A deep grimace then, somber as the grave. "_That_ is a bloody dangerous little pit of nasty!" The words slipped to English, though the Allspeak made the difference mean little, but it's interesting how it shifts her accent a bit, almost faintly British if he knew the sound of such things from his travels. A sigh escapes her after another moment of hand-weaving and the glow fades from her eyes. "I suppose it's good I've returned when I did. I wonder if this is the thing I read in the runes for the city. Tell me, friend,…" She doesn't seem to have any trouble with that word, perhaps even savoring it slightly, as if its something she doesn't get to use that often anymore. Wage a millennia or two of war and death and for some reason, friends get harder to come by. "Do you know of others of the Realms come to the city of late? Asgardians in particular?"

*

Keiden, fortunately, was not even quickened in his mother's womb when Eisa was known as an enemy of the realm. Throughout his 300 years, she has been serving her penance, and he has had no reason to think of her as anything but friendly. "I have not yet met any Aesir, Svartalfs, Vanir, or others from the higher Realms. Which is not to say they are not about; I have been in Midgard only a few years, and only in this city a few months.. perhaps only since you last departed, it may be," he says. "I am beneath the notice of most Asgardians, I think. The Gods have bigger things to consider than a simple Elf," Keiden muses, not sounding upset by the concept in the slightest. In fact, if they had taken more notice of him, he may not enjoy the freedom he has. Travel between the realms is not exactly smiled upon, without the blessing of the All-Father.

*

"Bah, don't give them _too_ much credit. They should be aspiring to take notice of anyone who would brave this hell-touched park alone for the good of the mortals." Her confident approval is a friendly warmth that softens her eyes as she's approaching, a hand heartily reaching out to pat him upon the shoulder in a warrior's sort of way that suits the armored leathers she wears as opposed to the more feminine dresses she wore in Alfheim the first time they met. She goes on with a wry grin. "I'll be sure to mention your bravery should I divine the location of any." She's seemingly for the moment oblivious to whether this is what the elf might actually want, or the possibility she might hamper his adventures in revealing him. Instead, going on, she's growing more grim as she lets hand fall from his shoulder, looking out over the darkness of the park. "Indeed, I expect there to be at least some. There is a confluence of events coming. A gathering of disparate threads weaving together something that could be great. Or lead to something equally terrible." A light-hearted laugh and shrug of lithe shoulders beneath the fur cloak. "Divination is terrible that way. Always so vague and oft contradictory when it comes to the future."

*

"And far too often a foretelling of doom," Keiden muses with a smirk. "But then, such is the nature of life," he says, not letting the weight of the subject hamper his spirit. "There are many who fight the darkness here; I have met several heroes of Midgard. I cannot speak to their efforts to divine the solution to the cause, but the heroes I have met who fight the invading creatures are capable warriors in their own right. Mortals, magicians, and servants of the other divine pantheons. If others from the higher realms are in short supply, these mortal heroes may be of value, as well," he suggests. He hasn't sought out the other Asgardians in the realm not because he is afraid of the consequences, exactly, but the fact that they might disapprove of his roaming hasn't escaped his thoughts entirely. "However you wish to proceed, know that you can rely on my bow and my blade, my L-, my friend." He smiles.

*

His near slip draws another of those lopsided, genuinely amused smiles from the redhead. And even smiling so, she's lifting a hand suddenly wreathed in flame burning like a sun, her eyes blazing again, the hand lifted, pointed seemingly right at him. Perhaps he has made a mistake in believing the stories of her attempts at redemption! Perhaps this is the true demoness called Firestorm that rained death and destruction for so many years. Perhaps there's still time to dodge, but what then? If he was hesitant to face her before thinking she was just a generic Fire Demon, how much might he be to face her knowing who she is.

These sort of thoughts and probably many others are likely to cross the mind in that frozen moment as the fire leaves her hand, scalding hot just in its radiance, let alone the blaze itself. And yet that blaze passes him. Burns past his face strike at something further behind with an explosive sizzle outweighed by the howl of the creature it struck. A being that was sneaking up on them while they were chatting, and now is falling into a slump on the ground with a significant portion of its chest cavity cored out straight through to the other side. "Yes, well, I do believe that may be my cue. I'm too drained to play games with these degenerate pond scum. I do believe I'm going to take the expedited route out from here and go find a McDonald's to invade. Can I teleport you somewhere on my way, Keiden or would you prefer to stay and enjoy your hunting?" She speaks with all the casualness of someone intent on a Big Mac rather than someone who just destroyed a monster past him without blinking twice. It must be odd to live so long that such things feel mundane to you.

*

The fire lancing past his head gives the Elf a momentary quickening of pace, and indeed the briefest of thoughts that it may have been meant for him may have passed through his mind. But only the briefest, because mystical fire so close to an Elf's brain can have that effect. He turns to see the creature reduced to ash, and breathes a quiet sigh of relief before turning to face Eisa once more. "Enjoy your feast, Bright One," he says, trying out a title of his own devising. Friend seemed too casual for someone he held in such esteem. Indeed, he credits this one with giving him the courage to seek his own path, such as he has, after their admittedly brief interaction before he set out from Alfheim. "I shall remain a spell, and 'mop up', as the mortals say. Seek me out if you wish, I have made a temporary home at the 'Four Seasons' lodging," he says. One of these days he may have to consider something more permanent, and more cost-effective. His stash of paper currency is dwindling of late, as his time has been spent dispatching monsters rather than trading his musical talents for notes of apparent value.

*

Her bright eyes twinkle at that with the throaty purr of laughter that escapes. "Bright One, eh? I kind of like that one." Another light chuckle as she's striding past the elf in fluid grace, moving to toe at the monstrous thing with her boot, assuring it dead. The mention of the 'Four Seasons' brings the green gaze back on him with a wince though, mostly exaggurated, but with some actual sympathy there. "Oh you poor thing, we'll have to see about getting something better arranged. No realm-walker should have to suffer that. Hel, even most of the humans shouldn't have to suffer that."

That quip made, Eisa's slipping a hand into a pouch, rummaging a moment, and pulling free a little pad and pencil, which she scrawls upon. Tearing free the paper, she offers it out to the elf with a friendly smile. "Make use of their telephones to call this should you wish some help finding a more suitable space. They're crude communication compared to a simple bit of magic to send message, but at least they're easily accessible to all here." A dismissive wave once again as she's starting off towards the center of the copse of trees again. "I'll keep in mind your suggestion about the heroes of Midgard. There are many I have aided over the centuries and you're right, they're quite capable. For now though, good hunting and be safe. It was a pleasure for fate to cross our paths once again." With that farewell made, she begins to shape her hands through the air once again, eyes flaring bright, her hair shimmering like flames are licking down the inside of every bright strand, and then she begins to whisper, words of power shaping slowly a building sphere of glowing power contracting tighter and tighter in the air before her. If he's going to say his goodbyes, it seems he has a moment to do so before her spell completes.

*

"Thank you," Keiden says with a deep bow of his head, "Until our next meeting, Bright One," he says, smiling, just before she vanishes as the spell reaches its completion. Now then, monsters!

*

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