12320/If one is to go to war with another at their side, then best to learn of them.

If one is to go to war with another at their side, then best to learn of them.
Date of Scene:	06 August 2022
Location:	Asgardian Embassy
Synopsis:	Thor meets with Psylocke and realizes she is bonkers.
Cast of Characters:	Betsy Braddock, Thor

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Betsy Braddock has posed:
It is a rare thing for Elizabeth Braddock to be up and about before noon when she doesn't have a modeling job lined up or some other commitment that requires it. She isn't exactly a lazy woman by nature, but when you live in a school it is convenient to wait until night to do any training or use the facilities. But that doesn't mean she's not capable of self-discipline when the occasion warrants it.

Apparently the occasion warranted it, because here she is standing in front of the Villard House. The ninja-model is wearing casual clothing, a pair of wide-legged trousers in earth toned plaid and a blousy white shirt tucked in. She looks like the young British aristocrat she is, rather than the deadly psi-ninja she, well, also is.

To the guardsman on duty, she introduces herself as: "Lady Elizabeth Braddock, ally to Lady Sif and the Odinson. Here to see one of the two."

Thor has posed:
    The guards were aware of the approach of the X-Man, her stride marked and her bearing noticeable. She seemed to present herself much like the nobility of old which had they known something of her lineage they likely would deem... appropriate.
    She approached, up the steps and to the guards. There was no snap to attention but the gaze of the one closest to her met her eyes from behind the drawn visor of that horned helm. She offered those words and then the guardsman gave a short nod.
    "Bide but a moment, Lady Braddock." His tone precisely modulated to give respect and yet presents himself with some touch of sternness.
    It is only the span of twelve seconds she must wait before the guard again speaks, "I am afraid Lady Sif is in the field, though Prince Thor is in attendance and receiving." He turns to he side and opens the door as he adds, "Lady Hedla will conduct you to him, good day to you."
    As the door opens it presents the foyer of Villard House. Beautiful with winding staircases on either side reaching up to the next floor while several doors on either wall lead further into the mansion proper. Yet what likely draws more attention is the older Asgardian woman in her native garb, a dress of white and grey that complements her figure and yet leaves her arms free. Likely for the sword at her hip.
    "Good day, Lady Braddock." She smiles and gestures to the side, "If you will walk with me? It will be but a moment." And saying that she puts words to action.

Betsy Braddock has posed:
"Very well." Betsy replies when the guard indicates that Sif is in the field but the Prince will see her. Under the silky white blouse, she rolls her shoulders, preparing herself for royalty.

Lady Hedla's arrival is met with a friendly, polite smile and a nod of acknowledgement as she's lead to her meeting. "Good day, Lady Hedla." She replies in her lilting British accent, before easily matching strides with the other woman.

"Thank you for your guidance. I trust all is well in Asgard? And with the Prince?" Just polite small talk, but fortunately Betsy has the training to make it seem genuine and interested.

Thor has posed:
    If there is one Asgardian that has the right to call themselves an expert in the artes diplomatique it is the good Lady Hedla. For though the blade at her hip clearly shows her ease with matters dealing in arms and battle, it has been the words she's chosen and a quick wit that has served her best in her thousand years of life.
    "Indeed, Lady Braddock." She walks along with an easy and even step turning to the left and heading along one of the broad hallways that stands between a myriad of doors. "The Shining City stands tall, Odin's reign provides protection to the Nine Realms, and our Prince..." Her lips twist slightly as she takes that pause, "Well you shall shortly see him."
    Then she adds as they stroll, "I trust your brother is well? And news from the sceptred isle has not been poorly received?"
    Though it does not take long for them to reach their destination which seems to be a set of double doors to which Hedla gestures, "The Grand Ballroom, Lady Braddock. It has seen some changes of late."
    As she says that she opens the door and within it no longer looks /quite/ like a ballroom and more a rather robust training hall. For there are racks of weapons, armor on display in cases and out, as well as a cleared area set for sparring and a fencing run. Which is in use now as a tall blond man stands in the middle of three younger Asgardians. All tall and fit and strong, though looking as if they were perhaps in their early teens. All of them hold sword and shield and all of them are set upon Thor.
    "Ho, 1-2-3-4! Keep your shield up!" There's a resonant clang after each murmured number as the Thunderer steps forward, clanking his sword against the shield of the redheaded youth who at first seems to quail under the attack, but then renews himself and shouts, "YAH!"
    "Good good, keep me on my toes!"
    The other two come in and Thor takes their attacks on his shield. "I am besieged!" He cries.

Betsy Braddock has posed:
"Sir Brian is, as far as I am aware, in fine health, as is both English as a whole and Avalon in Otherworld." Betsy replies with utmost courtesy, and a quick hint of a grin at Lady Hedla's knowledge of her family. "I do not know if it is the same in the Shining City, but so often the men of Midgard tend to only reach out when they need help."

As they come to the Grand Ballroom and she's ushered inside, her eyebrows rise but otherwise she doesn't comment on the change of decore... Although there is a hint of a smile of approval. That smile dwindles though as she watches the fight.

"Mmm. Locking his elbow when he thinks a blow is coming." She murmurs to herself, lilac eyes on one of the teen Asgardians sparring with Thor, "Good way to get a broken arm, absorbing blows rather than redirecting them along the edge. Sloppy." And then as if aware she's a guest offering criticism, she shakes her head and flashes an apologetic look to Lady Hedla. "My pardon." And then she grins, cocking her head at her guide. "Shall I wait for him to have his fun, or take up arms and defend the besieged Odinson?"

Thor has posed:
    "It will be but a moment," Hedla smiles to Betsy, then clears her throat, "Prince Thor, I have Lady Elizabeth Braddock here to see you," Calm words given in a strong voice but with such easily granted politeness. Words enough that cause the man to raise his sword and open his fingers in a gesture for the youths to hold, only for the raven-haired girl to take another swing!
    Though that has Thor laughing as he hunkers behind his shield. Though then shaking his head as he bites his lower lip then fixes her with a stern gaze aided by a pointing finger. Admonishment, but good-naturedly so.
    The one called Thor may not entirely be the way she expected. For the media so depicts him in armor, hurtling across the sky, golden hair trailing behind him as his cloak flutters and snaps in the wind. Very heroic, very larger than life. While the man before her...
    Well he is handsome, with a few days stubble of beard but his hair is very short and wild. No armor now, instead he wears casual garb that is normal for the people of Asgard. Leather boots, red breeks, and a black tunic with a leather belt around the waist though the sides are open revealing the supple contours of the strong man's physique in profile.
    "Lady Braddock!" Though that is perhaps the voice she has heard, commanding and strong. "Sif spoke of your visit,"
    One of the other teens steps up and acts like he's going for a stab only for Thor to affect a wild-eyed growl and fake a swing back at him. But then he's walking along. "A pleasure to meet you, I am Thor. Son of Odin. These scoundrels are..." He pauses as he points at each in turn, though takes a moment to recall.
    "Ingnin?"
    "Aye!" Says the impetuous redhead.
    "Hild?"
    "Tis I!" Says the grinning Asgardian girl who waves a little with her sword at Elizabeth.
    "And... Alfar Alfridason."
    The chestnut brown haired youth, slimmer than the others, he smiles and bows. "An honor."
    Thor then gestures, "They are visiting, something about some battle royale they won?" As if it was just something silly, though likely meant to spur the youths into words.
    "It was a grand melee! And our team won!" Ignin gives a nod and hrmfs at Thor.
    "Ah yes, a grand melee. They are visiting for the week. And from here they're off to?"
    "The Themysciran Embassy!"
    "Themyscira?" Thor says with a crinkle of his nose. "Who would want to go there?"
    Only for all three of the youths to shout that they would. Though it's after that that Thor sends them on their way. "Very well, off with you."

Betsy Braddock has posed:
The British telepath clicks her tongue when she's told to wait, almost in disappointment. "Ah, well. We'll save it for the enemies of Asgard." She doesn't look particularly deadly, dressed as she is for the part of a British aristocrat and super model. But then again, this *is* Asgardians and they all know better than to judge based off appearances.

Thor is given a friendly enough smile in greeting when he acknowledges her, and she dips her head respectfully, "The pleasure is mine, Odinson." She replies to the introduction, "My pardon for interrupting your fun. And greetings, Ingnin, Hilde, and Alfar Alfridason. Congratulations on your win." The three youths are given a smile and a nod in greeting, before she laughs at Thor.

"An island of women warriors, all known to be supernaturally attractive thanks to the gifts of Aphrodite." She says dryly, "I cannot for the life of me imagine why anyone would want to go visit even just the Embassy." She then shakes her head, laughing.

Thor has posed:
    The response given to Psylocke's words is animated albeit split. For the two young men respond both with a resounding, 'Aye!' While Ignin? She rolls her eyes as if to say, 'ugh, boys.' Some expressions are universal across dimensions.
    Thor laughs a little as he sends them off, "Remember to not be pests, and remember the protocols we discussed. Off now." Which serves to further spur them onwards and send them into the hall past Lady Hedla who gives a small smile and a bow from the neck to Elizabeth as she departs, closing the doors behind her.
    Which leaves Thor to meet Elizabeth's gaze as he steps forward and offers his arm, "Thank you for visiting, forgive my unkempt appearance I had not known you would pay a call upon us."
    She can feel the subtle resonance of the Asgardian's surface thoughts, or at least the emotions there and it is all warmth and amusement for the day spent with the trio had not been a terrible time.

Betsy Braddock has posed:
The dual reactions earns an even wider grin from Betsy, and an almost wicked laugh at Ignin's eyerolls. The departing Lady Hedla is given another nod of thanks for her assistance, before the British mutant is turning her attention to the Odinson.

"Oh, you're fine." She tells the apologizing Asgardian, as she accepts his arm and allows herself to feel the resonance of his surface thoughts and emotions, offering a brief brush of her own thoughts in the telepathic equivalent of a handshake. << It is perhaps fitting that I meet a warrior prince in such circumstances, mmm? >>

"My apologies for not being able to make it to the initial delegation attending Alfheim. I was needed to deal with a situation in Montana." She switches to verbal communication, just in case Thor is one of those that is uncomfortable around telepaths. "But I'm fully at your disposal now." And she grins teasingly, giving his arm a squeeze. "If it's not too late to be of service."

Thor has posed:
    There's that brief touch of minds and she can feel that purity of intensity that is the Asgardian's thoughts. There is a power to him, rumbling deep that lends those thoughts a resonance that is not like most mortals nor even like other deities, keyed as it is to such a heritage.
    She spares him a thought, that contact as they accept each other with that warrior's grip, his eyes widening slightly. Then his smile broadening.
    "Indeed, holding his own against three mighty warriors." He answers her silent words with his own vocalized yet she can feel the mirror of them in his mind. "Such a noble depiction of heroism."
    But then she squeezes his arm and he smiles as he turns, "That is kind of you, and any aid given is appreciated. I know your time is likely spread thin for someone with your talents." Though as he says that he is clearly thinking of that mental touch between minds.
    He starts to walk around, picking up the discarded weapons and shields that were left by the youths even as he tucks them under one arm and once having them all heads towards one of the gear cases. Over his shoulder he says, "Grant me a moment and we shall retire somewhere more comfortable and we can speak at length. I would know whatever you would wish to tell me of yourself, Lady Braddock."

Betsy Braddock has posed:
"I mean, it isn't riding the bifrost into battle while thunder breaks in the skies above," Betsy temporizes, with a chuckle, "But it was certainly an impressive enough sight. If that is the quality of even your less experienced warriors than you Asgardians live up to your reputation."

When he apologizes for the mess and starts to clean up, Betsy joins him, using telekinesis to boost her strength enough to lift some of the heavier weaponry designed for an Asgardian with their enhanced physiologies. "Two hands make for half the work." She informs him, as she brings her armful over to him to put away.

Thor has posed:
    "That is very good of you," Accepting that arm load he chuckles and puts the gear away then he turns, "Shall we adjourn to the study?" He pushes a hand through his hair and then wipes a hint of sweat from his brow as he makes a face at himself in one of the floor-length mirrors on the wall, before he looks back to the woman with the violet hair.
    A smile as he uncurls a hand in the direction of the door and starts in that direction, "So tell me of yourself. Sif told me you are a warrior as well, a mentalist as I have seen, and no stranger to the occasional need for diplomacy."
    Once at the door he will open it for her and then follow into the hall once she is through. Walking past the beautiful woodwork and the small touches of art upon the wall that depict the history of Villard House but also some hints of Asgard's past.
    "I would also know if there is aught you would have of me?"

Betsy Braddock has posed:
And along follows Betsy, keeping pace with him despite the relatively minor difference in height. For a woman of Midgard, she's tall with long legs. Doesn't hurt she's made a career out of walking places. The face he makes in the mirror is noted with a hint of a smirk at his vanity, but she's hardly one to judge given she also takes a peek and adjusts her blouse slightly to drape in a more pleasing manner.

"Sif is correct. I am a mutant with both telepathy and telekinesis." She agrees pleasantly, "I'm also a master in the Hand's variation of ninjitsu and kenpo swordsmanship, although I hold no allegiance to the Hand themselves. I have espionage training, having been part of the British secret services psi-division." Pause. "I am also a scion of Otherworld through my father, Sir James Braddock. My twin brother, Sir Brian Braddock, currently holds the title of Captain Britain for this particular reality, although I can and have stood in his stead as needed."

When they enter the study, she makes a pleased sound at the surroundings, lilac eyes drifting towards the paintings before she looks for somewhere to sit.

Thor has posed:
    Likely that conversation nook will serve, considering the overstuffed chairs and the small love seat that are settled around a beautiful teak coffee table with elaborate wood-carving along the sides. Of course the main draw might be the small cart with a myriad of bottles and glasses as well as ice all set and ready for the heroes to indulge in.
    The Asgardian Prince gestures in that direction in fact, smiling to her sidelong, "Please, have a seat. Something to drink?"
    Being that she's of Midgard he gently pushes the Asgardian Mead to the side and settles on a brandy for himself at the least which he pours, tilting the caramel liquor on its side and letting it gurgle into the snifter.
    "It seems you are a woman of many talents, Lady Braddock. We are fortunate to have you with us." That said should she wish a drink as well then he will pour and get it settled, perhaps a bit of ice if needs be. Then he walks toward the seats, stepping around a tall set of shelves within which any number of books are stored. He takes a seat, making sure she has her drink should she wish one.
    Then once he's at his ease he looks across the way, "A warrior. A swordswoman. A spy?" He pauses on that word as if seeking clarification and not trying to offer insult.
    He sips his drink, "What brought you to wish to be of aid to our efforts?"

Betsy Braddock has posed:
"Thank you, your Highness. I would love something to drink." Betsy smiles, even as she takes an seat in the indicated area. One leg is curled under her as she makes herself comfortable, taking weight off the heeled boots she's wearing.

Although she isn't actively probing, she can feel the genuine curiosity in his question and lack of insult. He practically exudes honesty. "I'm trained in both infiltration and information-gathering, yes." She replies with a wry smile, "It is perhaps a bit unfair, given my ability to read minds, but I assure you I am the very model of ethical with friends and companions."

She accepts her drink with a nod of thanks, taking a delicate sip before replying to his last question. "I enjoy adventure." She says, simply, "James Hudson, Sif's paramour, is a friend of mine and suggested my.. ah.. talents would be useful."

Thor has posed:
    As Thor gets settled in his seat, crossing a boot over his knee, he eases back into the chair and holds his drink in one hand then lightly rests it on its arm. His smile is there as he listens, giving a small nod as he follows along with her words. Those deep blue eyes follow her lips now and again glancing up to her eyes as he listens, then nods again when she mentions her talents of mentalism.
    "That is good, I know some of my ilk find themselves ill at ease when faced with an individual capable of such, just perhaps be more reserved in cases of making new acquaintances."
    Then she mentions adventure and his smile slips more toward a grin. And then the mention of James Hudson. And the word. Paramour.
    She'll likely get a flicker in his thoughts, abrupt and short. An inner grumble with imagery that flickers through his mind of some image of some spindly horribly unkempt awkward ugly soul who somehow enchanted Sif and caught her under his power somehow...
    Even though it's clear he's never met Jimmy Hudson. Yet there's already pre-judgment. Then, to his credit, in just a flicker of seconds he clears his throat and tamps that sentiment down giving a nod as he tries to give a fair shake.
    "Ah. I have not met the man." Yet the tone is not /quite/ as friendly as it once was. But then he smiles, easing past. "But if he's served as incentive for you to find some adventure while doing what good we can, then that is all to the better."

Betsy Braddock has posed:
"I've dealt with plenty of people that have reservations about telepathy." Betsy acknowledges with a shake of her head, before tucking purple hair back behind her ear. For her part, she's sitting with the elegant ease of someone that spent years with protocol and decorum beaten into her. "And one of the talents I can offer is shielding for anyone worried about that, or training in how to know a telepath is in their thoughts and tricks to make it harder for anyone that tries to enter a mind."

At the mental image that Thor inadvertently projects, Betsy swallows back a snicker. It's something she'll treasure forever, and probably share with Jimmy at some point just for the amusement of it all. But for the sake of her friend, she projects an more accurate image, if colored somewhat by her own fondness for the man.

"He's a good man. I can see what Sif sees in him, and if circumstances were different..." She shakes her head, and flashes that wry smile. "But it is what it is. For both of us, mmm?" And she raises an eyebrow at Thor, curious to see if she's missed the mark with why he dislikes Jimmy.

Thor has posed:
    For a moment his eyes distance as he considers the words she tells him, then his eyebrows lift at the mention of shielding. He gestures with his glass as he murmurs, "That may be important. There have been times of late when it would have been of use to us, to know what subterfuge was being committed around us and to perhaps prevent our foes from having insight into our efforts."
    Then she might have a flash of an old bearded man seated upon a dais in an uncomfortable chair with a small ten year old boy with blond hair and in crimson garb. There's an aspect of malevolence to the old man that likely is Thor's own sentiment coloring the perception, and pity for the child.
    Yet the next moment it is gone as he is then witness to that psychic touch from Elizabeth again to the features of the one known as James Hudson. It's a moment where he has that instinctive negativity. There it's visible on his heavy brow as his jaw closes and tightens, an inner 'grumble' almost felt between their connection.
    But then his mind engages as Sif enters his thoughts and one can see the esteem he holds for her, and the mental image of the woman he grew up with is couched in such love. Perhaps in the past romantic love, but now love for a soul that matches his in many ways. Immortals who travel through the years together.
    He perhaps isn't entirely sure what Elizabeth can perceive, but he addresses her in words in any case. "To be fair, I know that any man who catches Sif's attention is a man likely of honor and worthy of her. For she is no fool and she does not indulge in romance lightly."
    And thus so is Jimmy Hudson cleared of any ill-doing.
    That is until Thor asks, "Are you quite certain, however, he isn't a sorcerer?"

Betsy Braddock has posed:
That does make Betsy laugh, throwing her head back with one hand rising to her throat before she calms down. "Oh, I am absolutely certain." She still smiling as she leans back into the chair, her public persona starting to crack and crumble. And her own psychic defenses lower somewhat, allowing her to absorb the images and impressions projected by Thor. "He didn't even realize that she was /that/ Sif until after they started dating, and I'm not entirely sure he even believes in magic." She shakes her head, "Sorry, your Highness, but you'll just have to hate him for being him."

That said, she takes a sip from her drink. "So what exactly are you attempting to do? Lady Sif described it as building an embassy or some such?"

Thor has posed:
    "Ah, then assuredly..." Thor says with a hint of a grudge in his voice, but then he pushes past it. "Then assuredly he is worthy of her attention." And thus was it wrought that James Hudson is given somewhat reluctant approval, though how long will it last? Impossible to say.
    And as easy as that his mood returns to normal, that casual calm and somewhat cheerful tone that seems to be the man's mental baseline. It's a strong /thrum/ of mental strength, but not a staggering amount of depth to his thoughts as his sincerity seems worn on his sleeve.
    "As to that!" She asks of their efforts and their goals, "Well I do not know how privy you are to the matters of the Nine Realms. How beings of these last nine to ten years have been traveling from one place to another, crossing a dimension to get to the beyond. Midgard at times being a crossroads of sorts."
    He waits to perhaps see if she accepts the premise then goes on, "I had been dealing with encounters with travelers, some malicious others not. At times it can be dangerous business, risky. And even when the travelers are innocent things can go wrong. Misunderstandings. So I thought that perhaps there was a way we could help."
    A breath is taken, a drink, then he leans forwards and rests his brandy snifter upon the coffee table between them as he straightens up. His eyes drift to the side then back, "Well I am not the wisest soul when it comes to magic. I spoke to others and asked if it was possible to perhaps... make it so these travelers if they be peaceful they pass through perhaps a central location. Where they can be greeted safely. Dr. Strange and Zatanna gave me insight as well as Jane Foster and we came up with our current plan. To find a suitable location, and gather artifacts of power from each realm that have one foot on Midgard and the other in their realm to aid in a... conjuring? Or an enchantment of sorts to make this a possibility."

Betsy Braddock has posed:
With an inward grin, Betsy notes that Jimmy now owes her at least one beer of her choice for the good deed of making sure Sif's... ex? Brother? Whatever... doesn't randomly strike him down with thunder. Or challenge him to a duel, the poor man.

"Ambitious plan." Betsy replies with a certain admiration in her voice at the audacity. "I know a little about the multiverse from my brother, and my own training in telepathy. In some ways, you intend to alter the structure of the World Tree on a fundamental level."

She grins, broadly, and adds, "That definitely sounds like the kind of adventure I would be chuffed to take part in." She laughs into her brandy as she raises it for a sip. "Brian is going to shit his pants in envy." It's meant to be too low for Thor to hear, but Asgardian ears are probably particularly sharp.

She then changes the subject. "So the delegation to Alfheim is designed to find an object to link this new genus locus? What kind of opposition have you had so far?"

Thor has posed:
    "More..." Thor says, "We are aiming to guide the current in one direction, so that travelers cross this path instead of others. We cannot stop all travel or make sure it all goes through there, but it's more akin to showing someone the front door and asking them to use it."
    That said, his smile returns as she seems enthused by the possibility of adventure, "Currently we are in the course of identifying suitable artifacts and gathering them. We have several secured, but there is much to do ahead of us."
    Though at her casual invective aimed toward her brother he doesn't address it, yet he half-smiles a little wryly.
    Mention of Alfheim however, that has his eyebrows rise as he makes a face. Which she might get a glimpse of what Alfheim must have been like. So much beauty and nature, with so many beautiful beings. Images of the Sidhe and their entourages. Parties, dancing, hunts, adventure... it was all maddening and Thor shakes his head. "We were tasked to find an artifact that held strength of connection with Midgard as well as Alfheim and we were... successful." Yet he does not elaborate.
    "Mostly our opposition has been diplomatic. There was a trip to South America to secure the Vanaheim artifact which was successful. Your James Hudson was on that quest I believe." Only a slight hint of negativity there, yet he goes on. "Though our next efforts are likely to be... more difficult. Svartalfheim will be very dangerous, for they are a land and a people we have been at war with for... two thousand years."

Betsy Braddock has posed:
"Mmm. Sorry I missed that one. Might have been interesting to see how having a scion of Otherworld would have helped or hindered your negotiations on that." Betsy doesn't push further, having heard plenty of stories from Brian about the sidhe and their mindfuckery.

When he mentions svartalfheim and 'danger', Betsy perks up slightly, her mind flickering with almost sexual intensity at the idea before she represses it with some of her mental discipline. "That does sound quite problematic. Are we going to approach it covertly, or attempt diplomacy?" She asks, cocking her head to the side as she oh so casually includes herself among the Asgardians and other irregulars helping them out.

Thor has posed:
    The Thunderer frowns for a moment, and she can almost feel this... click come into place over his thoughts. It's a different mindset for the man, diplomacy, adventure. But the war with the Dark Elves, it is something that is near to him and his thoughts are edged like a newly drawn blade.
    "It will be best to make an incursion, strike at a place that is not easily reinforced. We have identified several possible artifacts." One rough hand lifts to push his palm over the stubble on his head, pausing to cup the back of his neck as he looks back to her with that severity in his eyes.
    "If that is the one you embark on, that is the one that will likely be the most dangerous of each we have attempted. At least overtly so. The danger before in our journeys were... more if we misstepped or misspoke. This may be something more."
    Then his eyes narrow a little and a ghost of a smile touches the corner of his lips. For a moment his gaze flits down then back up as if noting something to the subtle hint and change of her body language.
    Then he speaks, "Yet I doubt that will dissuade you, Lady Braddock."

Betsy Braddock has posed:
"Picked up on that, did you?" Betsy's smile is nearly feral, and with a wink she sends him a flickering thought, of herself charging at a large man in a mecha suit. She's clad in a leotard, and while she initially has a katana he can see her drop it as she launches herself at the man, wrapping legs around his neck and plunging a blade of purple-pink energy into his head until he convulses and either passes out or dies. It happens quickly in the mental gif she projects, and she's unable to keep her excitement and the rush the danger gives her from it entirely. It's not quite a berserker mindset, but a dark cousin to it...

"I assure you this English rose has quite sharp thorns, Prince Thor." She says, raising one eyebrow as she watches his face and his mind as he processes the image she sends him. "As I said, I was... trained... in ninjitsu by the Hand. While they do tend more towards assassination than theft, the techniques are quite solid for both." She grins, taking a sip from her drink.

Thor has posed:
    There is that touch, two minds connecting albeit briefly. Yet it is the shared intimacy of such thoughts and the imagery given. It is perhaps not simply the perception that brought him so into the moment. It was her thoughts from that instant, the exhiliration, the wildness, the intense embrace of the call of battle that seems to mirror his own.
    For she can feel the wisps of thoughts, frayed tendrils of times past, memories of that moment of exultation. Triumph. Victory. She might have a brief instant to glimpse into a memory of his that is conjured not at his behest, perhaps the last time he had felt so truly alive in the middle of conflict...
    And it is an almost wild nightmare thing. The feeling of such power in his body as lightning crackled across his bare chest, the eagerness in Mjolnir in his hand as it roars back into his grip. A fallen foe, some wicked creature of death that had threatened those he cared for. And flames. Flames all about him that lashed his body and burned his beard and hair.
    Yet while he was burning, while he had defeated his enemy. He did not care about the pain, the image that he must have been in that moment like some nightmarish bonfire. For he laughed.
    As victory is sweet.
    All such things delivered in a single touch of her mind to his, and his own gaze holding hers. His eyes narrow.
    He says nothing.

Betsy Braddock has posed:
For a few moments, Betsy is caught up in the Odinson's thoughts and emotions... How could she not, for all her willpower, skill, and experience? They mirror her own in a rather startling fashion.

And despite herself, she flashes him more images, flickers of her in a red white and blue costume, as strong in body as she is in mind for the first time in her life. And the constant attempts to recapture that, with her behind the cockpit of a plane, or diving off a cliff.

And her voice is a bit huskier when she finally speaks. "It can be a beast, can it not, attempting to chase that feeling?" She knocks back her brandy as if it were water, save for a faint wince. "Most people, bless them, can't understand. Or they see the surface, the genteel facade, and never think there might be more."

Thor has posed:
    Now that she's seen him in that light, perhaps the way he looks now carries a new edge to it. For that firm jaw, the stern features, the defined line of strength that is the muscle that runs along his shoulder to his neck... it speaks of war and battle. To some he is this wry man, gregarious and amusing, yet she maintains that mental connection and she can almost feel that steady rumble of power that is held within him. A kinship met that serves to sizzle as powerful as any blaze of lightning between him and the heavens.
    Their eyes meet and she can almost feel herself reflected back a million times in the way he perceives her. Beautiful, strong, dangerous. And in turn he sees himself. Like two mirrors held up in front of each other.
    Then he smiles, eyes lowering. The connection frays as she might also feel another touch of the familiar. That carefully cultivated control that she must exhibit at times he too has, he brings it between them.
    He speaks, his own tone quieter, tinged with a smile that if not seen she can hear in those words. "At times it is best for it to be so, for if others saw the world at times in the way... warriors do. They would never allow us amongst them again."

Betsy Braddock has posed:
There is a subtle difference in the eyes of the British model, it's true; she no longer looks at Thor as this jolly, simple man. She's seen the Thunderer now, in all his godly glory and more than that, she's experienced (if second hand) the brute power he has inside. Despite being friends with Storm, who is still worshipped as a Goddess in the plains of Africa, she has never really experienced that kind of raw power.

She glances away when the connection frays, allowing the moment to pass. But her expression remains thoughtful.

"True." Betsy murmurs into her now-empty cup, eyes fixed on the ice while she gets herself back together after the startling revelation. "Best we allow them to pet us and never see past the surface beauty." She shakes her head, then, and glances up. "I imagine your fan club wept when you lost all that glorious hair." She ventures, teasingly.

Thor has posed:
    If there is one thing that the God of Thunder is not... it is a poor host. For as he looks up and to the side, those deep blue eyes noting the state of her snifter, he is already leaning forward to take up the bottle and heft it slightly as he asks the silent question if she would care to have another.
    If so then she is gifted ice, two cubes, then a subtle gurgle of caramel liquor from the bottle.
    It's when he's settling back into his seat, smiling at just the corner of his mouth as he listens to her words, then meets her gaze across that distance. "I feel that would be a challenge for most souls, Lady Braddock, difficult to look past such beauty but you... guard yourself." He says that calmly as he takes the moment to add another trickle of liquor to his own glass, evening up before his attention turns back to her.
    Then he exhales a hint of a laugh and murmurs, "It will grow back," He lifts a hand to rub at the stubble on his chin as he ponders, "I am starting to like it I think."
    Though the way he looked at his reflection earlier might well hint to his mixed thoughts about such a fate.

Betsy Braddock has posed:
Not only does Betsy dress like British aristocracy, she drinks like British aristocracy too. So of course she accepts the refill, although for now she keeps it to subtle, polite sips.

"Betsy." She offers softly, meeting his gaze with her own curious lilac eyes. "Perhaps it's presumptive of me but I do believe we are familiar enough for that, Odinson." And at his comment, she considers, leaning back and holding the glass to her lips thoughtfully. She finally takes a sip. "You commented earlier on my skillset. Useful as it is, it unfortunately doesn't come from a place that leaves me an warm, open person." She shakes her head, ruefully, "If I ever was. I've come to terms with most people never seeing beyond the surface."

And then on to the topic of Thor's personal grooming. She grins, wryly, and raises an eyebrow. "It isn't a bad look. But then again, you are the type that could run around with a mullet and people would still try to drink your bathwater." People are /strange/.

Thor has posed:
    "As you would," Is his reply, though his brow knits briefly as he says, "Betsy." Though she might catch a hint that in his mind's eye it is Elizabeth for some reason, some curious hint of All-Speak that plays across the words spoken by an Asgardian. Yet the sentiment he accepts as he holds his glass before him in both hands, looking at her across its lip.
    "There are some in my life who live in similar ways. I often try to imagine how it is to live that way." He shakes his head and she can likely sense the truth in his words, the feelings as he explains, "I am perhaps the opposite. I... enjoy the company of others. I hear their tales, live through their experiences vicariously. I was e'er a fool for the storyteller's yarn so woven. My brother would often make light of me for being so."
    Then her grin brings his forth and he's with her for the most part. Until the part about bathwater which has his brow knitting with a hint of confusion.

Betsy Braddock has posed:
"It is perhaps a cultural difference too." Betsy notes, raising one eyebrow while she cradles the brandy in her hand. "Among my people, we tend to look down on people that are open books and pride ourselves on having a stiff upper lip." She smiles, wryly, "It made for a fairly traumatic time when my telepathy first manifested; I didn't leave my apartment for nearly a month."

She laughs, softly, at Thor's confusion regarding the bathwater. "Pardon, it was a bit of slang." She explains, and wrinkles her nose. "There was a very attractive woman that got famous for playing video games. At one point, she started selling her bath water to her fans, who would drink it to prove how attracted to her she was." She raises both her eyebrows. "I dare say you've fans that are equally bizarre."

Thor has posed:
    His eyebrows lift as she speaks to the way of the Britons and their reserved manners, how they hold themselves apart and he nods along. Then he tilts his head slightly as he says, "It tweren't always so. In the time of the Svartalf War, when I was in my youth, the people of Albion that I met then they were... wild souls, filled with such vigour. Strong allies who stood with myself, my father, though they had clashed in the past they knew to fight against a threat against both peoples. And they fought well."
    Of course he speaks of a Britain some 1300 years ago roughly. Still.
    Then as she goes on she can almost feel the way his mind latches onto the bits and pieces he recognizes of what she says. The small hints of understanding like tiny bubbles in his mind that get him to smile now and again. "Ah, I have played some of those. Your video games." Which might surprise her, "Very enjoyable, though people are rude at times."
    Then the topic of bathwater is explained and she makes him laugh. His lips part and he lightly thumps the arm of his chair as he shakes his head, "You exaggerate, Lady Br... Betsy." Another shake of his head as he then takes a sip of the brandy.
    "Then fans, such as I have, they have been some of the kindest hearts I have met." It might seem false modesty but she can likely feel that he believes these words and the small glimpses of his memories that bring forth such images of people from... many walks of life. He feels a connection to them and is touched.
    A deep breath is taken, "I have a thought. Walk with me, will you Betsy?" As he says that he rises to his feet, setting his drink aside. "I think you might like to see one of the artifacts we have in the library." Which one might think... aren't they in the library what with all the books? But someone like Elizabeth would know the difference. This clearly was a /study/.
    And off they went.