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The mastiff was a broad nosed beast of a creature. It ambled along the street at an ambivalent pace, thick leathern collar slung about its neck and attached via braided leash of matching quality import to the delicate fingers of a young woman who seemed to be in complete control of the canine. The two made an odd pair, walking along the adjacent park blocks that hedged Central Park, as if meandering towards the entrance in no particular hurry.
Neither matched the thriving metropolis.
The beast was something of wars long passed, when gunfire would have been witchcraft and only the song of steel was sung on the battlefield. In domestic and pampered modernity, its ambling pace and idle sniffing looked tired and melancholic. Despite the passage of time and technology, the presence of muscle and sinew wrought in such a construct still parted the foot traffic as cleanly as a knife.
And even as it closed in the wake of the pair, the necks of men craned to follow the sway-swagger-click of stilettos on concrete, cigarette dangled between pale fingertips of the hand unoccupied by leash. A low drag and exhale filled dark, perfectly coiled curls about flushed cheeks and the woman smiled in such a way that prickled the hairs on the back of the neck and quickened the heartbeat. Unlike the thing she walked for her boss, she was timeless. Probably European, a passing herd of businessmen in suits opined. Her step was a declaration, her attire a flag planted firmly wherever a heel was set. This street was hers to walk unmolested.
It was impossible to discern if a man should fear the woman or the beast.
*
Amora, the former Enchantress of Asgard, had had a busy day of business meetings and swaying the hearts of men with her looks and a heavy dose of cash. Her plans to enact a hostile takeover of the fashion industry were working apace, the runes inscribed on each design of geometric shapes were well hidden. She hoped, well hidden enough that no one who knew better would catch what she was doing.
Still, it was time consuming, playing by mortal rules, at least it occupied her days. The woman herself was cold, chilling in aspect and in literal temperature. She smelled of Asgardian magic, juniper and cold. Her figure, however was clad in a mortal guise. Her glorious, golden hair was tied back into a high bun that was so in fashion with the humans of Midgard. Her cold and emotionless eyes were half hidden behind green tinted half moon glasses that perched on her nose. A deep green, velvet blazer hugged every voluminous curve, over a white button up shirt. And lastly, a black pencil skirt wrapped around shapely hips and matched with sharp, shiny heels.
The overall look of an office lady with little regard for the masses around her suited the goddess of desire, and she took to it well enough. At the moment though, she was enjoying a lunch break in the park. A cup of coffee in hand as she sat on a bench, reclining and reading over some proposal on her lap.
*
Eventually the pair turned, not as a dog and handler but as one, some unspoken understanding between the two drawing every twist and pull of their musculature into perfect coordination. The leash was only to satiate the laws of man, fetters that the wolf god had become accustomed to operating within. Just as the ash was knocked from the cigarette, the last of the butt dropped responsibly city trash bin as they moved into the park.
The smoke dissipated in lazy tendrils and the woman inhaled the scents of the park with a smile tracing her pink, painted lips. Lips that quickly twisted into a sneer of shock and disgust as she backed up with a sneeze, her eyes widening noticeably as the scent of Asgard flooded her senses. It was strong enough to twist her gut and threaten bile on the back of her tongue; no homesick memories of a home long lost calming the nerves that lit the hackles down the dog's back that she steadied herself against.
In tandem, their eyes rested on the mortal guise primly perched on nearby bench while the shock drained into a candid mixture of fear and revulsion. The sound of a low growl poured into the distance between Skali and the bench, and it could only be assumed it came from the slavering beast and not the woman herself.
*
For her part, the blonde did not looked the least bit threatened nor concerned about the sudden growling aimed her way. Green eyes lifted from her papers to scan over the figure of the woman and mountainous hound beside her. A faint tilt of her head followed and she took a moment gauge the personage that stood none too far from her. Then a chilling grin pulled at her ruby lips and she set aside her papers.
"Peace, wolf. I come not for you nor your kin. Though judging by your manner and spirit you have been exiled to this realm far longer than I or longer than your grandsire took up residence here…" Her voice was utterly lacking in all inflection, a dead, flat tone spoken in a whisper.
"You've nothing to fear, I hold no magic to do you or your's harm." She spread her green manicured hands wide before her, recrossing her legs as she leaned back against the park bench.
*
Silence held between them as Skali considered her options. She could run away, but if the god truly held no power, then it would make her a coward. An intelligent one, perhaps, but territory was not claimed and held in such a fashion. Although recently immigrated to the city (and the country as a whole), she had already developed a curiosity rarely experienced by an ancient being such as herself. A trivial luxury, as it was, she did not wish to hasten its passing.
The mastiff's ear twitched and the woman's chest heaved with an exasperated sigh after an excessively long period of indecision. She also couldn't kill the god on the spot, though the opportunity was tempting. It was broad daylight, there were copious amounts of people about, and blatant presentation of what she was would make continued habitation on Midgard difficult.
So she did what any reasonable coward would do, and dropped the leash.
There was no obnoxious bay for blood, no warning of violence, only the silent and smooth closure of distance between hound and goddess perched on the bench, jaws opening, powerful frame launching to collide into the allegedly powerless being. Skali watched impassively with only the faint hint of a smirk on her lips before realizing she should probably be distressed if she were a proper human.
An idle glance over her shoulder proved no current spectators, so she let her lips peel back into a smile that savored the threat of impending violence.
*
A flicker of green hued light flared around the goddess' figure and suddenly she was sitting just a foot to the side. Out of range of the teeth aiming for her. But little else happened, "Command your hound back, or Karnilla the Norn Queen and Asgard will come down upon your throat. I am under their protection and further attacks /will/ end your life." She toned softly, her hands held up as her gaze scanned over the beast that had nearly opened up her throat. Likely still could.
Yet there was no scent of fear, of surprise or anything. The woman was a blank slate. An eerie void of any and all emotional reaction. Only a coldness that radiated outwards.
*
In contrast to the impassive void that Amora embodied, Skali was all laughter and a shaking of dark hair, a smoothing of hackles that she did not possess. The sound belonged in a dance hall pounding with jazz music, with bourbon on the tongue and heat in the chest. It jarred against the peaceful rustle of wind in the trees and birds that had gone eerily silent. The hound twitched from where it had collided against the bench and reclaimed its paws, towering over the goddess shimmering with green light as a single line of saliva pooled from the corner of deep jowl and splattered against the slatted boards.
When the last of the mirth died on Skali's lips, she pursed them in a whistle that drew the hound back to her. The sound of the leash clipping back into place secured their unsteady truce even as she finally spoke,
"Unpleasant that there are more of you here."
She spat the word 'you' as if her own kind were somehow divorced from their world of origin, even if it was by self-imposed exile and not some implied superiority.
"And I was just getting comfortable on this hovel of a world. Please don't tell me you're going to stage a war or some coup from this rock."
A picturesque tilt of her head bore uncanny resemblance to the canine counterpart that lurked just beneath the skin worn, as she pried with an unassuming bestial quality, unrestrained emotion worn like armor.
The green goddess was a liar, and she wasn't alone. None of this came as a surprise, which was fortunate, as Skali was reluctant to be surprised further today.
*
A tilt of her head followed as the perfect beauty of the Enchantress remained unphased. Her hands falling back to her lap as she resettled and crossed her legs once more. "All the Odinsons are present, as are various others. Hrimhari, Prince of Wolves, has taken up residence as well. Lady Sif, Fandral, and various other exiles have found haven in this city." She rolled her shoulders back in a shrug.
"I'm trapped here, and merely seek the means to leave. Tis possible a war or coup might arise from it as a result. Though as of late Jotunheim has been actively invading, as has Muspell. I do believe that there is a rift in the veil between the worlds here in the park—the mortals have called it a 'Hell Mouth', and there draugr and other foul things walk, if you were unaware." A memory of a smirk pulled at her lips, but it was empty of any true emotion behind it.
*
"Gross"
The reaction to all this news was a mixture of a growl and a narrowing of eyes, a pack of cigarettes pulled from her pocket and one extracted to enjoy before realizing that she should probably keep her senses about her. Reluctantly, she stowed the stick and instead slapped the pack against a thick thigh in idle fidget.
"They must be bored to be here. What'd you do to get stuck?"
Skali liked information, and as it was offered up in little morsels, she wavered from departure. Knowledge and anonymity kept her safe. Now that someone knew she was here, somebody who had a reason to barter that information with anyone of consequence, she might as well afford herself to some polite conversation. A flicker of her attentions glanced over a shoulder and them up to the heavens, as if expecting said Odinsons to rain down upon their discussion.
"Well that sounds nice. Always love a good Hell Mouth. Going to bring down the property value though, glad I didn't buy."
Was she rambling? She was rambling. It was such a human trait, but it had been a few millennia since she had talked to a god. She had blissfully forgotten how boring they could be.
"You are? Bad with names. Memories. Really anything relating to Asgard, I'm attempting to forget. You understand, or you don't if you're trying to get back there but who am I to judge? Not that I'm judging you"
*
Amora hitched a golden brow upwards, a hand rising to prop up her chin as she patted the bench beside her on offer. "Amora, the former, Enchantress and Witch of Asgard. Former and newly once more, apprentice to Karnilla the Norn Queen. Many a time exile and stealer of souls. Goddess of Desire, love, beauty and so on." She twirled a finger before her in a significantly mortal looking gesture.
"You smell and act much of the wolves of Asgard. Not to mention the magical signature on your person." She peered at the woman through those green tinted half moon glasses, before lowering them and looking at her over the rims.
"Tis all very tired and old, you clearly have no interest in spending time with others of the realm Eternal, and nor do I. However I have oft been forced into their company as of late. A tragic tale I am told, but I wouldn't know. Who are you, child of the wolves and kin of Hrimhari, grandson of the Trickster Prince?"
*
The offer of closer company was weighed before being declined with a toss of her head, like a horse readying to spook. It sent the curls once more bounding against her shoulders, a pretty little thing by mortal standards but dangerously crafted for more sinister purposes. The curves that poured into a tasteful black dress, opaque pantyhose and imported heels ending in sharp spikes didn't belong in such a demure presentation. She had adapted well, but her eyes burned with the magic that pumped through her veins. The gaze levelled upon the now named Amora with overbearing intensity.
"Skoll. I go by Skali here. And yes, the lineage is assumed. I haven't received a memo recently about impending Ragnarok though, so I've been distracted."
With introductions made, she couldn't help but chuckle once more and admit defeat with a nod, "Forced company should only be endured when a mutual benefit is pursued. One which I assume we don't have at present. If this world is going to be crawling with Asgardians, I may have to make use of that Hell Mouth. I've heard Jotunheim is nice this time of a century's turn."
*
Amora folded her hands on her lap, her brow quirked upwards as if in faint amusement, though no actual emotion lived in her expression or eyes. She was more doll-like, a perfect statue that lived and breathed but lacked any sense of passion or motive behind such actions. Simply a being that mimicked expression as a faint memory of what it once was.
"There are Jotuns running amok here in the city. The princes mean to track them down, and eventually to Jotunheim itself. I have the means in which I could see you to another realm. The forests of Vanaheim? Nornheim? Alfheim, or perhaps the dark elves in Svartalfheim would be better suited to you?" She tilted her head. "Simply because I am stuck here does not mean I am not without my means.." She drawled, simply, recrossing her legs as she reclined on the bench.
"The Norn Queen has eyes upon me and your little stunt with your hound will mean that she notes you.. The question will be if the Trickster shall too. He is now protector of Midgard. The duty cast off the golden Thunderer by Odin's decree. He shant hesitate to use one such as you if he is aware." She gestured toward Skali with a wiggle of her fingers.
"The good news is that gate keeper of Asgard likely is unaware that you have met me.. As the Norn Queen does like to keep prying eyes away from my person. Scrying and the alike.."
*
Treacherous as she was fabled to be, the wolf god bore no instinct to disguise her emotions or intents. There was a keen measuring consideration she weighed the woman on the bench with, as her hand drifted down the still bristling spine of the beast at her side. When the growl sounded this time, it came from her sneering features instead of the animal at her side.
"A protector? Him?"
The leash coiled over in her open palm as she looked up to the heavens once more, a cautious shifting of her weight as if testing the ground beneath her even as she continued,
"Nobody uses me. Not even you, witch. The consequences you're presenting as a bargaining chip for my company will come to pass regardless of this continued discussion. Unless of course, you have something to offer besides anonymity. That's already been lost."
*
Amora stood, a roll of her shoulders following as she gathered up her papers and her purse. "I have no interest in you beyond what use you might be to me. That, my dear is honesty." She murmured, tossing her hair over her shoulder as she eyed the wolf up and down once more.
"Good luck in finding where you might be able to balance the scales my dear, if you have interest in finding me, I'm sure you'll be able." And just like that she was moving to depart and leave the woman standing alone in the park.