2019-06-10 - Hod the Hurting


Hod gets two unexpected visitors while he's resting at the Embassy after the fallout of his last battle.

Log Info:

Storyteller: None
Date: Mon Jun 10 03:49:52 2019
Location: Asgardian Embassy - Residential Floors

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How is in a guest room. Because of course he is, he hasn't had a room on Asgardian 'soil' in over two millenia, hence, random guest room. There's a big window, there's lots of light, there's a monsterous sized bed with four columns holding up it's giant canopy with it's gauzy curtainy bits of fabric and mountains of furs and big fluffy softy pillowy things. It's all rich warm woods and stone tiling for floors and all manner of Asgard themed stuff hanging on the walls. Like axes and helms and sheilds and tapestries showing how awesome one random god or another is, commemorating battles and the like.

Hod is of course, miserable. He's currently in the center of the big bed, his face the only visible part of him, the rest buried under a small pile of soft furs and silken blankets laid over him in layers. He is also muttermuttering unkind things about someone's genitalia and it's more then intimate familiarity with said someone's parents.

Silk had been quite worried when she'd gone to the safehouse that Kate, she, and Jean had taken him to and there was no Hod. That had worried her quite a bit. And of course, she neither had Kate or Jean's contact information and there was only one place she could turn to. And that was the Asgardian Embassy. Maybe someone there could help.

It was unexpected, but a relief to find that yes, Hod in fact was still alive, and presently in a 'guest' room. And so directed, Silk knocks a few times on the door before calling, "Hod? You in there?"

Hod's responce comes in an irritable tone, "Of course I'm in here! Where else would I bloody well be??" he says, shouting so his voice can be heard through the thick wooden beams of the door.

Silk moves into the room. She closes the door behind herself. She walks, quietly, over to the side of Hod's bed, and, the worry that she had previously and everything she'd been involved with up until now with him bubbles to the surface, and she snaps at him, "How about in the safehouse that Kate and Jean and I took you to, so you could heal, and not even leaving a NOTE for me that you'd left and making me think you were dead?!"

The anger dies off, and she says, in a small voice, "I thought something happened to you again. I promised you I'd help keep you safe. That I'd look into this for you. Help you. I think I found some help, and," she chokes, "I came to tell you about it, and found you just GONE. What was I supposed to think?!"

Sniff. Pause. She tries to get herself under control. "I'm sorry."

Hod can't blink because instead of eyes and lids he has two giant holes in his face. Just. Big holes. Right there. Middle of his face. "Oh." he says, "Heya Kumo." he tries to look sheepish, "To be fair, you weren't wrong. I was mind raped by an Elder God's hencemonster into trying to kill my brother." he offers her, "But right now, I could use a little help. Wanna…." he wriggles under the sheets a bit to no avail. "get me outa this thing?!" he's a bit more worried about his current location then he is say, Cindy's feelings. He'll sooth those with ice cream later, once they're no longer on the soil of his Father.

Ew. Grooooossss. She wrinkles her nose, then sinks onto the mattress. "I can't. The only way they let me in to see you was on the promise that I don't help you escape. They said they were under orders from Lady Sif that you weren't to leave until you could walk out under your own power. And I keep my promises."

To soothe her denial to help Hod, she lays her hand on his forehead, consoling. "But the good news is I've asked around, and I found a mage I can trust. That we can trust. To see about removing that mark you told me about that was making you a target. I didn't tell her your name, or origins," she assures. "You told me that in confidence. But, I have her contact information if you'll trust me on this."

Hod sighs and seems to slump back into his covers, stiffening slightly when a hand touches him, but not freaking out. "Uh. Yeah. Did they tell you they wrapped me up in remnants of Gleipnir last night?" he asks with a frown, "Feel like you got duped Kumo." he says with a frown before just giving up entirely and going limp, "You don't have to worry about it. I was kidnapped last night, taken to a whole godly tribunal of asshats thing, then almost killed, almost murdered my brother, got my ass kicked /again/, and then /re/kidnapped and brought here by Baldur. Because of course he did." he pauses, then adds, "Oh. And they removed the marks from me and Kate, they figured out it wasn't us due to the whole 'hencemonster assassination' plot that landed on us like a ton of bricks." he tilts his head to the side a bit, "But thanks for the effort." small smile, "It's… it's weird to have anyone give a shit."

No doubt it will prove lucky for Silk that she just refused to help escort Hod out of the bed, and off the premises. She had promised those attending the Embassy that she wouldn't, and it seems that Silk keeps her promises.

For now, though, she is sitting on Hod's bed near him, her hand against his forehead while the costumed hero attends to him. She furrows her brow. "That's, … that's a shitload of crap to have to go through, Hod. I'm sorry. I wish there was something I could do to make it better. The best I could do is this." She reaches into a small pack at her hip, "Chocolate chip cookies. Fresh from the bakery. You want?"

She offers them to him, touching his arm to indicate where they are. She exhales, suggesting, "But you can look on the bright side. It's over. Right? Nothing else is going to happen to you, now? You're out of the danger zone?"

Hod's arm is under the furs and blankets. As is the rest of him. At current moment he's just a head buried under bed like fabrics. When Cindy touches the space above the covers where his arm should be, he just sighs, "This? This was like… well. You wanna know about a fucked up day, sometime you should ask me about the Mongolians, some… other time you should ask me about the Mongolians." he says before opening his mouth, "Feed me Seymore!" he offers. Hey, if she's not gonna let him free, he'll take cookies.

"Over? Oh Kumo, you're adorable. I'm functionally immortal, I've lived through one attempted kidnapping and /two/ successful ones in the last 48 hours. I'm currently being held prisoner by my family on Asgardian soil, a place I've been banished from upon threat of death, so, no, not really over. More like… sitting here healing while waiting for my father to smite me with a negligent flick of his wrist. There is a /REASON/ I don't keep in touch with my family. They. Will. Kill. Me." he then noms the cookie, "'Sgood." he mumbles around it.

Cautiously slow bootsteps approach the room where Hod is staying before there's a less-than-gentle knock on the doorframe and the aroma of steel, cleaning oil, and beef pho announcing Sif's presence.

"Hodr, I have brought a light repast, if you wish to partake," Sif's voice follows through the closed door. She honestly hopes that the exile permits her to enter, the soup she brought is one that she's found to be surprisingly flavorful and pleasant … so long as she avoids the green items sliced into seed-bearing disks that accompany the white sprouts and aromatic green leaves.

"Your family is making you stay here so you get better," points out Silk to Hod, rather reasonably. "And it seems to me they would've had plenty of opportunities to kill you over the last several days. And they haven't." Still, she is aware of Hod's backgrounds, and she's somewhat familiar with the whole idea of pantheons and inter-family disputes in such myth and legend. By Hod's fear, some of it may be true.

"And if anyone here tries to harm you, I will protect you. You are my friend," she assures him.

She looks over her shoulder at the door, "Come on in," she says, answering for Hod because she recognizes Sif's voice as someone who had helped protect Hod from the mercenaries earlier.

Hod turns his head in Silk's direction and his expression is deadly serious, "If my father makes to kill me, do NO-" he stops when Sif enters and his face twists a bit before relaxing, "Pho. With cookies. Weird mix but I'll risk it." he says, opening his mouth like a baby bird, "You guys were the assholes that tied me up, you guys get to make with the feeding." he says as he tries to pretend they were in no way discussing how fast Silk could be vaporized.

Entering cautiously because of the soup she's carrying, Sif sets it on a convenient side table before stepping over toward where Cindy is sitting next to Hod. "You are not tied, Hodr. I simply suspect that your brother was a bit invested in keeping you still while you healed." She reaches to untuck the man from his bedding slightly so he has room to sit up if he chooses. "Do you wish to try the… you said 'fuh'? here, or should I see if there is a sitting room nearby?"

"Pho," prounounces Cindy, gently, to correct Sif. She sets the rest of the cookies to the side. "He thinks you are going to kill him," she says to Sif, but it is clear that by her tone, and her casual demeanor she doesn't think so. She saw, afterall, how Sif defended Hod against the mercenaries.

"It is good to see you again, Sif. I came to tell Hod I had tracked down a trustworthy mage to help him with his - prediciment. But he said it was resolved, and that is why he is here. Recovering. I'm glad he's safe."

Hod sighs at Cindy, "My mother wants me dead. My father wants me dead. They have ruled that should I return to Asgard, my life is forfeit. This is Asgardian soil. Legally. So while there may be /one/ member of my family that doesn't wish me dead, his good intentions will not stop dear old Da' from incinerating me once he discovers I'm breaking his mandate. Odin is Old School, do that math." then his lips peel back from his teeth, "HE WRAPPED ME IN GLEIPNIR!" he snarls at Sif, "How much more /tied/ could I possibly /be/!?" then pauses, "Or /one/ of you did anyway!" he, of all people, shouldn't throw around false accusations. "So either untie me, or feed me, cause I can't do anything more then this…" and he wriggles a bit under the furs. Wriggle. Wriggle. Wriggle. Then goes back to glareing at Sif with empty sockets in his face. Which is shockingly effective.
urns out, Hod was correct. Wrapped around his body, now that she's peeled the furs and silks back, are remnants of Gleipnir, the ribbon that once held Fenris imprisoned in Asgard for millenia. The unbreakable silken ribbon made of 7 impossible things by the Dwarves that forged not only Hod's weapon, but Odin's and Thor's too. Given the size difference between the two, 'tied' is what Fenris was. Hod is more or less mummified. He continues to glare at Sif. "She's going to get me killed. Amounts to the same fucking thing if you ask me." Grumpy Hod is grumpy.

When the RIBBON is revealed, Sif can only sigh. "Hodr, this is your brother saying he is so scared for you that he didn't want you to make your injuries worse by trying to flee before you were properly healed." Yes, she thinks the golden boy went a little overboard, but she's sure that's his reasoning for taking such a drastic measure.

Untying the seemingly delicate ribbon, Sif makes quick work of removing it so Hod can move. "Please do not make me regret undoing Baldur's work here, Hodr."

Silk watches, looking to Hod. "Oh. I just thought —," she goes quiet, as Sif undoes the ribbon, not recognizing it of course for what it was, but seeing it was at least binding him.

When his hands are undone, and Sif's work complete, Silk take's Hod's hand in her own, wrapping one on either side of it. She looks to Sif, then she looks back to Hod, not revealing her features, even now, that remain behind that red veil. "I saw two members of our family, Loki and Sif, fight for your life, Hod. They would not have brought you here if there was a chance you would be in jeporady. Look. Hod."

She furrows her brows, and exhales. "I'm new to all this. Heoring. ANd. Saving people. And. All of that. I often don't even know if I'm picking the right fights. I just — go with my instincts. And pray they're right. I've made mistakes. And I'll make more. I've seen crazy stuff. But. There is something I can say with certainty. Nobody. Nobody fights for a cause, or for a reason, they don't believe in. Sif and Loki fought for you. They didn't have to. They could've sat on the sidelines and let me, and Ironheart fight. See what came of it. They didn't. They did so because they wanted to."

She looks at Sif, for support, here. "Right?"

Sif nods her agreement with the young Midgardian's words. "She speaks the truth, at least on my part." She isn't going to speak for Loki, she's treated him poorly too many times in the past to presume for him now. "Though Loki could have very easily fled when the attack started, and he did not. Instead, from what I saw, he took a rather severe risk on your behalf. Interpret that how you will."

Hod snorts, "I'm not what I was, but I'm not /that/ fragile either." this does not ring entirely true frankly. Given the amount of times he's had his ass soundly stomped in the last week. Nor the number of scars litering his torso. Unlike his brethern, he doesn't heal without a record of his wounds, stone or no stone. Beneath the many and varied tattoos that cover his bare torso, and the healing stone that's wrapped up beneath the ribbon and pressed to his chest, there are more then a few scars. Many of them very old and having that silvery color such old wounds carry.

The instant his arms are free he reaches up and scratches at his nose furiously, "Bor's frozen balls that was driving me crazy." he mutters, wriggeling to get the rest of himself free. He's /covered/ in bruises and dried blood that flakes away as he moves, but the majority of his actual wounds seem to be down to angry red scar tissue with inflamed looking buldges. The wriggling also causes him to wince in pain, but he tries to hide it. His ribs are still very hurt. He then reaches about with a hand until he finds a pillow, and pulls the case off and begins to tie it around his head, hiding his empty sockets from view once more.

Cindy's words make him grin, "I could hear what you said, but I don't think she could." he says, "You wanna tell her or shoul-you know what? Let me. Sif didn't know who had been shot. She didn't know I was there at all, so assuming she was there to protect me is factually incorrect. Loki-" he stops, considers, "Loki confuses me. I remember him from-" he doesn't finish the thought, "he is much changed. I don't know what to think of him anymore."

"You are a stubborn old man," Silk instructs Hod, her voice sounding certain in her judgement, but there's a fondness for the man, the God? The once-God? too. "What I'm telling you is - when Sif learned it was you, she could have left. So could have Loki. Those that kidnapped you and took you to where this last battle you fought was? THey did not have to take you. They could have just let the other Gods hunt you down and kill you, and be done with it."

Silk, at least, sees the reasoning in her words, even if she might not have the big picture. "Perhaps you have a right to be worried, Hod. But, you also have a right to know, and believe, that there are people here, like me, and Kate, and Jean, who care for you. And there are people - your people - who also wish no harm to come to you. I may not know much about Asgard. Yet. But, …," she pauses, exhales, and says more quietly, "Don't shut out those trying to help you. Or run from them. Because one day, they might not be there when you go back."

There is the smallest amount of change in her voice that Hod might hear. Sif, too, if she's keen to such things. Silk is speaking from at least some experience.

Okay, Hod is correct about that. And by the time she realized who actually was the target of the attack, Loki had already whisked him away to the healer's rooms at the mountain named Sinai. So, letting the man resituate himself on the bed, she goes and brings the Pho around to him — a tray with a serving bowl on it more than half full of still-steaming broth, utensils, and three small plates holding pieces of beef, a wad of vermicelli noodles, and a pile of bean sprouts and basil leaves and jalape%<241>o slices.

"I advise against the round green slices. They are … unpleasant." Yes, Sif does not care for spicy things. What of it?

Hod begins to build his bowl of Pho the instant it's set before him, also unlike his bretheren, he actually /has/ to eat, not just for enjoyment but because if he doesn't he'll die. And he's starving. "I've gone two thousand, five hundred years without asking any of them for help. Where were they when the plague hit? Hrm?" he asks while swirling noodles into the broth, "I like you Kumo, I really do. You're… uplifting. Kate and the kid too, I'm fond of the lot of you, and I trust you three miles farther then I trust all but one of my own kind." he slurps his noodles and then goes right back to shamelessly bashing Sif while she sits right there, "I love my brother, more then I love anyone, but he's an idiot. He thinks because I am now," he waves a hand at himself, "like this I require his ever present protection. I've done fine for two and a half millenia without him, I can make it another few the same way. Keep him safe. Keep me not dead." he shoots a look at Sif, "Guessing someone's keeping Hugin and Munin away from the Embassy? Heimdall keeping his yap shut all on the behalf of Baldr, so Da doesn't get smitey?" slurp.

Silk doesn't press any further, she figures she's at least made her point with Hod, and she's pressed it enough for now. She looks at Sif, "I appreciate your people letting me in to visit. They didn't have to." She smiles at the warrior-woman beneath her veil, but the smile is also reflectedin her eyes.

She addresses them both, "If you ever need my help, just let me know. it's the least I can do."

Oh, it's only too clear to Sif that she's included in Hod's blanket insults about Aesir, and as much as his words sting, she can't really argue against them. He HAS been treated harshly, and while she can agree with that, it's not her place to countermand the Allfather's edicts. So, she chooses to say nothing at all.

Though, when he asks about how they're keeping Odin from knowing the goings-on in the Embassy, Sif actually looks a smidge concerned. "I… do not know." She would suspect a combination of Baldur's influence and Loki's sorcery, but she has no way to know for sure. She spent far too much time … oh!

"I will return shortly." She stands, putting one hand on Cindy's shoulder briefly as she goes, and disappears from the room to get Hod's spear to return to him. She made sure to clean it properly when she finally recovered it.

Hod drops his head a bit and sighs, "Sorry Kumo, I'm-" he shakes his head a little, "I hate this place. Makes my skin crawl. Come find me when I'm out of here, I'll be in a better headspace. I still owe you your body weight in ice cream." With Sif out of the room he lets himself slump a bit and he groans, "Hel's tits!" he bites, pressing against his ribs, "I gotta get out of here before whatever they're doing wears off. You should go. Don't want you getting in trouble for my stupid." he offers her a weak smile, then straightens when Sif returns, "Thanks for the chow, by teh way." he offers to the warrior with a /bit/ of sinserety.

Same old Hod. SIlk had already told Hod she couldn't let him go, until he could leave under the power of his own momentum. She frowns, "I'll find you again when you're out," she agrees, and looks to Sif for direction - if Sif will conceed, she'll not protest any further and let Hod mosey on out of here. But she had promised. And, Silk keeps her promises. Always. At least, to the utmost of her ability. And this one? Well. If Sif allows, then it's out of her hands. She's just a Midgardian.

Returning quickly enough with Hod's spear, her footsteps announce her return and the soft tap of the spear being propped against the wall by the door tells where it is resting. "You are welcome for the… I thought it was Pho?" She shakes her head slightly. "I do think you should try to rest at least a bit more before you try to leave, Hodr. I can try to see if there are any other healing stones available to speed things along."

It's honestly a bit distressing to her to see a fellow Aesir — even one who has been exiled for so long — still bearing visible traces of injury this long after a battle, and she's trying to help.

She's just a bit clueless about it.

Hod makes a shooing motion with his spoon at Cindy, "Go on, get." he says softly, "If something happens I don't want you here for it anyway. Nothing any of could do if Dad wants to make a point, only collateral damage to be had. Besides, you gave your word, and in a few minutes when I disappear from this bed, it's best if you have plausible deniability." he then offers Sif an innocent grin. Hod is /not/ the god of being tied up or captured for very long. He's the god of GTFO.

Silk sighs, but knows when to give up certain fights. She leans over, and kisses him on the cheek, through her veil. "Take care of yourself. Or, I'll web you to the bed, next time," she threatens. Then, she gets off the bed and touches Sif's shoulder in return. "Thank you," she says, sincerely, for Sif's efforts to help Hod. "He needs a friend like you around."

Then, the web-slinging heroine is walking out the same way she came in, this time. Not using the windows, or the walls. Feels weird. But, like Hod had said, legally it was Asgardian soil. So, gotta be polite.

"Stay close by, Lady Silk," Sif offers the young Midgardian quietly. Yes, she fully plans on making sure Hod has someone to help him get to where he's going once he flees this building. It's just getting him to stay still long enough so he CAN flee the building without falling over.

"When you are done eating, Hodr, would you prefer to wash up before a change of clothing?" It'll most likely be clothing of Aesir design, but better than wearing filthy, shredded garments, yes?

Hod makes a face, "I could use a bath, sure. I've been filthier, but usually I wash of the blood after a battle and this shit is itchy as fuck right now." he wriggles one last time for emphasis as he spoons more Pho into his face. "Simple clothes please. Don't get me anything… stupid. Pants, shoes, a shirt, the less eye catching the better." to escape here with he means.

Sif nods to Hod and knows exactly what to choose for him. The very basic garments worn for sparring practice will likely be precisely per his request, and she'll 'borrow' a pair of Baldur's boots. "That should be simple enough."

After the meal and a bath, said clothing is procured for Hod. And Sif knows that Baldur is likely going to be VERY unhappy, but it's nothing she's not dealt with before.

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