Summary:America and Carol try to confront Valkyrie about her Problem. Log Info:Storyteller: None |
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Carol Danvers' apartment is actually pretty nice, mainly thanks to literally not spending any Earth money for the past decade. Currently Carol is wearing a USAF T-Shirt and jeans, walking in the kitchen barefoot as she seems to brewing coffee this early morning. Very strong coffee, considering the events of the night before where she and America had to get a rather drunken ex-Valkyrie in to sleep off half the booze in Brooklyn.
Yesssss. There are probably things about her old drinking life that Carol can do without. Brunhilde likely has reminded her of a few. Though thankfully, no sick happening…in fact, Brunnhilde falls asleep pretty easily…and seems to shed the alcohol pretty quickly, to where she's just sleeping deeply. And is snuggling one of Carol's pillows, she'l find. Also shed most of her clothes apparently some point in the night because they were annoying, yet somehow remains barely in comic code despite muscle cheesecake being involved.
The scent of coffee does make Hilde stir, but she's not showing any sign of getting up. Quite yet. Being immortal means you don't have to get up before noon if you can avoid it!
Carol takes the coffee, or at least her cup, and walks into the bedroom. She takes a seat on the edge of the bed, sipping her coffee as she says, "Hey sleepyhead." As if on queue, Chewie bounds onto the bed, and does the perfect cat move on a sleeping person.
Namely, sitting right on their face. Poor Hilde.
Hilde mrrrphs! So there is now a cat on her head. She ponders whether this is enough to make her want to get up, hiding her face in the pillow as she grumbles a bit, squirming on the bed.
Carol grins, and lightly picks up Chewie, "C'mere you…" She sighs and looks down at Brunnhilde, tilting her head a bit, "And hon, you have got a serious problem. I should know." She sounds, well, honestly she sounds a bit concerned, worry noticeable in her voice.
How exactly America also ended up crashing here is a mystery. She'll appear, however, wearing her blue t-shirt with the star on the chest and a pair of boy shorts. She drifts after Carol to collect a cup of coffee of her own, taking large gulps as she moves along. By drifts, it is mean that she is actually floating about an inch from the ground, legs allowed to dangle.
"The cat woke me up," the young woman will complain softly as she enters. "…Mind if I bug you two?" Despite her nonchalance America's expression is one of visible concern as she surveys Hilde and Carol.
Hilde makes another grunting annoyed sound, then mutters, sitting up as she smacks her lips, still holding the pillow against her bare chest. "Whuzzat?" she manages, rubbing at her eyes with her right hand as she blinks at the pair. From the look of it, it takes her a moment to realize where she is as she looks around, then mms. "Being woken up too early and alone in bed /is/ a problem…" she agrees after a moment, grinning at Carol. "Of course, you could fix one of those problems…" She peers over at America. "…if she does not mind, anyway." she amends.
Carol sighs heavily, "Hilde, you got a problem. Maybe not as much of one as you think it is, given your Asgardian stamina, but still…" She sips the coffee, and then grins wryly, "Much as I'd enjoy what you're thinking, we need to have this talk first. Because you're burying a lot of pain, hon, and that doesn't work. I know."
"…We should talk this out," America agrees quietly. She arches a brow , looking between each of the women and then turning her attention to her coffee cup. "You can tell us what is going on with you. We're your friends." She lets that sentiment settle in for a moment, drifting over to alight herself upon the edge of the bed. She sips at her coffee. "It's better than just keeping it all bottled up, at least."
Hilde blinks several times, her eyes flicking between the pair, then lets out a grunt as she slides off the bed, starting to retrieve her clothing so she can get dressed. She doesn't say anything back immediately. But apparently she's not going to have this conversation without being dressed first.
Which she cheats on by finding Dragonfang amid the pile, then there's a flash and she's immediately dressed in ripped black jeans and a Halestorm concert shirt that's been ripped off around the midriff to bare it, as have been the sleeves. Or it might have come like that, hard to tell.
Carol glances over at Hilde, letting her get 'dressed' as she sits back a bit more on the side of the bed, looking over at Brunnhilde. She isn't quite sure what to say just yet, since Brunnhilde hasn't responded yet, but instead just keeps her eyes on the valkyrie, sipping from her coffee.
For now, America will also stand in awkward silence, watching both women. She furrows her brow, the noffers the Valkyrie her cup of coffee. Sure, she drank a quarter of it, but it's hot.
Having changes, the sword slides behind her back, vanishing from view as she sheathes it invisibly, the amazonian ex-valkyrie frowning. "And what problems would those be?" she says. Grudgingly. Obviously not enamored with the way this conversation is going in addition to being woken up before she really was ready to get up. "What talk can there be?"
Carol narrows her eyes, "Well, the fact that you were apparently wreaking havoc through Central Park before America and I got you here to sleep it off. Scaring the hell out of those poor cops, and… look, eventually that's gonna catch up to you. I know how this goes, Brunnhilde. Burying the pain with drinking isn't going to work. It just makes it worse."
The dusky-skinned woman folds her arms, frowning, then shrugs. "I will be asked to stay in their drunk tank. Perhaps someone will try to pick a fight." She grins. "That is why they are reluctant to throw me in there." She shakes her head, waving it off. "I had but a little bit, barely enough to be buzzed. I would have been fine." She ignores the burying the pain part, of course. She's just going to try and avoid that.
Carol sighs, "And it isn't about the physical effects, Brunnhilde!" She stands up, finishing the cup of coffee, then looking over at the ex-valkyrie, "You think my metabolism cares about alcohol? That's not why I don't drink anymore."
She takes a deep breath, centering herself a bit as she says, "It's how it affects you mentally. Emotionally. And you have a problem. Especially if you're looking for fights in the drunk tank, 'Hilde."
Hilde pssh. "And what of it?" she says sharply. "At least a fight is interesting, rather than sitting and waiting for the dawn as my cellmates snivel." She narrows her eyes. "I have no idea why /you/ don't drink. Just because you do not does not mean I must not either. It hardly affects me more than any other who imbibe…a moment of care taken away, is all."
Carol frowns, "I don't drink because I can't control it if I do." She looks at Brunnhilde, "And neither can you. I've seen it, 'Hilde. It might not be wrecking you that fast since you're Asgardian, but it is wrecking you."
Hilde growls, shaking her head stubbornly. "That's ridiculous." she snaps, getting defensive now. "I have shared mead and beer and all manner of drinks for thousands of years, and I am hardly broken for it." She slaps her chest. "/I/ am the one who drinks lesser warriors under the table! I could drain any bar in the city of alcohol and still walk home after!" she boasts. "Wrecked…pah! For millennia I have drunk, and still I stand here!"
Carol arches a brow, then just looks at Hilde, "Why? What more do you have to prove, then?" She waits, looking utterly unimpressed by Brunnhilde's exclamations about her drinking prowess as she passes a glance to America. Well, she might not be impressed… but she does look worried.
"There you go. I have nothing to prove, and nothing that 'wrecks' me when it comes to drinking. So what if I enjoy a stout mug? It harms no one, as long as no one makes trouble for me. And if so, it's their fault for choosing to stand before me and insult me, not mine. They draw their own doom." the fiery red-head notes. She looks between the two women. "Neither of you would tolerate it either, would you? If someone insulted or attacked you, and they would be the fools for picking the fight!"
Carol hmphs, "It isn't a 'stout mug' that you enjoy. If it was just that, it wouldn't be an issue. It's an issue when you have a few dozen of them, every night, and you won't stop. Or can't." She gives Brunnhilde a wry look, "Damnit, Hilde, I care about you, and you don't think I said all those same things when my friends confronted me?"
Hilde throws up her hands. "This is ridiculous! Why would I stop doing something I enjoy?" She stabs a finger towards Carol. "And I know nothing of why /you/ needed to stop, or why /you/ couldn't stop! I am not you. I am Asgardian. Mead is mother's milk to us!"
"Are you entirely sure you're okay, Hilde?" America will ask then, looking up from her drink. "I'm not sure I'm the right person to be helping with all of this. All I know is that you don't look like you're okay.. And you're allowed to not feel right, Hilde. You can deal with your pain however you want. But we're here begging you to tell us what's wrong with you because when I see you in that much pain it makes me hurt too. I can't talk to you when you're drunk. Or- anything, really. Not as wasted as you've been lately. And I just—- don't want to let you go."
Carol nods towards America. "Exactly that. And I don't want to let you go, either." She places a hand on America's shoulder, and looks over at Brunnhilde, "Talk to us, Brunnhilde. Please."
The tall ex-valkyrie just…blinks. Apparently thrown off guard by the comment from America and Carol's agreement, before she shakes her head slightly. "I am /fine/." she enunciates, biting off each word angrily. "There is nothing /wrong/ with me. It was not /I/ who was dishonored, and it was not /I/ who betrayed a sister in arms. /I/ did not MURDER my family! /I/ did not cast one aside WHO TRUSTED ME! /I/ DID NOT KILL WITHOUT HONOR, AND /I/ WAS NOT THE ONE TO BREAK FAITH!!!" she roars, her voice ringing off the walls now as a fist swing out to smash into a wall…and shatters it, the plaster practically exploding off it as the studs underneath break like brittle bone.
Carol blinks in surprise, since… well, she knew a lot of the sagas were not true, of course. Thor made that perfectly clear, so to hear that one of them actually was fairly accurate. Well, she blinks once, then she immediately comes over towards Brunnhilde, placing her hands on the Asgardian's shoulders, "Hilde… I'm sorry."
Hilde snaps. "/YOU/ are sorry?!?" She pushes away the hands, stepping back. "Obviously, /I/ am the one who is broken in your eyes. And I will NOT. BE. PITIED." And with that she whirls and strides towards the front door, throwing it open and stomping through it before letting it slam behind her, the door crashing into its frame hard enough that the doorknob just comes off in her hands, before she throws it down, cursing as she stomps down the stairs and out of the building, as quickly as she can. Some part of her unable to bear that look in Carol and America's eyes any longer.
What she needs is a drink.