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The Enchantress had been absent as of late, about two weeks to be exact. She’d just simply, ceased to visit, it would seem, as was her whim. At least, so it was until now.
Amora sat, glass of something fruity smelling in hand as she reclined in a plush sofa in Mordo’s New York apartment. Delicately curved legs flung over the side of the sofa’s arm and her head tilted back to soak up the sun’s golden rays that streamed in through the window.
It would seem that with the coming of Spring, being heralded rather than winter, there seemed to be a waxing in her appearance and power. As if after a long, dry winter, the Enchantress was once again on the upswing of the seasons.
And she was.
It showed in the easy smile that pulled at her full lips, the halo of golden light that seemed to kiss her skin and light up those feline green eyes of her’s. In the emerald green robe of sheer silk that hugged her curves with a thick swathe of golden lace at the sleeves and hem. That necklace that she’d acquired beside him hung heavily around her neck in a dripping flame of limelight.
*
A mirror on the wall shimmers.
An image briefly appears in its surface — a familiar image, at least to some; it is that of a swarthy face, eyeing the apartment with a careful gaze. When its eyes spot Amora, the face smiles. Then it… rather melts. All very sadly, really. Of course, it is only an illusion.
The reflection in the mirror melts like ice to water — darkwater, to be precise — running in rivulets down the wall until forming a circular pool on the floor. Oddly enough, it does not render anything actually wet. Then, out of the pool rises the baron Karl Mordo — clad in a tunic of emerald, and a black cloak, the theatrical kind. When he finally stands there, present and accounted for, the pool at his feet is gone.
"My dear, dear Enchantress," he murmurs from that coy smile on his features. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"
*
Amora seemed to ignore his solidification, her head tilted back as she sipped at whatever it was that was in her goblet. Though mead was a good guess as anything. She held out a hand toward Mordo as he addressed her, green eyes flashing with coy amusement.
“Much has come to pass in Asgard, my darling. And Strange leaves me with naught but riddles. I believe his tongue is tied in regards to what can fix my Thunderer’s memory.” She practically purred over the rim of her goblet, dipping a finger into it idly.
“The Norns threaten all of Asgard, as if something was wronged. Loki has been.. dispersed , his magic flung over the realms..” A head tilt as she eyed him.
“Tell me are you likewise bound to noninterference?”
*
"Noninterference?" Mordo echoes with a bemused smile upon his face, and then turns that smile upon Amora as he walks over to take her hand, lean forward, and kiss it gently. "I confess, my dear, to being surprised that my old friend could refuse you anything. I, on the other hand, am inhibited by no such lapses in judgement."
He smiles again, and gestures with his free hand toward the kitchen, summoning over another goblet and a bottle of wine with which to fill it. He takes a drink the moment it settles into his hand; the bottle floats back to where it belongs. "I'm not entirely in the dark as to recent events with Asgard," says he as he idly strokes the rim of his goblet, thinking. "There are, however, some questions still pining for want of answers. Most distressing — especially for you. How may I be of assistance, Amora?"
*
A happy sigh pulled from her lips as he approached to press a kiss against her delicately manicured hand. She preened under his words, as she always did, and fluttered those thick eyelashes of her own up at him. A smile upturned at the corners of her lipsticked mouth.
As he gestures to the kitchen and summons a goblet, Amora shifted in her chair, legs sprawled over an armrest as she reclined, shoulders thrown back to expose the wide expanse of her collarbone even more in a practiced move. One of her hands reaching up to comb through golden locks as if she were bored. Even as those green eyes of her’s snapped in his direction.
“I believe I have found my Thunderer, Thor. However he lacks all manner of memory, and power. Even the famed hammer lacks its divine Enchantments. Tis possible he is but a mortal, but I think not… When I asked Strange’s thoughts on the manner, he offered me a riddle and vanished..” Her voice dry with irritation and desertion at the thought.
“I scent Loki’s work all about the Nine Realms, but have been unable to derive the intent behind it beyond the fact tis his contingency plan for his.. Death or some other such nonsense.” She shrugged, and lifted a hand to inspect her nails with a narrowed eyed glance.
“Tis annoying.”
A pause followed as Amora eyed him up and down, a frown beginning to tug at the corners of her full lips.
“And it would appear that Lady Sif is alive, and has contacted Thor by some old means. She begs his aid.. And I fear I might lose him to her wiles again..” She fell silent after that, her cocky smirk falling entirely.
*
"Lady Sif lives?" Karl responds with a degree of surprise, followed by a puzzled frown. "Her existence has been in some doubt… I thought the souls of Asgardian warriors were usually… accounted for? One way or another. Interesting…" He wanders around the other side of the couch and lightly traces his fingers up to Amora's shoulder and neck.
"I can understand why this would be distressing — if anything could possibly restore Thor to… himself, then I imagine Lady Sif could do it… There exists now a moment of vulnerability there… it could be exploited, but one wonders how?"
He smiles and leans over Amora to breathe in the scent of her hair. "I am, as ever, at your disposal, dear Enchantress."
*
Amora sighed as she leaned back against her chair, head tilting back to peer up at him from beneath a ring of black eyelashes. A plaintiff hand reaching upwards to trace delicately manicured fingers against his jawline.
“I desire the Thunderer to be mine. I desire to be Queen of the realm Eternal. That is all I have ever desired.” She breathed, and exhaled a slow and shallow breath. Another flutter of her eyelashes. Nails scraping gently against him as they trailed away. Her back arched faintly so she might keep her gaze upon him.
“Sif is a threat to that. She and her mannish ways. I need some way to ensure that she does not interfere with my plans. A way to be certain that she does not get to sway the Thunderer away from me.”
*
Karl ponders.
A pleasurable shudder passes through his body at the Enchantress' touch upon his face. It is a shame when she removes her fingertips. Patience, he reminds himself, sipping from his goblet. All in good time…
"Perhaps a spell to ensure the Thunderer does not remember who she is to him?" he suggests slowly. "Such incantations are volatile, however — it would require reagents and preparation to ensure it… stuck." He is loath to suggest it, but surely it would not do Thor any harm? Or Sif for that matter. They are not important people to him, either — but they are allies of his friends, Stephen and Wanda…
Mordo smiles.
He cannot refuse Amora. He would not.
*
“He does not, currently remember anything. If it is him,” She frowned faintly, “I believe it to be him.” She rose from her seat, turning around to look him up and down, a hand settling on her hip as she shifted her weight.
“Thus a forgetting spell would be useless, my dear.” She tossed her hair back with a roll of her shoulders and paced round the room. Her gaze narrowed, bare feet tapping as she thought and thought, and paced, hips swaying in that oh so hypnotic manner—even if she wasn’t trying.
“Nay, I need something to use against Sif. Perhaps a forgetting spell on her. Perhaps I might be able to conjure a love spell for her and set her eyes upon someone else? But who? The warrior maiden would not trust me for aught.. Hmm, I could just remove her soul, as I did to Brunnhilde.. No, no, where would I store it? Never mind the lash back when I finally let her go.. Hmm but if I was Queen..” She was speaking to herself, or out loud anyways.
A goblet appeared in her hand with a puff of smoke and magic and she sipped at it, making her way back toward him and running her hand up his arm to twine against the back of his neck. “We could trap her in another dimension, possibly? No, that wouldn’t do. She can move freely about the realms. Hmm. Or how would you desire a warrior maiden, a battle woman, to warm your bed? I could make her fall madly in lust with you.” Her voice was soft, sweet and sinful as she leaned forward to drag a kiss from him.
*
Mordo lifts his eyebrows and smiles.
He leans into that kiss, enjoying it immensely while at the same time pondering his response. Ah, how he loves these games. Breaking contact, he gently caresses Amora's cheek with the back of his fingers and says, "And how could I bring myself to bed another when my eyes only desire to see you in my arms, my goddess? Unless you intend me to lead her on… which in itself may arouse jealousy. Perhaps have her fall for one of these mere mortals — that should have complications enough, and keep her here on Midgard where you may keep an eye upon her…"
His eyes flash and he bobs his eyebrows at the Enchantress, smirking.
*
Amora flashed him a smirk, sliding her hands up his chest and along his shoulders as she pressed her body close against his own. With eyelashes fluttering his way, she released a soft hmm of a breath before she spoke, her voice soft and sweet as sin.
“I want you to just make her go away. So I can have Thor all to myself. As the most beautiful of all the realms that ever was and every will be, I deserve him. Do I not? I deserve to be Queen of the Nine Realms.” She breathed, leaning in as if to press another kiss against his lips before she tilted her head back and broke off from him with a sauntering gait.
“You can do that for me, can’t you darling?” She purred, glancing at him from under a curtain of blonde hair that tumbled down her shoulders in a halo of gold.
*