11989/The Return to Light

The Return to Light
Date of Scene:	12 July 2022
Location:	Palace - Asgard
Synopsis:	No description
Cast of Characters:	Jane Foster, Balder

---

Jane Foster has posed:
Asgard isn't a place that mortals hang about. In fact, mortals being here is a very recent matter and typically one that raises eyebrows. Just two have been invited of late, one Thea Queen of the proposterously rich Queen family, and of course, Jane. It helps said woman is technically the representative of Midgard in the Congress of Worlds, largely due to the fact any other human acquaintance is several hundred years out of date. Unless you include Loki.

Don't include Loki, that way lies trouble.

Doctor Foster of one-too-many awards sits at a table near the library. Said equipment is slightly overlarge for her, ranging from the size of the chairs to the illustrious ladder to basically anything the librarian allows her to set hands on other than the books. Books, though, are friends. Someone such as she can rip through scores of pages lightly and elegantly, deciphering information in a disturbingly quick fashion. Probably, she's looking at the pictures. Probably, she is hunting around for something that presumably acts as a bulwark between Midgard and another realm in illustrated detail, or a word that she knows and can point to the patient (irritated) librarian, assistant or translator of some kind to tell her what it means.

None of that is true. Oh, she has a stack of books and a notepad in which she's writing -- a cipher, for what it's worth, in Wakandan Xhosa with words transcribed in certain technical terms by way of another language. It's less nonsense than using German's adept quality for explaining a vague, valuable and complex concept in 28 letters or less. Nor is she asking for translation help, further mark against the woman. Then again, she's a comparative baby among the long-lived Aesir, who reach teenagerhood around, what, 17 and stay there for a thousand years? They also possibly sparkle in the sunshine. Which has limited appearances in a library out of respect for books, scrolls, and so much gold.

Rubbing her neck, she sits back to survey her work. The stack of tomes around her could be a fairly scale model of upper Manhattan, fewer skyscrapers than south, but still jaunty with docks and studded sparks. "Pardon..."

"Shh!" Frodr probably contemplates hurling a pen at her for the breach. Even if she has a right to ask, which Jane does. "Do you have volumes four and five of the Treaties of Sundvis and the Deeps?"

Balder has posed:
Mortals are not permitted in the Realm of the Gods. Under normal circumstances, that is. But of late, normality has shifted deftly to the side in exchange for the help so desperately required. Jane Foster has helped Asgard countless times in the past. Even if she were unworthy of the halls of Asgard, she would no doubt be given entrance into the Halls of Odin: Valhalla.

Everything was oversized for her. Age, experience...the Asgardians can live for millenia. Humans top out in their seventies on a bad day. Yet, hope endures. The sparkle of sunshine that peeks in through the windows grow a little bit brighter. The birds sing a little more loudly outside.

Heavy footsteps, silent as the grave in worry over angerying Frodr may be ever so slightly heard behind Jane. The tall figure was wearing robes of purple and gold as befits an Asgardian of station, the purple cloth over his shoulders dipping into a greater robe, where the runes of Asgard may yet be displayed.

He hasn't been seen in some time, rumor has it he's been in the Nine Realms, looking for artifacts of binding for Thor's strange interdimensional welcome committee idea. It takes doing and Balder was among the first to sign up.

Books tap against Jane's shoulder lightly and in Balder's hand was the volumes she was looking for. How did he know? He wordlessly smiles, but gestures with his head back to her workstation, where they could speak without fearing the wrath of Frodr.

It's an unspoken rule: Never speak near Frodr.

Jane Foster has posed:
Frodr is probably an old bag proud of his achievements in mastering the long, slow arc of a career trajectory to junior underlibrarian for the something or other collection. Not the senior librarian and not the master librarian, nor the chief of librarians, who probably may well be a god like Vanir or Frigga or a talking dragon. Here, you never know.

Jane could well use digital technology to capture her notes, but here, a notepad will do. That it's a Midgardian notebook probably causes displeasure to Frodr at the same time as satisfaction. No parchment wasted on the human who lives a shorter span than the tree or the reeds that gave themselves to the glory of eternal use here. Or recycling. Such advancements are not to be guessed at.

Her head lifts at the sound of someone approaching, though that's something of a misnomer. Very sharp senses might realize it's prior ot that sound, the shift of position minute but distinct. Frodr's froideur is one thing; the bright light roaming around after Balder another for the brunette.

She inclines her head in thanks, receiving the books. Three go onto an awaiting cart that would probably take a small pony or a very inspired football player -- either American or world -- to shove along its way. Obviously she isn't shoving it around either on the spotless, wax-gleaming floors.

The fourth volume cracks open and she eyes the sticky jam-print of a thumb in the corner. However old, dear Odin, it's /there/. So much for no technology. Out comes the camera, an image shamelessly snapped, and then she moves right along.

Dealing with sea worlds is always exciting but here she has to figure out the details of Sundvis rapidly gaining ground or betokening appreciation. She runs a finger along the stamped text, and looks askance to Balder. "Tell me you haven't been roped into this too. I wonder if he thought it an exercise to keep us occupied rather than on the field of battle or training?"

Balder has posed:
Frodr was a terrifying individual, if you ask Balder. He's seen Frodr be...well, let's just say surprising and leave it at that. Though Jane's digital technology is met with a raise of the braw by the son of Odin, Balder doesn't stop her from snapping pictures or gathering the standard intelligence for further research. He looks towards her cart, her very full cart, and moves his hand to touch it and start moving it around for her, unless she objected.

"If by him you mean my Brother, then yes, yes I have. It's my honor to help, though his ambitiosn are a little grand - when has anything ever been too grand?" Balder smiles at her. "If he thought it an exercise, I think it's succeeding. It's making us work together." a reply spurred by his own belief in wisdom.

"I wish I had my father's wisdom. It makes me wish I could help him better. My travels through the Nine Realms have given me very little...but I have a lead on Vanaheim I hope to pursue." He looks at the book. "I always appreciated Sundvis. Do you need help with the interpretation?"

Jane Foster has posed:
Worse men and women exist, those sticklers for rules. Maybe he does amazing rescues of books, damaged manuscripts, and small animals ignored by their owners. Possibly he invests in fair trade in Alfheim or something. Jane doesn't tend to need to speculate, sine therein lies no purpose but idle wanderings. It neither helps she can hear every last thought in the man's head, currently.

A rueful truth, and one shoved away by simply forcing her focus to flow around the youngest Odinson. What vibrant colours imprint from his emotional resonance to her, she isn't sure, but staring at the book has a great deal to do with allowing a sliver of privacy. They probably have no idea of that, like so much else. "Thank you," she offers. "For the book and the aid." The cart is heavy and if he wants to push it around like a child's toy, Balder is welcome. Privacy in two forms.

"I do mean the prince." Beat. "Thor. The other is quite busy, ui should presume, with other matters far too intriguing for the likes of." A hand wave would indicate the books or them or a librarian who collects vintage rugs and secretly adores sculpting things from driftwood or ancient boats. People are all pretty unusual. "He has wisdom, though, and an excellent one. Credit due to Thor, he aims high and assigns a mystery to those with a penchant for it, aren't we?"

Her gaze flicks back to him and she laughs. "Ah, don't wish for the price of your father's wisdom. Our paltry legends -- all collected deep after the fact of Asgard affecting our cultures -- tell us how grim and awful a price to pay it was. Not merely an eye. Would you not be happier to accumulate such skill and ability through experience, and in your town itme? I'd hesitate here, for it may be trite but what's the rush? You have all the years ahead."

Balder has posed:
Balder says, "No thanks are necessary, Jane Foster." Balder replies. Maybe Frodr is thinking about Jane and he's nervous! But her thanks is met with such kind words as he pushes her cart along. To her it may be heavy, but to him it was nothing more than a small thing, lifted with the ease of a pencil. Yet, Balder finds himself in thought.

"Loki is always busy. He rarely cares for matters like these, even if it would best suit his unique skillset." Balder frowns. "I miss him at times, though. Thor, on the other hand, has wisdom indeed. His experience as the right hand of my father has done him great justice. I do not envy him. My father is a hard teacher."

Hard teacher is a painful understatement.

"Wisdom for wisdom's own sake is worth a great deal of sacrifice. My father's sacrifice of his eye - among many things - only proved how invaluable wisdom is. I will learn wisdom my own way - a sacrifice cannot be given twice. Besides, I'm told I am more personable with two eyes." He seems to be joking.

"No rush...I only wish to be better able to help my family, my people.""

Jane Foster has posed:
"I would find it hard to imagine none of your mother's children inheriting the wisdom she possesses," Jane allows as she seeks her spot to sit. A chair will do, though it's not the only one in the ocean of books, papers, and desktop space taken over by the young woman. "She sets a formidable example, and to have a thimbleful of her insight would put someone head and shoulders above the majority. Thor's aims are not modest, but neither are they unfounded. I hope to see it succeed and will do my part to ensure it becomes so."

A pause and she grins, briefly. "Not merely because I await a holiday somewhere thrilling." A gentle ribbing won't hurt anyone, least of all her. Balder is presumably immune; she's not rubbing it in with mistletoe, naturally. Her mouth tilts up slightly at the corner, dimple formed. "I make no comment on someone being a cyclops. I imagine in a culture such as yours, people wounded in battle are more commonplace and tolerance for such is better than we've accommodated in America in the past. I hope that's changing, and yet the tide seems to be slow at points."

Another tap of her fingertip traces the cover of a book, finding volume four's faceplate and sliding over to the table of contents.

Balder has posed:
"Maybe I received it, but...I don't much know." Balder was born to Frigga and Odin, though that's as far as he knows anything about it. "I won't be so bold as to assume I received her intuition. She was raised among sorceresses and soothsayers, she sees with far more than eyes." Balder chuckles. "To this day, she is the most terrifying individual aside from the Allfather that I have ever had the honor of knowing, an even greater knowledge to share blood with her."

He smiles at Jane then, even as she pokes fun at him. "In Asgard, suffering a wound is considered a mark of victory. It means that despite the best efforts of your enemy, you survived their best. Though greatly, it comes from context. I believe America is shifting in it's efforts, slowly, but surely."

He chuckles softly. "I would like to go on a vacation someday. I hear those are nice."

Jane Foster has posed:
"One could say the wisdom of not assuming implies you have. Your mother isn't constantly shaking her head in dismay, is she?" There's a fondness in Jane for the queen of Asgard, for whatever reasons are there. It's a soft, bright tone to her voice. "I cannot imagine what being raised like that would be, well, like. It's hard enough growing up, much less among those who are prophetic. Your own childhood must have been comparatively calm and stable, given the All-Father was already invested in his position?"

It may be that he doesn't want to talk about that, and Balder can steer the conversation away without any rancor on her part. "You have excellent healing and medical practices here, which helps. I've always appreciated where those are widely available. My mother was a doctor -- and I nearly steered that way myself."

A slender flip of the page barely ripples the parchment in motion. "Have you never been?"

Balder has posed:
Balder smiles. "I was never the one she shook her head at. That was usually reserved for Loki and Thor." Balder recalls it fondly, by the way he closes his eyes and looks up towards the ceiling. "A strange thing, really. I helped revitalize the healing magics here, with my mother. It wasn't always so." he chuckles.

He frowns though. "My childhood was not so much so. I mayhaps bear the worst of my father's treatment. My death causes Ragnarok." He tells Jane. If Balder dies, the world ends. It's a scary thought.

"Why did you not become a doctor?" Since it's a time for perosnal questions. "No. I've been far too busy." He laughs.

Jane Foster has posed:
Loki and Thor, the troublesome big brothers. Who knew? There's a wonder that they ever managed to stay out of danger at all. The hint of a laugh almost threatens to breach the quiet of the library but there's no reason to upset the librarian more than they have. Unlike some, she doesn't quite have a death wish, that said and done. "Healing magic wasn't commonplace? That strikes me as surprising. I would expect they have a great need?"

She can talk and flip through the treatise of a long-ago trader sort with ease, pulling down information. Then again, it's probably a case of 'look for pictures', not 'ingest monstrous amounts of data hunting for a specific word.' Then again...

"A cycle leading to the twilight of the gods," she agrees, "though hope springs out of that. Given how things seem to go, though, I can imagine how that would cause great terror and worry. Why take it out on a child?" A matter that she clearly has no idea whatsoever how scary Odin is. Really, she mustn't. Balder still earns that solemn look through the corner of her eye.

"I have a love for the stars and a love of medicine. It's not possible to be both an astrophysicist and a medical doctor. Not with the hours residency required. I had to choose where my love lay, and it's been with the stars. The questions there remain heavily unanswered and people keep falling out of sky with red capes or rainbow bridges or the occasional super-powered Shi'ar spacecraft. I thought I was resolving anomalous scientific theories, but time has moved far past that point."