1963-12-16 - Apprentice Mine
Summary: Amora collects herself another apprentice
Related: None
Theme Song: None
amora rogue 

Amora appeared where ever it was that Rogue so happened to be, the blonde goddess didn't particularly care to note where the woman was. After all, Midgard was a mess, what good was it to her to learn the mortal's constantly changing names for things?

A clap of her hands, followed, dusting off clouds of swirling arcane power that dusted against her green clad armor. There were no more mortal guises for the Enchantress it would seem. Though a heavy green cloak lined with fur did hang off from her shoulders.

"Scarlett, darling, come." And without so much as a pause or a 'by your leave', Amora clapped a hand on the redhead's shoulder and they were teleported.. else where..

That elsewhere happened to be a warm and temperate island somewhere in Greece it would seem. A roman bath could be seen behind transparent curtains to one side, while a sweeping vista of the coast could be seen on the other.

Apparently, this place, hadn't seen an invasion force.


Where the hell does a redhead go when the world holds so little of interest? At least New York is dull as dull can be, so she's to be found on the streets of Montreal. It's a very short flight as far as Scarlett is concerned, and the city lights glitter on the frosty streets while the glass and brick structures look like the faerie architecture of Europe rather than boring, brutish North America. French dusts over the air and traffic is limited as people huddle inside the pretty cafes or the various restaurants, drawn to their business.

Mortal guises can go to hell; she's hardly wearing one either, drifting above the snow by an inch at most, still 'walking' but not about to slip on the unplowed sidewalk in the old city quarter. The city is comparatively ancient by modern standards for the continent, and Scarlett tips her head slightly. Her deep green coat hugs her body, whatever is worn underneath thin enough to leave her rather chilly.

If invasion has come here, it probably went through Quebec City or Ottawa first, so frankly everyone is probably just fine with that. Take out the rivals and let Montreal rise triumphant! Besides, the Canadiens hockey team is terrifying and might take down trouble with a slapshot, so trouble don't come here.

Nor does trouble go to Greece. One of the Dodecanese, perhaps, and she gives the sudden shift of vista a look through narrowed eyes. The look slips back to Amora, but before she can inflict any sort of damage without thinking, she harkens to silence. Only for a little, enough to figure out her bearings.

"The weather is better than winter, I give it that."


The shift had Amora out of her heavy cloak and back into some skimpy manner of silken gown that left very little to the imagination. Not that she appeared to be trying at the given moment as she stretched out a hand to pluck a goblet of wine from a nearby servant that had rushed over to offer such a drink.

"I'd ask your pardon, darling, but honestly. I dislike the cold and thought you'd enjoy a nice change of scenery. I'm rather /sick/ of dealing with snow and overcast skies." She gestured to the sun streaming down outside and she leaned back against a pillar, considering Rogue with her hand propped up beneath her chin.

"I wanted to make you an offer, as one teacher has fallen, and one yet remains.. I desired to cement our relations. I'm gathering young ladies to learn and I thought of you thusly.."


Still dressed warmly enough for most kinds of weather, the advance of a few hours brings a lovely daybreak upon the world. It mustn't be too far past dawn and yet sunlight, strong and warm, is a rare commodity even in southern Europe. The approach of a servant receives the mildest look, checking only a few facts, but Scarlett keeps her hands safely in her pockets. Explanation warrants a tick of recognition in her smooth features, the acknowledgment hidden in her hazel eyes after surfacing for a moment.

"They are making a lovely mess of it. Ruins are fine." These, at least, have lasted. She stands, but not out of anything beyond rudeness. It merely gives her more opportunity to catch the sun instead of staying hunched up.

The blank depths of her bearing doesn't change by standing still. "You could adopt worse. I am, I suppose, noted for boundless loyalty. Is that what you wish?"


A roll of her shoulders followed and Amora was suddenly not leaning against the pillar but further inside the bathhouse. Reclining on a cushioned seat, lumped high with velvet pillows she propped her head up as she watched Rogue stretching out in the sunshine. The Asgardian had little trouble hearing the woman, much less noting the way she held herself.

"Darling, I am one of questionable loyalty at the end of the day. How might I ever claim that from you? Give what you will and simply continue on as you are. Learning. I am invested in your education and I am amused by it. So it shall continue." She waved her fingers in the redhead's direction and sipped at her wine.

"Doctor Strange's apprentice, Illyana is to be mine as well. I wish you to work together, and find me other such young women seeking to learn. I am quite put out with all this mannish failure about. 'Tis time I think for something new."


She will have no difficulty hearing Scarlett; the acoustics of marble are very good, frighteningly so sometimes. It's that which she relies on, allowing her even, neutral tone to carry. "'Mannish failure.'" The dull pang of a laugh ruminates upon that fact, then she puts her shoulders lightly back against the wall, supporting herself in the sunshine. "Learning will be enough. The arcane community does not have a great number of women I know of."

Indeed, six months ago, who knew giants would be wandering around unimpeded and aliens were showing up? A flicker of recognition crosses her eyes, anyways, and she nods to Amora. "Maybe that can change. Make it less of a closed group."


A shrug followed that, "I care little about Midgard's gender balance at large. Women here have been denied their rights to magic, 'tis a pity. And I have seen time and again how they are treated. But their liberation is hardly my concern. I am mostly concerned with laying the ground work for new wards upon this realm. I have no clue how long I am to remain, but something must be done."

Never mind that she'd been once kidnapped by Muspell's minions and sorely did not wish to repeat /that/ experience. Other more selfish reasons float in the air of the unsaid, and remained that way.

"You are now under mine protection. Do with it, as you wilt." She sipped at her wine, tilting her head back. "Though be aware I shall be looking for a charm to aid in your.. control. We spoke of that before, months ago, did we not?"


"No doubt. Though one begs the question why wards were laid in the first place. Their upkeep will be a lasting investment." A balance linked to Amora's statement passes her thoughts and crystallizes as a statement without particular emotional level. Scarlett tips her head slightly and replies, "The dead prince knew the secret." She taps her temples. "Better I know than be subject to the weakness in the world. I don't care what society does or does not, as long as I have some agency."

Her words taper off neatly and she stares into the sun, pupils tiny in a sea of fractured green and grey, inclusions of cobalt laced among the waves. The sun stings, and she takes in a deep breath. "You wish more women practitioners. Is there anything else at this time?"


Amora sat up, "I cast the spell on Alfablot to stablize the veils between our realm and that of Svartalfheim, traditionally speaking, the day was set for a tribute to the elves. 'Tis never stated which, dark or light it should be and changes as the years do. I sensed a possible chance at using them, but that has since passed. However the magics still were gained and linger in Midgard's spherey air. They might yet be used to some other purpose. I know not what the dead meant by the wards, but I know I have need to prevent capture via Muspelheim once more. So I shall set up wards of warning.." She sighed faintly, leaning back again as she downed the rest of her wine.

"Agency indeed, a choice in lovers perhaps to make. A chance to you needn't guard yourself as strongly as a blushing bride against an amorous lover.." She tapped her chin, gazing at Scarlett longer still.

"I shall work on finding it. Find other ladies of interest, for that is more than enough for now. Though on the morrow I wish to continue your lessons, they have been lax."


"I remember what Muspelheim looked like. I too recall the effort needed to recover you." Scarlett stares out over the water, her expression hardening into something a solid mask, rather than permit emotion to percolate up through the cracks and fissures. "Whatever comes of the wards, another layer of protection could hardly hurt. At this rate, it feels like someone called a party and forgot to tell all of us."

She gestures lazily out there at the isle, and the shores beyond. "Know it all. I have a different horizon than I had to before. Might as well make some use of it. Though I put it to you simply, since you speak of amorous connections." It is the woman's name, after all. "How many worthy ones are there, exactly? And that answers itself."


Amora leaned and stretched out over the cushioned divan, a bare foot dipping low into the warm waters of the bath below. "I am not Midgard's protector, nor am I allowed my full strength. I am at a disadvantage. So students shall be a requirement for carrying out these plans." She shrugged airily, setting the cup aside.

"This is the Baron Mordo's bath house. I come and go as I please. So shall you, my apprentice and those we keep. Though there are other places indeed to make a stand, this place soothes me greatly and I'd like to spend the darkest time of the year in warmth and leisure."

Green eyes flickered over Scarlett and she waved idly at the young woman. "Have you aught else to ask or no?"


"No. I shall see my own way back and spare you the loss. Jumping the Atlantic takes me longer, but such is life. I can stop over in the Azores and Bermuda on the way back." Warmth and chasing over the jetstream doesn't sound like that hard an end to life, is it? The amusement of the mention for a bathhouse does give her pause. Scarlett shrugs slightly. "He has decent taste. I might dip into the baths first. Thank you, Lady Amora."


Another flitting wave of her fingers follows. "As you will darling, have some wine. Take your ease. 'Tis a safe place to rest one's head." She murmured, her voice the same soft and velvet tones they'd always been. Regardless of the chaos that had occurred as of late, it would seem the Enchantress had moved on with her daily life in a blink.

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