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The city is in an uproar. Nothing entirely old or unexpected on that front, to be fair: SHIELD fights to keep the demons around the Hellmouth contained. A strange alliance fights undead in Hell's Kitchen, to varying degrees of success. Politics rage over Washington decisions and state fraud.
A rather large canvas sack filled by several tons of living rock surely will ruffle the feathers of even the most composed Old Money families on the Upper West Side. They who weathered World Wars and artistic feuds, lost patronage and gained byblows, could look twice and wrinkle their upper lips at the sight. Back alleys and the occasional skip through nameless parks here or there, unnaturally stricken by unseasonable snow, ease the progress without attracting much attention. But the route from the East Village to the northern reaches of Manhattan eventually require Scarlett to break cover. It might help if, say, she stole a car, supposing the weight of her burden would not completely shatter the back axle. Or a truck or a bus, but that might bring down the authorities. Thus it happens she simply carries it the last several blocks, making no commentary to anyone giving her odd looks.
It makes more sense when she shows up at the Wildenstein Mansion, anyways. Artists, can't be fathomed, surely. Any of the staff on hand are likely to receive a faint smile, especially given that bundle has an inexplicable addition: a closed umbrella protruding out of it, and to any with an enhanced sense of smell, the unmistakeable addition of jotun musk to it.
*
At some point on the journey, Amora seemed to become real. Solid. No longer a projection, though the transition was seemless. Perhaps it was as they crossed from one neighborhood into the next. Where ever it was, Amora seemed to have been able to get close enough to her real, physical body, to trade places with it—without a large expenditure of magical energy.
Why she chose to do so was a mystery further yet, but she continued along with Rogue curiously, never once offering to help with the load or to lighten it with a spell after their first initial talk of bindings. Mayhaps the goddess was bored.
At least the rain had let up slightly. "I wonder where they breached through the veil between the realms? I haven't noticed such a thing, but it's possible I missed it. Hm." She tilted her head to the side as she eyed the building before them as they approached the mansion.
*
The scion of Midgard asks for no help, for reasons plainly visible. Barring that yoga-toned physique, hardened muscles rippling under cream skin, Scarlett somehow manages the rather substantial weight of a folded up, canvas-mummified leirjotun without a second thought. Any hint of making it look like an art installation inspired by Marcel Duchamp and his influential New York set falls as soon as she reaches the interior, the clay and dust staining that canvas wrapping hinting at its contents.
Soon as she is within, the nearest person is sent off with a pointed, focused look. "Seek the Lord Protector, please." No further description be necessary; the wards no doubt are aflame with various bands of information conveyed over the distance. Magic dancing over Amora, the jotun itself, the fact neither Scarlett nor umbrella are remotely enchanted. Albeit the umbrella is at this point vorpal, having snickersnacked a giant's eyesocket most effectively.
*
Amora dusts off her pencil skirt with a faint sigh as Scarlett deposits the Jotun on the floor and the debris and ashy dust cloud the floor and air about them. "Well, I can say at least I no longer think this a construct in manner.. At least it didn't appear to be one. Not entirely sure if that is what one would deem as 'good' or not." She offered lightly.
A manicured hand reaching up to snap her own umbrella shut and set it by the door. "I wonder what drove them to attack each other.."
*
It does not take long, really. As they crossed the threshold most likely some spirit or another rushed upon its purpose, created to exist for no reason other than to carry messages for the trickster god. Such an existence, but at least it knows its purpose. Then when it whispers its secret it disappeared, some part pleased at having fulfilled its sense of self, though whatever remained assuredly rejoined with the being that is Loki.
A handful of moments later and the tall man in the grey suit emerges from his study, taking the required steps to advance upon the tableau before him. He lightly turns on some of the lights to further illuminate the area, though he casts not spells at least not for now and not yet. Instead he turns to his greatest weapon and simply asks for knowledge, "What. Is going on?"
*
"No, not with the quantities of liquid present nor the fact it keeps moving spontaneously." A judgment made while Scarlett finally stretches her arms over her head, adopting perhaps the very simplest of yoga asanas. Feet at hip width apart, her bridged hands and straight arms point arrow-straight to the ceiling, giving her as much height as she possibly can obtain short of an elixir or stealing the vitality out of someone else. "Your questions are good ones, my lady. Would I had answers to their origins, but I expect the Prince will know more than I."
For all the poor state of the leirjotun in its canvas sack, neither she nor Amora look the worse for wear, and the proof lies in her clothing. A tad damp from the rain, it otherwise is untorn and unmussed save for that dusty cloud. Worries about shaking out her practical braids will follow later. "This attacked another two smaller jotnar of its kind, and after killing one, came after us. Now it is not. I think it to be alive."
*
A lift of golden brows followed Loki's arrival and Amora settled her weight back on her heels as she eyed him in a deepening silence as Scarlett spoke. She didn't offer her own opinion after the mortal, at least not for some time. Then she was lightly stepping forward on black heels and leaning over the canvas wrapped jotun with a tilt of her head.
"Did you sense their arrival, Loki?" Her voice was blank, as it had been before. Toneless and bland.
"I only noticed some time after their combat was engaged and did not note their point of entrance here on Midgard. How curious.."
*
Advancing on the captive, Loki cocks a curious eyebrow at the wrapped up giant and seems intrigued. He wanders closer, left hand glowing with a faint hint of eldritch power that has several light tendrils flickering back and forth as if reaching into and keying with the very fabric of the manor. A finger twitches here, another there, subtle adjustments to the arcane architecture that Amora might be able to recognize, and Rogue assuredly sense.
Yet it's only once that small alteration is made that the trickster answers, "I did not sense a rupture of the sort you'd expect, but then again Midgard is notoriously like a sieve at times intra-dimensionally." With that said he touches one fingertip to the sack and binds the creature in several ways before he crosses his arms over his chest.
Rocking back on his heels he eyes the two women sidelong, "Before we do much further it would be ideal to gain Balder's involvement. If possible."
*
Not a twitch of motion comes from the creature, albeit it's been so thoroughly wrapped in layers that something short of a swing of a fist might fail to register terribly much. The only exclusion is the umbrella, resolutely standing tall as the Statue of Liberty in its questionable canvas swaddling. Odd shivers might pass through, difficult to measure given their faint scale, an indication the blocky, muscular body beneath hasn't quite reach corpse consistency.
It breathes. Barely.
The various enchantments engulfing Midgard do not sing to lies. They screamed, the day prior, of winter and sorrow and stone.
Scarlett holds her open palms towards Loki. "My lady observed what passed, and I delivered him here. The dead one occupies a building under reconstruction in East Village, and the other quarry fled. I have no idea where it went, unfortunately." She glances at the golden-blonde Enchantress beneath the screen of her lashes, an inquiring raise of her eyebrows. "It would be for the best if your brother the prince was informed, surely. That one may be not long for this world. Without touching it, I cannot know."
A pause follows, and then she adds, "It had a strange hammer with an adze head, forged of metal. Bringing him seemed more significant than the hammer, given the limitations of time."
*
Amora shrugged, a roll of her shoulders and a toss of her hair as she eyed the pitful excuse of life that remained in the jotun before them. Then her gaze was narrowed, her head tilting to the side as if listening to some distant thing. "I have whispers of where the other escaped to, but only when it surfaces near one of my wards. I cannot say exactly where it is at the given time. They're simple trip wires in a room filled with party go-ers.." She murmured, and straightened from her bent over the creature.
"I shall depart hence to seek it further. Color me bored for lack of things to keep me here on Midgard." And just like that she was glancing between the two, a fierce grin pulling at her lips. Too wide to be a smirk and chilling in the flash of white teeth.
"Ta-ta, darlings." She wiggled her fingers and turned, leaving the two to the jotun and no doubt other nonsense.
*
"There are limitless realms, Amora." He offers as commentary, not going so far as to suggest she go to explore them, no that would be rude. But he does lift a hand to signal his dismissal of her, or perhaps simply a farewell. For it is now that the giant has his attention even as he casually strolls around to the side. "Perhaps…" He cocks an eyebrow towards Rogue and asks, "We should take it down to the basement. I had not considered a holding facility when I purchased this place."
But as he says that he looks down and rubs at his chin. "Or we could simply do this," And he kneels down slowly to place splayed fingertips upon the floor. Slowly the ground underneath the giant becomes transparent, showing the contents of the stone basement; boxes, trunks, and… of course, wine. It takes a few more moments of concentration and then the giant begins to float through the ground. It takes a handful of moments until it's settled down in place and bound… then the floor returns. No harm done.
*
The slightest of inclinations of her head speaks volumes, the unspoken promise buried in the flesh of a girl maintaining as many secrets as one could want. Scarlett steps in nearer when Amora departs from their company, the faint curve of a smile demolished in the wake of her absence. Out rushes a tide to reveal the broken ships and lost bodies, proverbially, and one must contend with the impressions rendered in clearer detail whenever the Enchantress, however diminished, vanishes. "Her conduct troubles me. But then, you surely knew such."
Farewell to the umbrella is given in a faint salute, one finger pressed to her temple and flicked away. It sinks out of sight, and what familiarity she holds with that creature disappears. "Should I write the cross streets down?"
*
Once he is fully risen, Loki turns back towards Rogue and gives a small frown. "Yes, it's displeasing." He looks after where Amora departed to, but then those green eyes shift back towards Scarlett. "I don't care for how she is now, but then again I was not hugely in love with what she was before that."
He rolls his neck slightly, frowning at the small catch before he turns back to face the young woman. "No, I think it would be best to let Balder advance this matter. If we set forth without consulting him it would be subverting his purview." His brow furrows, "Yet if matters proceed unaddressed then we may have to take action."
*
"I think I have seen friendlier vipers and knives, including one rammed between my ribs." No proof of such a scar exists upon her body, though Scarlett speaks with an oddly restrained tone, as though the very syllables are not to be trusted in their composition or emergence here. Burning ears might catch sentiments she prefers not to share, and convey via forked tongues to individuals she might care not. "I will collect the hammer at the least, and bring that to you. The rest he may proceed apace with, though I could not let that creature run about murdering whomever it liked. And it was murder. The violence with which it set upon the smaller giant struck me almost as gleeful, though if it spoke, the advantage is not with me to know it. You might have to inquire of Amora."
A faint smile arcs over her lips, not reaching her eyes. "My gifts trend in a different direction, after all. At least you have a start for interrogation should such be required."
*
Looking thoughtful for a moment… and even pensive, Loki frowns as he looks after Amora again. His thoughts follow her as much as the giant in the basement for now, though he's brought back to the here and now by Rogue's words. A small nod of his head is given as he murmurs, "The weapon would be good to acquire. But if needs be, send another. Do not feel you must leap to the task at the behest of others such as she so easily."
Turning away he starts to move back out into the hall as he says over his shoulder, "Let us find my other brother."