Summary:Thor has a mysterious helm on his hands and Steve has questions about Einherjar. Steve also doesn't share his sandwich, but what else is new? Log Info:Storyteller: None |
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A golden helmet does not go with the decor of the room. It goes against the muted green and brown natural scheme that had been intended to give the kitchen an element of peace for the people within. The green and brown complements the dark colors of the utilities, and with the decor something assuredly decided on by the team's VI, it's guaranteed that Jarvis did not take into account such a garish thing like a golden helmet.
And yet there it is, resting upon the table with a large dent apparently hammered into the side, the nordic noseguard tinged with a spatter of brownish dried blood that lends the gleaming item a weathered look that is defied by the brilliance of the metal. It has an element of the macabre to it with the way the eyelets resemble a skull's, and how the gaunt cheekguards seem to twist inward to resemble teeth. From the way it sits on the table it's almost as if it is glowering across the way…
Glowering, most likely, at the tall blond man who is leaning back against the sink, arms folded over his broad chest and his brow knitted in concentration. His frown is stern, expression grim, as if involved in a staring contest with the thing. Though he would have lost such a contest each time he takes a drink from the open bottle of orange juice in his hand.
It's apparently time for more coffee. The last day or two has been more than a little weighing on the Captain and the brew, while having little influence on his energy stores, has been keeping him afloat. Steve in jeans and a long-sleeved thermal shirt emerges from the library with his empty mug and a pensive frown of his own.
The helmet settled on the table is a bright if garish point of interest and his eyes flick to it as he enters the kitchen. Thor is next for his attention. "Figure that belongs to you…?" he asks of the Thunderer. "Looks like it's seen better days. It's not cursed, is it?"
With a clink of his mug settling into place beneath the the espresso machine, the pushing of a series of buttons commands the flow of thick dark coffee. Mmm, the good stuff, not the engine oil sludge of the trenches.
"Twas my cousin's." Is Thor's off-handed reply, his attention still upon the helmet. "So no." He adds, still not taking his eyes off the thing, arms still held tightly over his chest as he frowns. But then one eyebrow lifts and his shoulder lifts slightly as he shoots a glance over at Cap, then back to the helmet. "Well probably not."
Not exactly reassuring, but perhaps all that the good Captain will gain, Thor then waves a hand at the thing and murmurs. "He had been lost some centuries ago, lost in battle believed fallen beyond the nine realms."
A pause as he looks back at the helmet, "Today I find this, word sent by mine father as to its finding but naught else. I am…" His eyes distance a little as he frowns, then looks back to Cap. "Trying to discern if there is some hidden message here."
Expressive brows quirk at Thor when he glances at the supersoldier. The Captain follows his shift in attention back to the mangled helm with its staining of old gore. Rather than reach out and attempt to manipulate the ancient piece of armor, he chooses to remain leaned against the counter. His light folding of arms communicates a similar uncertainty.
"Not sure at all what your father might've meant by it. Maybe a reminder?" Steve glances over at the machine as it burbles. "Though…got a question for you, the helmet reminded me. What can you tell me about Einherjar?" His expression is openly curious. Someone long-knowing of the man might pick out the more subtle intensity in the slight grit of his jaw and curling of fingers deeper beneath his arms. An answer carries more than a little weight.
"Asgard's army," He says at first, the tall blond man shifts his weight to the other hip, causing the sink to complain slightly as it creaks at that movement. "Though like many things of Asgard the meanings are deep and much depends upon context. The standing army is called the Einherjar, composed of living men and warriors strong trained by my father and those who serve him. Yet they are also the fallen of Valhalla who will stand with us in the dark times of Ragnarok."
There's a pause as the Asgardian perhaps considers how to explain this to Captain America and murmurs, "To be chosen to serve in my father's guard and in the army is a great honor, not one that all warriors can aspire to. But if one is heroic and valorous enough to reach the halls of Valhalla? Well he cannot help but be worthy. Do you see?"
While Steve receives the explanation he asked after, there comes a point where he simply can't stay still. His coffee cup is moved to rest with contents steaming hot on the counter while the machine winds down. The fridge opens and he reaches into its depths to fish around tupperwares of various contents (and dates — good lord, that one's probably a science experiment by now) to fetch out what appears to be half of a sub-sandwich he deliberately hid for himself.
"Think I see, yes. There's a set of qualifications you need to meet first 'fore you count." He still blows a cheek-puffed sigh as he frowns down at the coffee. A fingertip taptaptaps against the countertop. "'nd you don't need to be dead, which is good." A ho-hum tilt of his head to both sides before he simply shakes it. Picking up his coffee, he sips at it and glances back to Thor. "Feel better hearing it from you, thanks, Thor."
A nod towards the helmet now. "D'you think that's a reminder though, from your father?"
Thor bobs his head as Cap replies, following along with the other man's words, but to his credit he does not press nor demand explanation. If Steve wishes to share what brought such curiousity forward then he will. But then the other question is asked and the Thunderer's attention shifts back to the helm.
"It could be," His head tilts slightly as he chews the inside of his cheek. "I know there are some who…" He looks askance at Steve and then frowns back at the helmet, "Who would consider me perhaps not the most wise of individuals, and my brother would assuredly be amongst that number. But growing up in the court of my father has at the least taught me somewhat that my father often operates on several levels some of which even Loki may not be aware of."
He pushes away from the sink then, crossing the distance slowly and then hefting the helm in one hand, rotating it to brush a hand over the rim and then to gauge the padding inside. "He could be requesting I find out what happened to Vardn."
The helm is flipped back around as he runs a thumb over the noseguard and frowns, "He could be telling me I should be wary lest such a fate befall me."
Then there's a smirk, "Or he could just be telling me he thinks I look good in hats." Some hint of his time on Midgard coming forth in those words, mildly more rapid-paced like the mortals do.
"In any case, I may well do as I can to find what happened to its former owner."
Sandwich in hand and a new bite taken out of it, the food then accompanies the handwaffling motion from Steve.
"Not all hats, but then again, nobody looks good in all hats," he quips good-naturedly, a dimple half-showing. "If it were me…" His eyes rest on the helm in Thor's hands, lidded in his now more solemn contemplation. "Missing person's always worth looking into, 'specially if there's a chance they're still alive." This sentiment is delivered with a fair amount of gravity; it roots in personal history with the Captain as is.
"Seems…dunno, garish if it's a warning. You're not some spring chicken when it comes to fisticuffs." Another sip of coffee. "Happy to help if you want some assistance. 'm not the foremost expert when it comes to gumshoeing, but 've had luck with missing people before."
"Mmm," Is Thor's answer at first, clearly his thought distanced on the matter. "Were I to pursue it, it would take me far afield." Beyond the nine realms. Then his eyebrows lift as a thought occurs to him. "Though there are others that dwell there and call it their home, some even who would call the Mighty Thor their friend. That may be the path I follow for now."
That said he pushes away from the counter and then looks toward Cap, eyes going to the sandwich, then to the man, then to the sandwich. As if asking if he brought enough for the whole class. But he says naught about it. Instead he pursues the next touch of curiousity that springs to mind…
The Einherjar.
"What brought the army of Asgard to your attention, Captain?"
"You do what you have to do. We'll send you a raven if we need to." By the deeper dimpling this time, Steve's fully aware of how he might be yanking chains to try and lighten the mood. He gets to eating the sandwich quickly and by the time he glances up at Thor, realizing the Asgardian has asked him a question, there's one bite left. It seems impolite to offer the strapping warrior a single bite of the sandwich even with this interest in it. Instead, Steve swallows carefully.
"Met a Valkyrie not too long ago at your brother's bookstore," he reveals and further clarifies, "Loki's bookstore. I was doing some research on them 'nd came across the Einherjar too. Wondering about the differences between them 'nd the Valkyrie. You clarified a lot of it. Midgardians…we're only so accurate when it comes to your culture's history."
He smiles, but it doesn't fully reach his eyes.
"Well," Thor says with a small smile as he moves back toward the table and sets the helm upon it, leaving the grim thing to stare now at Cap, its golden gleam seeming somehow malevolent. "It stems from our time here ages ago during the war with the Svartalfar. We shared much of our ways and our tales with the people. And well…"
Thor's smile shifts a little wry, "The people of Midgard are very creative, we shall say." That said he uncurls a hand in Cap's direction as he asks, "Is there aught else you would have of me? I intend to send word to those who may grant me this boon of seeking out Vardn's fate. Though I must be away for a short time to do so."
"…nothing off the top of my head," Steve decides after he thoughtfully chews the last bite of sandwich and stares at his reflection in his coffee like it might give him further answers. "Maybe have your phone on you in case something comes up."
Setting aside the empty crinkly sandwich wrapper and mug, the Captain then offers out his own hand in a warrior's clasp of forearms. "Call on us if you need to. We're here to back you up." He does give the helm a wary side-glance. "…mind if that gets put elsewhere while you're away? Don't think folks like trying to eat spaghetti while it's sitting there."
"Ah," Thor says as he leans over the table, "I should probably take it with me." And with an almost too casual movement he picks up the helm and flips it around to tuck it under his arm. His footsteps carry him toward the doorway and through as he calls over his shoulder, "Until later, Captain Rogers."