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Amora arrives from The Empyrean.
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Amora has arrived.
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ROLL: Brunnhilde +rolls 1d100 for a result of: 91
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ROLL: Barney +rolls 1d100 for a result of: 49
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The night is chilling down. Clouds are rolling in to obscure what little chance there is to gaze at the stars. Not that anyone in NYC is really out and about to do such a thing. No. They're inside, crying, mourning the loss of the President of the United States. A young president cut down in the prime of his life. His widow, his 2 small children now 'alone' in the world. The news plays over and over and over of the death. The slow motion of the reaction of the hit upon Kennedy.. the way his head whips forward, then back. The mad scramble of secret service as they climb on top of the car, urging the driver to just drive.. to get the hell out of the area.
It's a somber setting, really. The only real activity on the road are cars that defiantly stay on the roads for the holiday, and the occasional off-in-the-distance siren indicating a crime. Or an accident.
But Barney Barton? There's a lipservice paid in the form of, 'Damn. That sucks," but there is no rending of clothing. No tears lost. It's a look up from what he's doing, catches the news, and simply goes back to his personal activity before,
"You want a burger?"
A nation is in mourning and Barney is peckish.
"C'mon.. I'll show you the good place."
So, coat, gloves, boots and his collar up on his coat.. and a couple of hours later, there's a 'doggie bag' in hand with a couple more still kind of warm burgers for home later on. The other hand holds a cigarette, and he smokes as he walks. "All that shit.." Now Barney waxes philosophic? "… don't really concern me. That's them.. president was a powerless fuck anyway."
"
*
Other than sleeping 12 hours straight, Hilde has been very oddly herself the whole day. The sleep was weird. She's never slept that long since he's known her. She's a little aching, just distantly sore, and still tired after waking up, but ravenous too. The thought of burgers was far more tempting than going back to bed, so she gave him a tired nod and got dressed. She's looking a little better for the sleep, at least. Her eyes aren't bloodshot or slightly sunken any more and she's her normal pale instead of waxy or gray. It's all a good sign.
Wrapped up in two of his shirts an a heavy jacket, Hilde looks like a little girl who got into her dad's wardrobe. She's back to being slightly slumped, walking and standing shorter than her drawn out height. She's relaxing with him, a slight smile across her thin mouth, the fringe of her bangs (which are getting too long) brushing just across her eyes. She errantly keeps pushing them aside.
He also gets a little swat to the stomach as he comments on the president like that. "Barn. Shaddup. You didn't have to like the guy, but he's just dead and lots of people are hurting. ANd it wasn't done in some…noble way or anything. It was shitty. Like, you don't gotta care, but you don't gotta talk shit either. Libel someone 'round here to punch you for sayin' that." Even her rasping voice and Bronx accent are well back into place.
*
Amora walked down the sidewalk as if she owned it. A fur lined coat draped over her shoulders to keep out the chill of the fall weather and the bite of the night air. She saunters along without a hint of black on her person, nor a care to the mortals who's ruler died. The only concern rather being that somehow, for some reason, the mortals decided to blame Asgard.
So the blonde bombshell resolutely avoids the embassy, or being seen in public with any of the 'known' Asgardians. Granted she's /supposed/ to be in Lady Sif's domain, playing at handmaid, but given the fact that the other woman didn't care where she'd gone for the last few weeks… Amora wasn't entirely interested in staying glued to her side.
So came the parade of various lovers she'd taken, gaining and picking up magic from each encounter. Miniscule amounts to her usual, but it sustained her. Buoyed her illusions of mortal grace and refined her beauty to impractical levels again.
So it was that Amora came along Barney and Hilde's path, uncaring and apathetic to their passing as she walked with a click click click of her heels.
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Jean arrives from Midtown.
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Jean has arrived.
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Jean leaves, heading towards Frost Institute [FI].
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Jean has left.
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Barney tightens his stomach knowing a swat is coming; and he laughs at the small effort. "Hey, it was done fine." He sounds almost hurt. "Seriously. It's a completely valid way of goin'." No women, no children. He whistles softly, "Musta got big bucks for that."
He's kidding, right? Right?
There's a slight spring in Barney's step as he walks. Feeling good, and he's a little more animated than he has been in a little while. Things are looking up, finally. Finally.
Can't miss Amora.. and even while Barney is keeping an eye on the street, how could he possibly miss that? Blue eyes stare on the approach, the cigarette forgotten for the time, and .. is that a soft whistle that comes from him? Probably…
*
The fact that Hilde is getting all uppity with him is a good sign too. It means she has energy to get uppity with him AND she's awake enough to actually listen to what he's saying. His arm is now pummled with a few more swats. "Barney! Shut it! You serious are gonna start a fight and it might be with me! We're not talking the god damn economics of it… not in the middle of the street!" The skinny blonde geniunely seems a bit dismayed he'd discuss it at all, much less in an appreciative tone. She gives a little huff and a shake of her head. "…few nights in the apartment and you're getting all cocky and comfortable…" She mutters beneath her breath.
Then there is Amora. *Amora*. Hilde suddenly stumbles, stopping dead in her tracks, almost tumbling over for the immediate jerk of it. Whatever little color was in her face is gone and her hand that was hitting his arm suddenly grabs him in a vice tight grip. Was she angry he was checking out another woman? Maybe. But she didn't look angry. She looked scared. Half sick she was so scared. "…I…know her…" Hilde rasps out, openly staring.
*
Does Amora notice or care that she's getting stared or whistled at? Not at all. It would've been more peculiar to her if the male hadn't tracked her with his eyes at her approach. She tossed her hair over her shoulder, her expression fixed with a slight look of taunting, haughty, disdain for the mortal as usual. The woman's reaction written off as unremarkable, most women clutched at their men in such a manner or smacked them when Amora was around. She was quite used to it.
However.
The whispered 'I know her' caught her attention and slowed her step, green eyes flickering over to rest on the woman in question with a narrowed focus. Yet Amora did not completely slow her step, nor speak with the woman, unable to place where she'd seen her before (The Empire State building).
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"I'm always watchin' the place, darlin'. You know that." Barney's got that Midwestern drawl thing going on, and it's been a good little while since he's been in this high of spirits. Could it be that he believes that he's finally found a secure place, he's slowly getting his brother back, and finally it is looking as if Hilde is pulling herself back from the edge (with unappreciated help from that doc..).
"An' as far as Kennedy? Fuck.. I coulda just as easily been the one to pull that trigger." It's true, as much as people may not want to think of Barney in those terms? "Lots of places to take the shot from."
Though Amora now takes a little more of Barney's attention, and it does take Hilde's reaction to Amora to actually pull his attention at least briefly away. "Whu? How.. why?"
It's been in the news, it's been in the papers and on television. The military and the FBI has a larger, more active presence in the country, notably within the borders of the country's cities. It's the sedan, then, that crosses the intersection in front of them, further up the block, that shouldn't be a surprise to the professional, but it is. It's just as much of a surprise, then, for one of the agents to actually recognize a fully 'in view' wanted fugitive. Wanted, dead or alive. (Encouraged, dead. But can't have everything, right?)
The car slams to a halt, and two 'suits' emerge from the car and one begins to move quickly in their direction.
*
There should be other worries in Hilde's head right now. Worries about the fact that Barney is openly talking about the fact he could have assassinated someone. Worries that he was wolf whistling at a woman with curves that she couldn't have if she was wearing a Thanksgiving turkey. Worries about that black car coming down the road that looks WAY too governmental. But her mind is far too focused on the woman and face that echoes back a primal deep fear in her. Her fingertips tighten on Barney's arm, bruisingly tight. Where did she get all that strength? "… The….the Empire State Building… I think. Her. It's her." She breathes out raggedly. The woman who almost threw her off, who broke her wrist.
But that doesn't explain the panic in her soul. And the fact that her eyes are starting to turn silver as she stares hard at Amora. Then, Amora may even feel it on the air. A brush of power, the smell of poppies. It's a power she knew well, ages ago. Death and honor. Loyalty. Strength. It's a reedy, thin line of it right now, but it's there. And a deeper whisper comes from the back of Hilde's throat. Not just Hilde any more. "…The Enchantress… She who perverts minds."
*
The scent of magic in the air caused Amora to pause completely, to spin on her heels and stare down at the seemingly mortal couple more clearly. Green eyes suffused with arcane power met the flicker of silver with a flat and perhaps mocking gaze. The smell of poppies, of death? It gains a widening smirk from Amora, though internally the woman was mentally scrambling for answers as to /how/ this could possibly be.
But Amora was never one for showing weakness when caught off guard and as her title was hissed between teeth in a voice distinctly familiar from centuries passed, Amora prowled closer. %r Or she would have, had the mortals in a black van not approached then.
Her predatory lean lessened and she pulled the power that was her beauty closer, a fading mentality that they'd /not/ look at her. /Not/ notice her. She was a shade. A shadow. A trick of the light. With all the nonsene going on in the news she had caught just snippets, but did not particularly want interference from mortals just now.
Not when she'd scented the magic of death and heroes on the seemingly mortal woman before her.
*
No one is listening to their private little conversation. There's few people on the street, and Barney is in good spirits. He's got Hilde at his side, walking, burgers in hand, and there is an amazing blonde before them. Eye-candy.. and that is just so not like him. That third, anyway. Normally, nothing like that catches his eye. He's—
Hilde's fingers dig into his arm with more strength than he's giving her credit for, and he hisses a soft breath. It's not pain, it's more surprise and concern; particularly when she says 'Empire State Building'. Something had happened there, and he'd still not gotten a full explanation of events, but right now? It doesn't seem to matter. And why is that?
Poppies.
Barney looks beside him and he can see that transformation, and he takes a breath, "Aw, darlin'.. now? Ain't nobody gonna…"
Die?
This, of course, is whey Barney finally notices that agent on the approach, and he pauses for a brief moment before, "Gotta go.." and he takes one step, two, three.. and he turns, drops the burger bag, and takes off. The man can run.. and he's out, down an alley, up a fire-escape, pulling himself up by his hands, swinging a foot… and the Agent isn't about to take off immediately; instead, he pulls a gun to take aim at the retreating figure, the trigger squeezed..
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Death. It's not just from her. Not just the poppies. Brunnhilde can smell it and it's not coming off of Amora either. And too close to be Barney. It's just a few flickers of a heartbeat as her silvered eyes go from the running Barney, to Amora, back to the FBI agent. She doesn't try to stop him. She doesn't even call attention to him. She knows that will just make it worse. So, she does the only thing she can do… Cause a distraction.
Amora might be trying to hide from the coppers, but she can't hide from Brunnhilde. And now that the Valkyrie is back behind her eyes, even if the shell is a weak, human, mortal waif, there is power in the very steps she takes. Power and anger. "…Enchantress." That is Asgardian, all elegant and fierce, "Bitch." That's the Bronx. Rough and street. "I know what you did, bitch!" It's like they are shifting between each other, Hilde and Brunnhilde… "Come forward. Speak to she you betrayed or I shall force you to talk!" She hisses through angered teeth and tightened jaw. Her fist is clutched in a way that skinny Hilde mught actually CLOCK the woman a good one. She's also yelling loud enough that anyone on the street might get the impression those two women are ready for a proper cat fight too.
*
Amora does not take a step back, but her hands lift upwards, ringed in a flickering limelight of arcane power. "How did you get out of your crystal?" She whispered, head cocked to the side as she peered at the escaped soul that she'd captured and separated for centuries.
"You should still be in Asgard.." In her palace. In a quartz crystal. Chilling out of eternity until Amora decides otherwise. How in Odin's grey beard had this woman escaped such a thing. Amora was fairly certain the wards in her palace remained standing and untouched.
"My dear, it sounds as if you're having a bit of an identity crisis.." She whispered, shifting a foot back behind herself.
*
The pull on the trigger is complete, and there is a sharp report that echoes down the alley way, and from the sound of it, it's a definite miss. The agent is on the run again, and he's not quite as spry as the man he's chasing. As for the guy's partner? He's back in the sedan and driving slowly down the street, watching to see if he can't see their quarry emerge from somewhere.
For the next few long minutes, as Hilde picks the fight with Amora, all is quiet to mortal ears. Perhaps those of Asgard might hear the shuffle, the movement of someone that takes to the rooftops easily, navigating them as if he was simply on the ground, walking the streets.
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It's also a fight in her not to look for Barney, figure out where he ran, if he's alright, if the FBI agent is still with him. But both sides of Hilde know that drawing attention will simply be unhelpful. And, in truth, Valkyrie is a bit more concerned with the seductress in front of her than the mortal running man. Care or not, some things take priority.
Another cold, confident step is taken forward, so she's within two feet of the too beautiful woman. She flexes her fingertips, barely restraining herself from hitting her straight out, but then Brunnhilde did always have more control than Amora. "I was always stronger… more resourceful than you. Not more beautiful, but more resourceful. That is why you kept using me… even when love died. Consider my… outreach to this world just another resource. And I know very well who I am. Both sides of me. Mortal and… more. But you… you will just pervert this world and it's people as you have done so many others. That is what you tried to do already! Why…why are you free? He took you… your once love… You should be gone." Now the memories of that night are spilling back and Valkyrie's brain is making sense of what Hilde's didn't.
It's also pissing her off way more.
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A step to the side, not a step back, and the smirk on those wickedly tempting lips pulls wide. A click of her heels follows, and Amora keeps her hands held up. The soft verdant light illuminating her features with a chilling menance.
"Oh darling, you've been locked away for centuries and my magic and knowledge has only grown." She flashed a white toothed grin, seemingly unphased with the threat.
"And aye, he took me," A flutter of eyelashes, "To his mother. For a simple reprimand. A means to return my heart. The poor fool played right into my hands. And as none there knew the meaning of the runes sketched on that pinnacle of mortal work. A pity for them, I'm sure. But now this realm has greater concerns than I. So I venture forth as I please.."
A wicked cackle follows and Amora simply waits for Brunnhilde to rush her, as the woman surely would do.
*
The sound of footfalls fade into silence, on the one hand, and the clumsy climbing of the agent is full in appearance. It takes him a little longer to pull himself up, to find his way to the rooftop, and in those following minutes, Hilde, or rather, Valkyrie will feel it.
Death is in the wind. The quickening of the pulse in order to make up for the fact there is a lethal blow to its form and figure, the desperate squeezes of a vital organ as it begins to fail. With each second, with each beat, it goes from rapid to skips.. and its ability to function lessens and lessens until there will be nothing. Silence, and the soul?
It did fall in battle. And technically, it fell in battle while fighting against 'wrong' and 'evil', at least according to this mortal society.
As for Barney? No sign of the man now. (But he's got a gun to replace the one that Strange destroyed the other night! And ammunition! Double win!)
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ROLL: Brunnhilde +rolls 1d100 for a result of: 69
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It's so tempting to reach up, take out some of that pain, anger and fear on the too-beautiful face across from her. Especially as Amora cackles like that. The pale blond looks sick. Her fist balls up again, some color raising her previously too-pale cheeks and the sudden pound of her heart says she's really ready to just go for it. But, instead, she tries to be the better woman. As she always has. Even as her fingernails cut little cresents into her palm, she just jerks her head down and spits at the woman's feet instead.
"…You are not worth my breath any longer. You never were." And then Brunnhilde turns on the ball of her foot and does one of the worst things someone can do to a vain being — ignores her. Walks away. Acts as if Amora matters nothing more than an ant on the sidewalk. She has work to do anyway, as she can taste the death on the air. She doesn't wish to alert the other agent, but she subconsciously begins to follow Barney's path. Follow to the dead man. She has a soul to usher on, one fallen in noble battle.
Silent as death, blending like a shadow into the darkness, the Valkyrie begins to climb rust stairs and shadows towards the body on the roof, where dropped. She needed to move fast to get those last few seconds of almost life. The only thing that is strange and remarkable is the scent of poppies that mingles on the cold New York night air…
*
The blonde lowers her hands as Brunnhilde turned and talked away. Her magic disapating to nothing as she stared after her retreating steps. Then, in a burst of green and golden smoke, Amora vanished.