Summary:Loki and Sigyn fill Betty in on a few more magical notes. Log Info:Storyteller: {$storyteller} |
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Sigyn is, of all things, a morning person. She closes the door to the Master bedroom suite, and cracks open the door to the guest suite. Seeing Betty still out, she pours a glass of water, puts it next to the woman's bed, and leaves leaving the door open. She then starts to make breakfast, pans rattling perhaps a bit more than necessary. She even -sings- to herself as she is cooking and making a pot of coffee and a second of tea. Mead hangovers can be vicious things, Asgardian mead more so, and she is not doing anything other than the water to spare Betty it's wrath.
Loki sort of shambles out of the bedroom, he's dressed in a robe over his black silk PJs, the robe pine green wool with gold embroidery. His feet are bare, however. Clearly the god of Mischief, Fire, Lies and other stuff is NOT a morning person. Unfortunately, Sigyn's in a boisterous good mood and that means NOBODY gets to sleep in.
Ah well.
"Good morning, Wife Sigyn." He greets her en passant to the coffee she no doubt has ready. "Any signs of our guest?"
Lucky for Betty (though not the strongest in a number of things) was a steady drinker. Also thankfully for herself, she only had a mouthful of that glorious drink. Someday, she'd get the whole horn. She doesn't stir when the door is opened, but at length, she'll move and climb out of bed. Sighing, she brushes back her hair, feeling the odd buldges where her braids were out of place. Padding to a closet, she shops browses her choices for clothing. In time, she chooses a tunic of sorts, dark in hue and woven with some type of bronze-gold threading.
Hair down in wild sweeps of dirty-blonde, the mortal greets the pair in the kitchen with a lazy smile. "Morning. May I have some coffee?" Comes her question, followed by the next. "And may we have some eggs with that bacon. I'm starving."
Sigyn kisses Loki on the cheek as she hands him his coffee. "And there she is." She smiles over at Betty, "There's plenty of coffee, and bacon and eggs are coming right up. Also pain perdu… no, they call it French toast now." She chuckles as she sets about getting food on the table. "Names change over the centuries, and I don't like relying on allspeak. It leads to -assumptions-."
Only once all the food is on the table does she sit down to join them. There's plenty of food for the three of them, perhaps a bit more than three normal humans would eat, but not outrageously so. And it's rather nice every day place settings, though the silverware is -actual- silver, the knife handles mother of pearl. Which makes the His and Hers coffee mugs that say 'My wife is always right' and 'My husband is always right' a bit of a shocking contrast. Sigyn has tea with breakfast, rather than coffee.
Loki needs his coffee, rather a lot. "Thank you, my dear." Loki states, cheek turned to receive the kiss before he settles into his seat at the table. He smiles when he sees the newspapers already there, and settles back to read one for a bit while he waits for food. Not very chatty at first, and then he sees Miss Brandt. "Impressive. Doesn't your head feel like it is striving to tear itself apart? I should think so." He's definitely impressed by her ability to deal with the mead hangover.
Betty Brant holds the coffee mug in her hands, cradling it and sucking in its warmth. "Don't be impressed. I can feel it and I'm annoyed that it was only a drink before it taken away." She chides toward Sigyn. "I just…wear it well, I suppose. I didn't throw up, so that was a good sign, and I know I need to eat and drink, so…road to recovery." She smiles gently, her brows twitching before she sips from her drink. Her coffee was not black as sin, however, it was a rather pale and creamy tan, smelling heavily of vanilla and sweet cream.
"Thank you for everything you're doing, by the way. I don't think I'm doing well, but the chance to do…something is good."
Sigyn hmms cheerfully, "More than a mouthful, and you'd likely be dead of alcohol poisoning. I did do a bit of healing on you to make sure you didn't stop breathing in your sleep. Asgardian mead is much more… potent than earthly distilled alcohol could dream of being." She gets the scrambled eggs and bacon on the table as she finishes up the french toast. "Betty, most mortals have magic like…. a drop of water. Asgardians are seeped in it, and Loki and I have more than the normal share. If you compare yourself to us, you will -never- feel like you are doing well. Compare yourself to where you were last week, last month, last year. Do you understand?" Her tone is compassionate as she puts a platter of french toast on the table to allow people to serve themselves.
"Not throwing up is a good start." Loki's been that drunk, more than once. A smirk follows. "You're lucky to be only ill, and my wife's exceeding kindness in using her power to heal you was probably a good thing." Loki admits. He actually approves that the treatments were just enough to keep Betty from /dying/. He's mostly glad that it meant no awkward body disposal, but also because a priestess-magus to do the rites — that's DAMN useful.
"Put another way - most humans have about as much magic as field of nettles. Not much, and it what little is there is severely irritating." A long sip of his coffee as he puts the paper away for now. "We're /gods/, Betty Brant. Gods who have lived longer than there's been a Christian faith. OUR scale is simply not one may can operate on. Accept that you've got /power/, or at least the potential for such, and don't belittle it. The oldest rule of magic is that you do what you do because you WILL it so, you BELIEVE. Doubts are lethal, mm?"
"No, I," pausing, she smiles to Sigyn. "Thanks for helping me out. I guess I had no idea how hard it hit. Fenris just never allowed me to drink it. Part of me wants to rub it in his face a lil." A soft blush, she nurses her coffee and reaches out for her share of the food. For now, she's modest in her take, allowing the others to gather their desired amount.
"No, I understand that. I'm not saying I'm nothing or anything of the sort. I am looking at myself and everything that's happened thus far in my life. It's…amazing, honestly. I'm just happy to be doing something, is all. I'm saying it to be thankful, I promise. I push until I don't have any push left." But then again, that's how the woman had always been.
Sigyn hmmms with a hint of disapproval, "Well, if you want to taunt Fenris, there are slower ways of committing suicide." She eats with neat, overly formal manners. She glances over at Loki, in silent communication, then looks back to Betty.
"Since you will be performing the sacrifices and rituals of old, I'm working on translating the old seasonal rites into English. I will be giving you two books.. the first will be more of a booklet really, and can be copied and shared freely with any who you think will take to the old faith. It will be in English, save for what -must- be said in other tongues, and I will provide a pronunciation guide for those. The second will be mostly blank, but will have the Asgardian documentation of the rituals, opposite a page with translation into English. The second I will have to hand write and it is yours and yours alone. You will need to record your studies, each instance you perform the rite and any… incidents of note, and your increased understanding of magic and ritual. If you take an acolyte, a student someday, you may leave it to them in your will. Otherwise it should be burnt with your body."
"That's my boy, my oldest son." Yes, Loki approves of Fenris being a bit mean, if you poke a wolf, be ready to get chewed upon. Seems simple and real sane to him.
While Sigyn speaks, he prepares himself a breakfast sandwich, piling eggs and various meat on the breads available. He also drinks a fair amount of coffee. It is doubtful that this particular style of eating breakfast is one Sigyn's seen Loki partake of for breakfast.
He does love to shake things up.
Once he's finished eating, about fifteen minutes after Sigyn's explanations, Loki smiles to Betty. "So…Betty Brant…would be priestess-magus, are you fortified for the next step? I will be using my power to probe yours and see the 'shape' of your gift. I will learn how strong it is, what if any focus it will favor, and whether or not it will be something I can train you to use."
"I," stalling, she glances at her food and eats herself into silence for a moment. "He wouldn't kill me, he'd probably laugh." She corrects in regards to Fenris gently, perhaps even a sliver of defense coming up in her tone. A glance to Loki, she blinks gently and then keeps eating. To Sigyn, she nods, attentive as always and to Loki is much the same.
"Apologies, I'm only would be of one of those. Fenris has granted me a number of things already, thus why I'm here. I wish to provide even more in return for all that has happened to me." Finishing up her meal, as sweet as it was, she cleans off her lips and nods. "Yes, I am." Pause, "Thank you for your hospitality."
Sigyn smiles, "Asgardians are not… jealous of worshippers as a general rule. The seasonal rites need to be performed to keep Midgard safe and things in balance. Please speak to Fenris, and feel free to show him the books I will give you. He will likely have additions for your personal book, which is why it will have a very great many blank pages. He won't mind us helping, especially if I deal with the boring parts like hand copying pages of text." She gets serious then, "The exception is certain… rivalries. Neither Fenris nor my husband and I are in the All-Father's good graces. Don't invoke him, don't give him reason to notice you. I use his title not his name to avoid even the remote chance of attracting the… old man's attention." There's a sense that she was considering using something more profane but cleaned her language up to 'old man'.
"Not all of us, anyway." Loki knows that some of his brethren are not fond of sharing. LUCKILY for Betty, Loki isn't one of them. He's rather keen on sharing. Sometimes. As long as HE gets the the Lion's share, of course. Still, Fenris is his eldest child, he won't mind /that/ share too much. He silently nods his approval to Sigyn's words, supporting what she has to say, and smirking what Sigyn would no doubt process as 'Wants to call daddy names smirk #17', not the strongest by far, but the URGE is.
And without even a moment's pause Loki's magic surges, and his touch is not what one would call gentle. It is not harsh either. The magical probe just feels - determined. And the process is pretty uncomfortable, though…it also makes Betty aware of parts of her she hadn't really known before. And then he withdraws his mind, maddeningly pouring himself some more coffee, and topping off the drinks for the ladies as he processes the info.
"Your gifts are fairly strong, in time, should you apply yourself you might even grow to be quite formidable. At the moment your power is newly awakened, it will be chaotic until it settles, about all I can say is you have a 'knack' for transmogrification magic, and that is something I have some small skill in." In roughly the same way that Thor is a little strong, and Heimdall has decent sight.
Betty Brant cants her head to the side, watching over Sigyn and thinning her lips as thoughts cross mind. They are not given voice, but there's definate confusion on her face. At length, the woman simply nods.
The surge is met with a hint of resistance, causing Betty's fingers to tense and clutch at arms of her chair as she turns her head and eyes down the God. The woman squirms in her seat before the probe is gone and that phantom feeling of something digging around at her core is gone. Sighing, she nods again, her fingers trembling as they reach out and reclaim her java.
"Do I just study, now? Read and write and attempt?"
Sigyn sighs, "I'll add some basic exercises to the book I'm writing up for you, and give you some other books to read. My husband isn't as patient as I am with the baby steps, much less hand copying." Loki enjoys the fun parts of teaching, he doesn't handle tedium well. "Read, attempting, meditation… but also watch for… oddities."
Sigyn grins a little, "You've had a sip of Asgardian mead, Loki's been poking at your magic, it may start waking up on its own. If you find that every traffic light is in your favor, that you are winning things you don't recall entering you might favor luck spells. If your speech is more impactful, you might have a tendency toward verbal spells, while things working when you thump them might be a more physical bent to your magic. Watch for patterns."
Sigyn smiles sadly, "It was easier in the old days… such gifts ran in families, so we'd have two or three possibilities that were more likely. Without such a history and your magic still unformed, we could be dealing with almost anything."