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Amora reclined in the back corner of a large round booth, in her hand was a golden goblet smelling faintly of sweetness and apples. The blonde goddess was rife with power, more than any had seen in ages. It glowed practically beneath her skin and her beauty, before stunning, was cloying to behold in it's perfection. For she was perfect, and her appearance drew in more than a few of the weaker minded individuals simply by her presence.
Which she promptly ignored.
A small hand mirror appeared in her free hand, made of gold and etched in ancient runes. She seemed to fix her hair, but perhaps she was looking at something else entirely.
*
How does one gain entrance into a Bar With No Doors?
The simple answer would be 'teleport', although it can be as easy as 'walking through the right wall'. This option, however, may lead to some unfortunate mishaps those times when a magi attempts to use the *wrong* wall…
In the case of Baron Mordo, he prefers mirrors and other convenient portals. Today, a portrait hanging upon the wall of the Bar slightly shifts until it resembles an image of Mordo walking down a path from a castle in the mountains… toward the frame of the picture. When the man reaches it…
He steps through, entering the Bar, and floats down to the surface. Immediately, his nostrils flare at an all-too familiar scent of perfume and he turns to look across the room at Amora.
He smiles.
"My dear Enchantress," says he as he makes his approach. "Delectably captivating as ever. I hope you are well?"
*
Walking up to the bar is a wizened old sorcerer with long white hair and a long white beard, flowing robes and a point hat on his head, the point of which actually droops to one side. "Ydromellum, with a touch of essence of meadowsweet, and a dash of mandrake root!" The drink is swiftly delivered in a goblet of its own and Merlin takes a sip.
Nodding in approval of the drink, he looks about. For those who pay particular note, his irises are currently a gold colour. His gaze stops as he looks toward the back corner. "Huh." Yes. A curious pair he finds in that direction. A curious pair indeed.
*
Amora lowered the mirror and it vanished in a sprinkle of green dust, and she leaned forward, holding out the delicate hand toward Mordo. Her eyes glittered with a vicious sort of possessiveness as they landed on him and she smirked. "I am as well as can be expected with the destruction of the Bifrost, absorbing most it, taking on two apprentices, finding our that Loki sits on Asgard's throne and did not invite me.." She drawled, dropping all the little tidbits of detail in one breath, disinterest in the world's events at large following each word that she spoke.
She'd taken what she could and was now pointedly avoiding the fall out. When there were games with Kings it was better that she not get involved.
Then her gaze shifted, catching sight of Merlin and she leaned back in her seat, bare shoulders rolling back as she smirked at him over the rim of her goblet. "Hello, darling."
*
So, in a mood *and* flirting with…
Oh dear.
Mordo turns to look at Merlin, raises his eyebrows and glances back at Amora — the barest of smiles tugging at the corner of his lips.
"All positively depressing news, I'm sure," says he, still occasionally looking askance at Merlin. This should be interesting. "You can always relax at the day-spa, my dear," he reassures Amora. "Even with your friend…"
The baron takes a seat, and orders a goblet of wine from the bar. A dark light dances in his eyes as he watches the Enchantress and Merlin, pondering what he shall say next…
*
"Greetings." Merlin bows his head slightly. "Such news of Asgard, one can hardly believe it!" He intones softly. "But such is the way of life, ever changing." He raises his own eyebrows at Mordo. "'Day spa'?" He eyes Mordo with curiosity. "I once spent a day at a spa. It was a rather unusual experience, and not one I'd care to do again soon. Not that it's not pleasant for some."
He takes a long sip of his drink. "Have we met?" He asks of Mordo, tilting his head and peering at the man. "You look ever so familiar!"
*
Amora did not shift in her seat to give Mordo space, but merely slid against him as he sat in the booth. Golden hair tumbling down her shoulders and back to brush against his shoulder as she exhaled a sigh of a breath against his neck.
"The Bifrost's destruction is merely an irritation. Though it does mean that Odin's decrees are meaningless. The Thunderer is lost to the abyss, he falls though where he'll land I know not. Lady Sif is likely given to her rage.." She pouted, and took a long sip of her goblet.
"Which is just right for her foul sort, trying to command The Enchantress." She huffed, her free hand reached up to play with the lacings on Mordo's tunic.
Those electric green eyes shifted, eyeing Merlin as she shifted on the booth, recrossing those shapely legs of her's. She was practically sprawled along the booth's plush seating at this point.
"Aye, 'tis true such is life, but Asgard has never in all of Midgard's long years been cut off entirely. Asgardia's enemies will march, without a true Protector nor army to protect her.. Midgard will be vulernable.."
*
"It sounds as if we 'mortals' could use some sort of insurance against an incursion from Asgard, dear me…" Mordo muses aloud, stroking his chin. He puts an arm around Amora's shoulders as she leans into him, taking a moment to breathe in the scent of her hair —
Fully aware that Merlin is 'right there' with them. Then the swarthy warlock gives the ancient wizard a more thorough look and replies: "I am Baron Karl Mordo, of Castle Mordo, Transylvania. And you… could only be Merlin — or would you prefer Myrddin? It's a pleasure to meet you."
*
"An irritation…perhaps. Primarily for those who have not attained other means of travel." Merlin could still find his own ways into Asgard, if he so desired. Though, at the moment, he has no particular desire to go to Asgard. Though he realizes he may have a need, at some point or another. "Was Thor Odinson travelling upon the Bifrost when it so broke?" He'd be lying if he said he wasn't curious as to what would happen to a person if that were to happen to them.
At the words about a Earth being without a 'true protector' or an army, and thus being vulnerable, Merlin actually chuckles. "Oh, I wouldn'st say that Midgard is without protection. You'd be surprised at who might step up and send armies reeling back to the lands from whence they came." He takes a long sip of his drink.
"Baron Mordo." He bows ever so slightly. "'Tis a pleasure. You are correct, I am Merlin. Or Myrddin. Though I find most are comfortable with Merlin, more than Myrddin. Perhaps this is due to how the stories of my…adventures have progressed over the years."
*
Amora continued to play idly with the laces of his tunic, twirling them between her fingers with an easy grace. As his arm settled over her shoulders she preened ever so faintly, a roll of her shoulders and a flutter of black eyelashes as she smirked, ruby lips pulled wide.
"Oh, 'tis no major problem for me. I need never travel via the Bifrost. The trouble, that all here should know, is that Loki Odinson, is acting King. Odin has fallen, injured." She murmured, though it was clear she had no lost love for the fallen All-father.
"As for the Thunderer? I know not. I was not present. I merely know what was told to me. I have not spent the time to summon the elementals and learn for myself. I care little. It makes no difference. Thor has been named traitor." She sipped at her goblet.
"Oh, I am aware of what powers remain on Midgard. And while there is strength here. I deny not you nor Doctor Strange your skills," She drawled.
"But Asgard's enemies will see Midgard thusly: A gem long denied to them. Those that can come, will. Via rips in reality. While for now the Jotun and trolls of Muspell shall not make another stand.. there are countless others.."
*
"As I said," remarks Mordo softly while sipping his newly-acquired drink. "Some insurance would be nice. What a series of unfortunate events these dealings with Asgard have been."
He drinks more wine and murmurs, "Ah. Delicious." Turning toward Merlin, the swarthy baron smiles. "You mentioned the stories circulating about yourself, Merlin — I've often wondered: how much of the tales are actually true? Does it bother you that so many people over the years 'get it wrong'?"
*
"Neither do I require travel by Bifrost. But 'tis a shame for those, I suppose, who do require it." Merlin waves a hand dismissively. "Though 'tis neither here nor there." He smiles softly. "Midgard certainly is a realm that many have attempted to grasp. But thus far they have been unsuccessful. I can only hope that they'll continue to be unsuccessful! I know that I shall certainly do all in my power to prevent any such invasions, should the need arise. But then…I've never been one to shy from a challenge."
He chuckles at Mordo's words and sips his drink. "Oh, once upon a time, the inaccuracies bothered me. Now? Now I am amused by them. I find it entertaining seeing stories told of me, and knowing what they got correct or incorrect. It becomes like a game, deciphering fact from fallacy."
*
Amora grinned, trailing fingers up and over Mordo's chest, to his shoulders and back as she reclined. "Stories are simply lies that have the weight of truth behind them. Do mortals create gods by the stories or do the gods create the mortals? A tale indeed worth telling, if naught else could be told. The stories told of me have long since forgotten my name, but the meanings behind it linger.. The most fair.. the most beautiful.. 'tis me after all.." She mused, green eyes flickering with amusement.
"Asgard is a place of stories and magic. And now the God of Lies is King. The son most like Odin.."
And then she sat up slightly a hand pressing beneath her chin as the other balanced the goblet in hand. "The insurance, darling is to leave if it looks to be the end of Midgard. I am an Asgardian without the weight of my kingdom behind me…" She arched a brow upwards.
*
"'Midgard' is only one Plane among many," the baron replies with a sip of his wine. "I'm sure we'll have options should the worst come. In the meantime… we have day-spas, and plenty of other distractions. Loki can have his throne."
He drains his goblet and sets it down on the table in the booth, and switches to playing a bit with Amora's hair, smiling. Turning toward Merlin, he remarks: "As you said, Ancient Merlin, we are not without defenses, or champions. An incursion by Dormammu or Belathauzer is far more likely than anything the 'God of Lies' can manage. Hmm. More wine?"
*
"'Magic mirror in my hand, who is the fairest in the land?'" Merlin recites from the fairy tales as if he's read them over and over again. "Well, I had always wondered the source of some of the characters." He chuckles softly and drinks more from his goblet.
"Ah, Dormammu and Belathauzer. You know, I think I had tea with Belathauzer once. Angry fellow. Rather unsavory." He clucks his tongue disapprovingly and finishes off his drink.
"Oh, my dear Enchantress, an Asgardian can still find refuge in many a realm. I doubt you'd have much worry about your kingdom giving you its support. What is important," He holds up a finger in a knowing fashion, "Is that you can always find a home wherever you roam."
*
Amora leaned back as Mordo played with her hair, her eyes fluttering close for a brief moment as a smile traced over her full lips. But then she sighed, as he stated that Loki could have his throne.
"I should've been Queen.." She muttered, then green eyes lifted to gaze toward Merlin briefly. "Loki shant bother with Midgard. No, what is troublesome is that Asgard is … the warrior with the shield and sword, of the other Nine Realms. Without Asgard? The balance is upset. Till Loki restore the Bifrost.." She waved a hand, "They're still my people."
A sip of her goblet followed and she frowned faintly, "I am the fairest in all the realms." She shrugged with a single pale shoulder, and eyed Merlin. "I seek not refuge." But there was a hint of pain to her tone, as if he'd touched upon some delicate matter for the confident blone goddess, displaced as she had long been from Asgard's golden halls.
*
"Then we should plan something more appetizing… than 'refuge'," Mordo replies, glancing at both Merlin and Amora. "There are always options. Speaking of which," says he as he stands reluctantly to his feet. "I should research into one such option. We should do this again… soon."
He smiles at Amora and nods his head to Merlin. "Do keep well, both of you."
*
"I've hit on a bad note." It's more an observation on Merlin's part than anything. "Oh? Leaving so soon, Baron Mordo?" He offers the man another little bow. "'Twas a pleasure. I hope our paths cross again."
He twitches his nose and looks toward Amora. "Would you like to see a dancing owl?" Distractions are always good when you're thinking of something that makes you unhappy!
*
Amora managed to lean back as Mordo rose, dragging a kiss from the sorcerer as he departed, there was no shame in her movements, and more than a few eyes glanced her way before she released her grip on the Baron and sank back to the cushioned seats. The Enchantress glanced toward Mordo, picking up her goblet and taking a large gulp of the mead therein.
"I am unsure how that would amuse me, Merlin." She offered simply, even though her eyes seemed to somewhat.. gentle..? Was it possible? As she looked him over. It seemed the Enchantress found his temperment endearing, or something, in regards to the old man.
*
"I once had an owl who would dance when I was sad, and I found it immensely amusing. It lifted my spirits quite a bit." Merlin explains. "However, perhaps that was unique to myself. And that was…oh, about four or five hundred years ago, now. It is possible that even I wouldn't find it amusing any longer."
He tilts his head. "What would amuse you? How about a dragon telling a joke about how merpeople can't properly speak outside of water?"
*
A brow arched upwards and Amora sipped at her goblet. "I have known and fought too many dragons, to ever be amused by them telling jokes. I find my amusement most typically in the torment of young men's hearts. Or the failure of my enemies. Or mortals bargaining their lives away on foolish things." She frowned faintly, "Tis not pleasant things that amuse me most typically, Merlin." Another sip of her goblet.
"You offer me such banal things.." She lowered her gaze, and a sigh pulled from her lips.
"And yet I find no joy at all in what I once did. Merely the pleasure of losing my senses for a brief time in honeyed mead. Tis a tragedy indeed."
*
"I've found that much enjoyment can be found in the banal. If one lives long enough, such as we have, there is little in the way of surprise. The banal, the ordinary, the regular and boring, are something to find comfort in." Merlin explains his reasoning. "But perhaps now I understand you a bit better, and why you lure such unsuspecting prey with your beauty and your wiles. Something you rather excel at, I might add." He chuckles softly.
"You know, mead is a wonderful thing. Do not disparage the wonders beheld in a chalice of mead. For you never know what you mind find, it may be exactly what you needed!"
*
A dry look was shot over said goblet as Amora eyed Merlin, her other hand propping up her chin. "I know, 'tis why I bother the Sorcerer Supreme so very much. He rejects me, you know. A strange occurrance if there ever was any. The only ones to refuse me, and my gifts have only ever been the Odinsons." Her brows crinkled slightly.
"And now Loki sits on the Throne and sings me pretty things, while my beloved Thunderer falls through the abyss between worlds. I cannot catch him as he falls.." She sipped at her mead again. "For tis the only thing that keeps him safe from his brother.." She glanced at Merlin.
"Tis not fair that all such things occurred while I was trapped here on Midgard! I am The Enchantress, witch of Asgard. The most beautiful of all the realms and not a one came to me with news. I had to seek it. Was I not friends with the Trickster these past three thousand years?" She was unloading her misery, and Merlin just happened to be there. Or perhaps, she was sharing because he was there.
*
"Mister Doctor Strange has his reasons, I'm sure. As would any who have been in his position." What's Merlin trying to say here? Well, quite possibly many things. "I bother the Sorcerer Supreme, but for very different reasons. I've never quite attempted to draw him in with my beauty." Will his terrible attempt at a joke get a smile? He hopes so!
"Perhaps none came in search of you because of the upheaval that has no doubt erupted within the realm of Asgard? Such changes are bound to bring about a time of disarray, disorganization. Certainly some leeway can be given for having not been informed immediately?" He hopes he's made a point, and hasn't just been rambling.
*
Oh he earns a smile, and an amused breath that almost neared a laugh. And she sipped at her mead, leaning back. "I would dearly like to see you attempt such a thing. You've the power to look as young as you could desire, Merlin, and yet you do not. Is that not for your own amusement? To you with perceptions of those around you?" She arched a golden brow upwards.
"Loki claims that Jotun attacked the All-father. That he fell. That Thor was a traitor. Yet he would not tell more.. Heimdall was blinded, he claimed by Loki, as a trap to lure Thor to Asgard. Where Thor fell and the Bifrost was destroyed." She slid her finger tip over the rim of her goblet.
"Loki offered me a place, back in Asgard, at full power. He spoke kind words to me. That he cared for my safety." She frowned, "Tis a lie. For he is the god of them. I cannot trust his word, I never have. And the Thunderer does not trust me, he thinks me incapable of doing good. Of being honest. He chose Sif over me as a result.. and she thought to command me.. and yet she too, leapt before she looked. Now I believe she suffers for it indeed.." She mused.
"And so I am left, Amora the Enchantress, most beautiful of all.. and forsaken by kith and kin alike.."
*
"Oh, aye. I've the power to look young. I've the power to be percieved as female as well, should I so choose to, upon a whim. However, I choose neither as neither suits me. I was not born female and, I am told, that with age comes wisdom. At least, people seem to think that because I am old, I too should be wise."
He shakes his head lightly. "It certainly seems that Asgard is not in a good or happy place. I would not imagine Heimdall easy to blind." He takes a deep breath in and lets it out slowly. "Do you believe that Loki has lied about the fall of Odin All-Father? And that he is responsible for the fall of the Bifrost?"
*
A shrug, and Amora dragged a hand through rich golden locks that tumbled over her shoulders. A faint smile playing upon her lips, "I can do much the same. An old and basic trick indeed, but I found none in the realms that so choose to present themselves as old for so long as you. Tis amusing." She smiled again, faintly, but it died as he spoke of Asgard again.
"I am unsure. All such things are possible. I could easily summon an elemental and question them, but I am.. concerned that it might draw the Trickster's eyes. I know not where he looks. For the last time I attempted to search Asgard, he found me easily. He holds the All-father's staff.. Which means either the All-father has indeed fallen into the Odin-sleep, or aught else has occurred.. I know not." She waved a hand, and her goblet refilled.
"I did not think it possible to attack Heimdall in such a way, nor for the Bifrost to be shattered.. but.. 'tis so."
*
"Being old has its advantages. Though I suppose youth and beauty have theirs as well." Merlin murmurs softly. "In the meantime, I've much to think about." He scratches his forehead and sighs. "I must be off, but do not despair too much, Lady Amora. Life has a funny way of turning itself around, every now and then."
*