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The somewhat vicious puncture wounds by disease-deer creature's massive rack were unpleasant. But, fortunately, it was a fairly simple surgery to ensure Hilde didn't bleed out or suffer further internal damage. Sadly, it was still *surgery*. Which meant a hospital stay, watching for infection, and a whole lot of being bored in a bed while she contemplates just how idiotically fragile this mortal body is. After a day of recover, she was going crazy enough to beg of staff a phone call. Then half demand it, "If I was in jail, I'd get one phone call, for f*cks sake!" Eventually, someone brought her a phone.
It wasn't Barney she called. Gods knew where he was, even. It was the one person she thought she could help and wouldn't be too awful debt wise. That's how a rasping call from Hilde came, about her being laid up in Metro General and he should 'come visit'. She'd make it worth his while. She almost begged. And now she waits.
In the hospital bed, Hilde looks even more tiny and fragile. She still hasn't gained weight, since joining with her other half, but the distant look in her eyes says she probably only spends half her time mentally aware of being in the mortal realm, and half studying the dead and dying around her. A hospital is not really a comfortable place FOR her to be full time. So much death, so little she can help. So she's staring at the ceiling, trying not to go quietly insane, a proper amount of monitors hooked up to her even as the bandaging is all hidden behind an ugly paper gown and bedding.
*
Ah, the hospital. Home-away-from-home, in a manner, though it's been a number of years since he spent more than a few hours at a time within its white-washed sterility. The staff don't know him here, seeing as it's not Presbysterian, and ergo, his reputation does not precede him. It leaves the good Doctor at the visitor's desk, signing in and explaining just why he's shown up.
"I got a call from a friend, Hilde Norris." The nurse at the desk probably wonders why he seems to smile a little deeper for the titling of said bedridden woman. "She's been laid up for a number of days now and wants company." He's directed to the room by its number and after a polite knock, Strange steps in.
Dressed in the usual black winter coat, with the usual bright accent of the scarf, he shakes his head and clicks his tongue even as he shuts the door behind him. "I'd say you look like two burnt holes in a blanket, Hilde. You can thank my mother for that saying," the good Doctor adds as he pulls over the single chair in the room up beside the hospital bed and sits down. Resting an ankle on a knee, he folds his hands in his lap and smiles faintly at her. "So…tell me, Valkyrie, why am I here — other than out of the overflowing goodness of my heart." His smile deepens.
*
At the sound of the door opening, Hilde barely moves. Probably another entirely too annoying nurse. It's not until she hears his voice that her eyes jerk down and head slightly up, earnest surprise across her ashen face that he's come. She didn't really expect it, but then Hilde didn't always think she quite deserved friends. She smirks gray lipped at him, reaching a skinny hand over to the lift on the bed so it can push her up without her actually having to use her abdomen. That was the WORST part of stomach wounds — sitting up without ripping them open was almost impossible. "…Two burnt holes in a blanket? Was your mother crazy, or simply bad with sayings? What in hell does that mean?" Hilde grumbles, trying to sound teasing but over all she's just in a BAD MOOD and hates being laid up.
Medical workers were always the worst patients.
She then sighs, the bed finally folded up enough she can level bloodshot gray eyes with him, "Because after valiantly… bitching my way into getting communications out of this prison, you were the first name I thought of." At least she's being honest! Even if she's that weird mix of Bronx and medieval that has plagued her since both sides joined. "And that overflowing goodness. And, I thought you may assist a fellow protector of this realm after she has been gored by a monsterous wonder of a deer who threatened to unleash colic plague on all of New York City."
*
The little tilt of his head to one side, in combination with the smile that seems to deepen — if only in empathetic amusement, since he too is a terror when bedridden — grants him the quiet charm to take an edge from his words. He watches her get comfortable again when upright per the movement of the bed, himself leaning back into the chair with thumbs slowly rotating around each other.
"I appreciate your sacrifice in the name of protecting New York City and the realm as a whole then." He does say this with utter gravity despite the twinkle in his eyes. "You're not the first to come across such a creature. If you remember how or where it came to be, I'll go see what I can do to prevent another from showing." His gaze shifts to her abdomen, where he can guess at least one point of damage occurred. "It seems the surgery went well. How much longer do you have to stay?"
A beat and he lifts a finger. "Ah, the saying goes 'Two burnt holes in a wet blanket', excuse me. I assume it meant how one's eyes get shadowed when dealing with physical stress, probably primarily after breaking a fever. Though I might be inclined to substitute 'blanket' for 'crepe paper'. Are they not feeding you enough here?" Strange is truly and mildly disturbed by the lack, still, of weight on her tiny frame.
*
"From the *sky*? I don't know. Three dots, raining down on us, turned into a deer, a boar…and something else. I was busy fighting the deer. It was…unpleasant. Up near Central Park. I can show you the area but it does seem as if someone dropped them in from somewhere quite distant." And that news makes Hilde frown just a bit deeper, some genuine concern for this realm in her eyes. She gives an overly dramatic sigh and waves it off, "It's done now. We vanquished them. I… sorely regretted not having my sword."
Then the question of her wound and stay comes. There's one major puncture and several more rips, the kind of damage a large rack on a creature can when impaling a foe. It's not pleasant. But yes, is stitched together well, "A few more days, at least. They are worried about infection and… Mmph, now you sound like them, about the eating thing. They'd like me to… put on a few pounds. I do not think they understand how these mortal bodies work. They are so… *fragile*. That is quite a task. AN annoyance of a task." Hilde grumbles, either blissfully unaware of the pure irony in her words or she's trying to a mild joke in awful circumstances. "I… would… be quite in your debt for a bit of a.. Boost? Hmm? Help an old girl out?"
*
Propping his jaw upon a closed fist accents the point that he's listening — intently. Eyes narrow for the inability of the Valkyrie to precisely identify the arrival point of the three creatures, but indeed, no loss in the immediate run. They're all dealt with properly.
That smile returns, breaking into a flash of teeth and a quiet laugh after he realizes that this is the Valkyrie complaining of hospital staff not knowing how a human body operates. If she was joking, she did get the audience's amusement.
The Sorcerer doesn't immediately address the request. Instead, it's a simple suggestion. "Oh, it's not so difficult. Nothing like a few nutritional shakes to keep the caloric intake up. How do you think I make it from day to day? On tea alone?" He shakes his head slightly. "But…you ask about a boost. I presume you mean a healing spell? Speed it all along?" Settling back into the chair again, he draws a finger down one line of his goatee thoughtfully before giving a little shrug and meeting her eyes. "I suppose. What do I get in exchange other than a warm feeling of satisfaction?" Smirk.
*
"Mm… That would be… *Very* nice. Perhaps get out of here tomorrow before I lose what bit of sanity I have left?" Hilde offers him with a wry, thin smile, only half joking. "You'd get that satisfaction, and the knowledge you did not loose an entirely mentally off kilter Valkyrie on New York City?" She states with teasing, mock innocent eyes and just a little bit of a pout. Then she follows it up with a teasing, beleaguered breath, "…annnd… I may be tempted to update you on the messiness of the Asgardians. If you like gossip. I hear old men like you can barely resist the lure of gossip." She winks.
*
"Hmm. Color me intrigued," Strange murmurs, laughing quietly. Folding hands away once again, he assumes the air of Listener, just as he would were they sitting in his living room in the Sanctum over a cup of tea — though it would likely be Turkish Delight in her hands, that questionable brew of heavy concentration and extra sugar. "I should spare the poor population of the City from your frustrated ire too, I suppose. Good Karma points." And he nods with mocking sobriety. "Though if you call me 'old' one more time, I will make the sutures itch more." The pointed finger drops away with a mild smile.
"So, tell me, Valkyrie — Hilde, whomever you are currently, of this messiness of the Asgardians. I know some things, but it would be nice to hear them confirmed."
*
"Mm…fine, not old. Finely… aged. Like wine. Refined. Venerable. Evergreen. Do any of those work for you?" Hilde teases, her mood most certainly getting better for the company, and the fact that she will NEVER stop ribbing him. Not until the end of their days, no doubt. She slightly ducks away, but she cannot fully escape any repercussions, being laid up the way she is. It was worth the risk.
"Mm… I am both, at the moment. Though, Amora did, for a night, send me back to my natural form. I woke up in her demesne back on Asgard. They are preparing for war, expecting quite the attack, it seems… The All-Father has returned to the throne full time, directing troops and preparations. He has lost all contact with Thor and all of Asgard assumes Loki dead, destroyed along with the BiFrost. He… sent me back, to this weakling frame, to spy on this realm and seek out Thor or whatever remains of Loki. I don't know what he expects Hilde Norris to do, but… you do not say no to the All-Father."
*
"Dignified, please," Strange offers with a sardonic lilt to the word. Was he teasing about the sutures? Guess the laid-up woman gets to figure out by the time he leaves.
A slow sigh escapes the Sorcerer as he listens to the information offered to him. It set him on edge and he straightens in his chair. The information is filed away and the gears begin to whir, connections made and possibilities laid out in an orderly fashion to be mulled over later. Definitely over a cup of tea for how his stomach acidifies mildly.
"No, you don't," is his thoughtful rejoinder to the conversation. A fingertip draws lazy, unfinished sigils on his coat as he levels a keen look on Hilde. "Would that I could be of more help…but I have the distinct suspicion that I'll be needed here, within my Realm." True enough; the state of reality proper has been unsettled for some time and the seismic waves felt by the sensitivity of his Mystically-heightened meditations. A small smile breaks through the stoic veneer. "Don't underestimate yourself just yet. If you have the ability to fight a plague-ridden deer, there's likely good reason for the All-Father to send you back to your human body. We're not all frail."
*
A little huff, "Yes, plague-deer was entirely put off by my bashing in the head with my work duffel bag. I assure you, it was a great battle fought with denim and zippers." Hilde states, her voice in that mock grand tone which is ACTUALLY the way some pure Asgardians speak. She's heard it enough lately. "But no, he sent me back to be his spy here. On Amora, what is left of Thor, and the like. I do not know that Thor entirely remembers himself and Amora is using that to take advantage in his bed. As we both knew she would." Hilde smirks, entirely less than thrilled and a bit dangerously protective over all of this. There are many reasons she wants out of this bed.
*
Strange shrugs in agreement with the Valkyrie's thoughts on advantages taken. "I can't say it's a huge surprise to hear this. Lady Amora does tend to strive to get what she wants, even if she can't have it. Interesting to hear of Thor, however."
And that's all he adds about the oldest Prince of Asgard. He does it looking somewhat…resigned, though the expression still holds a glimmer of amusement, as if he's very much aware that it's playing at being deliberately disinterested on his part. The Valkyrie might see through the mask to realize that the wily silver fox is holding a spread of cards close to his chest.
*
"So, Venerable-Magician…" See, better than Old man! "What are your thoughts on all this?" Yes, Hilde saw right through his playing his hand close to his chest and isn't taking any of that. They are all alone in a mortal hospital room, Hilde saw some of her mortal life quite flashing before her eyes, and she's never been a woman to buy into bullshit or dancing around things, so the pale faced woman just straight out asks, studying his handsome, sturdy features for an emotional reaction even if he doesn't agree to verbally comment on her prompting. She is waiting, though, hopefully and curiously. The quiet beeping on her heart monitor ticks just a hint faster, reflecting her genuine interest in this. It's not fair to have a deep conversation hooked up to such tools!
*
Indeed, a shame that the bedridden woman is attached to the heart monitor. He does get a hit of satisfaction for the flicker of unspoken intrigue reflected in the beats shown. A thoughtful hum escapes him after he wings raven-black brows high. His gaze goes beyond Hilde, across the room to a medical chart on the wall.
"My thoughts on all of this? I could regale you for hours on my thoughts as to the Asgardian Realm and likely talk myself out of diplomatic immunity there." A huff of a laugh. "Allow me to be succinct. The Norns have everything under control."
Annoyingly Vague level: Expert.
*
"I'm going to tell Wanda and that little coterie of supplicants you keep around every venerable magician euphemism I can think of if you don't expand on what the f*ck 'Under control' means?" Hilde lays it out flat like only a Valkyrie from the Bronx can, and that monitor jumps a bit again, but this time it is in genuine more annoyance than interest. Especially as he's parading across the room, looking cool as a cucumber. "And you know that's not what I meant, stop being a smart ass."
*
Hilde is given a very flat look. The boys would know it as the Unamused Dad Look.
"If you can come up with something that my family has not, I will award you points for creativity, Deathscort." An eye-roll then. "You can recline there and gnash your teeth all you wish, but I truthfully can't tell you more than what I just said: they have it under control. I'm not trying to be a smart ass, despite your overwhelming conviction that I am one." He gestures with palms lifted up before dropping back down. "My hands are tied."
*
Of course, Hilde takes no shits and she gives the look RIGHT back. Only her's is more 'I've Been Gathering The Great Dead on 1,000 Years of Battlefields then Grew Up In The Bronx, NO FEAR.' So, basically, she's staring him down with the power of a thousand undead suns, even if she's a frail slip of a thing in a hospital bed. It's no matter. She smirks a bit deeper and listens.
"…Tied. You have ties to the Norns then, to know all of this? I am very hard pressed to believe that you have given someone enough CONTROL over you that you are truly NOT allowed to speak on the matter. You're just putting me on."
*
Given that he's matched stares with her boss, Lady Death, he's very much able to match the level of intensity and look perfectly comfortable doing it. Only one woman in his life can make him avert his gaze and she's currently off doing whatever she feels is appropriate in her daily routine.
"You are addressing the Sorcerer Supreme, remember? I know people. Beings," Strange amends with a shrug. "Gods," he adds with another tilt of his head, returning her smirk to a lesser degree. "They probably have tea with your mistress on a regular basis and gossip about us. Apparently, the Norns decided that this is Asgard's messiness and Asgard's alone. Thus, I cannot comment."
*
"No matter who you know or take tea with, or who those gods take tea with, we are the ones in the room here. You can simply say 'I don't want to tell you, Brunnhilde' because I do not trust your type right now. But do not hide behind other beings when it is just you and I. We are better friends than that. I am not Amora or some wandering dalliance. I am your ally." And, while she gives him headaches galore and seems to take active joy in needling his side sometimes, those words mean a LOT coming from the Valkyrie. It is a pledge as much as an affirmation. And she has already lain bare her very own people's information, on the foundation of their friendship. Her pale eyes look for some hint of the like from him. At least a glimmer of truth, not dodging words and frustration.
*
"Mmmmmrrrrrg." It's a frustrated sound from behind his hands that he drags down his face. "Hilde, please understand that there may or may not be something or someones preventing me from telling you anything." Strange folds his arms tightly. "You are an ally, you are a friend, and I'm not about to turn around and leave without healing you. I don't take your friendship lightly, even if you're annoying as hell as times."
He hmphs for good measure. "If you have any experience in dealing with gods, you should know that nothing — nothing — keeps them from directly intervening in your life. Nothing," is repeated once more, extra emphasis. "I don't take any joy in telling you that I cannot tell you things. I was treated like that for years and it's insulting when it's done in deliberate bad taste." His voice drops quieter but does not lose its clipped cadence. "Look to the Norns for your answers, not me."
*
The woman levels eyes at him for several heartbeats, silence between them except that damned monitor which is driving her up a wall far more than the Sorcerer Supreme. Finally, however, it seems that she comes to accept he's being honest. She sighs deeply and sinks back in the bed. "Fine. Fine. I shall look to the Norns. But… the All-Father seems to think the Norns are near about to attack Asgard. From your words, it would seem that is not so. Can you confirm that? You needn't say a thing, just…simply nod." Hilde's voice is strong, warm, from a deeper place than the slip of a body that is on the bed. Sometimes, she really just does go full Valkyrie and doesn't even realize it.
*
"I cannot." He levels this response like the knell of a solemn bell. "I am sworn to all forms of silence and possibly even inaction, Hilde." She might guess at the frustration it causes for him, so fond of control and bold moves as he is. "Until I am informed otherwise, this is…Asgard's mess. However, I can offer my aid in a healing spell, as we agreed upon earlier."
Strange rolls back the sleeves of his coat and moves to stand at the side of the bed. "Mind you, I can't have the hospital staff being suspicious. To what degree would you prefer to be healed? If you choose entirely, then it's incumbent upon you to explain why it happened and they might slip you sedatives." A small smirk appears.
*
A slight sigh, her ice eyes still leveled on him, but for all of her frustration, she does trust him. She's finally accepting this answer. Hilde tilts her head and waves him back, no longer snapping or biting off his head with a glare. She just sinks tiredly back into the bed. She looks smaller now, as if calling upon that power and confidence was actually, physically exhausting. Which it probably was. She reaches her unmonitor-ridden hand up to her face, dragging across thin features.
"If you can get the worst of the internal mess and any infection, I'll let them keep their sutures and scars. At least, hopefully, I can be out in a day or two. Damned gut wounds. They are… messy." And often prone to infection, probably why they are keeping her so strictly.
*
"That's an easy fix," the good Doctor murmurs, flexing his fingers. "They won't suspect anything of you being free of infection and perhaps less internally-bruised than when you arrived. They'll peg it up to medicine and your natural healing abilities."
He closes his eyes and when they're revealed again, they glow for the Mystical power he draws forth in order to cast the healing spell. "Changa." Hilde's heard it before, felt it before, and from its swirling origins around his hands like ribbons of spring-sky blue auroras, it threads down beneath the paper gown and bandaging. Cool, crisp, like a drink of water after a long trek, it sluices through veins and arteries, burning out whatever infectious material attempts to take up residence within her. The soreness of clotted patches of blood should fade by the second. As he holds out a hand with spread fingers overtop her core to maintain the spell's directional focus, he murmurs distractedly,
"Don't tell your mistress I decided to keep you here rather than doom you to the possibility of meeting her face-to-face."
*
The woman actually allows her eyes to shut and breath to come a bit easier as he knits and cleans things inside. She knew she was in pain, she didn't realize just how MUCH pain, however, until so much of it fades at his careful, focused work. Now, as long as a nurse doesn't come in the door at this moment, they should manage through this strange transaction without issue or backlash. Hilde just takes in a deep, thankful breath, sinking deeper into her pillow and savoring just being able to relax. She might actually sleep for a while, at this rate. "Mm… it'll take more than a damned deer to send me to my mistress. Besides, I… suspect I'd just return to my proper body. But… I like this one right now. As annoying and fragile as it is."
*
As luck would have it, no one walks in upon them. Strange is able to finish out the healing per the stated limitations and the cessation of the energy fed to the spell means that the visible current dies away from his hands. It fizzles out into her torso and disperses naturally through her, warming to her body and absorbing within musculature before disintegrating into atoms, lost to the physiology beneath her skin.
He inhales and exhales in a last measured cycle and then shakes his head a little. "Glad to hear that us puny mortals are growing on you," he murmurs as he wiggles his fingers a few times, testing the return of standard sensation in lieu of conducting Mystical energy. "You need to treat it nicely, however. You keep breaking it." He remains standing by the bed looking down at her. "It's normal to feel tired after a healing, by the way. Standard human reaction."
*
"…I dislike being a standard human. It's… uncouth. And also f*cking sucks." Hilde teases huskily, but the energy her body spent speeding up all those processes coaxed by his magic? It's completely done her in. Hilde is actually having issues keeping her eyes open, even if she's trying to fight it like some cranky toddler before bed time. She gives him a casual wave towards the door, "Thank you. Go…go, now, before I get all… sappy, or something awful, and confess what an honor it is to be your friend or ask you to read me a bedtime tale." She winks at him teasingly. She won't let herself fall asleep with him in the room, but damn it's a hard fight right now.
*
With hands in pockets, Strange is quietly pleased with the work he's done for today. It shows in the gracious grin he throws up in response to the wink.
"If you ever get sappy with me, Deathscort, I'll have to conclude that you've either lost your mind or the Apocalypse is impending. I'm also not telling you any bedtime stories." He meanders over to the door and pauses with one hand on the doorknob. "They're full of uncouth human morals and dragon-slaying and all sorts of boring things to a Valkyrie. Still…" He gives her a respectful nod, friend-to-friend. "You're welcome, Hilde. Feel free to keep me appraised of things — and eat your jello."
*
"…mm… uncouth humans and dragon-slaying… Now I ALMOST want you to tell me one. Go, before I change my mind!" She calls out after him, waving him out one last time. Hilde listens for the door to shut and finally stops fighting to keep her eyes open. She's dropped off into sleep before he's even out of the hospital.
*