13099/Discordants: Investigating Alfheim

Discordants: Investigating Alfheim
Date of Scene:	27 October 2022
Location:	Alfheim
Synopsis:	The travelers visit Alfheim for answers. They are given...sort of.
Cast of Characters:	Sif, Sera, Lara Croft, Steve Rogers, Jane Foster, Zatanna Zatara, Jimmy Hudson
Tinyplot:	Resonants

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Sif has posed:
It had been a short time since the events at the Starport. What had been a venture for peace and friendship had turned into a bloody battle thanks to a betrayal. Mjolnir destroyed. Thor lost. Perhaps he had made it to Valhalla and was drinking to them even now. Perhaps not. That was a question for another day.

Sif stood in the courtyard at the embassy, near the concrete area that was scarred with the mark of the Bifrost. She was in full armor, including several weapons. Where normally one might find the bags of supplies put together by the ever-amazing Helda, today there was more than just those bags. There were weapons avaiable, to be chosen from if one wanted them--or had not brought their own. Simply precautionary. They weren't going to war today.

They hoped.

Looking at those gathered, Sif was unusually grim. Though those who had seen her since the battle, since the loss of one of her closest friends, knew this seemed to be her contenance since that horrible day.

"I thank you all for coming. This is a fact finding mission. We simply need to speak to the Queen about a ring that had been gifted to Thor. The ring that was used to turn the spell to Malekith's control. Those of Alfheim are no friends to the Dark Elves so we must get to the truth of the matter. I fear my emotions are too near the surface. Thus I ask that you help me with this, my friends." For they were friends. After all this time.

Sera has posed:
Sera is draped in a long wrapped cloak about her body hiding her lithe form beneath. Her hair is braided back and out of the way because they're going on an adventure. What weapons she carries are hidden beneath the cloak but those who know her know that there are none. Her magic is the weapon.

Sera briefly misunderstands Sif's words - did she want her to suppress her emotions with magic? No, she meant camaraderie. She nods in response to her and the heavy cloak shifts as she crosses her arms in front of her.

"Perhaps someone would be willing to fill me in on just what happened at the Starport as we go. I apologise for being so late to aid in this endevour; Prince Regent Loki instilled me with urgency so I am here."

Her eyes fall upon the array of weapons and shields and armour, a small twitch of her lips in memory of the times she used to wear such things. "Are you expecting resistance from the light elves, from their Queen? It was my understanding that they were friendly." A raised eyebrow, she's getting the impression that even if they are friendly, less friendly things might get in their way. Or perhaps merely questioning the validity of this ring will put them in bad standing.

Lara Croft has posed:
Lara was here to support Sif, support Asgard, and maybe kinda sorta support Thor too, wherever he is these days.

Wearing a light jacket over a dark blue top, tucked in to a pair of drab green hiking trousers, and a set of leather boots, Lara hooks her thumbs under the straps of the dark brown leather backpack worn over her shoulders. She has her hair tied back, and a pair of sunglasses on over her eyes, though she does push them up over her hairline when the rundown starts.

Gently nodding her head to what is said, Lara looks to the others and exhales softly. "Well, I'm ready to help, however I might..." She says in a calm and breathy tone of her Briton flavored voice.

Steve Rogers has posed:
Steve Rogers arrived in his uniform, minus the head covering. Affixed to the back is the star-studded shield with which he's so well associated by people. He looks about the group, giving each person a nod of greeting. Steve looks to Sif, perhaps measuring the brunette's emotions. "We'll find out something that will help us get him back," Steve says in a reassuring tone.

At the question from Sera, Captain America looks over to her and offers a brief description of events. "A magic ritual was enacted here to open portals to connect the Realms. Only it instead took us to a place where an army of ice giants and dark elves were waiting to attack. Apparently this ring that Lady Sif mentioned is suspected of having caused the ritual to go wrong. Zatanna and Doctor Strange were able to pull us back from there, though Thor was under assault at the time and was not with us when we returned back to the starport," he tells her, voice quiet and grim at reciting the tale.

Jane Foster has posed:
No one brings a scientist in the war party to Alfheim unless the light elves take study of the stars as a grave offense. Given their last adventure to the castle, Jane opts to be prepared. Sif needs all the assistance she can get from her motley crew of explorers and diplomats.

She carries a bag that contains, among the usual scientific stuff, a few unusual objets d'art just in case. It never hurts to be properly dressed for the occasion or absent a few housewarming gifts. Practicalities deserve to be addressed, though she plucks at the long sleeve of her split-side tunic, mildly put out by the distraction of the flowing design. "Don't forget the two dragons and the third being used for a throne," she offers as a footnote to Cap's thorough summary. "An extraplanar location that we have not conclusively identified, have we?" Questions raised that Zatanna can probably best raise.

She adjusts the microphone hidden in her collar -- a benefit of being in a spy agency, after all -- and calibrates that against a touchscreen watch that simply doesn't want to work. Two, three, four prods? Eventually it decides to sync up, flickering lines pulsing along happily to the minute sensors woven into her gloves and another in the bag. Useful for detecting certain things, or maybe just giving the elves a cool light show.

Zatanna Zatara has posed:
The grim mood seems to be on them all. A terrible wrong had been done and now suspicion lays heavily on those they had counted as allies, if not friends to the cause of peace between the realms. The world is out of kilter without Odinson among them. A great wrong was committed.

These thoughts beat dully in the magician's head as she perused the weapons laid out in preparation for the visit. Guilt lays its heavy hand on her. The subverted spell, part of the evil that had taken Thor from them, shattering Mjolnir was hers. So sure of herself, so certain of her power to weave the energies of the resonant objects together she had ignored any whisper of wrong or imbalance.

Zatanna had let them all walk into a magic trap laid with cunning and forethought. No matter that she had helped them out of it. It should never have happened.

Dressed in a simple black gown that matches her mood; she wears a flowing cloak, also in black silk - a legacy of her father. She leaves the explanation of what happened to Captain America and Jane. With a deep breath she returns to her seat, nodding to each of them in passing.

Sif has posed:
The others explain the situation to Sera, answering her query. Sif listens, still as a statue for a time. Then she glances over to Steve and the others, as though finally hearing them.

"Indeed. The spell was corrupted from within by an unknown object being in the sphere of influence. The ring that Thor held. None of us were aware of it. Or even were we, we would think nothing of it."

She moved to stand on that seal burned into the stone, having hooked a bag of supplies on the way past. "Remember the rules of Alfheim, realm of the Fae. Words. Names. They have great meaning there and weight of import. Allow others to introduce you if possible. Do not give your name, or give a name that you feel suits you. A title. Never the same name twice to the same individual in the same meeting."

She continued. "Do not accept gifts. Refuse them at least three times. If they offer a fourth then you can accept but I would /still/ advise against it. Do not make promises. Do not make wagers. You will find that your actions will carry great weight in symbolism in that realm."

She waited for them all to gather before she spoke, as though to a person beside her. "Heimdall, we are ready." For her brother knew the portent of today and was prepared, waiting for those words.

A moment later, the rush of the Bifrost would be felt, the whirl of wind and power that still left those within unscathed despite the ferocity. The brightness of the travel, something that was old news to the Asgardians, but still new to some of their number in this group.

Sera has posed:
Sera looks Steve up and down a moment. She's seen him but this is the first time she's experienced his too-the-point summaries. She appreciates it and nods to him. "Ambitious," she says trying not to sound too disapproving of Earth attempting to connect itself to the realms.

It was not meant as a bite at Zatanna for she had no idea her part in the mess that transpired. But still, a mess transpired and her good friend Thor was now gone, her sponsor of Asgard gone, and she finds herself doing the biding of Loki whom has a less than stellar reputation.

There's one advantage to travelling like this - via bifrost. First of all the way Angela flings herself through space is disconcerting; second spaceships just aren't fast enough. Asgard has plenty of energy to throw around at the problem.

"Zatanna, at least we have two of the LBC here in case things go badly," she remarks trying to get a read on the mood. It's sombre of course. It's how she's felt ever since she heard something had gone wrong. "Nessa is returning to New York City soon. We'll have three of the LBC to dig in to the how and why of it all. Strange, too, if he is about, would make four." The 'ladies' part of the Ladies Book Club is not at all an exclusive.

Sera gives a nod to Sif's sage warnings about the nature of Alfheim. This is her first visit there. She does wonder if any of them remember the angels of Heven. There's always too much baggage to carry.

Her eyes gaze up and she smiles knowing Heimdall can see, then shields her eyes with a hand for the bifrost is mighty magical energy indeed.

Lara Croft has posed:
Lara looks to Steve, and then Jane, as the explanation of all of this is relayed to the others who need to know. She draws in a light breath, and notices Jane's watch not responding as quickly as was desired. "They never seem to fine tune the tech as much as they tell us they have." She says to the other Agent with a small smile offered along with it.

When Sif speaks up of the bifrost, and the transit is impending, Lara removes her shades from her hairline, and tucks them away in to the inner pocket of her dark grey light jacket. She adjusts her backpack via its straps and steps closer, a look sent to Steve on her right. "This is my favorite part." She says to him with a sly grin shown as well.

Steve Rogers has posed:
Steve Rogers's expression is one to instill confidence in their mission, meeting each person's eye individually before nodding to Sif as she's going to call out to Heimdall to bring the Bifrost down.

As Lara edges closer and makes her comment, Steve flashes a small grin over to her. "Sure would help with beating the Manhattan rush hour traffic," he agrees in a light-hearted tone. He glances upwards for that beam of rainbow-hued light, which comes crashing down with the speed of thought.

"Makes me wonder," he says of the instructions about Alfheim, "what kind of instructions the other Realms give about Earth." He's used the Bifrost enough it doesn't come as a surprise, but still, he doesn't finish the thought until they've arrived. "Remember, when in Midgaard, never buy a used vehicle from their merchants without kicking the tires first. And stay off their underground trains after 10pm."

Jane Foster has posed:
"Never as easy as in the lab," Jane murmurs, grateful for the mild distraction from Lara. To her fellow agent of SHIELD, she offers a warm smile. "Pity strawberry cheesecake cones cannot be transported so readily or I'd have used those instead." She winks to Steve and Lara, then goes quiet again. Nothing quite like delicious creme-filled cones and sliced strawberries to sway the predilections of a sensually-oriented society. How much is underhanded cunning and devious intent to bring a box of baklava or exquisitely rendered cannoli to open doors that take too long for words or magic to loosen?

The rainbows scratching at the shell of her skin pierce the heart of the matter, hauling her away at Heimdall's will. For a moment, resistance and then nothing as she too joins the grand mythology of iridescence firing them across the distance.

Calm, amidst the fury of the storm within and the madness of the storm thereout.

Zatanna Zatara has posed:
They would do well to heed Sif's sage warnings. Nothing straight or true exists in Alfheim, not their hearts or their intentions. "Thank you for the reminders, Lady Sif, we need them."

Zatanna nods pleasantly to Sera harkening back to the Ladies Book Club. There is no need to share her black mood. She glances at Jane before saying, "We have kept this to ourselves. Word of Thor's disappearance might lead to trouble. Something I'm sure the perpetrators will relish. But, more minds working out the knot would be welcome if Sif approves."

The magician steps onto the stone braced for the torrent of color and sound taking them to the treacherous elves.

Jimmy Hudson has posed:
    For those who had trod upon the lands of the Light Elves the arrival is far different than then they last crossed over. The Bifrost is ever the Bifrost, however. The rush and whorl of rainbow energy that slashes through the air and hurtles its passengers into infinity and further offered the same beauty it always held. The cascade of power, the wash of stars in their wake... it brought them forth from the city of New York to a tableau before them unlike the celebration that greeted them in that first sojourn.
    For it is the chill that is first realized. Not the crushing cold of Winter, but a good sight more severe than the hint of cold from New York's Autumn. It is not in the courtyard of the castle that the heroes appear, but instead slightly beyond Fortress Featherwine itself where the heroes had gathered for that hunt into the forest that stood tall around the castle proper. It was where the wagons had gathered near the portcullis bridge just outside the gates.
    Yet the vibrant green and bright sunlight was nowhere evident. For it was dark, clouds heavy in the sky. The leaves in the trees were brown and yellow and red, many fallen upon the muddy forest floor. The smell in the air was loamy and thick, that hint of decay e'er on the edge of it. There was rain, but it was small and steady, what some might call a misting yet it has been going long enough to leave the forest muddy and slick.
    There was no welcome. No well wishes given. None of the small folk who danced and cavorted in greeting were in evidence. Though there were eyes in the depths of the shadows, off in the forest. And quiet.
    Above the heroes in the castle itself movement was seen upon the ramparts. There was the sound of a trumpet calling three times, the sound carrying throughout the forest. Approximately fifteen seconds later an answering call was heard, though only a single sounding.
    From the walls comes a voice that none of them have heard before. A little warbly, lilting as they call, "Travelers to the land of the fair, advance and be recognized!"

Sif has posed:
This was unexpected. Though the realm of the Elves was subject to both seasons and weather, there was something different about how this felt. Sif glanced around the area then to her companions, frowning slightly.

Perhaps it was just her viewpoint being skewed due to the loss of her friend, the feeling of betrayal. Mayhap that is why she felt this was wrong instead of just being a state of normalcy.

She hoped she was right.

Sif gave a nod to the others then took the point at the front. "We are visitors known from the past, seeking old friends."

She moved toward the portcullis, trying not to look as nervous as she felt. Just close enough to be recognized, turning her gaze up to the wall above.

Sera has posed:
Sera smirks at Steve a moment and replies, "Midgard: Mostly Harmless." A small glance at Sif. This can't be all on her shoulders. Besides which Loki was making sure the load was spread. He had been very explicit to her that the full weight of the throne commanded her to uncover this mystery. She nods though, to Zatanna. There is no reason to ruffly the fine Lady Sif's feathers.

The rush of the bifrosts energy brings out the magic in Sera. It's no huge consequence though her eyes are now glowing white and beautiful angel wings made of pure white magical energy shift on her back. Normally she'd sing to make this happen but the bifrost is a song all to its own. Given the darkness of the place her glow illuminates the area nicely. As the rain hits her magical wings it sizzles.

Her eyes sweep over the burned mark left behind by their travel. Subtle the Asgardians are not. Not that she can talk in that regard. The closest she ever got to Alfheim was in her former life recording the histories of fallen warrior angels. Remembering their story as vividly as she could and retelling to keep their life alive. But being here now means she can finally let go of their hubris and ego and experience it for herself.

"This is not how the songs tell of Alfheim..." she comments. Where's all the bright happy fun times, delicious foods, frolicking games, whimsical creatures. She raises an eyebrow, "Why am I getting all them trapy vibes tingling up and down my spine." She too steps forward following after Sif toward the portcullis.

Lara Croft has posed:
Prior to the bifrosting, Lara had given both Steve and Jane a grin. But as the bifrost acted as a inter-galactic catapult for the group, Lara just enjoyed the ride as she ever does... this girl likes a good adrenaline rush.

Upon their arrival though, a distinctly different feeling washes over Lara from the previous time that they had been here. She does a full standing turn around, her eyes sweeping over the scenery before she catches Sif reacting to those on the wall. Her stare lingers there for just a moment before she regards Sera....

"This is different from our last visit." She grimly notes. "Quite a lot different."

A glance toward Steve then, and Lara exhales. "I guess we forgot to call ahead..." She comments before looking to the others, Zatanna, Jane, and those who were here previously with her.

Steve Rogers has posed:
Steve Rogers leaves the shield on his back as he looks around at their surroundings as they arrive. Though the appearance of Sera's wings draws Cap's attention for a just a moment. To Zatanna and Jane, he comments quietly, "We have the most interesting of friends, don't we?"

He is quickly back to scanning the area. Steve doesn't know these other realms, and so he's showing an abundance of caution. Though his eyebrow goes up at Lara's comment, turning his head to glance over to the Englishwoman.

"Different?" he inquires. "Different how? And, is that unusual?" he adds, figuring she is far more read on such things as well as having actually been there before.

Though he would feel better having his shield on his arm, he leaves it where he is as they try to talk nice to the people up on the castle wall.

Jane Foster has posed:
"No, it isn't." Words of Gandalf the Grey and Jane, who assumes no title such as 'wise' or 'Istari.' Though an idea to borrow a byname might come from those annals as wrought by a linguist with a taste for travelogues and exquisitely wrought descriptions of places. When they settle into Alfheim, she takes her bearings just as before: calculated and mindful. Dots spark on the watch at her wrist, trailing wisps that render a ghostly line across the polished black glass as calibrations take into account ambient temperature and other, more esoteric details. She stretches her hands out against the curve of her hips, positioned in a balanced fashion, feet square to the ground.

"Too late for Doordash," she agrees with Sera and Sif's sentiment, Lara given a sidelong look heavy with concern. White energy wings; that's a new one. "We do. Captain, we're seeing something unlike when we came. Whether that's a prospect of the current season being one of harvest or fear, or because of something more fell, I'm unsure as yet. Alfheim brings together the best aspects of Las Vegas' entertainment with the exclusivity of Monaco or Dubai. The ljosalfjar pride themselves on culture and a pinnacle of diverting pastimes. The finer way to put it."

Her gaze shifts back to the person heralding them, and she draws herself up to her proper height. A smile carries none of the terror. "We've passed the harvest blot, if they celebrate it. Thus, a time traditionally of going dormant and other things. Very well." Leaves crunch underfoot as she raises her hand, hailing the source of the inquiry. "A traveller of the far road of pomegranates and malachites. Would we be permitted to pay our respects?"

Zatanna Zatara has posed:
If seasons matched intentions then the autumn gloom that greets them after the parti-colored rush of the bi-frost is significant. She reads an acknowledgement of crime and no welcome in the heavy, grey clouds.

Zatanna pulls the cape's hood forward to cover her midnight hair and turns to look back into the forest, a fine mist wetting her face. With the hem of her black dress lifted in one hand, she follows in Sif's wake, looking up at the elf who challenged them, the sound of her finely made boots deadened by the carpet of wet leaves.

"No gay greetings or flowers thrown at our feet." She bites back any further words to Lara, like Sif, she is afraid of letting her feelings show and creating an incident.

"Very different," she avows to the Captain. "Interesting hardly covers it."

The homo magi adds nothing to Sif's greeting.

Jimmy Hudson has posed:
    "Some of you are known to us, Asgard and Midgard true. Word shall be sent. You are free to enter." The voice from above calls. A red-haired elf leans against the buttress with palms flat, his bow and quiver evident upon his back across the grey leather jerkin he wears. His smile is open as he looks upon the others then turns and gestures to someone behind him.
    A moment after that gesture is made the portcullis begins to rise and the gates open as the drawbridge is lowered. Chains clink as the mechanisms work and the beautiful inlaid artwork of that gate parts as the doors open revealing the courtyard which was where the travelers had appeared before.
    Across that open way the door to the castle itself was opening whlie inside the courtyard there was a rush of movement. Soldiers rushing hither and yon, several of the small folk pushing a series of wagons clear to make the way more open.
    Off in the forest around them red and white eyes glow as creatures from the shadows watch the party's advance. Above them the sky remains dark with the rain falling still.
    Yet ahead through the doors to the castle's interior emerges a figure in black. Taller than most of those fae at arms, pale skin and raven's hair with black form-fitting armor and a cloak to match. Hand upon the pommel of his sword at his side, but a smile on his angular face as he calls. "Now who is it that would come upon the court in the quiet of night? Some the Knight of Thorns would recognize? Some he would not?"

Sif has posed:
Perhaps it is all in her mind. After all, seasons do change and the lady had been shifting into Winter when they departed Alfheim after their last visit. It was not that strange, was it?

Yet, that feeling was still there, the hair at the nape on her neck on end. Though likely colored by her anger over what had happened and concern that friends were behind it.

"Liam Thorns of the Red River, tis good to see you again. Though much has happened since our last visit. Tragedy." She had said his name so that those in her group new to this realm would know it. She motioned to those behind her. "Most of us you know from our last visit. Though I am unsure if you have met the Angel of Light Sera, or the Midgardian Captain Rogers?" Motions made to Sera and Steve in turn.

Sera has posed:
The way the castle is barracking its portcullis immediately makes Sera look back over her shoulder and out at the forest, then up to the skies, then back to the castle as a knight approaches them. They're under siege perhaps? Still, a name should be given and not her own. One bestowed upon her.

A hand snakes out of her cloak and rests across her chest with a small bow forward. Her wings spread out elegantly with tips curled, then in a smooth motion tuck in tight so as not to occupy too much space from their party. One rule successfully followed, be introduced by someone else.

"Have we met you at an auspicious time Sir Thorns?," her eyes trace the movements of soldiers rushing about their business. "Besides the hour." It's not just Sif that feels something is off here.

Lara Croft has posed:
Lara looks to Steve as the others answers him. She nods softly once, and keeps her voice low. "Imagine the difference between a party celebrating someone getting a promotion, versus the wake of laying a loved one to rest." She says quietly to him before she watches their greeters usher them within the walls of the palace. "Maybe that is a bit hyperbolic though..." She does add as her left hand comes up to wave at some of those who she makes eye contact with.

For the now though, Lara merely follows behind Sera, and some of the others.

Steve Rogers has posed:
"I haven't had the pleasure, Sir," Steve Rogers replies of having met Liam Thorns before. "Though wish we had come about more light-hearted matters," he continues to the knight.

He looks about the castle, looking out through the entrance towards the undergrowth surrounding the keep, and the sense of being watched that it exudes.

As he turns back though, he has a friendly expression on his face for those who have let them inside. He lowers his voice as he replies to Lara, "Well, I think it's good to trust your instincts in such matters. Best we keep an eye out. You've had positive dealings here before though?" he asks.

Jane Foster has posed:
Those grave sounds of a portcullis sinking to the ground with a terminal finality put a damper on the bright affairs of a tour around Alfheim. At least this cradle of power, nested in the steel cocoon and tufted weaponry under inclement showers. Water splatters off the stone and coats the wagons streaming in purposeful order around them, but like any busy city in New York, Jane steps aside to avoid being inadvertently flattened. Perilous given even the light elves, as a rule, possess strength and grace more on par with Asgard than Midgard. Making herself an accidental casualty suits none.

"Sir Liam," she takes onto her salutations and that of Sif's. Speckles of water blossom in dark patches across her garments, but being a native to Seattle, a state of little consequence at the moment. The scouring of autumn's levelled bounty brings forth further departure from their immediate vicinity, though she touches Zatanna's arm to draw the woman's interest should it not be rooted elsewhere.

"Have you noticed the others are empty?" she asks softly, not looking to the wagons being drawn about. "All the same manner of flower in the one, bluebells. I would be concerned given what they stand for. Stories about bluebells, they herald danger and warning. Particularly among practitioners." A mild stress underlines the working job title. "They have a heap of them, and look at the pistils. Some have curled up and turned dark. Not the way a healthy bloom would, and possibly worse if viewed from your lens on the world. Several bunches there, see? They share the same wither on the petals and stems." Her tone remains conversational rather than worried, her volume low.

"Could you discern a source of it? It could signal something wrong in the soil or perhaps not, and you know how the USDA is about quarantining agricultural projects. I'm certain the doctor in the Greenwich Village office would be bothered to know if we tracked anything back."

Zatanna Zatara has posed:
Behind them eyes glow watching. Ahead of them, soldiers with weapons at hand and wagons meant to block the inner entrance into the keep. It all speaks of readiness for war and siege even to her unpracticed eye.

Quick steps take Zatanna closer to Sif's side though she says nothing about what she sees around them. Sif knows war and its preparations like few others. Unarmored as she is, the mage readies herself for confrontation. After Lady Sif introduces the others, she drops a graceful curtsey to the Lord of Red River, then straightens, pushing back the hood from her face in a show of courtesy she doesn't feel, looking him in the eye. "Lord."

She glances at Sera, surprised but intrigued to see what answer the straightforward question will bring, expecting nothing but subterfuge and lies. Will he remark on Thor's absence and pretend he knows nothing of its cause?

A step takes her closer to Jane. Head inclined toward the astrophysicist who so mildly alerts her to the wagons she thought filled with straw. Strange to think of them preparing for fire and siege. The state of the flowers speak of rot and something deeply wrong in the magic land.

"Good eye. Perhaps someone has laid a curse on them," she murmurs in return, perhaps hopeful and deeply suspicious.

Jimmy Hudson has posed:
    At first his greeting is to raise one hand. Then expressive eyebrows rising, Liam lifts his head as he looks on Cap, "Is he in the presence of the Midgardian Thane? A ruler of one realm seeks another?"
    That knight in black's smile is easily given as he looks the heroes over, espying Sera he murmurs. "Yet more beauty brought forth here? Is it Thor's talent for surrounding himself with such so evident even in his absence?"
    Down one step he walks, his boots clicking on the stone stairway. Then another and another as he ends now standing in the courtyard as well, walking toward the heroes with an easy step and his hand still upon the pommel of his sword. His cloak curves around his side, subtly not touching the mud beneath their feet yet looking as if merely the wind had pushed it so.
    "Auspicious for the one who crossed the Red River? Would anyone so deny? Inauspicious for the court? Perhaps there is a tale to be told?" A look is given between the heroes and the sidhe as he considers them.
    His tone subtly changes as his brow knits. "Yet. I am bidden. The court is not receiving."
    Though he does take a moment to smile toward Lara offering no words at first beyond the few given. Around them the soldiers do not seem the same cadre as the ones that had served before. For there were enough beings amongst the fae that some stood out even in this place of wild beauty.
    "Ah, is this the one that captured the Archer of the North's heart? Brought so low by mortal soul? Only to have his rank taken and his freedom stolen? It is poor Teagan now I think?" His words are melodic and have a rhythm to them, as if he were giving voice to his thoughts as he has them with hardly a hesitation.

Sif has posed:
And that has Sif stiffening slightly. She's trying hard to remain polite when all she wants to do is force her way into the castle to confront the queen. Which is why she brought people with her that had a less fiery temper.

"The court is not? I fear this is of rather great importance, Liam Thorns. It is not something that can be spoken of in public." She glances around at the wagons, hearing some of her group having been murmuring about the carts and the like before Liam's approach.

"An audience with the Queen and yourself alone perhaps can be arranged?"

Sera has posed:
"It is Thor's talent to make all feel welcome and worthy," Sera replies as to the how and why of her being here for Thor. Because from her eyes it is his truest most glorious power of all. Friendship. Still, they are here for a purpose and despite his flowery words and compliments she resists the urge to partake in his game.

"Good Sir Knight, as Lady Sif proclaims this is of utmost urgency. Perhaps for your realm as much as our own," she states. Dark elves were involved after all.

"And you would deny me, The Hunter Queen, an audience with your monarch. Is this how you receive allies?" she queries. A name so few know save the dead with long memories in Hel; for when Angela and Sera conquered the throne of Hel briefly those following their uprising bestowed upon them this name. Another rule successfully followed. She gave a name given to her instead of her true name.

Of course, throwing around the weight of a title that is otherwise meaningless is just a small flex. If they need to burst in their with force then she has no doubt it will be resisted mightily. She knows by story the whimsy and trickery of the elves and so she glances around in case spying eyes are of the court themselves; or perhaps even the Queen.

Lara Croft has posed:
At first, Lara's eyes go to the flowers that Jane speaks of. It is a ill-boding sign, but not one she comments on. Instead her eyes go to the Black Knight when he brings up Teagan. This makes Lara narrow her eyebrows for a moment before she tilts her head ever so slightly. "I wouldn't know if I'd say it quite as such. Teagan earned my respect, and I think I did his, during the boar hunt." She responds to Liam. "He was at the event that we came here to speak to the Queen about, as a matter of fact. Lra moves her right arm then to unsling a quiver of leather, no arrows left inside it. "This is his, I have hoped to return it to him... But..." Lara nods toward Sif. "As Lady Sif has said, we need to speak to the Queen rather swiftly. Something concerning has come up..."

Steve Rogers has posed:
The clearing of Steve Rogers' throat following Liam's comment to him carries a quiet, uncomfortable sound to it. "No," he says quickly, "No... realm seeking involved, I assure you," he says, the man's transparent way carrying his unease at the particular topic that Sir Liam brought up.

Clearing his throat again, Steve continues in a more normal tone, "Though our matter that brings us is definitely of great importance. We do not wish to impose. But if it is possible to speak on it in private, it would likely be for the best of all," he says. Letting whatever weight the aforementioned title might carry be added in. For all that he looks like he hates doing that.

Jane Foster has posed:
Jane arches her eyebrows, but she doesn't venture further on the matter of conversation between Sif, Sera, and good Sir Liam. Her business remains very much in the corner of Midgardian concerns, particularly as it pertains to floral arrangements. Dinah Lance has another potential client, for all the American Museum of Natural History needs flower arrangements in its astronomy wing.

The entitlements tossed about warrant a kind of passing acknowledgment, and she allows for a smile when Steve does what he does best: unlock doors. Sneaky how a man can be roguish by being simply so upstanding, and Lara buttering the offer by a genuine return of ease.

Zatanna Zatara has posed:
Thorns' refusal shocks Zatanna and yet confirms how wrong the land feels to the magician. She takes a quick deep breath. The grey skies and rotting flowers speak of a deeper malaise than she can see without casting a spell. Imagination brings her the smell of rot in the air.

Eyes trained on the black-clad elf, she nods, affirming what the others have said, "I will not speak of the portents I feel, sir. Perhaps if there is trouble in your fair realm, it is linked to the tragedy that befell Thor, Lord."

Jimmy Hudson has posed:
    Sif asks if an audience can be arranged, and Steve lends his weight of regard to the matter as well. The answer?
    "I cannot."
    Liam Thorns speaks with something akin to a wistful hint of sadness to it as he pronounces those two words. Looking at the others around them as the misty rain continues to fall. His attention lights to Sera as he listens to the words she gifts him, his pale grey eyes holding hers as he keeps that small smile in place. Then answers her last question, "Apparently 'tis."
    When Lara presents the bow and quiver he takes it up and then his brow furrows. "He has no use for it now? For prisoners in the dungeon are not allowed their weapons, are they?"
    There's a pause as he turns to look upon the soldiers around him, upon the walls. He calls out, "ARE THEY?!"
    The other elves upon the walls say naught.
    Liam turns back to the heroes. A step away is taken. "Such tales they weave, these prisoners, as they are walked? Should one believe these tales of Thor that Teagan North spoke?"
    Fingertips tap upon the grip of his blade as he calls out to the warriors on the walls again. "The guard owe me their allegiance, do they not?"
    The red-haired archer that had first called, "We do, sir."
    "Then the guard shall stand down. My oaths are my own. I stand for the queen." There's a flash of silver as the blade is drawn. "You seek, audience. I deny you it. We oppose. No other blood need spilled."

Sif has posed:
It's subtle but there to be read. He seems not pleased with the task before him, this denial of entry. But hearing Teagan is in the dungeon has her eyebrows lifting slightly as she glances to her companions. That was news.

Then when steel was drawn, Sif was mirroring his movements, standing before him with her blade in hand. He had told the guard to stand down, meaning they had only him to deal with.

"Teagan is held in the dungeon? For what reason? He is a good friend and loyal to Alfheim." Unless that was the problem? He had helped the group against the dark elves...

"Liam Thorns, I will not lie. I have wondered which of us is best. But today, there is no need for blood to be spilled. We Will have our answers."

And she flicks her gaze toward Zatanna but was prepared should the Black Knight attack.

Sera has posed:
Sera has learnt her lesson over the centuries that even if she is quick with a spell - always summon your sword and shield. Her voice sings out in a song not heard on Alfheim since before Odin cut Heven from yggdrasil. On her left arm a blowing white shield of energy and in her right hand, a glowing sword of energy.

"There is no need to escalate. The odds are against your favour - perhaps we can find a resolution ulterior to speaking with your Queen, if we can take you in to our confidence about the tidings which brought us here."

She'd be lying if she said the thrill of the fight, the hunt, wasn't automatically pumping through her veins. It's a good thing Angela weren't here or the bloodshed would have already started. Sif has a far cooler head.

Perhaps he knows as much or more about the nature of the ring. If the Queen refuses court then their work can be done another way. Then again, it might be time to force the matter upon the court of this castle; especially if this Teagan person is wrongly imprisoned.

Lara Croft has posed:
Lara sent a quick look over at Steve before the revelation of Teagan being in captivity has her look back to the Black Knight. Of course, the others with her are basically asking the same questions that are popping to her mind, but Lara holds that quiver of no arrows, with it's unstrung bow attached to the side of it.

She sees swords being drawn, and tensions rising...

"This is absurd." Lara says softly. "We came here for simple questions to be asked, answers hopefully acquired, and we'd be on our way. Not... riddles and games. As the others have said, I'd like to know why Teagan would be placed in a holding cell... but clearly there are many questions here that need answering."

Steve Rogers has posed:
As he hears Sir Liam, and watches him draw his sword, Steve Rogers's jaw muscles tighten visible. He reaches a hand and carefully removes his shield from his back, shifting it onto his arm. Though done slowly enough to not be a show of aggression. He does move over before Lara and Jane though, situation himself between the two women and the drawn sword.

Others are already speaking the words that need to be spoken. Though Steve's expression shows concern they are not likely to be heeded. His eyes flit over to Sif with an expression that might be read as, "You got this? Or want me to take it?" A glance is given up to the top of the wall, watching in the falling rain to see that those of the guard that Sir Liam addressed have indeed bided his wishes and are staying out of it.

Jane Foster has posed:
Jane isn't in the front line. Steve makes a much better aegis than she ever will, of course. Things reach a particularly pretty pass if and when it comes to her putting herself in harm's way to spare the others. The shouts of the guards ringing around them raises her chin, the imprints of sounds on the wet, rough stone. "I'm probably making a stupid move here. Go with it, if we need it."

"You stand for the queen and serve her loyally as best you know how. Mistress of Prestidigitation, look for yourself." She gestures grandly, the long folds of her sleeve drooping off her wrist in a trumpeting lily. Not very useful in a fight, an impracticality. "How narrowly you walk the gauntlet between the promises you swore and those binding you to action, against the doubts of your mind. Wrapped up in the cobwebs of a vow."

She sighs softly. "Ask yourselves what binds a knight to his duty such."

Zatanna Zatara has posed:
The burst of light from behind her, sends shadows skittering across the courtyard. Sera's magic washes over the magician, distracting her from divining what spells lay so heavily on the Lord of Red River. Focused on the elf, the magician murmurs a divination spell softly to herself.

Wizards protect themselves, those spells weave invisible armor reinforcing the black metal of intricately adorned armor. The sigils etched in the metal glow in the dark.

Had she seen reluctance in his refusal? She reads another spell woven among the protections, powerfully made and reinforced by another hand. But, swords are drawn and there is no time to explore the mysteries she divines.

As she answers, Jane, "Love and honor," she steps forward, hands held apart like she is going to hug the elf. A command snaps, harsh as a bough breaking from a great tree,

         !peelS

Jimmy Hudson has posed:
    There's a quick slash of a salute as Liam Thorns makes ready, his attention fully upon Sif before him. Turned to the side, right hand forward, in the face of such danger his eyes are bright and his smile warm. Above them there is some tension, bows are taken from off their shoulders as some archers make ready. But none set arrow to string. Not yet at least.
    Around them the rain continues to fall, though grows a touch stronger as the mist becomes droplets that give a sheen to the environs. The knight brings his blade in line, though a glance is spared for Jane as his lip twists upwards in recognition of some small facet perhaps before he shakes his head slightly. The wash of Sera's energy and power causes the rain to sparkle in a myriad of seeming starlight even as the duel is begun.
    The blade darts forward, striking high and ringing against Sif's guard with that lovely sound of mystic steel upon steel. A sudden strike, though no follow up as then there is a mystic sorceress before them who steps forward...
    And that command word is spoken...
    Which suddenly has the elven warrior's hand set free the blade even as he falls forward with a blissful ease. While his cloak looks magnificent.

Sif has posed:
Honestly, Sif wasn't sure that was going to work. But he had apparently used his magics to protect himself against physical attacks. Leaving himself vulnerable to magic. But no, that made no sense for the Liam she had known for so long. Thus she realize that this had to be a choice.

As he tilted forward, she quickly stepped forward and caught him. Then his armored form was hefted over her shoulder as she murmured, "Your honor remains intact, Sir Knight."

A glance to the soldiers, waiting to see if they are going to stick to their word or not. Then she looks to her companions. "Someone please bring his sword. It deserves better than to lie in the muck."

And with that, she turned and strode for the castle as long as they were not interrupted, intending to stride through those doors which are still sitting open. Yet another gift perhaps from the Knight who must do his duty--yet could leave openings?

She led the party into the castle itself.

Sera has posed:
Sera looks a touch bewildered at the way the rain responds to her magical song. This place is alive in ways she didn't expect but perhaps should have considered. As the knight flops forward she grimaces only a little. "The weather must be linked to the... the idiom of this place?"

Idiom, she can't think of a better way to describe it. But may be there's a way to better understand why this world is gloomy instead of bright right now.

Sif is on the move and she twists her lips. "I suspect we're not going to be too welcome," she suggests and moves after Sif. "Still, it'll behoove us to tread a little more carefully. This world is far more magically interlinked than I realised when we first arrived."

Jimmy Hudson has posed:
    Forward and ever onward the heroes advance. Into the grand castle of what is now Fortress Featherwine but in the past held other names connected to its ruler. There was still the absolute beauty of its decor, the brilliant tapestries illuminated by the glowing spheres and in some places natural torchlight. There are guards who upon seeing the party moving and a fallen Liam upon Sif's shoulder that suddenly they bring themselves to full awareness.
    Quickly those warriors rush after, calling out their challenges, "Halt! Halt!"
    Then the Asgardians and Midgardians make it through to the doors that hold the last barrier between them and the throne room. Two guards in full green plate armor bring their polearms down and angle them straight at Sif as they make ready to do battle. There are screams in the hallways as some of the other nobles of the court spot this clearly wild warband as it assaults the castle. Then there is the sound of heavy boots running.
    It's just as those guards seem ready to attack that there is abruptly a /loud/ voice, reverberating with mystic power that says sharply.
    << Show them in, I will see them! No matter how rude these scions of Asgard may be we owe them that much as our allies! >>
    And then the doors open, presenting the throne room in its majesty, empty once again save for the Queen upon her throne, dark of feature, severe of manner. No smiles this time. No heartfelt welcomes. Simply grim eyes staring.

Jane Foster has posed:
Zatanna's sorcery wins them a bye through the gauntlet bristling with arrows, swords, and elven magic. All might prove perfectly fatal to Jane. She watches the warriors in the blur of dark stone and exquisite textiles, the beat of her footsteps supplanting the thunderous clamouring in her ears. She can only guess what lies behind the doors guarded by two armed warriors, girded more fiercely than tortoises and certainly more dangerous. The court's dismay in expressions and cries wounds at some level.

"Alfheim should not be this way," she murmurs to Lara and Steve, since her flight follows in the wake of the intrepid Captain. "Am I wrong to suspect something poisons the realm, or overshadows it? Even autumn should not have stripped its joys so." However he may defend them, sure of indomitable shield and arm, her eyes rest upon the homo magi. A most dangerous combination of puissance and vulnerability facing someone of perhaps equal calibre, at least in Fortress Featherwine. She stays close to Zatanna if she can, though in honesty, Sif is far better a protectress than an astrophysicist would be.

Then, the Queen. It falls within her purview to bend, a flourish letting her sleeves neatly touch the floor. A hazard for anyone who would grab them in combat. "Your Majesty." Words slip gracefully to the tongue in the language of the light elves. What reverb remains is echoed by the stir of concern and regard in her thoughts, projected unconsciously in a veil around her. "We greet you as friend and ally of Asgard, and as emissaries of Midgard."

Sif has posed:
Everyone acting like they were storming the castle would be amusing if they weren't kind of valid. For they had entered without permission. But this was not a social visit. This was bearing ill news of what had transpired and an inquiry to the part that Alfheim may have played.

And Sif's diplomacy was at an all time low due to her grief. People dealt with grief in many ways. There was one phase that was anger. Sif had found that one and stayed there. Or perhaps she skipped them all and went there. Either way, she wanted to hurt someone, make them pay for the loss of her long-time friend.

She carefully laid down Liam Thorns. He was unharmed, simply sleeping. "Your Highness, I..." She had to choke out the next word but she managed, to her credit. "I apologize for the intrusion. This was information that could not wait. Though we would much prefer to have visited as we have in the past, that leisure is not a luxury we can afford at this time." She did give a polite bow to the Queen then realized she still had sword in hand and quickly sheathed it.

Zatanna Zatara has posed:
Though Zee had spoken her command harshly, she threw a look of approval at Lady Sif for catching the Knight and saving his honor. Righteous anger carries her forward. The cries of halt doing nothing to slow them down.

Her cloak thrown back, hands unhampered, Zatanna walks warily, ready to put the whole castle under a sleeping spell. Let thorny roses climb the walls keeping out friend and foe alike for a hundred years while the elves slumber.

"Nothing passes in this realm that is not felt in its lifeblood," Zatanna comments hurriedly to Sera as the doors are thrown back. The polearms barring their way lift at the Queen's ringing command.

Magic flows in the blood of Alfheim, and its heart sits on the throne before them. To occult sight, the Queen is bright as the sun; she radiates power. Realm and Queen are inextricably one, thus the grey overcast skies crying in distress - crying in despair. Zatanna dares a step toward the throne, then curtseys, torn between pity for the pain coursing deeply through the magic and blame for the Queen's role in Thor's disappearance.

"Thank you for allowing us into your presence, your highness. Need drives us to break with courtesies."

Steve Rogers has posed:
Steve Rogers's shield is out and in place on his arm as his jaw clenches at the prospect of this turning into an outright fight after all. He advances up the stone corridor with the rest, at the ready. Until the voice breaks out that forestalls the hostility whether temporarily or, he hopes, permanently.

He walks into the throne room with the others, eyes scanning the room warily before refocusing on the woman. He's seen enough bowing in Asgard to have an idea of how to make a good leg of it, and he does so before the Queen once they have stopped in front of her.

Steve stays quiet as Sif addresses the monarch, the Avenger not familiar with the the Realm it being his first trip, and ceding to her much greater experience.

Lara Croft has posed:
Lara crouches to gather the sword up out of the mud of the earth. She stands back up then in time to see the escalating situation somewhat calmed by the booming voice from within the compound. This gets a concerned expression strewn across her face...

She goes back to stand near to Jane and Cap, her eyes going to Jane. "It feels off, like a Wake for a very important person has just happened, and we barged in on it, yet they're afraid to tell us." She says softly to the other Agent before she offers the sword of Liam's to Cap.

She'll follow the rest inside though, and when she sees the Queen, and gets only further confirmation that she still feels something is horribly off here from the last time they occupied this hall, Lara just grimaces. She glances to Sif, and then toward Zatanna before she looks to the Queen.

"Your Highness." Lara speaks up. "If we've come at a bad time, I do apologize profusely, but I can say that all we need are a few simple questions answered, and we will likely be on our way to not take up any more of your time..."

Sera has posed:
Sera's eyes rest upon the Queen. Such a majestic magical being. Far more so than the magic she has felt anywhere else in the lands so far. It would make sense that if she were feeling down then so would the world. But if she is feeling down then perhaps... "She knows," Sera states to Sif.

She dips in to a sweeping bow to the Queen, her wings spread and then rises back again. "Your Majesty. Does the guilt weigh upon you - perhaps you didn't realise the significance before the unfolding of the events."

Of course, Sera could be way off. But then why else would the world be so sombre if the Queen herself was not. And what other deed could make her feel .. guilt? .. then accidentally creating tormoil in an allied realm, in losing the ally Thor, in causing Odin to sleep.

Had she not spent so many years traveling with Angela and facing down rulers and despots she might not have ever felt so bold as to state her opinion openly to the Queen. To what is meant to be a friend. But Angela's influence rubs off on you and that sometimes means getting kicked out of places.

Jimmy Hudson has posed:
    The throne room is their's, shared together once again with petitioners and the majesty of the fae court. There are whispers from above, the gallery of nobles hidden in shadow and tinged with trepidation. The heavy steps of guards rushing into the room is heard though their advance is stayed by the lift of the Queen's hand.
    She is not the bright Aelsa that they had seen initially, she was the raven-haired beauty that bid them farewell with that hint of tension in the air during the last visit. Though the seasons change often speak to these shifts, there have been times in the past when the throne had changed hands. For Mab, Titania, they too had held sway. And they too felt the seasonal transition affect their rule.
    The guards skid to a halt, and the Queen said naught. She simply gestured to the side. Dismissive. The guards moved away.
    Then as Jane speaks the ice blue eyes hold hers and she listens. Hearing the words and letting her attention flow from the astronomer to the warrior. Sif is heard and her answer to them is simply thus,
    "You are recognized."
    Zatanna then Lara lend their voices to the entreaties and in answer the queen quirks her eyebrow just a touch. She lifts her chin, regal in everything and through this all she has barely, oh so barely moved.
    Yet it is when Sera speaks that her eyes narrow. Again barely a thing that would be so noticed, though when one sits a throne all eyes are so often on those on high. For a brief moment the tendons in her beautiful jaw line tense, then she says sharply. Regally.
    "You come to me with your questions. Your entreaties. You batter my captain. You barge into my throne room. You wish your petition heard all now with words so fair given when it costs you so little it seems."
    She then waves that hand to the side as if giving them the floor. "Ask then, state before me what you wish. I will hear you. And judge."

Jane Foster has posed:
The brunette astrophysicist straightens up, a passing thought for the state of the Queen and the nature of the realm around them. Certain cards have turned face up, and sometimes it takes direct experience to read what they contain in the unfamiliar designs and changed layout. If Jane quite pulled back the veil to the degree Sera and Zatanna could, how much more frightening might that be?

"We express our regrets for the sorrows you carry in this season of reflection and gathering, a time when the grey mists and soft dews herald the treasured bounty stowed away for another hour." The habit of turning a phrase is something vaguely poetic, probably hinting how Jane spent her time when not ensconced in every manner of astronomic and physics paper she could put her teenaged hands on. Still, she puts intent behind the words, a recognition for what the autumnal splendours of the court may be, if mirrored in the despairing queen rankled -- possibly -- but their manner. "Perhaps such errors made in a spirit of concern for you and your people may be forgiven, for it is sometimes in the nature of the young and spirited to heed their passions with less concern for decorum than expected. Your presence is nonetheless heartening, for who would do ill-will to such a benevolent hostess who inspires so many? May whatever trespasses against good manners not eclipse the gratitude to find you as you are." Even if someone several centuries old makes the mistake. Maybe!

She steps back into Zatanna's shadow then, her piece said. She's going to have to deal with Liam later or raid someone's library for the correct forms and options.

Sif has posed:
At the words from Sera, Sif cuts her eyes in the direction of the angel. The question being what did the Queen know. She likely already knew Thor was dead. After all, Teagan had returned. Yet, Teagan was in the dungeon which was another question all unto itself. Did the Queen know that she had done something to cause all this? The Guilt question led that direction.

Sif focused on the surface, glancing to the Black Knight. "He made challenge. We accepted. He underestimated our resources." She did not get into the whole putting him to sleep so he didn't have to /be/ battered. "He is unharmed and his honor is unsullied. He serves his Queen well."

She considered the situation, the setting. Then she decides to move forward. "My question involves a ring that was in the possession of Thor of late. Held close to his heart." For it had been on a chain about his neck when given over to Zatanna. "A token perhaps from someone he cared for greatly. Might the Queen know where such a ring came to be in his possession? And the true nature of that gift?"

She didn't want to say /too/ much as there was a crowd of the Queen's followers. She didn't want to imply the Queen had betrayed purposefully since most of these people would have no idea about it and the part it played in the betrayal of Asgard and the death of Thor.

Zatanna Zatara has posed:
Zatanna takes a step back, leaving Sif foremost. Accusations spoken and unspoken cloud the air. The magician's eyes widen in surprise at Sera suggesting guilt laying heavily on the Queen's heart.

Since coming into the Realm, Zatanna has reconsidered what lay behind the poisoned gift of the Ring to Thor. She feels the presence of unknown pressures, Lara coming closest to expressing the feeling if not the reason. Mourning? Perhaps. But something else seems at work.

The homo magi turns to look at the others, delaying. Fear of the Queen's response to her presumption? Likely. The Queen is both quick to laughter and anger.

"Your Highness, we do profoundly apologize for breaking into," she gestures at the beautifully adorned room, "this sorrow. Our lady of the stars expressed it well."

A pause during which Zatanna searches Sif's face while she puts her words into order. "We come seeking the reason behind the Thunderer's disappearance. A ring gifted to him turned the tides of a spell at the behest of a black demon that I will not name lest I summon even a shadow of his evil. Great Queen, we are bereft and sadly without knowledge."

Steve Rogers has posed:
When Lara Croft offers the unconscious knight's sword over to him, Steve Rogers take it with a grateful nod. He pulls out a handkerchief - of course he carries one, he's from the 1940s - and wipes from the weapon the mud that had clung to it.

After he moves over to where Sir Liam lies. Apparently he figures the Queen's word is good enough to prevent the sword being used against them in the near future, as Captain America guides the tip to the Black Knight's sheath and slides the weapon back home.

Rising to stand straight again he moves back over to his previous place, continuing to let the others who know the Realm speak to the Queen.

Lara Croft has posed:
Lara nods softly to Steve and then looks forward again as the questions start to come out. She watches the Queen's response to them, but also lets her eyes wander a bit. Upward her gaze goes, to that balcony level above their heads, then she glances off to the side toward the guards within the Hall. Were things normal? How could she really know? She'd spent a handful of days here, and though those days may have been presented far differently, perhaps all of that had been a show for their benefit, and what they were seeing here today?

Maybe this is the normal.

"And we're looking for information on why Teagan has been locked away." Lara chimes in, her calm voice following a stare sent to the Queen. She holds up the quiver and unstrung bow, the handle wrapped in the golden twine of its removed bowstring. "Teagan gave us weapons to fight off the enemy hordes. Without his efforts, well, we might be in much worse condition than we are now. He deserves not to be jailed, less there are crimes committed that I, and the others, are unaware of."

Sera has posed:
Sera glances sidelong at Jane. Apologising for her? Interesting. An eyebrow is raised and the angel tucks her wings in, her chin held high as she regards the Queen. Here is a story that is unfolding piece by piece. This Teagan had been fighting with the others at the Space Port. He returns, sound, but Thor gone. Midgard attacked. Odin uncontactable. What more can she think than Teagan had failed her - or perhaps even betrayed her.

"Your Majesty," she says watching those micro-expressions; so far the line hasn't been entirely crossed and perhaps she can avoid that if she's careful. "As you hear, we're following a breadcrumb trail to understand the totality of things. Each of us is a dear friend of Thor, some of us owe King Odin, some of us represent Prince Regent Loki."

"While you consider, perhaps, what price we must pay to know about this rings pedegree: I, Former Beloved of Hel, Adopted Mother of Leah the Fallen, beg that you parden your emissary Teagan. What happened was a tragedy, but Midgard holds no ill will toward Alfheim, to Teagan, and least of all to you Your Majesty."

Sera motions to Lara.. her mind still thinking of the rules as she gives another useless name for herself, but also one for Lara, "They who walk with Teagan's quiver do hope to return it, for a connection made proves the point. Blame lies not with this court or realm, nor Midgard, but with the ones who set the trap. Malekith the Accursed."

No sooner had the name left her lips that her eyelashes did flicker. Discussing Leah, discussing Hel, .. the name had been talked about since the attack. Malekith, but she had forgotten. The neurones had not fired, had not connected. She knows the man; she used and tricked the man. Her eyes widen a touch and her expression frowns. She bows down though trying to hide this personal revelation amidts her petition for Teagan.

Jimmy Hudson has posed:
    From her place upon the dais settled on her throne, the Queen listens to Jane as she speaks, her eyes slid just slightly to the side to look on her. Only perhaps twenty feet away, but the six raised dais steps seeming to put so much more than mere distance between them. She listens, then draws in a breath. Holds it. Slowly she releases it as she says, "Peace, then."
    A subtle victory gained as Jane's words have taken some of the sternness from the sidhe ruler. She turns her attention to the next speakers. Sif it was and Zatanna along with her, each of the women giving their insight and inquiries together. Though the mention of Liam had her eyes falling heavily upon the Black Knight even now victim of Zatanna's spell as the good Captain returns his blade to him. She sniffs once, a look of distaste touching her features.
    But then with her head turned to the side, when Sif speaks of a ring and Zatanna backs this declaration she bristles ever so slightly. "Thor held a ring to his heart and you feel it comes from our court? I cannot possibly speak to that. Such gifts are common place here." She lifts her chin, "And more fool he for accepting a gift of the fae, is that not what you say of us?"
    Her right hand tightens slightly into the arm of the throne, then eases. She then brushes her gown, smoothing the way it lays oh so immaculately over her. She looks up.
    "But if he had taken a lover in our court, there is not a soul of us that would wish him such ill as has befallen him. Were I you. I would seek answers beyond this realm."
    She eases back into the throne and shifts her focus to Lara, perhaps welcome to the change of subject, acting as if the former matter was closed and so she now opens this new one. On Teagan.
    "He is imprisoned until he recants his words whereupon he will be welcome to this court once again. He is a willful soul, given to acts of passion without thought. He shall learn."
    Though in that moment her attention eases toward Sera. She listens, eyes narrowed slightly. She takes in a quicker breath this time, but focuses it on exhaling, a sound coming close to a hint of exasperation. But her frown deepens, "That one is not to be named in our court. The Accursed One plans and draws upon his threads, but he will weaken us not."

Jane Foster has posed:
Jane stays fixed to the middle of the motley, braving the faintest of smiles where Lara and Steve take care of a certain sword that certainly has not lost her attention. Their careful restoration of the blade to its slumbering owner is another mark that loosens some of the discomfort in her spine, though tension remains tightly wound throughout muscles poised for something to fall inward upon them.

"May it be hoped that the Unwelcome One has not darkened your realm with his presence, Your Majesty?" She raises her voice only a degree to be heard, threading a gap in the conversation to make polite inquiries. "Forgive that such a question need be raised indelicately when greater matters call for attention, though we would be likeminded in our disfavour upon one such as that." Not even he. That. Subtle shifts in language flow through their shared tongue as she plucks out the precise stresses and purposes she wants. "We have suffered a mutual loss, and in the spirit of camaraderie which he used to draw us together, I would ask whether you bent your mind towards the Accursed with any concern. He has not caused you added misery?"

Please, give someone a reason to go punch out the dark elf.

Sif has posed:
That gave the answer. Without giving the answer. At least in Sif's mind. The reaction of the Queen to Sera's words about her feeling guilt, the Asgardian had to wonder if that was true as well.

The Queen had given him the gift. Though her part in what unfolded was now more in the gray. What had happened was beyond the scope of intentions. Her obvious distaste about Malekith made it seem unlikely she had worked with him willingly. Seek the answers outside Alfheim. The ring came from another source outside her, though she may have been the one to give it to Thor in the end.

Not proven. Theories only on Sif's part but that is how her mind processed the answer. "Thank you for your wise guidance. We will seek further information on the origin of the ring."

She focused on Teagan a moment. "What words were spoken that caused need for imprisonment?" she asked simply.

Zatanna Zatara has posed:
Unexpectedly, the Queen refuses knowledge of the Ring worn close to Thor's heart. She even refutes being his lover. Out of prudence or manners - naming a lover might not fit courtly manners.

Eyes fixed on the Queen for every turn of her head may be significant, Zatanna thoughts race. So, they are set on another path.

Twice, Sera has surprised her. She shifts slightly, drawing an audible breath as Malekith is named. Aelsa's response is telling.

Silence falls on the room once again. "Again, our Star Gazer has spoken my thoughts. The Black One's threads are far-reaching and have drawn us into their trap. Yet again, his deceptions may have weakened ties of friendship haplessly. I, too, wondered what Teague may have said to provoke his circumstances. Yet another question remains for us. Where do we seek the one behind these deceptions? I lack the wisdom to guide us."

Steve Rogers has posed:
After returning the slumbering Black Knight's now cleaned sword to its sheath, Steve Rogers stands and listens to the reply from the Queen. His expression is troubled as it doesn't seem to give them anything that advances their understanding of what happened, but he continues to let Lady Sif carry the conversation.

One of the elven guards who came in to take up places around the group, armed with spear and shield, keeps looking with interest over at the red, white and blue shield strapped to Captain America's arm. Steve notices after a few moments, glancing down at his shield, and then over at the elf's medium-sized kite shield. The elf looks down at his own shield in reply, reaching over to give it a little thunk with his finger, the metal producing a bit of a quiet, dull thudding sound.

Steve looks from the elf down to his own shield and gives it a little thunk with his finger, producing a quiet, pure tone that gently fades out. The elf's eyes widen and he looks at the shield covetously. Cap just giving the elf a shrug back of his shoulders.

Lara Croft has posed:
Everything that comes in response from the Queen gets a soft nod from Lara, who exhales softly. She glances to her companions, as they to speak and seek more information. When she looks back, and a chance presents itself, Lara speaks up again. "I knwo that Teagan is as you say, with passion leading his choices. If it helps, I would offer to speak with him, and help him do what needs to be done to earn his place again." She says, only mildly lying, in so far as to say that internally she's more curious to get his side of the story, if they would let her speak with him.

"But, if this cannot be arranged, then I hope him the best, and hope that someone here tells him that his efforts in supplying me with the weapons... was appreciated." She states before stepping back toward Steve and the others, only catching the tail-end of the shield-off which garners a small smirk from her.

Sera has posed:
Sera feels her ankles wobble just a touch in her bow. She rises back up and looks disoriented. Drawing memories from her time dead is never an easy thing and they crop up at the most inconvenient of times. Like right now. When the Queen restates his title, The Accursed One, she blinks a few times.

She remembers him vaguely now. Her, standing ethereal like in Hel, him a dark elf - a stranger in a strange land - came to see if the stories of the angels were true. He wanted to know about Angela. He wanted to know about the Angels. He wanted to know about Heven.

She made a promise to tell him all she could and in return he would take her ring to Angela. But she knew he could not be trusted; she had sung the songs of angels who had dealt with dark elves before. So she used him, tricked him. The dark elf filled with her song, carrying her ring, was as good as possessed. She used him, transformed him in to her likeness, and used his living form to seek out Angela in a desperate plea for help.

Help came.

Her glowing wings turn to small dots of light like dust and her eyes stop glowing. She has let her magic go. A look of agreement is upon her face with the Queen as to the nature of Malekith and his plans. He is their mutual enemy. No fancy bow. Instead a knowing dip of her head and a nibble on her bottom lip. An actual apology from Sera, one with true weight and meaning behind it. These Malekith recollections will take some time to process.

Jimmy Hudson has posed:
    The Queen's voice rises, sharpness entering the tone as she draws herself up. "He is ever a blight. Every moment he exists marks its passing with more foulness. Every breath he draws is an insult for the people he hath sundered!"
    She raises a hand and closes it partially like a claw that slowly becomes a fist. "He has not passed into our demesne in these ages past, but his servants are everywhere." Though she turns her attention to Sif then, "Even in your Asgard."
    For a moment she seems about to press further, something hovering upon the tip of her tongue as she leans forward in the throne, eyes on Sera and her wings. Then she shakes her head slightly. Though she does not answer Sif's question as she covers her brow with one hand. "I have entertained enough of your questions. And with what has passed here Teagan's crime seems to have shrunk in comparison."
    She rises from her seat, moving a little slower than she has in the past. She gestures with one hand to the side, even as there is a soft murmur from the gallery above. "You seek answers and where to find them?" She inclines her head slightly, a slight half-smirk touching her chilly features as the room seems to grow ever so slightly colder. "I suggest then you seek them in Svartalfheim."
    A look at those below her, then the guards around them. Behind them. She raises her chin and murmurs in Lara's direction, "No. Now go. Trust Teagan will be freed in a fortnight's time. For his humor is much in need in this court. I am to retire now. You have what answers I can give. Lest you seek to pursue me to my quarters?"
    She asks that last pointedly, filling those words with a good measure of indignity as she affixes each of the heroes with a steady stare.
    Then?
    She turns and moves away behind the throne.

Jane Foster has posed:
Jane tips her head to Zatanna as the audience winds down to a close, or certainly what looks like a dismissal by a rather powerful monarch. The strap of her bag weighing down her shoulder slides lower, the weight shifted around to her side where she can unzip the sealed contents to the light of autumn gloom.

Deftly she searches by touch until discovering what she needs; something oblong, a box of rosewood polished to a glowing finish that holds memories of long, rubicund sunsets buried in the grain of the wood. A niche carved into the case holds a slot for a slender glass vial of fragrance suspended in oil, the memories of an autumn evening crafted into olfactory splendours of sorts. Though not a strong scent, one that when brought to the skin awakens memories and trails in a sinuous path of half-recalled visions to those who might catch its trail. More important is the metal object therein, an orbit fashioned painstakingly to evoke the very heavens themselves from some precise point. Each spark worked among the network of delicate whorls is in fact a star, placed as precisely as any catalogue of the stars.

She steps away from the magician and approaches one of Aelsa's guards in their fine green armour, her chin lifted and the gift in both hands. The extended offering is a formal presentation, the case balanced on her palms. "For Her Majesty, a token of the gratitude sent from Midgard. For she has provided wise counsel and unstinting hospitality, and the realm would acknowledge her."

The guard considers, teetering, and she waits until he deigns to accept the bracelet and vial in their handsome giftbox. Let it not be said Midgard sucks.

Sif has posed:
Asgard on the other hand...

"Thank you again, Your Highness. For your wise words and hospitality despite our impoliteness upon entry." Sif gives another bow and does not follow the Queen. She has what she had wanted to learn. They knew the Dark Elves, specifically Malekith, were behind. But it was good to have answers about an ally. There was something more here but they had gotten as much as they could for today. Teagan would be released so there was no need to storm the dungeons. They were not directly to blame so war was averted. For Now.

Only once the queen had left the room would Sif turn back to the others. "Let us depart this place with all haste." They're lucky she doesn't have Heimdall open the Bifrost in the middle of the palace. She will wait until they are outside the castle walls.

Zatanna Zatara has posed:
As Zatanna feared, the Queen reached the limit of her tolerance quickly. Yet, she deigned to give an answer concerning their next steps. To the Black Elves they go. Tally-ho.

Teagan's crime remains unknown, Zatanna thinks, silently sinking into a curtsey, her black gown spreading around her feet. She won't be the one tiptoeing to the Queen's chambers.

Zatanna looks around her, resurfacing after the tension of the encounter. Her gaze flows from Sera to Sif, then onto Jane, who receives a nod of thanks for her foresight. Her eyes come to rest on Liam, beautiful even in his sleep. No open-mouthed drooling for him.

One hand opens, and the mage speaks a single word:

            !ekawA

Steve Rogers has posed:
Steve Rogers makes another one of those bows towards the Queen, an expression of gratitude before she departs. He turns towards the others, gauging their reactions to what they heard.

As Sir Liam comes awake, Steve offers his hand to help him up. "A spirited engagement," Steve tells the knight, letting the statement lead his thoughts wherever they might on the duel that was fought. One which he probably doesn't remember much of short of drawing his sword.

Lara Croft has posed:
A simple bow is offered to the Queen from Lara when she denies her request. Lara doesn't comment further on it, but does hope the best for the wayward Teagan, wherever they've stowed him.

After turning to leave with the other, Lara steps over to Jane, and speaks softly to her. "You know... this might be a longshot, but I recall Thor coming to the Triskelion about two years ago, I was barely even settled in to the job... But he had some issues with a cursed ring, or a ring of some magical inclination." She informs, speaking lowly, but loud enough for any of the others with them to hear.

"Agent Drew was with us when we went over that situation with Thor then. It was the first time I'd ever met him in person, so it has always kind of stuck within my mind... But, yes, it probably isn't related to all of this." She says before putting the quiver and bow over her shoulder, holding on to it by its leather strap beside one of the straps of the backpack she's already wearing.

Sera has posed:
Sera folds her arms slowly. She doesn't want to have to relive moments of death randomly. Especially not in the court of the elves of light. With Sif's suggestion they depart she nods in agreement and turns to leave. There's still something nagging at the back of her mind though.

Once outside she confides, "I suspect Teagan bluntly spoke a truth the Queen did not want spoken. He likely recognised the ring as the culprit - a ring she knew to be problematic. Perhaps it slipped her mind. No doubt she did not appreciate being told she was responsible."

"Teagan's transgressions now seemingly minor compared to what we just put in to their courtly whispers and rumours," she states. "Lara Croft I wonder if you are not on to something there. It could be one in the same ring."

She twists her lips a bit. Svartalfheim. Given what she's remembered she won't be walking in there in the dark of what she did. But Malekith has plenty of reason to hate her. But he did, ultimately, attempt to betray her - so really it was his own fault.

"I think we'll be even less welcome in Svartalfheim," she says and looks to Sif. "Especially if Malekith is there," she adds. He practically declared war on Midgard. Or perhaps the trap was always meant for the Queen; Midgard merely stumbled upon it trying to make the tv show Stargate a reality.

"I recommend disguises if we're to go there. Dark elves. It won't take we ladies of the book club long to conjure up something passable for us each." She looks to Zatanna to see if she disagrees, then to Sif too because she is the one in charge of this journey.

Jimmy Hudson has posed:
    There is a bleariness to the pale elf who is brought forth from slumber by the uttered word from a sorceress. Though not so out of sorts that he is unable to take in his surroundings with a quick glance even as he's helped up with the strong warrior's clasp of Steve Rogers.
    Rising he touches a hand instinctively to the blade in its sheath, noting its comforting presence and then the personages surrounding him. A glance given to the side, up toward the now vacant throne. He takes a breath and holds it, then says, "I am to trust that all went well?"
    As he says that, however, his eyes stray to the guards in green who seem to convey something to their captain for no words are spoken. Though Liam Thorns seems to accept what passed with a growing ease.
    He spreads out the gauntleted fingers of one hand, the metal clinking then he closes that hand into a fist as if checking to see if everything still worked right. "I imagine then, I should bid you farewell, should I not? Curiousity sated? Good."
    A small hand gesture is made to one of the guards then his eyebrow quirks as another silent order likely given. He turns, hand on the pommel of his blade and that cloak slashing oh so cinematically behind him as if timed perfectly.