|
  |
"Well, it's pain in my stomach, you see," the slender young man in the hospital bed remarks. He pokes at his stomach. Donald nods, considering him. He's wearing a plain, starched white uniform, trousers and a button shirt— no coat or stethoscope, so he's not a doctor. He'd almost look like a nurse, but who ever heard of a male nurse?
But he's not wearing the togs of the general orderlies, either.
"A curious sensation. Here, you say?" Donald inquires, touching the man's side.
"Right there," the fellow nods. "Hmm. Mayhaps is an imbalance of your humors," Donald suggests. "Gathering poison in your kidney. I might suggest—"
"Nurse Blake!" comes an angry voice. A doctor— balding, fifties, maybe six inches shorter than Donald— walks into the room, waggling a clipboard at Donald. "I /told/ you, stop diagnosing patients! You're only confusing them! This man merely has a minor ulcer," the doctor scowls.
Donald rises to his full height and tries to stare down at the smaller fellow, but the doctor is having none of it, his authority pushing him up on the balls of his feet to jab the corner of his clipboard into Donald's chest. "If you keep /misdiagnosing patients/, I will /personally/ fire you and have you escorted off the premises!"
*
Amora walked around the hospital as if she owned it, or at least, could own it with a sweap of her hand. Which perhaps wasn't a lie entirely. Still, she played nice, flirting shamelessly with the clerk behind the reception desk. A tight sweater dress with a low neckline only aided her in this pursuit, as she dipped her front half forward and twirled a curl of hair between her fingers. Red lips pressed in a pout as she shifted her weight on brilliantly green heels.
"Could you page Nurse Blake please? I'm his girlfriend, and we were supposed to meet for dinner. I'm here to pick him up." She breathed, a sighing exhale following as she rolled her eyes to the side and fluttered dark lashes.
"He just works too hard, never has enough time to remember little old me.." She murmured, and drew the clerk's eyes as she tossed her hair back with a flick of her wrist.
*
The clerk somehow manages to remember how to use a phone, and sends a page to the floor. An orderly comes up to fetch Blake— fortunately, messages sent thusly are usually only 'presence required', so the orderly gives Donald a convenient excuse to evade the lash of the doctor's tongue. Still being scolded all the way to the stairs, he storms down two flights with his face twisted in irritation at the doctor's biting reprimand. He arrives in the lobby and— naturally— quickly spots Amora. A jealous expression flickers across his features when he sees her flirting with the clerk, but he marshals it before it's seen.
"Amora? A pleasant suprise," he calls, walking up. "What brings you to the hospital today?"
*
Amora strolled over to him with a roll of her hips, all sinuous temptation that brought eyes from several mortals in the lobby to her curves. She shifted her coat back as she reached out with a hand to spread over Donald's forearm as she closed the distance between them and made to press a kiss against the corner of his lips in a teasing fashion.
"I think I've got a fever, terrible thing, you should check to make sure it's not serious." She purred. A flutter of eyelashes and she grinned up at him. Her mortal guise decidedly shorter than his own.
Then that teasing lie faded as she shifted her hand higher, leveling it on his shoulder with a slight hint of manicured nails dragging against him. "I just came back from an exhausting trip with Scarlett, and I wanted to discuss it with you." Her voice low and husky with all unsaid promises.
*
Donald blushes a little at Amora's kiss, but hauls her away before she gets -too- frisky in front of everyone and sundry. Because everyone and sundry is staring at her.
They step into a small alcove, barely a waiting room, and he mostly closes the door for some semblance of privacy. "Scarlett… your apprentice?" He inquires, dredging at his memory. The name brings something to mind, but he can't quite place it. "You've mentioned her. Is she unwell? Why was the trip so exhausting?"
*
Amora walked along side him as he tugged her along with a smirk pulling at those full lips of her's. Amusement twinkling in her eyes. The looks that had been sent their way had been a mixture of aw and jealousy at her affections for the blonde nurse.
She took it all in stride, as always.
The little alcove, which was hardly a room at all was given a flicker of a glance before Amora found a place to sit. Perched with her long legs folded she dragged a hand over her lap and the other through her hair.
"Twas Muspellheim we went, the land of the fire demons. Tis a brutal place, and one which I dislike greatly. I had been taken by giants there earlier this past year upon Midgard. They had wished to use my personage for some sort of a magical prop against Surtur." She sniffed. "The Thunderer and the Trickster, with Lady Scarlett, rescued me." She murmured, cast a side eyed glance at Donald.
"But this time we were searching for remnants of Loki's spell work. It would seem, he formed some manner of a contingency plan for his demise. He's attached it to individuals. I cannot break the spell, for it was forged using the All-father's staff. But I can shift the concentrations. I have gathered it from two individuals in Muspell, and know that he placed the same on myself and Scarlett.. though I know not what its purpose is.."
*
Donald nods along, frowning a little in thought. "Do you know what manner of spell it is?" he inquires, trying to keep up with the strange terms and unfamiliar names. "Is it some working to keep him concealed, or a spell designed for some chaos yet unwrought?" he inquires, folding burly forearms under his chest. He opts to stand, leaving Amora to sit daintily as she likes on the chair.
*
Another toss of her hair as she gave up inspecting the ends almost, "I know not. Merely that it had the feel of his spellwork with the intent behind it that whispered 'back up plan'. Beyond that? I know not. Merely the intent behind it and that he has scattered it over individuals throughout the Nine Realms." A shrug, another delicate roll of her shoulders that had her chest rising and falling dramatically.
"I know naught beyond that, but tis a troubling concern in and of itself that he was able to cast this spell from Asgard all over. Especially upon myself without my notice before."
*
Donald mostly succeeds in not being captivated by Amora's heaving busom. Mostly. He tries, anyway, and covers by turning to look out a window in thought.
"I— as you said, All-father is… powerful. Immensely so, yes? Mayhaps this is some magic that exceeds normal understanding of such things. If he's as closely tied to the magic of the Nine Worlds as you claim, then he may be capable of a great deal."
Donald scowls, rubbing at the shorn back of his head where he'd recently cut his hair. "Perhaps it's what drove my Lord to fling the hammer at my feet and demand I prove myself worthy," he mutters.
*
The smirk remained as she noted his eyes, and it widened into a near grin. Still, his words had her eyes rolling. "Loki might've taken over Asgard previously and ran as if he were King, but the All-father is still alive. Using his staff does not give him control over the Odin-Force, that which makes the All-father as powerful as he is. Yet he still, I think, tapped into something he should not have. Which would explain why he is no longer with us."
She didn't say 'dead' because if he were truly dead, there'd be a Trickster in Hel causing all manner of problems. They'd know. This was something else and it clearly irked the Enchantress.
Yet at the mention of Thor she quieted, looking down at her lap, turning her hands over to eye the manicure on her nails. "The Thunderer fell when the Bifrost did. None truly know what occurs when a person falls from the gaps between the realms such as that. He may have fallen for years or months, days or minutes to reality's time.. I know not." She shrugged, "What happened to him.. tis a mystery.." She breathed.
*
"How can he have fallen for years or months?" Donald asks, puzzlement on his features. "It's only been a few weeks since all collapsed, since the hammer was delivered to me." He grips the air, as if seeking the haft of that weapon instinctually. Not finding it, he frowns deeper.
"More to the point— what do we do next? Should we find all those who carry… this little piece of Loki? Convince them to give it up?"
*
Amora glanced toward him and a sad flicker of emotion came to life in her eyes and then vanished. "Time between the realms is not measured by anything we know. Tis along Yggdrasil's branches and trunk. Things are…" She made a vague gesture with her hands and then shrugged again, recrossing her legs.
"So it might very well be years or months to us. Possibly days. Or even less, a minute.. two.." She sighed and reached out to capture his wrists and try to tug him closer to her.
"I would gather the pieces of the spell to see if I might puzzle out what Loki's plan was. I am.. concerned about what it ultimately might entail, but not enough to leave it scattered. Which I do believe that he intended." She bit her lower lip, looking at him from beneath her eyelashes.
"And I need not convince anyone, merely find them and I can take the spellwork onto myself."
*
"Hrmph." Donald shakes his head. "Seems perilous enough, no matter what. These magics confound me," he grumbles. "I don't understand how they work, and the.. machinations behind them are even more vexing. This Loki, he is a tricky one," Donald grumbles. "Even if he's my Lord's brother, he seems keen to keep up all forms of mischief, doesn't he? Even in death, or… unlife, wherever he is."
*
Amora shifted forward, rising from her seat and making to slide her hands over his biceps and up to his neck where she'd try to twine her fingers together at the base of his neck as she leaned in close. "Tis why you have me, darling." She purred, "For now I am the most knowledgeable about such things in all of Asgard besides the All-father himself. Now that Loki no longer lingers." Karnilla didn't count, she was in Nornheim, after all.
"I shall venture forth to various realms as I can and seek out the pieces of Loki's spellwork. I can only hope that when I am finished something can be done about it. For I do not.." She paused, tilting her head back slightly, "Look forward to carrying out what Loki intended.. if this is indeed what he desired." She leaned forward to teasingly place another kiss to the corner of his lips.
"I would feel much safer knowing that you were there to protect me when such a time comes.." A flutter of her eyelashes.
*
Donald lurches just a little when Amora kisses him. Her embrace has that intoxicting effect, after all, and it takes considerable force of will to keep himself from falling atop her. As it is, his hands encircle her waist almost automatically, pulling her against him.
"Hmm? Oh. Oh! Of course, you have my hammer," Donald tells Amora, unable to keep from nobly uplifting his chin a little. "I'll protect you wherever you need a strong arm and a ready hand," he says, flexing his arm a little bit.
*
A soft sound escaped the back of her throat as his hands circled her waist and tugged her supple body against him. A flutter of dark eyelashes and a widening of her lips into a smile followed. Her figure practically melting against his musculature. Her nails played lightly against the back of his neck and down his shoulders in return.
"Mmmm, how fortunate for me then." She murmured, biting her lower lip and dragging it between her teeth. "To have someone so able and hale to ensure that naught ill befalls me." She tilted her head back to peer at him from beneath a curl of blonde hair that tumbled partly into her features.
*
Donald grins down into Amora's features, chucking her chin, then kisses her upturned lips readily. There must be a touch of some courage in that man's heart, to hurl himself so fearlessly into the tempest!
"As best I can, 'fore I think my Lord would have done the same in my stead," Donald says, with a firm nod. "But, er… perhaps tonight? I have to finish my shift— I'm sure enough as it is to get a tongue lashing from the doctor over some other failing of mine, let alone if people think I'm dallying with you when I should be at my labors."
*
The kiss he pulled from her had all the passion and fire that Amora did everything in her life with. She would've clearly proceeded with such a liason, dallying with the nurse in the not so private room as it were. Still, as he spoke of later, she drew back from the circle of his arms with a brilliant smile that lit up her features, making her go from simply achingly beautiful to sort of image that poets slathered over their would be loves. Yet for her? Such prose could only fail to miss the mark of her beauty.
"Very well," She murmured, voice low. "Tonight then." She winked, drawing a hand against his cheek gently though there was a hint of possessiveness in the touch.
"I shall await your presence most breathlessly."