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Amora hadn't regained her colors, not even days after the shade had attacked her and been driven back. None of her potions seemed to have any effect, and she was constantly getting up and wandering the apartment in fits of annoyance. Though by and large, she didn't use her magic, and more often than not was found in her rather impressively sized bed. A mirror in hand as she scowled at whatever she saw there.
Even attempts at using mortal makeup provided no color to her grey toned skin, and it became increasingly clear that she'd need something well beyond what was available in Midgard to heal. Yet there was no sign of the shadow lurking in the dark either, whenever Donald left or returned to the apartment, he seemed to not be followed.
Yet Amora still persisted that the shade wasn't gone, that perhaps, she was even stronger than before. After all, the shadow had taken at least half of whatever she'd been after from the Enchantress.
Thus it was that Amora sat sulking as she'd taken to doing, in her bedroom. Her hair was a faded blonde, her eyes a diminished green that had lightened to the palest of shades. All of which contrasted sharply with the surroundings of her room. She wore a silken robe of the deepest greens, shot through with golden thread and she reclined against a mountain of pillows. All silken with bright and riotous colors and patterns. Above silk draped from the ceiling and wove around golden bedposts carved with intricate designs.
*
"Your temperament ill befits you, Amora," comes Donald's voice— chiding her slightly, but not unkind. He stands in the doorway of her room, wearing a loose, collared dress shirt, untucked and with the sleeves rolled up a few turns. He seems to have gained stature even as Amora's lost hers; taller, bolder, a vivacious glow to his cheeks long absent in previous months.
"It pains me to see you so ill. Not just pale of flesh but pale of spirit. Can we do nothing to return your humors to balance?" he inquires, in that gentle, rolling baritone.
*
Amora sat up against the pillows, setting the mirror aside, flashes of shapes, movement and life flowed on the surface. It would seem the Enchantress was watching the lives of others throughout the Nine Realms for her amusement. Near enough the same moping ways that mortal women sighed over the programing on the television when in morose moods.
She rose, rolling her shoulders back as she approached Donald, reaching out to slide her manicured hands over his chest to settle on his arms. "I spoke with Loki, and Scarlett. We think there might yet be something done." She fluttered those eyelashes of her's, dark and thick and still painfully beautiful. She looked like something out a silver screen drama.
"But tis very dangerous."
*
Donald frowns momentarily, but rests his big hands on Amora's slender waist as she approaches, drawing her close enough to stand belly to belly with her. He brushes the hair from her face with one hand, and cups her cheek as he looks down at her.
"Loki and Scarlett have strange and wild ideas, but they clearly have broached secrets of magic beyond my ken," Donald admits, looking uncomfortable with this proposition.
"If 'tis dangerous, though, I'll aid you however I can. What is it you will need of me?" he inquires, putting himself wholly in Amora's hands.
*
Amora sighed, leaning into the touch and closing her eyes for the briefest of moments before returned her gaze back to him. "You shall have to travel with them to Alfheim, and Vanaheim at the very least. A sleeping dragon's scale, and the tears of a pixie are two of the objects we think might aid in my restoration. The last is.. bit difficult to obtain. Especially as none have direct access to Asgard." She pursed her lips together and dropped her gaze, leaning her figure against him.
"I like it not, but Loki believes you all can manage it." Her gaze lifted back to him, and she leaned upon her toes to press a kiss against his lips.
*
"Loki is not the most earnest of tongues," Donald frowns, before being cut off by the kiss. "But it seems he cares for your well-being, so— I'll hold him to it."
"The scale of a dragon and the tears of a pixie," Donald repeats, dutifully. "What is the last bit, then?" he inquires, looking at Amora. "I know not if anyone can return to Asgard, but… surely a soul exists somewhere who can cross that sacred bridge," he offers, supporting her weight as she leans against him.
*
"Loki shall be armed with arms and armaments from my hordes. He and Scarlett lack the proper fittings for such a venture, and t'was his request. I dislike giving such a man anything that resembles a weapon, but .. we cannot gain these objects without his aid." Amora glanced down at her hands as she swept them over the fabric of his shirt in a deepening silence for a long moment before she responded to his last question.
"A golden apple. From Asgard. If I were not exiled none of this would be required. The healers there have access to such things and I'd be whole and hale within a night." Her lips pursed as she glanced up at him. "Yet I am. And Loki is.. would be one of Asgard's most wanted criminals of all. Lady Scarlett was only permitted in the Crown princes' train for a set time and was constantly escorted.."
*
"Aye, but… perhaps a penitent man may venture there," Donald tells Amora. "Loki fancies himself a godling, not a herald or a worshipper. He would put himself on the same pedestal as Thor himself." He twitches a little, shaking off a rush of strange memories and hollow perceptions at the edge of his eye. "But a pilgrimage to Asgard— perhaps, if anyone may venture there, it will be myself. And if a golden apple is the cure for your ailments, then I will find a way to that land, even if I must beg a valkyrie escort me to Valhalla herself," he says, firmly.
*
A shrug followed, and Amora tossed her hair back over her shoulders with a twist of her lips. "Loki is.. was a prince of Asgard. A dark prince, but one none the less. He was a god. And I believe the man that calls himself such to be so. He answered your prayer for aid, did he not? He could not hear such a thing, if he were not." She murmured, curling her figure in close to him.
"I caution you to have care in Asgard. We know not if the All-father rules now, or what has occurred since Loki's past self was vanquished and cast out. If I were able, I would go with you, limited as I am however.. tis too much for me." She whispered, trailing fingernail against the fabric of his collar.
*
Donald hugs Amora to him, kissing her brow reassuringly as he's able. "I cannot imagine what such a place would be like," he admits, a bit quietly. "It seems a strange thing, to simply march to Heaven and demand an audience with Odin himself. I hope at least I am offered a warrior's death, should he strike me down for my insouciance," he says, managing a forced laugh.
"But we must find a place with high and powerful magic, if we wish to restore you," he agrees, pushing Amora's hair back from her face. "And if that means Asgard, then to Asgard I will go— and who knows? Perhaps my lord Thor will see the honor in my quest and grant me a boon," he chuckles.
*
Amora tilted her head back, eyelashes fluttering as he pressed a kiss to her brow. For a moment there was a burst of color where his lips made contact before it slowly faded back to the dull grey hue. The Enchantress was a goddess of desire, it made sense that if there was desire, she'd be able to draw a minute amount of power to herself naturally.
If she were in Asgard, she'd be able to draw ambient magic to restore herself, and with the techniques of the healers, be well on the mend in hours. Yet Midgard drew heavily on her powers every day she remained. It was one of the reasons she struggled so to return.
"Odin has forbidden mortals before from the Realm Eternal, but he rarely smites them upon the hall's floors." She murmured softly, reaching up with both hands to cup at his cheeks.
"Darling, I.." She exhaled a breath, "There are a great many out there that will see you as Thor himself. And it seems each day brings you closer to his stature. If 'tis possible.. if you are he indeed, you will be accepted whole heartedly to Asgard proper.. As her prince. I know I need not say such things, but 'tis a matter that it might occur.."
*
Donald's lips thin at the breathy suggestion, and he looks away. He doesn't reject his embrace of Amora, but his arms certainly loosen around her slightly. The big man is quiet for a moment, letting that line of conversation die in silence.
"I have been reading the chronicles of Asgard," he says, after a beat. "It seems there may be one way yet to reach those golden lands, though the Bifrost be closed to mortals. The Valkyriad travel freely from Midgard to Asgard, ferrying the spirits of warriors to Valhalla. Crossing into the spirit realm. I think if we seek out a Valkyrie on Earth, I might challenge her for right of passage, and on her wings we'll fly to Odin's doorstep."
*
Amora, reaching up to gently massage the line of his shoulders, attempted to angle herself to catch his eye after he spoke. "Impressive, yes, you may indeed yet gain admittance in such a way. Loki, himself, knows of back channels and secret ways. I know them as well, but they are not for the faint of heart and without my magic I would dare not tread them." She pursed her lips together, smoothing her fingers against the muscles she could reach.
"I would not send you on such paths either. Your idea is a sound one. Perhaps the best we can hope for." She kissed him lightly, and smiled up at him. "Tis a very clever approach."
*
Donald gently chucks Amora's chin and kisses her in return, smiling at her in pleased satisfaction at her approval. "I am pleased I can be of service, my lady," he tells her, still supporting her comfortably with one thick arm. "It may be a perilous path, but— Thor and fortune favor the bold," he says. "I shall enlist the aid of Loki, and Strange, and whomever else will lend a ready arm to a perilous quest," he assures her. "What could be more noble than aiding a damsel in distress, aye?" he says with a chuckle, grinning wide down at the curvy blonde leaning against him.
*
Amora's full lips pulled into a sultry smile as he kissed her, returning a blush of color to her lips that too faded back to the pale colors it had been. "I favor those that make such very clever plans and so fearlessly," She added fluttering her eyelashes as she practically purred as she ran her hands up and down his back, lightly brushing her nails against his shirt.
"I shall make bold with you, for such. I promise you." She winked up at him, a teasing lightness to her person that had been absent in recent days.
"And I shall contact Strange. He might be swayed to aid in such a pursuit. Though he likes me naught. I cannot imagine why."
*
"Make bold?" Donald asks, arching a brow. He gooses Amora's side, playfully, and lifts her off the ground. Dense as she is for an Asgardian, he surprisingly has little effort twirling her in his arms and holding her aloft. "Well, I shall hold you to that," he chivvies her, amusement in his voice. "A hero's welcome traditionally includes a feast and the welcoming arms of his woman," he says, trying to sound sly and mostly managing just to be boyishly charming. "I assume saving your life carries some special reward all its own, then?" he asks, banteringly.
*
A delighted, bright and cheerful, laugh escaped Amora as he goosed her side and lifted her up off the ground. Her legs curling up beneath her reflexively as he twirled her around. Her hands clutched at his shoulders to steady herself before she found the ground once more. A breathless grin followed his words, and she tossed her hair back with a roll of her shoulders, the robe slipping enticingly over one pale shoulder.
"Well, I suppose, if I am your woman, then you could expect such a welcome," She levelled back, arching a brow upwards as she coyly twisted in his grip to press her back up against him and crane her head to the side and glance up at him.
"And as such, saving my life would carry endless rewards all on its own merit." She added, a smile hooking at the corner of her lips. "Of course, I would have to be considered your woman first." A pause as she watched him, fluttering her eyelashes and edging an arm up and around his person.
*
"Are you not?" Donald asks, a bit of confusion barely dimming his easy, boyish grin. "Have we not shared adventure together? Dined in each other's company? Do we not share a bed, and have for some months?" he inquires, fingers splaying across her belly as she backs against him.
"If you seek to entrap me with your feminine wiles, you've done an admirable job of it," he congratulates Amora, kissing her temple and looking at her in the mirror above her low vanity. His other hand strokes her bare shoulder, admiring the smooth skin there. "Loki might think me a fool, but I think I'd be the grander fool if I paid blind eye to your beauty and compassion."
*
Amora reclined against him, her smile warming considerably as he spoke. "I tease, darling." She tilted her head back, pressing a kiss against his jawline. "I am gladly, your's." She whispered against him, dragging the tip of her nose against his neck. "None have ever, in my life, been able to call me thus. I am a woman ill suited to stay for one man's life, bed and love.. but for you. I am willing to do so."
One of her hands dropped to press against his that settled against her stomach. "Loki has reason, good reason, to believe it possible for me to ensnare a man's heart. 'Tis truly what I have done for many a long decade in my life." She murmured, her gaze catching his in the large, ornate mirror opposite of them. The gilded edges reflected light back into the room where the lights above breathed life into the carvings that surrounded it.
"However, I could never ensnare you in such a way. I would not have the heart for it."
*
Donald runs his hand along Amora's belly in gentle strokes, fingers stroking from sternum to her navel. "Perhaps not in that way, but I am ensnared nonetheless," Donald tells Amora, still caressing her gently and hugging her back against him, her soft curves melding against his harder lines of muscle and sinew. "If my company pleases you, you'll always have it. And I make no claim on you or your time, save that I find your presence intoxicating and your companionship most dear."
"I know not how long our time together will be," he tells Amora. "But if you deign to share some of your time with me, then I shall share mine in like kind. And try not to let jealousy claim me when I see others admiring your loveliness," he grins, nibbling at the lobe of her ear.
*
Amora leaned back into him with a pleased sound trilling from her lips, her eyes fluttering shut for a brief moment as she simply enjoyed his touch. "I desire nothing more than to be thy lady," She breathed, her gaze centering on his figure wrapped around her own in the mirror's reflection. "I have had many a lover over the centuries, but I am forced perforce to say, I love thee. Above and beyond such past remembrances and dreams."
His nip earned a soft and breathless sound, green eyes flashing with a heat that promised far more. "I would not trade your company for the world. And I find it intoxicating to hear your snarls of jealousy." She purred up at him, dragging her fingernails lightly against his arms that wound around her.
"Though you've no need of them. For I am your lady, well and true." She fluttered her eyelashes at the reflection in the mirror. "So long as you know I shalt always be a jealous woman as well in my own right."
*
"And I have come to love thee as well," Donald tells Amora, holding her close. He grins at her reflection, bumping her a little off balance as he hugs her hips against him with a playful jostling. "So it seems we share the same page, and we'll share our little jealous streak," he suggests. "As I'd not trade you for any woman, and you'd not give me up for the world, we seem to have found some harmony in this regard," he grins. "Though I find myself admiring your own streak of green," he chides, nuzzling at the nape of Amora's neck. "I shall endeavour not to test your jealous nature— though I ask that you at least try not to defenestrate any poor lass who mistakes my friendly ways for amorous intent, aye? Enjoyable though that fight might be to watch," he says, tickling her side.
*
A pleased sound, contented, left Amora at his words. Her head tilting back to better give him access to nuzzling her neck. Her robe slipping ever dangerously lower around her shoulders as she pressed up against him. "Green is my color, darling." She shot back, and amused tug pulling at the corners of her lips. She flashed him a white toothed grin as he asked her to not to toss some poor girl that glanced his way.
"I make no promises!" She squealed a laugh as he tickled her side, and she squirmed in his grip to avoid his searching fingers. Laughter trailed from her lips as she danced upon bare feet on the plush carpet, and she bent double, squirming this way and that. Amora was ticklish, it would seem.
*
Donald laughs merrily and holds Amora fast in his hands, keeping her hips pressed firmly back against him as she squirms and twists in his grasp. "No promises? A fine start we're off to," he tells her, finally wrapping his arms around her and pinning her in place. He kisses her bare shoulder, then lightly rakes the alabaster flesh with his teeth, hungrily, and cocks a lazily appreciative eye to the increasingly risque tilt of her neckline. "Very well, then I'll be the honest one, and you… can try, I suppose," he says, growling hungrily and pressing his lips against the side of Amora's neck.
*
Loki knocks on the door to Amora's apartment, anxiously waiting outside. He won't wait forever, because he knows Amora is laid up and her servants might be out.
*
Amora gasped as Donald pinned her in place against him, her eyes fluttering shut as she gave into the hungry temptation he offered her. Color bursting where his lips met her skin before fading again. She was half way to releasing the ties on her robe when the knock on the door followed. An irritated sound pealed from her lips, and she sagged back against his figure. Her wards alerting her to Loki's presence outside her door as sure as if a servant had announced his presence.
She groaned, closing her eyes. "Tis Loki." She breathed.
*
Donald pauses as well at the knock, head craning, and then Amora's words elicit a ragged, irritated sigh from the big fellow. "His timing is… unfortunate," Donald mutters, stepping away from Amora. He gives them both a long ten seconds to get themselves more or less in order, but makes little effort to conceal the fact that they're being interrupted. Putting his sternest expression on, he waits for Amora to give him the nod to go ahead, and then pulls the door open and scowls at Loki.
"Loki," he tells the slender fellow, his tone far from welcoming, though polite. "Is there some emergency at hand, I trust?"
*
Loki looks Amora and Donald up and down and lids his green eyes. "Yesssss…I need Amora's scrying pool or whatever it is she has in here, because the Wild Hunt has been called and my Kai is missing. Believe me, if I could be doing what YOU TWO are, I would be. Until Kai is found…I will not give you any rest…" A decent threat to the lovers.
*
Amora made no attempts to cover up what she'd been up to with the Thunderer. Her green silk robe hung off her shoulders, and she reeked of desire. A cloying magic filled the air around her, unfulfilled and clearly displeased. She dragged her hands through faded gold locks, fluffing her hair back from her neck and face as she listened to Thor and Loki, remaining just inside the apartment proper.
"Then come in. And hurried be on your way." She breathed, and turned to start stalking toward the kitchen. Magic rippled in the air at her command, and under the illusions of a modern kitchen was one fit for an Asgardian witch. Stone walled with marble veined in gold crawled up the walls. Ivy hung from the modern lighting above and a vast sum of spelling equipment was stashed upon shelves amid books, scrolls and other archaic arcane tools.
"The Wild Hunt should have ended its run on May Day. We heard their hounds in the sky above. They should have returned to the other realms already." She called over her shoulder, bare feet tapping over rich green carpet. Around the room she stalked, and dragged a silk sheet from over a golden bowl before moving to fetch a pitcher from the sink and filling it with water to pour into it.
*
Donald growls at Loki, low and subvocally— but Amora seems willing to lend him a hand, so Donald rolls his eyes and steps aside. A fraction of an inch, but he does shift, though Loki won't find easy passage into the room. "The Hunt? They aren't in the habit of kidnapping people for idle reasons," Donald frowns. "A few are hunted, aye, but 'tis a rare occurrence. Of all the quarry in all the worlds, why would they seek out the diminutive Kai? He is poor fodder for sport and would make an even less serviceable hound."
*
"Because of ME…Thor. I have surely set him in the path of danger…since becoming myself. Oh wait…I still have to call you Donald?" He arches a brow, and then follows Amora and her sexy pheramones to the kitchen. He oozes anxiousness. Sure, he knows that Kai is not dead, but there are terrible things that could be happening to him.
*
Amora was busy throwing in several variants of herbs and lighting candles with a match when Loki strode into the kitchen. Her skin was still the pale imitation that it should have been, as were her green eyes and golden hair. Yet in the dim light of the spelling room they did not stand out as horribly wrong. "What drew the Wild Hunt to Midgard out of their season?" She asked, hitching a brow upwards.
"It had naught to do with my request for those items in which I might be whole and hale once more, was it?" And blew out a match to toss it away once it had served its purpose. "And have you something that belonged to Kai? It will make such things easier, especially if they have any protection magic to discourage such searches." She glanced toward the blonde behind Loki, her lips thinning as Loki questioned calling him Donald versus Thor.
"Test him not. And not in my spelling room. If he throws you through a wall, tis your own fault. Trickster."
*
"Call me what you will, Loki," Donald says, grumbling. "Just call yourself quits 'fore long. Your timing is most inconvenient." He waves Loki through the door, shutting it, and moves to a chair. With an adolescent sort of petulence, Donald flops into the easy chair and kicks his feet out ahead of him, leaving Loki and Amora to scry and work their magics.
*
Loki reaches into his pocket and then fusses with the other one, looking for it. Finally he manages to pull out a brush. "Here you are. I knew you would need that. I have no idea where the wild hunt is coming from. I attempted to get back to my OWN belongings, in Asgard, but I could not. I am barred from Asgard, currently, same as you." A mild frown. "Even though this is an emergency." Then he calls out to Thor, "I will be gone before long! Though, I did meet a Valkyrie today. You would like her. She's blonde too!"
*
Amora shot the Thunderer sprawled on the seat an amused look, heat flickering in her eyes as he grumbled. "I promise I shall do my best to ensure the wait is one worth the time," She called from over the scrying pool she'd created.
A manicured hand took up the brush and she picked it over, finding a lock of hair left behind. She wound the fine strand over and over a thin cord where a crystal hung. She slowly started to spin it over the pool, an image slowly taking shape therein.
"You mean Brunnhilde? You met her here in Midgard? I was aware that she was here, but I thought her to be trapped within a mortal form." She frowned distinctly, pale green eyes settling on Loki.
"I am exiled from Asgard lightly compared to the crimes your past self imparted. They would not take kindly to your attempts to return. Emergency or not, not without the golden prince to plead your case before the All-father." She'd been in such a boat last fall. Here was hoping that she might earn favor enough to see it lifted entirely..
"You have the weapons from my armory however, correct?" She asked Loki, and looked down at the pool of water that had busily formed to show.. where ever it was that Kai had been taken to.
*
"A Valkyrie?" Donald's on his feet in a trice, moving towards Loki with an intent look on his face. "And her name is Brunnhilde?" He gives Amora a stunned look. "You /knew/ of one? Why didn't you tell me her name?" he demands of the blonde sorceress. "I had no idea where to start looking— I was nearly resigned to simply going door to door and trying to find her," he grumbles. "Does she yet serve Asgard? Or is she banished here, too?"
*
"Brunnhilde serves Asgard yet. She came to punch me in the face…no doubt on the orders of Odin himself. However, I convinced her not to. That my mission was noble and urgent, currently. I did try asking Heimdal for help, before I came here. I believe it is no coincidence she arrived shortly after. I could see her true form…glorious as it ever was. She is not in a mortal form, only a disguise." Loki reveals to Amora without holding anything back about the Valkyrie.
*
|ROLL| Loki +rolls 1d20=Rogue for: #-1 INVALID ARGUMENT
*
Amora shot Donald a look from where she worked over the bowl filled with water. "I thought her trapped within a mortal frame, without access to her magics, and enamored of a mortal man. T'was what I knew of her last I saw her. She would not, could not, have served such a purpose. Yet Loki's news.. troubles me greatly." She frowned, lips pursing together tightly until what color there remained disappeared.
"She was The Valkyrie, darling. Not just a valkyrie. But Odin's favored. If she has returned to his favor once more and has been restored to her full power.." She hesitated and shook her head, snapping a box of herbs closed and putting it away.
*
Donald withdraws with a pensive, troubled look. To suddenly have a Valkyrie in arms reach— and then to hear that she might be might not have the answers he seeks— clearly troubles the big man. He falls quiet, mulling over the possibilities as Loki and Amora return to their magics.
*
SOME TIME LATER
*
Loki looks into the pool as the vision comes into the pool. He takes a long look at it, memorizing it, no doubt so that he can try to teleport there later. "Well, I shall leave the two of you to your fucking…I have an elf to rescue. Do not trouble too greatly over the woman, Amora. I am certain she could have no reason to hate you." His voice drips with sarcasm.
*
Amora glanced at the vision where the elf was being kept, and a furrow of her brow followed. A faint inkling of concern flickering over her features. Yet that vanished at Loki's words and her concentration broke. Scattering the image to leave nothing but water behind. She scowled, her lips curling back in a silent snarl, her eyes narrowing as she glowered at the Trickster in question.
"You canker-ridden asshole." She snapped, "By the Nine Realms, I swear, I’ll make you regret that!" She was lurching upon her toes at Loki, but there was no magic summoned at her anger. Nothing to play about her fingers in her rage as was usual.
Thus the Enchantress was left a simple, angry woman without the famed magic to back her. Though she looked no less livid at the sly insults. It was typical for Loki, even past Loki, managed such barbs with ease. It was his nature.
Just as it was Amora's to fly into a rage and smack him up side the head if she was able to catch him. Yet he had the benefit of being on the opposite side of the scrying pool.
*
Donald makes a strangled noise at Loki's base insouciance, which is all the warning Loki gets before Thor lunges at him. He's moving shockingly quickly— faster every day since their trip to the Norn pools, and both both his big hands going for Loki's throat.
Some might think that Donald intends to throttle Loki— but the big man looks ready to bounce Loki's skull off the ceiling a few times if he can get a finger on his collar.
*
Loki is a slippery little shit. As Amora yells at him, he is already moving, to get out of the range of her spells so that he can make his way to where Kai is being held. His lips part to say something witty, no doubt, and that's when he runs straight into the lunging Thor. He is hindered…no help for that, but he does manage to avoid being soundly grappled, with a twist of his shoulders, "Thor! AHH…Do you not use dirty language in your foreplay?! Or…perhaps everything else is dirty enough…" It's a bit of a slap-fight going on as Loki bats at Thor's arms to keep from being grappled.
*
Amora didn't have access to her magic to lob it at the fleeing Trickster, but she did have a kitchen filled with potions. Maybe one of them would turn the dark Prince of Asgard into something. She didn't look as she grabbed one and lobbed it his way. "Loki!" She snarled, grabbing up a few more potions and getting ready to throw them at the Trickster once more.
"Get out! Get out! Get Out!" She shrieked.
At least even if the potions hit, they wouldn't last long. The vials tiny and hardly meant to curse the person for more than a few days. Why did Amora have such things? Who could say.
*
"Dost thou woo Kai with such language? Oh, wait— you've misplaced him," Donald grates at Loki, ignoring Loki's flailing palms stoically. He lunges to put Loki in a headlock and misses, roundly— but Amora's skillful missiles miss the big man quite nicely as he stumbles out of her line of fire.
*
What goes out the door is not what came in it. Though he still seems to be humanoid, he has taken on a set of furry white ears and a long spotted tail, not one, but two different beasts affecting him, at the very least. What changes there might be under his clothing is unrevealed…only that he is gone…and really TOTALLY fucked up the mood in the apartment. Well…that's Loki.
*
As Loki finally fled, Amora turned her focus toward the blonde that remained. She exhaled a breath, shaking out her hair as she approached him with the usual grace and sway of her hips that she usually held in ample surplus. She reached up to run her hand over his arm, sighing softly as she tossed her hair back with a roll of her bare shoulders.
"I know he speaks thusly to earn a rise, tis his way.. but it does ever light my ire." She murmured, working her strong fingers to massage the plane of his shoulder and the muscles therein.
"Thank you, for coming to mine defense nonetheless." She smiled, fluttering eyelashes as she leaned forward to press a coy kiss to his cheek. "A hero truly."
*
"He'd be well served with a firm thrashing," Donald mutters— but Amora's kiss lightens his mood, and his unclenches his jaw when he smiles down at her. "I'm only sorry I wasn't swifter to chastise him. He's a slippery fool— but your aim with your potions was most swift and well-aimed," he congratulates her, giving her curvy approach an appreciative once over. His arm encircles her waist, and he stoops to kiss her again. "Can you recall where we were, 'fore we were interrupted?" he inquires, with a mirthful expression his features.
*
A laugh escaped her at his smile as his arms encircled around her waist once more. "Tis in his nature. He lashed out in an attempt to hide his fear for Kai. A sweeter elf I have naught seen before. I believe he hath Loki's heart wholly. Poor little elf. He kept me company when I was trapped with bed rest." She broke off at his kiss, which she returned filled with her own measure of passion, and nipped at his lower lip.
"I know the Trickster's heart, for I know I would be hard pressed to do aught else if I were in his position. Livid though he made me." Her gaze narrowed faintly in thought, her hands working to smooth over the firm plane of his chest.
"But aye, where ever were we?" She whispered, hooking an eyebrow upwards. "I fear I have utterly forgot. I shall need hearty reminders."
*
Donald purses his lips, feigning concentration. "Let me see," he remarks. He shifts Amora in his hands like a potter guiding clay, his blunt fingertips tugging at her fine robes and pulling them into disarray as she turns in his grip. "We were standing… thusly, aye?" he inquires, pulling her curvy hips back against him. "And I had one hand /here/," he says, putting his palm on her belly just under her rib. "And thou had a hand here, and… I was doing /something/ to your neck, but it escapes me," he teases, brushing his nose against the soft skin behind Amora's ear.