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While it may be grey and spitting fat droplets of cold rain back on Midgard, the Golden City remains perpetually balmy. If there's any hint of a cooler season, it may be found in the teasing shift in leaf color in the royal gardens — or perhaps in the few degrees drop in temperature in the breeze. It's enough to make one consider wearing warmer clothing and a reason for the courtly fashionistas to begin to twitter of fur-lined anything.
Kelda won't be found amongst the twittering hanger-ons. She has little interest in that. Playing with frost patterns along the surface of her mulled wine while sitting on the ledge of a side balcony off of the foyer that hosts the large gilded doors of the throne room? Yes, there she can be found, light brows twisted in minor concentration as she attempts a multi-pointed fractal within the drink. The challenge is in that difference in degrees, where the natural heat held in the dark drink combats her icy magics. It's an apprentice-level task, but it allays boredom well enough. She's easy to interrupt as is.
*
Thor has little interest for the natterings of the courtiers— those people attached to the throne not by virtue of strength of arms or familial ties. Asgard doesn't suffer the creeping insidiousness of an aristocracy, but like all governments there are those people who grow like mushrooms under a tree of power.
Thor disdains them largely, and the feeling is mightily reciprocated. Those who labor in the mind ever feel superior to those who labor with their muscles.
"Ho there," Thor says, halting a manservant with a gesture of his hand. "Hast thou seen Kelda Stormrider about?" He's pointed in the right direction, and his footsteps can be heard around the corner as he moves to find the blonde Asgardian ice-warrior.
*
Sif strode, long legs carrying War Herself, forward. That it was a formal gathering gave her not a good enough reason for the trappings of the Asgardian women of the court. She still had her armour and furs and Morsstryke; Strength of Mothers, on her back with shield and- well hey the wine goblet was out. so there eliminates an arftful 'swift talking to' being beset upon. Apparently Lady Sif had returned from travels abroad and afar. "I expected to find Hogun, and here Thor has returned to us? Curious, and hail to you on our return."
*
Ah, that's a familiar voice, distant as it is. Kelda glances up from stirring fingertips along that surface covered in thinnest, rapidly-sublimating craquelure, and then executes a graceful turn on her hip. One boot to the floor, two, and then she's gliding in her silken robes of snow-shadow blue across the balcony. May as well help the Prince out and meet him halfway, considering he might have something to discuss. She of the cooler wisdoms does aid now and then with rude reality checks.
But oh — another voice, this one feminine and strident, speaking to strength and certainty of character. The pale-haired warrior-mage makes nearer to the door before seeing Thor on approach. The brunette in her battle armor is someone unknown and reason to check the familiarity in which she addresses the eldest Prince in general.
"My liege. My lady," she greets both quietly and with a respectful nod granted to each.
*
It's good timing— the three of them converge at a good spot. Thor glances from Kelda to Sif, surprised and pleased to see the lean, powerful leader of the Warriors Three returned to the Golden City. His eyes spark with a pleased light, and he opens his mouth to speak— then looks down at the goblet in Sif's hands.
"Is there wine about?" he says automatically, looking for the steward.
He flickers the question off and grins at Sif, extending a hand to her to clasp wrists. "Lady Sif, returned to Asgard," he says. "'tis good to hear your voice, my friend. I've seen not Hogun, but I imagine he and Fandral are hauling Volstagg out from under a tankard as we speak."
He gestures a little stepping back to make introductions. "Sif, this is Kelda Stormrider," the brawny Prince of Asgard says. "A warrior-mage of no small stature and even greater courage. The Valkyriad returned her from a well-deserved rest to serve Asgard once more, and she's been my sturdy shield maiden for many moons now. Kelda— Lady Sif, the finest warrior of a generation and the leader of the Warriors Three," he says. "You are two I'd have be friends, if you will," he informs the duo, and steps back so they can take their measure of one another.
*
Sif arched an eyebrow glancing around, "This would not surprise me in teh least." in retort to Valstagg's likely state. "Now if you know how to ask there is always wine, friend." Dark eyes flit from Thor to Kelda listening to her announcement and offered a hand out to take her arm, not a shake of hands suffered to senators and beaurocrats, but a greeting befitting warriors and shield maidens. "If this is so and as he says you must be very tired from keeping him out of too much trouble. I respect this and thank thee for it. What… what brings you returned to Asgard? I heard you were in Midgard last?"
*
Oh, this is the Lady Sif, she of the sword and shield and furious, fearless battle-blood. Kelda holds those dark eyes easily enough, with her composure everything Courtly and polite, and yet returns that shake, grasping wrist even as her own is taken in strong, limber fingers, with an ease. Her palms are soft, speaking to a preference in casting and polearm weaponry rather than blade.
"Lady Sif, well-met. His highness speaks grandly of my exploits. I have had an easy time of things. He is no ambling toddler to be herded about. If anything, he has equally kept me from disaster a time or two." Magnanimous is the warrior-mage, even if Thor does get a quick and friendly little glance. "I did spend a good number of centuries on Midgard before…" She pauses with a sharp intake of breath, eyes going distant, as if trying to comb through a hazy dream. They refocus again soon enough. "I admit, I have no good memory of my time away, but I am returned to commit my time in aiding the royal family once again. It has been fulfilling." Her smile is pale but true.
*
"With the opening of an Embassy— a formal one— relations between Midgard and Asgard have shifted somewhat," Thor tells Sif. Excitement colors his tones buoyant. "The mortals no longer revere us as gods— but they venerate us as ancient and mighty, still. Instead of mewling supplication, they regard us with awe and wonder. Truely, we are as we are meant to be— paragons, living embodiments of the potential of the mortals for greatness. Many have stood as allies with me in battles epic. Given this turn, Fath— King Odin has opened the Bifrost that we might stride the Rainbow Bridge at our leisure. We may even begin some limited commerce with the mortals, to sample their wares. If you have not had 'iced cream', then you have an experience waiting for you," he assures Sif, his tone at once grave and enthused.
*
Sif warmed a smile, as her teak fingers wrapped around hte winter warrior's arm. "Hail, and well met still." Her attention shift slightly to Thor, wine sipped. "Formal Embassy now?" She listened to the status of being downgraded from god status. It was confusing but she also spent little time in Midgard, not that she failed to appreciate it, but she was a goddess of War and the wars of Midgard were too often fought on paper and with bullets by cowards too fearful to go toe to toe with- let's think about something else before she crushed her cup. "I have not had cream that has been iced yet. I shall venture to correct this." Not that Sif much needed the bifrost, sharing that gift to travel freely as her brother gave unto others. Still it was a gesture worth regard. "I imagine my brother has a mite bit more time. Good. Maybe I can drag him hence and find this wonder. Still I think I'd rather inspire others to greatness rather than being kowtowed to. Inspiring is the work of a god. Soaking up accolades instead of doing so is the work of-" She stopped herself short of saying 'your brother'. Her jaw tightened. "Those not befitting of such a station." There. better! Diplomacy laurels achieved.
*
Kelda looks between speakers, her glacial-blues lingering on Sif as the latest one.
"I would proffer that his highness has been an inspiration at least once. Still…iced cream. Frozen cream? What special aspect is there to this state of cream? I can create such a thing myself with little effort." It's clear that the Lady Stormrider has not tried Midgardian ice cream and isn't impressed currently by its description alone.
*
Thor nods agreement with Sif's assessment of the work they do. "Aye," he remarks. "As I said, 'tis a strange and new place, but— I think it a welcome change of affair from our previous status among the mortals. I prefer them vastly as friends than as mewling subjectes."
He shakes his head, though at the two women. "Nay, the icing is but part of the process. 'tis cream and strange mortal technology that gives it a succulent, sweet texture— both liquid and frozen at once. It easily is the equal of our cuisine in Asgard. I think that if nothing else, we shall enjoy the import of much mortal cookery."
*
Sif nodded in consort. "Well, it is worth trying. I was intent on returning to midgard to bring great news to an old friend now that progress has been made in Alfheim." She didn't say on what but her face warmed to a grin, "You both missed a fantastic ousting of fire bats and goblin riders! It was a glorious distraction from siting in court navigating the politics of faerie. Though before we try the iced cream I think we are due something savory after that trip."
*
"The banquet table is filled, as is its wont," Kelda mentions, accented by a gesture in the general direction of the hall of festivities. As if the long table, with its nearly uncountable seats, is devoid of dishes. After all, Volstagg would complain were an emptiness of food and drink ever the case. "Savory can be found. I admit intrigue as to this iced cream."
Her mulled wine is ignored at this point, not a flake of frost to be found it in from her earlier boredom. "We could attend upon this adventure soon?" Her gaze shifts to Thor, her light brows held high. "What is that Midgardian phrase… No time like the present?"
*
"Aye, 'tis a mild matter should we wish to visit the mortal realm," Thor agrees with a nod to the question. "Let us make sure Sif won't perish of famine first," he says, grinning at the athletic warrior. "Something savoury? Mutton? Pork? Or some more carefully prepared cuisine?" he inquires, taking an ambling step towards the heavy tables.
*
Sif laughed with genuine amusement. Too long has she bren from home. The thrill of being locked in battle was followed by the drudgery of being locked in courts navigating politics and the company of companions was missed. This was apparently a winning suggestion. "Indeed, anything not made almost entirely of honey or sugar would be welcome right now. Beyond that I welcome good company on travels hence. I am paying a grace given to be by a friend forwarly to an odl friend in need of reuniting with their family. I'm hoping this continues to go favourably."
*
As they approach the banquet tables, not a long trip at all down the hallway and through a beautifully-gilded arching doorway, Kelda decides that she rather likes this warrior. Thor was right after all — she might be called friend fairly shortly here.
"I can imagine that you may be tired of sweets having lingered there as you did," she says with a soft laugh, the light rosiness of her cheek rising in a true grin. "I would choose mutton myself, with the mint sauce. It satisfies the need for salt without the richness sometimes found in the pork." She meanders over to a platter of bread and gathers up two thick slices to place upon a plate of her own. The mead is set aside for need to slather them heavily with butter. Ah — a weakness of the Lady Stormrider here in starch and churned cream. Never expose her to sourdough loaves on Midgard, else their company might be plagued with constant errands to bakeries for such!
*
"Fresh baked bread for me," Thor says, reaching for a loaf that still crackles with warmth and firm, scaly crust. He breaks it with a crunch of fingers and tears the loaf in half, then reaches for a knife and saws it smoothly into inch-thick segments, to be slathered with butter that melts almost instantly against the white inner flesh of the dough.
"Mutton builds strong arms, but few things are as satisfying as that deep-baked warmth of fresh bread, aye?"
*
Sif said to Kelda drily, "Eating two moons in Alfheim makes one's armour start to feel tight I'll leave it at that." She was in a good moodbut took the moment to look around and appreciate her adopted peoples. "It is good to be back. I will tell you, Sometimes it is nice being reminded who we are doing this fight for. So what else have you discovered that we're missing from Midgard? Will they be coming here?"
*
"Very few things, my liege," replies Kelda most primly before nibbling on her own slice of bread thoroughly buttered. One or two pieces here and there wouldn't put a dent in her physique. "Though I cannot imagine being so politely subjected to such sweetness for so long, Lady Sif. A wonder that you didn't beg leave for a fingertip of salt." As in to wet one's pad and swipe it to collect the fine crystals.
She gives Sif's question some thought, leaning against the table via her hip, and finally opines, "Popcorn. Another Midgardian wonder. Little golden seeds that explode into puffs of white crisp delight. They butter it, like the bread, but it is crunchy rather than filling. A repast in deliciousness. In regards to Midgardians visiting the Golden City, yes. I have heard tell of a few who are granted passage, mostly for diplomatic reasoning, and to bring word to the Court when necessary of events happening that may impact our livelihood here."
*
"There is one— Amora's apprentice, the woman known as Scarlett," Thor tells Sif, chewing hungrily on his bread. "A magess of minor power, but a mortal of powerful talents. Ware you not touch her," he warns Sif. "Her skin contains some energy that will steal your soul away if given a chance."
"There are others, too— my brother's paramour, the elf Kai is one. A friend of theirs, the Winter Warrior, has seen the Golden City. I think it inappropriate to throw open our doors for gaudy tourism, but a few rare, welcome allies— that should pose no problem."
*
Sif snapped a look up to Thor, "I would not be dining with you were it not for the wonders of a couple of them. But goo- what? Prithee tell me you jest at the expense of me staying my hand and blade to not correct what must clearly be alappse in good sense." The War Goddess blinked and rubbed four flat fingers across her forehead. "The onw know as Kai is the one I seek to deliver news to. He is the son of an old friend that I spoke of earlier." Oh by Odin's ravens she has to deal with Loki. Ooooooh bifrost!
*
Kelda's consideration shifts between the two Asgardians once more, lingering on her piece of bread in the end.
"I don't find your younger brother to be so terrible, but…then again, my history with him is a limited one. He was but a lad in my memories for so long. I have spoken to him but once since my return and in passing within the Embassy and found him…kind, if not inspiring a sense of caution in me. I have been made aware of his entitling since, that of Trickster God. Appropriate, my liege, whether the Court says it in jest or not," she murmurs, glancing to Thor. A brief turn of her head towards Sif. "I would hear of these other Midgardians you know at another time. I have met so few and they frustrate me more often than not."
*
Thor grins at Sif's reaction. "My brother is a fickle and quixotic beast," he agrees. "But of late he has been much less adversarial. Mercurial and… pestersome, but his foolishness is much less petulantly cruel than in the past. Kai seems to have taken the temper from him, which suits me well and Asgard better," he says, wryly.
"You may find him tart-tongued as ever, but nothing your sharp wit will find difficulty dismembering."
*
To say she was skeptical was an exercize in understatements. Really for a woman so tall one might think she was kin to the dwarves with the grudge against the one that wronged her. "Then I should bring Kai a present with the good news I bring for him. Lovely." The tone was dry but she wasn't in teh business of empty protests nor doing her friend the disservice of telling him he was potentially letting the bonds of fraternity blind him.
*
"A present would never go remiss," Kelda reminds the other female warrior, respectful by tone. "If anything, neutrality makes for shielding against the weathering of these mercurial moods that Thor speaks of. You may count on me as companion if ever the need comes of it in conversation. I will remind him of his childhood exploits and we'll see how the limbs may fall." She grins, a quick expression fading back into the small smile more often seen.
"Mind, his highness may need to correct my memory and then the hilarity may ensue. I confess, Lady Sif, you are delightful as the Prince implied in his tales. I hope that I may call you friend both here and on the field of battle?"
*
Thor grins approvingly, and rises to his feet. He quickly lifts a hand to stay anyone else from rising too. "I think I shall retire to my chambers to relax for a while," he informs the women. "Pray, stay and enjoy thy mutual company for a while," he urges them. "I'm pleased to see you two see the potential alliacne you might share." Without any furthur ado, he takes his leave from the table, so the two women can chat more openly.
*
Sif answered the Shieldmaiden with a smile warm like toast in teh sun, "You have nothing to fear for on that front. I greatly look forward to you joining us on may a travel. I must say I would love to hear about the brothers in their youth." Embarassing childhood fodder to defend with was nothing to slouch at. Still her admiration for seeing a woman take up arms and action was something she respected and welcomed. "Let us share bread and wine and trade stories."
*
Kelda appears pleased as pie and lifts from her perched resting on table's edge with her second piece of bread still in hand.
"Of course, Lady Sif. Here, I shall sit. A chair for you," — she pulls out the next one over from her own — " — and allow me to regale you with a tale or two. Now that his highness has forsaken defense in his absence, I may be less circumspect." Was that a chuckle? Nay, a giggle?
Uh oh. Better beware, the Lady Stormrider has some adorable little stories about some adorable little Princes hell-bent on being troublesome in their younger years. She draws her cup of mulled wine to before her person and after a large bite of warm bread, the chit-chat is on. Tales are swapped and woe betide the outcome of two Asgardian warriors laughing themselves nearly to tears.
*