14275/From Luna With Love

From Luna With Love
Date of Scene:	27 February 2023
Location:	Dakota Apartment 1
Synopsis:	Shiny happy people.
Cast of Characters:	Blackagar Boltagon, Jane Foster

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Blackagar Boltagon has posed:
The transition back to Earth as a primary location was done smoothly enough, but the preparations had been made such that an extended absence from Attilan could be done. One without communication if the need arose for it to be that way. Granted, the Council and Elders had their say. Lamenting the King's departure, commenting on the need of his presence, the normal carrying on all of which was only moderately true. The reality was the city-nation could survive without him there for some time. The people were competent and largely his presence was more or less symbolic at times.

Particularly when there was a threat on the planet below which the city existed. It had been this point he made rather steadily; Earth was in danger. He believed those who spoke of it. Thus, it was in everyone's interest that he be on Earth in case he was able to assist. None of those who had argued against it were foolish enough to invoke Jane as a reason and his source; they knew better by this point. However, the point was still subtlely present. But in the end, ignored.

Jane Foster has posed:
"Is it wrong to lament leaving the Moon?" Jane might whisper a fond farewell to a city probably ill at ease with her presence, the living one. The body held by eternity, suspended outside the hourglass of time, remains in Inhuman custody and a potent device for continued good behaviour. As if she actually needs the incentive. "The city lights obscure the finer details, but at least we can enjoy the view if you grow homesick." Soft and gentle words are given as they return to the Dakota, this space claimed by a moon king and a stargazer. The place looks much as they left it, carefully tidied up by a cleaning service but some doors stay shut and certain in their privacy.

"Not quite the homecoming I had planned, but I've learned often plans exist as mental bandaids more than anything else." Her smile rises for Blackagar, skirting around her role in inviting him back to trouble. Arms open wide, and she circles around. "Home sweet home. The other one, anyway."

Blackagar Boltagon has posed:
A slow smirk crosses his lips, but Blackagar nods in agreement. <<I don't think I truly grow homesick. What is there, is there and will be. Things will be there when this current situation is resolved.>> Until the next situation. His eyes linger a moment longer before he turns back and steps towards Jane, into the Dakota and the second home, amongst the three? Four now?

<<Truthfully, I only used this crisis as an excuse to return for some pizza.>> The humored comment comes with a widening of the smirk to a more playful smile. <<I am hopeful I am not needed here, but wished to be closer if you felt the need.>>

Jane Foster has posed:
<<Through archangels and power-mad tyrants and elves. Are you saying Rome isn't the Eternal City as I have been led to believe?>> No Catholic is Jane, but she dares to look wide-eyed and startled by the possibility for a few seconds. Then the amusement crumples her innocence, back into that wide smile. <<I see, I offer you political coverage to satiate your addiction to mortal food channels.>>

The television doesn't have a hoofprint or a nasty dark elf curse on it, nor has Maximus managed to boobytrap the screen. At least as far as she can tell.

"I..." Words sometimes fail her. More often than not it's over matters too great and weighty to wrap a solitary thought around, and so she approaches him, holding out her hands to take his and bring them to her lips. "Thank you isn't enough for that. I never expect anyone to throw in their lot with me, but here you are, standing beside me. I love you too."

Blackagar Boltagon has posed:
The small smile returns, and Blackagar gives a tender expression with it through his eyes, <<You would do no less. Besides, it is my extreme estimation that you would do your best to not involve me if you could avoid it. Meaning, that you even are considering it is worthy enough reason to show up.>>

There is a notable pause, <<And one cannot simply say no to a Thunder Goddess, can they? I believe that is written down somewhere.>>

He holds the gaze for a moment then continues, <<Harboring relationships with humans is important for long term prosperity also. So while I am certainly biased, I am not completely without self interest.>>

Jane Foster has posed:
Agreement strums a note in middle C, a sensation as natural as breathing exuding from the brunette. She dips her head to brush her mouth against the mountainous ridge of Blackagar's knuckles, one by one. <<I protect others. If I cannot find the god of thunder, it's the bare minimum until Asgard sorts itself out. Until he reclaims what is his.>>

And the world goes on. A part of her reflects on the loss, accepting it long ago, despite the breathless rush that the transformation and service to others brings.

<<Blame your influence, hammering me into this responsible woman concerned with upholding duty. Seems to me you know a thing or two about taking on the world so others don't have to.>> She tilts her gaze up to him, eyes bright. <<After all of this, these cages and death-bringing elves, I'd like to take you up on that long-term prosperity.>>

Blackagar Boltagon has posed:
<<Long term prosperity>> He asks back, perhaps confused or simply pressing for further elaboration out of the amusement of doing such. After a few moments though there's another shake, <<You had your own responsibility sorted out long before you met me. If anything I believe you've fostered a stronger sense of universal intent from me, rather than focusing solely on the Inhuman cause and issue.>>

So many thoughts pass his mind at that, but then he goes on. <<As for taking on the world, it is easier when you can do it through a proxy. Believe me, I would not be so calm were Attilan under direct assault.>>

Jane Foster has posed:
Oh, the game of confusion. Pressing her is easy enough. <<Would you undertake a ceremony of your people or mine that unites us, if I asked? We call it marriage. I suspect you call it long-term genetic compatibility configuration. Did your parents use a unique term for it?>> Jane taps her fingertip to her temple, loosening a trail of dark hair spilling free from her braid. It tried to make the trip from teh Moon and successfully failed. <<We are healthy mirrors for one another, then. I see how much you provide to your people, the conscientious actions and the considerations which strengthen my own resolve. A better idea of what I can do for others when they need me.>>

She shakes her head softly and pulls him towards the couch, at least somewhere where they can sit together and look out the window if they want. <<Were Attilan under assault, you would do whatever was needful and I would aid you as much as I could.>>

Blackagar Boltagon has posed:
There is a silence, probably that leans towards the awkward side both verbally (well duh) but also in mental conversation. It's almost as if Blackagar's mind goes quiet as well while he churns over the question. Finally, when he does speak, both his hands signing and thought in his mind it is done deliberately, carefully.

<<I agree that we are well matched for one another, in personality and temperament. I also believe that you possess many of the qualities of character that would mark someone as a true Inhuman. Consideration of the people, concern for the traditions, and understanding the balance between the two.>>

He settles a bit on the sofa, having followed her there. <<Where I am concerned, is that I have obligations as the leader of my people that could pose challenges. If the Council were to indicate for example a child be sired with another, I do not suspect you would feel comfortable with that; even if it was done through non-physical means. I know even I would struggle with that concept. If arranged marriage with another for political purposes were required...>>

Blackagar has a small, somber smile, <<It is like your British Monarchy, those who wed out of obligation versus those who do so out of desire. The difference is, this is not just the considerations of a few hundred year old island. But one of the most powerful nations no one knows about.>>

Jane Foster has posed:
The brush of his thoughts crackles across her mind, illustrated in sharp focus on every minute detail. Jane co-exists between the simple weight of the couch cushions beneath her, murmurs in the century-old Dakota building, and the wider world hidden from mundane conversation.

No demand worms its way to the forefront. Patience learned hanging from Yggdrasil's boughs informs her clarity of mind and holding a vibrant wealth of thoughts in check, if not perfectly as meditative as Blackagar has achieved in a lifetime of experience. Time can be a gift in a conversation, and it's one offered in all its bounty.

<<Granted, certain conventions might require calculated discussions when they arise. But the choice is there, and yours, if you ever want to contemplate it.>> She lightly curls her fingers around his, the same general temperature they always are.

<<But you don't want to compare yourself entirely to the British royal family, hobbled by certain unfortunate scandals as they are.>> A hint of a tease scales upwards from that. <<Having shared the concerns of more than a few venerable leaders and royals as they reached their ends, believe me, I understand.>>

Blackagar Boltagon has posed:
Blackagar is humored, it shows on his face and in sensation. <<I suppose not, in regards to those scandals, although we have had our fair share as well. But if I am to be blunt? Any discussion of this topic, which we will have, may be best tabled until a few tasks are met. The first, dealing with your current conflict with the Elves. Second, perhaps realigning you and your body back together.>>

<<I am not sure of what procedural hindrances may arise since in some regards, an argument could be made you do not really exist in this material plane completely.>> That part is made with a light humor to it. <<Third, regardless of the outcome, I do not intend for there to be any parting between us.>>

Jane Foster has posed:
<<If you weren't direct, I would wonder who was present in the room.>> In that, the hint of a laugh becomes one from the depths of her throat, albeit practiced and rusted at the same time. The sound is barely audible, slowly attaining its golden fullness as she gives her head a delicate shake. <<The time will come sooner than you think. The elves' gambit will reach its end before long, and with that, some resolution will come. This wasn't meant to be forever. Another very long-lived king almost certainly will want to reclaim his property.>>

Monarchies are themselves a thing she has a rare habit of dealing with, especially those not of this world.

Her head dips and she presses a kiss to his palm, the laughter still trilling on her lips. "I believe that, and it's as certain as the spin of galaxies to me. I do not intend to be parted."

Blackagar Boltagon has posed:
<<If we both feel such, I am curious what has spurred your thoughts on this?>> Blackagar inquires softly, no accusation in it, pure curiosity. <<Was there anything in particular, anything you feel missing or yearning that would be completed with this?>>

Jane Foster has posed:
<<I was commanded to die.>> A simple thought frames an instant in front of an alien pyramid rising from the sea, a storm of magic inflicting colours in thought that wouldn't normally be there visually. <<That moment brought clarity and crystallized much. That I wanted a life with you. It was foremost on my mind when being forced to the unknown beyond.>>

Blackagar Boltagon has posed:
There is a silence that follows, then he nods a bit, <<There is a deep meaning in that; upon the intent to die what you focus upon generally is a clarity that is presented. As I am sure you well know. I appreciate that weight.>> His hand tightens on hers, <<What else was in that moment, if anything, so that I can know wha tis foremost on your mind?>>

Jane Foster has posed:
Thoughts in bright stained glass hues have the same, near bleeding edges. Words are pallid next to the luminous shards texturized by emotions.

A multitude of people stand listlessly aboard ships bobbing in the shallows. Civilians and a few soldiers whose lives ebb away, a distinct awareness for every one of them as they dwindle. Cobalt-tinged regret to protect them from the wrongness of the spell that tears away their energy braids among the defiant struggles to fight on.

Slanting light diffused by the tropical sea glistening through the villa window and slanting across him at that hour that could be dawn or dusk. That boundless wellspring of love aches gold.

A succession of moments, Jemma painstakingly reassembling genetic data in the lab, Daisy piercing dumplings with chopsticks with that wry smile, Zatanna reaching out with a pained cry against the magic funnelled into her, Darcy sparring with Maria Hill over a finer scientific point, Jessica lounging against a wall with that utter confidence about her, Lady Sif taking up her sword. Paths verging away in a cornflower-rimed succession of memories, hope shot through every memory. Keep them safe. Thriving. Well.

Work tumbling through her fingers. Unfinished projects. A hammer spinning into space. All the things undone that wait to be explored and understood, the endless inquisitive spark that yearns to cling to them in a dance of rose-red stars.

<<I'm not ready to go. Hela be damned.>>