Summary:While looking for Hod, Betty meets Loki, Prince of Asgard. Officially. Log Info:Storyteller: {$storyteller} |
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The embassy is full of guards, various human volunteers to run some of the services and so on. Its a bustling place. The princes are seen here as well from time to time, as well as other notable Asgardians. Its a good spot to go…watching for people that make nice pictures. This evening, that appears to include Loki…the /least liked/ of the various princes in general. He is on one of the benches and holding a raven on his arm. He's petting it in a fairly affectionate way…and then it tries to bite him. He just grins.
Loki was one of the few Asgardians she had never met before. Well, in truth, she had met the man in passing during one of her darker, dire moments in life. Today, though, that will change - hopefully. There's a light limp in her step, feet healing, but she walks with a towering posture and purpose. The sight of so many within the halls gives the reporter pause, but with a glance about, she attempts to settle her eyes on someone she might know, or someone who might have information for her. It's the raven that gains her attention.
Smiling, strides in the prince's direction.
Loki looks up and over as Betty arrives nearer. He makes a shhing sound towards the bird. "Ahhh…a mortal doth approach." He looks her up and down and then arches a dark brow as if to ask the question.
Betty Brant looks toward the man, then the bird, and back again.
Betty Brant looks toward the man, then the bird, and back again. "Sorry, I don't mean to disturb you, I'm just…well…trying to see where I'm suppose to go." A glance around, she watches the people move about in their throngs, all knowing what they're doing at that given moment in time. "It seems pretty busy today." Comes her comment before her attention returns to Loki specifically. "Second visit," she explains with a calm smile. Her attire is simple - a sundress of rich blue, gold and black bangles around her wrists, simple flats on her feet, and Norse style beads woven through her hair. Few, but they were there.
"Is there a way to see which Asgardians may be in the building at any moment?" A pause, she scoffs, "Huh, if it was that easy, wouldn't be very safe…"
The dark-haired man's face turns a bit more dry. "Are you looking for Thor? The last I saw of him, he was moping around the Avengers Mansion instead of here." Loki makes a slight face and rubs the bird under the beak, then it hops up his arm to his shoulder instead.
"Thor? No. Never met him." She explains, watching after the bird and offering it a smile. There's something there, a silent question on her tongue that isn't given voice. "I, well, I was actually looking for Lady Sif of Hod, actually. I wasn't sure if Lady Sif was in office today. Honestly, I'm also not sure if Hod ever comes here, either. I'm usually good at digging, but he was right, it's hard to find someone who doesn't want to be found." A gentle shrugging of her slender shoulders, her smile returns as she offers out her hand in his direction. "I'm sorry, I didn't introduce myself. Betty Brant, it's a pleasure to meet you again."
"Mmmm, I thought you had a familiar face. We have met then? I am the only one who could find Hod, actually. When he hides, he hides extremely well. Shadows are his brothers. And that makes me…his brother as well. You have found Loki of Asgard." He gives his hand a little flourish and his thin lips a sideways quirk.
"We have I believe. Months ago now, at Sister Margaret's. We didn't speak or anything, but I remember seeing you when I was visiting Wade." She listens as he speaks of Hod, attentive as always even as her hand slips into Loki's own. It's his name, however, that gives her pause. There's a twitch on her face, a softening of her features, but her greeting is warm and she doesn't pull away with any haste. "Loki. Lord Loki?" She questions gently. "I think out of all of them, I have the most questions about you."
Loki seems surprised when she puts her hand in his, gives it a short squeeze, then draws it away. Cautious, perhaps, about the mutants who affect things with touch. "Prince Loki…if you wish to be accurate. What is your interest with Asgard? With Hod, in particular? He is an unusual one to be in pursuit of…"
"Prince, of course." She nods in acknowledgement, a hint of apology in her eyes. Her interest? "Well, I've been working with Fenris and Astryd for some time. I swore I'd aid Asgard and it's people with whatever they'd need." A pause, a smile, she continues. "I'm converted. Anyway, as for Hod? I'm working with him to aid Lady Sif. There had been some attacks carried out against people wit Asgardian blood. Decendants of Fandral I believe, perhaps others of the Gods. I was hoping to find him here after I healed up." A smirk, she glances down at her flats. "I even wore something I could run around in."
"Adventures await. Yes, Hod is proving to be quite popular. Tell me more about these attacks…and I will grant you your own questions…" Loki's voice purrs with the silvery tone of convincing, as if every sylllable were perfectly crafted to sound reasonable.
Betty Brant blinks at first, watching over Loki's face intently before brushing down the skirt of her dress and moving to sit near by. She leaves him his space, however, not invading his personal bubble what so ever. There's a inch, though, her finger up as she offers it closer to the raven. She's watching, waiting to pull back if its beak so much as parts in her direction. "Hod being popular, I wonder if he'd hate it or not…"
Then to the attacks. "Some places were hit with explosions of some sort. Some metal that has a vibration point that's destructive. I've spoken with Lady Sif about it, apparently, it was suppose to be looked into by SHIELD. I'm chasing down other leads. Unless I have to chase that one, too. I suppose Asgardians are busy." Her lips thin, then fill back out naturally. "There's a company, Brevity, which is a branch of Hammer Tech. It's ran by a woman who seems, well, eternal in her own way. I have dated photographs going back ages now - same woman, same look. There's also a link to Muspelheim's princess and the Crimson Crystal of Cyttorak. That's what Hod is aiding me with."
Loki makes a humming sound as he listens to that. "I actually am hoping to join with SHIELD. What do you think, Miss Brant? Would I not make a fine agent?" He grins slyly. The bird tilts its head and then eventually when her finger gets quite close, it says in a New York accent, "Hey there, sweet cheeks, but I'm the Boss' bird, ya hear?" Loki /visibly/ winces, and then instantly starts shooing it away. A moment later he clears his throat. "Reno is…local…but he looks so nice around here." Just…the talking…breaks the magic.
"An agent? I'm not sure. I don't really know you, Prince. Well, I know stories, but I'm coming to find out they might not all be true." Simple words with a hint of hope in them. It wasn't the first time she'd heard an animal speak, but she did jump from this one, not expecting it what so ever. Nervous, a giggle after the scare, she keeps her fingers out to gently brush against the fowl's chest. "Reno, is it? Hello, Reno. I'm Betty." A smile to Loki, "He's beautiful. I've always liked ravens."
Its Reno, for sure, and he lets her pet him once, then flies off. Loki looks after the bird, and then looks back to Betty. "I like him too. He is…capable of becoming a human, currently, but eventually that form will grow too old and he will be imprisoned in a bird form which is virutally immortal. So…we have come to an agreement. I am certain that /every/ story you have heard is frought with mistakes, unfortunately. With such a rich oral tradition, bards were bound to make things up." He knits his brows faintly. "What about you? You are lurking about Asgardians, do you have a special power that is going to keep you safe?"
"Human? Is he a familiar or…relative? Of your father's birds, perhaps?" She questions gently, shifting a bit only after the bird is well and truly gone. Facing Loki directly, she nods and rests her hands down atop her lap. "I'm sure. I've asked a few things here and there about the stories I know, only some are true in some ways. I will admit, you're painted as a rather dark creature. Not evil, it's just your nature, but the…origin of a number of issues." A frown, she continues. "I'm sorry, I don't mean to offend you by saying that." Then he asks of her. "Me? No, I don't have any powers or anything. I'm around because I promised I would be. Fenris and Astryd helped me out when I needed it the most."
"Fenris and Astryd will help paint a different picture, certainly. They are…we are friendly. Good terms. Yes…some have painted me in the shadows…somewhat deservedly. But, the shadow has been Thor's and Baldur's, and they cast rather…broad, likable ones." He tilts his head, studying her for a moment. "I think you must have something, or…you have poor survival instincts." He teases.
"Tell you a secret?" She offers with a sly wink of her own. Leaning closer, she covers her mouth and stage-whispers to the Prince. "I never liked Thor's stories." Sitting back, she keeps her smile. "I did enjoy Baldur's though. Well, enjoy may be the wrong term for it, but…" Knowing how that story goes, she silences herself and shakes her head of it. "I'm glad you're on good terms." Again, a thought rests there at the brink but isn't given leave to flow. "Something? Maybe. I will agree with you tha tmy survival instincts, especially with the company I keep, is lacking. Just always has been. Can't become stronger if you don't face your issues, right?" Swallowing, she offers him another smile.
"I'd like to know about your side of things if you're interested in telling it. What stories are true? Which are twisted? History through your eyes."
"Time…is very interesting. On Asgard, we do not keep a constant record, visually, as you do. There is too much. Some of you seem to take 20 pictures of yourself a day, with your phones. To do that with a life…thousands of years long…would be ridiculous. Too much information. All of it would be lost in the jumble. So, instead, we record major events, in tapestries, some of which take hundreds of years to create. After a few hundred years, who can really remember how a situation /exactly/ went? Only if you happened to write it down for some reason. And then there is the possibility that everything has happened before, or versions of ourselves that have slipped through dimensions, entangled, time-looped, spent time in areas where time drags or speeds up, and any number of events. I should say that history through my eyes…is an endless stream of /stories/, that I have collected, and that may be told based on the wordless tapestries that hang in our halls." Loki pauses and squints his eyes. "But others may tell them differently." Another pause and he takes a breath. "But they are not the god of stories…so…"
Betty Brant falls silent, watching over Loki's face as she speaks. There's a pause, her fingers moving until she digs into her side bag and pulls out a well loved, well used, notebook. Pen at the ready, the reporter starts taking down short-hand. Whatever Loki was saying, trying to explain, the mortal by his side takes a great interest in it. "Even so, to be given such a time and seen such things…does anything surprise you anymore? Scare you? Shock you?" Shifting slightly, she crosses on leg smoothly over the other, notepad resting on her knee as her back hunches, her attention more so his than ever before. "I've asked a few things of Fenris and Astryd already, off comments about the stories I know, the one's I've read as a girl. You," a pause, she thins her lips. "Do - how much of that 'fate' is secure and how much do you fight agaisnt? Personally?"
"Nothing is secure. Prophecy may be broken, or changed, with artful weaving. It is a comfort to those to whom death comes swiftly, to imagine that there is an inescapable fate, and that choice is not their own, to believe in destiny. I would not put too much faith in the words of those who believed Midgard to be held up upon pillars by dwarves. You know quite well that this realm is round." Loki gets a twinkle in his eyes.
Smiling, she nods, scribbling down more notes and leveling her gaze on his face. "I understand that, and I like the idea of pushing against what's suppose to happen toward what you want to happen. It seems to be a theme for you and your kin. I'm just still…there are so many stories. I can't help but be curious." Closing her book, she slips it away, pen and all. "Prince," she questions gently. "Is there anything you wish to speak about? Talk about? Explain? Is there anything you'd like to ask or…" A pause, "Is there anything I can help you with specifically?"
Loki sits up a little straighter, and his demeanor grows more chilled. "No…there isn't. If there is something you'd like to ask…and I can assume its likely to be one of the humiliating tidbits your human ancestors made up, or some of those ridiculous tales that Vorsstagg told, a few thousand years ago, you should just ask. But believe me, if I find some trashy article smearing those details about, to get a few more…clicks, or views, I will take revenge in this modern age, in kind."
Betty Brant blinks and sits back now. "Excuse me?" It seems the mortal has taken some offense now. "I may work at the Bugle but I do not write trash. I write the truth. If anyone wanted to know those stories, they can already read them. Truth being told - no one gives much of a shit about them anymore. You're here, just another line in a number of super beings that just happen to call New York their home. I'm offering help because I want to, I promised - do not threaten me." A pause, she stands and straightens her loose skirt. "You want the truth out there, speak it." Beat, "I'll find Hod myself." A hand to her stomach, she offers a bow of her head. "Your highness, if you'll excuse me."
Loki waits a few seconds, then says, "You never will. I am the only one that can find him if he does not wish to be found." He rises, tall, broad-shoulded, but slimmer in appearance than his brothers. "If you wish to print the truth, then I am Loki, Prince of Asgard, and the stories of me of your people, ring with little truth, painting a trickster in a poor light because they could not take a joke."
"I…have my ways of finding people. That, or he'll come to me when he's ready." She explains then, but offers him another smile that twists into a dimpled smirk. "They couldn't? Or your kin couldn't? Never easy being the class clown." A glance at her bag, she then seems to think of something. "Oh, sorry, you thought I was writing a story about you? With my notes? Sorry, that was for me personally. How am I to help you all if I don't understand you. If you'd like an interview, though, I can set up a time."