1922/Arrival from Hel

Arrival from Hel
Date of Scene:	31 May 2020
Location:	Central Park
Synopsis:	Angela arrives on Midgard! And she is met by a welcoming committee. No casualties.
Cast of Characters:	Aldrif Odinsdottir, Greer Grant, Jane Foster, Sera, Dane Whitman

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Aldrif Odinsdottir has posed:
Those last few moments in the barren wastelands of Hel. Time to say good bye, time to leave this cage forever and never return. That is the promise, the second cage she has broken free from. Midgard - Earth, the place she saw in her vision of one of her futures. Despite the hundreds of years she has been dead in Hel, this is one of the better futures she saw.

Standing in the center of Hel's citadel, the middle of its maze - an assortment of slain scattered about the place. The three conquerers: Angela, Sera, and Leah, must say good bye, their escape from Hel now a reality.

A firm grasp of forearms with Leah and a gentle touch of foreheads, "Good luck Leah. Thank you for everything." Leah replies, "Sisters forever Sera." It's a teary good bye that turns in to a flood as Sera embraces with Angela. "I'm sending you to Midgard, I love you with all my heart Sera. Stay strong," Angela says. Sera replies, choked up, "Our paths will cross again my beloved. I know this to be true. You have set me free once more. I lo~~"

Then Sera is gone. Leah embraces Angela and departs without further words, leaving Angela in Hel. The redhead is thoroughly bloodied, although none of it is her own. Angela has one more thing to do before she can follow...

Midgard (Earth) - New York City. Central Park. Sunday evening. The weather is a bit cool for the season, but still quite comfortable. Sensors at SHIELD and the Avengers suddenly light up like a Christmas tree. Something is coming. Entering the solar system. Very. Very. VERY fast. By the time any sort of alarm can be raised, it's apparent that the target is Earth.

Greer Grant has posed:
    The cool air is perfect for several New Yorkers to wear their favorite light jackets and blue jeans while going about their lives, running errands and going to and from work. It's rather a lovely day and yet, "What the hell! Make those sirens stop!" Tigra shouts as she steps out of the mansion and looks at the door, hoping the thick reinforced wood would muffle the sirens at least a little bit.

    Greer rolls her sharp green eyes and takes a deep breath before hunches her back, shoulders and coils her legs, before pushing off like powerful springs. Her sprint speed is incredible as she seems like she's about to run directly into traffic and yet, she vaults at the last moment to plant a hand on a taxi roof and bring her legs forward into the side of a moving van and she pushes herself up and over that. Moments later she's on the other side of the street and moving quickly into the trees, Tigra's clawed hand lifts up to tap at the communicator in her right ear beneath her hair, "I'm in the park, tell me hot or cold as I get closer to the landing point chief."

Jane Foster has posed:
Sundays are fun days. That's the logic before the work week sweeps in like a foul odor and takes away all prospects of relaxation and mischief. A good time for a walk in Central Park or sitting on the steps to the American Natural History Museum after hours, schlepping a food truck taco or sandwich as the sky threatens to darken into a light-polluted glow. That was the plan. Emphasis was.

Unless, of course, Sunday involves tracking strange near-Earth objects in the sky and a worrisome series of close encounters upsetting the astronomy community. A comfortable walk cut short calls for a mad dash back into the Hayden Planetarium, seizing a laptop and a tablet. It probably doesn't help that Jane then plugs into several websites that don't actually exist. SHIELD's information systems for almost anything pertaining to particular subjects are built on a backbone of her research, so at least in this she can rapidly manipulate data and gain a bead on velocity, trajectory, impact points or acceleration or slowing after encountering friction with the Earth's protective shell of gas and clouds.

"I'm sorry, date night became Space Apocalypse Movie and chill night," she tells Dane while her fingers fly across the keyboard, running through a few simulations that fortunately don't take long. She shoves one of tablets into his hands. "I can't stop this. But that's my best guess on the limited satellite data we have, and ground zero is /out/ there." Her widened brown eyes show worry, anger, fear. "It might be a crater, it might be Captain Marvel's awesome sidekick coming to visit. I don't know."

Sera has posed:
"...and then I said, not if the water pressure is high enough," Sera says to the tall man in the kitchen. She doesn't know his name, but he seemed interested in the story. Also, pancakes.. what are they, she's so eager to find out. Sitting on the kitchen bench as he makes them.

The cat woman goes speeding past, out the door. Sera throws up her arms, "What's with cats and the zoomies at night, am i right?" Though truthfully Sera is doing a good impression of a cat herself, waiting to be fed more Earth delicacies. At some point the question of 'why are you still here?' will no doubt be raised and then a deal must be struck. She likes these people, may be she'll offer to help them out. They are woefully lacking any real forbidden knowledge.

Sera has adopted a rather simple uniform since staying at the mansion. Her Hel dress is apparently being 'repaired', whatever that means. But she's been wearing an avengers t-shirt, like one gets in the gift shop, black tights and an A-line knee length skirt. The ensemble won't inspire a fashion revolution. "Question for you tall man, how often are you upside down?"

Dane Whitman has posed:
"Let's just concentrate on making it to the "and chill" part if that's how it's going to be, but either way I'm pretty sure you're not responsible for random astronomical activity. Even if there are probably some folks out there that believe otherwise." Dane Whitman accepts the tablet, almost seeming entirely too nonchalant about the whole thing. He moves alongside Jane towards the "landing site."

"So potential annihilation, invasion, or the Big Apple is getting yet another superhero? Sounds like Sunday."

He gives Jane a grin and a wink, then adds, "Come on, let's go see if we can get you on the Nobel list again."

Aldrif Odinsdottir has posed:
The object's projected impact point is definitely Central Park. The Great Lawn. There is a just a light breeze in the air, enough to make the early evening a pleasant one. The wind picks up rapidly, then, becoming a brief cyclone. Leaves and debris are blown about with the wild rush of air, which subsides as suddenly as it began.

Crouched on one knee in the lawn is a red-haired woman, armed for battle. The golden armor, what little there is of it, still gleams from the heat of atmospheric entry. Her skin has been burned clean of blood and ichor from the slain of Hel.

For a moment she just remains there, crouched like a statue. Then those white eyes blink and Angela slowly rises. Wherever she's from, they grow 'em tall. And that's when a pair of wiggly ribbons raise up and curl, poised like cobras. In addition to armor and weapons, there is a pack slung across her back.

Greer Grant has posed:
    Tigra bounds through the brush and trees with a grace that is only capable by the greatest, swiftest and lithest of cats. She moves with precision and purpose, no twitch of her muscles is a waste, each roll of her ankle, bend of her knee, grasp of her fingers is perfect. She swings through the branches, and launches herself off trees on her way. Getting feedback from those back at the mansion, Tigra bursts onto the clearing in time to see the cyclone and she halts, legs planted and tense, ready to move, but she only gawks as the twister whips the red strands of her hair before her face and she coils her tail around one leg a touch afraid but the twister subsides and.

    "Nice outfit!" Greer calls out to Angela quickly followed by, "Welcome to Earf." and a giggle at her own reference, before "You here for good or bad?" It can be that simple, yes.

Sera has posed:
"...which is why cauterizing a wound with a Hel sword is far more painful than regular hot metal," Sera continues talking the tall mans ear off. The pancakes look so delicious. Butter melting on top, syrup drizzled everywhere. The smells are intoxicating. "It's still fifty fifty you know, whether me coming to this planet was a good thing or a bad thing. I've done my best to stay true to the path I wanted - but you can never be too sure, can you."

The tall man shrugs without commitment and offers the plate to Sera who excitedly takes her first bite of the new food. "Oh by the Goddess yes, why are all the best foods on Midg.. Earth? No one back home would ever believe me that this place is even real."

Jane Foster has posed:
Whatever hustle is involved, it's still Central Park. For those without the glamorous physique of a wildcat or the rapid descent from space, there are lights, fences, paths, and one very unhappy wiener dog barking in frantic tones when Dane and Jane go by. This might sound like the beginnings of a 1970s primer on English: See Jane. See Jane run. See Dane. See Dane outpace Jane.

The brunette moves quickly, efficient after so many jogs through Manhattan, up and down the shores of Staten Island, and endless hours on a treadmill. So at least she isn't going to be breathless, doubled over, gasping for air when they reach Central Park. But those however-many blocks long burn as she occasionally checks the tablet and then one of those ubiquitous rent-a-bike stations. "Next time, let's use one of those?" They even have baskets, some of them. Still, his endless good humour brings a breathless grin even with the impact being registered further out. Noisily, since debris and popping air in the transition from sonic to subsonic is telling, and she winces a little at the rattling array. It will take them longer to reach it, and she looks over. "You can go ahead, if you need to. Though if you see someone in a horned helmet, say <Well met>," she flips into a wholly other language there, "and trust in standing still respectfully. Maybe it won't be an alien invasion of the year."

Dane Whitman has posed:
"Duly noted for next time." Dane replies to Jane, but truth be told he's careful to keep pace with her, and at her suggestion that he move on ahead, he simply shakes his head, "You're the expert. Not much sense in me leaving you behind." He grins, "However...we do happen to have a direct line to the Horse that cuts the Gordian Knot." He gestures off to one side, and sure enough, there's Strider in all his winged glory. Make a spectacle? This is New York City...half the people don't even bat an eye and the ones that do are probably tourists.

And so with Horse, Dane, Jane and equipment in tow, it's now only a few moments before the Stallion dips out of its' low flight to land a hopefully-comfortable distance away from the new arrival.

"Well...she looks...armed...enough to be an Asgardian." He asides to Jane as they dismount.

Aldrif Odinsdottir has posed:
Angela's white, pupil-less eyes gaze slowly around the grassy clearing, falling immediately upon the feline redhead who bounds in shortly after her arrival. Her golden helmet has wings rather than Jane's prediction of horns, but the idea is probably similar. The descent of the winged stallion is much more familiar to her, although those white eyes narrow just a touch.

Apparently familiarity isn't everything.

With one hand on the hilt of her broadsword the woman declares. "I am Angela, and I am here for Sera of Heven. You will bring her to me or I will add you to my trophy collection. Choose swiftly, for I have just fought through the hoardes of Hel and I have little patience."

Welcome to Earf indeed.

Greer Grant has posed:
    "Sera of Heven?" The black striped woman asks with a shift of her weight onto one bare foot as her hands fall down to her thin waist and she balls her fists there to show she's not going to attack but merely converse. "I'm not familiar with a Sera, what might she look like? You gotta help me so I can help you Angie." Tigra says with a kindly cheeky sort of smile, showing off those fangs of hers as she looks over to Dane and his girlfriend-o. "Hey you two, wanna help me be the welcome party?"

Jane Foster has posed:
"Why isn't his name Alexander? Or at least Bucephalas?" The happy ox-headed horse may be among the most famous in history, but he isn't nearly so well-loved in the current era as a handsome equine with a vast, expressive span of feathered wings. Not in the least. Strider's sudden appearance to close that distance by shearing transportation knots earns a warm hug from Jane, at least by laying a fond hand on the proudly arching neck and whispering encouraging words of gratitude to the horse. That she has any kind of position in the saddle at all is raw luck, a damn good saddle, and sitting ahead of Dane to avoid tumbling to her ignoble end on the grass. "You may find most peoples from outside the ionosphere come armed if they come consciously. A defect of interstellar politics, I am going to hazard. Or being a long, long way from home," she says over her shoulder to Dane once earfbound.

Or he is, anyway. She takes a moment or two to regretfully depart from the white beauty. Swinging her leg carefully over the horse's broad back, she negotiates dropping down without getting tangled up in his wings. Tigra's welcome warrants a warm, wide smile from the astrophysicist, who lifts her hand with her palm out. "Of course, I would be happy to assist how I can."

Taking a few steps forward, she inclines her head to catch the name. "Welcome, Angela, to Earth." Her gaze takes in the redhead very carefully indeed. "While I do not know of Sera of Heven, the place name is unusual enough to stand out. Would you give me the time to make an inquiry?"

Dane Whitman has posed:
Dane for the moment looks pretty much like an ordinary dude, aside from the part where he seems awfully nonplussed about all this business. He glances over Angela a moment, eyes lingering on the sword that hangs from her waist, before speaking himself:

"I'm sorry your patience is in short supply, but I'm afraid we're going to have to beg a little bit more from you. There are several billion people here on Earth and finding any given one can be a challenge at the best of times. To what end do you seek this Sera of Heven?" Because, of course, people can be looking for people for a whole host of reasons, and plenty of them can be nefarious.

Sera has posed:
"...the third eye was in his pants," Sera explains to the tall man as he continues making pancakes probably this time for himself. "It sounds like you loved this woman a lot," he finally replies to her. An introspective look, she glances down at her hand - the ring still missing. She used it to manipulate a dark elf in to delivering a message to Angela for her when she was trapped in Hel. It took a long time to put that plot together but the marriage band is still missed every day since.

"She was my wife - before I died that is. I guess I died fair and square, all things considered. Taking a spear to the heart will do that to a gal." She taps two fingers over her heart. Those fingers then scoop up the remaining syrup and she licks them. "But the afterlife slavery, no way was I going back to that life again. Nuh uh. In all that chaos, in our escape from Hel - well we didn't exactly have time to discuss relationship status. What had she been doing since I died? may be she remarried, created a family? I don't know. She may yet not even come to M.. Earth. We will see."

Aldrif Odinsdottir has posed:
Angela looks them over, one by one, as if assessing strengths and weaknesses. Tiger-woman with claws and fangs. Mortal woman carrying some sort of technology. Winged horse. Mortal man, who looks very comfortable upon said horse.

Wait a moment.

Angela turns back towards Jane, perhaps catching the glimpse of something in that wave. "You!" she declares. "I see what you are. Do not think to hide your nature from me while riding a wing-ed steed of the Valkyr!" Her stance shifts a little, then, fingers tightening on the hilt. Perhaps she remembers another influence as well, now. Deep breaths, Angela.

"You wish for more time? Very well. What will you offer as a bargain for more time?"

Greer Grant has posed:
    "Bargain... Angie, c'mere, I'm gonna level with you." Tigra says, closing the distance casually, as though she and Angela had been great friends, or at least chummy co-workers for some long time. She tries to put an arm around Angela's shoulder and guide the woman on some unplanned tour though the clearing. "Look, we're all very busy people with loads of things on our plates. We want to help you find Sera, but as we've said, you'll have to be cool and wait a bit and help us /help/ you! You feel me?" Tigra asks, casual, cool and with a spare moment she sends Dane and Bucephalas and Jane a wink that she's trying to buy all of them time.

Jane Foster has posed:
The Valkyrior are multiple in their number, if not myriad. They might be a tad desperate for someone quite so short by their standards or so eminently fit for dusting her fingers rapidly over her mobile phone, hitting up a map program and at least three people searches. Sara*, accept also Sarah, Sarit, Sarai, Saara, Sera. Location: Heaven. Oklahoma hits with Heavener. Heaven Heights, Massachusetts. Fifteen results in the continental US for Paradise. Nineteen results for something called Heavens or Heavenly. Jane has to buy for time with that silence, tracing out the material without looking down except fleetingly.

She is no fool, stepping back for a moment. "Doctor Jane Foster. I am an astrophysicist. A scientist, a student of the cosmos and the stars," she explains with precise, even words. Her name /has/ circulated wildly in Asgard at least, in no small part as a Midgard resident who figured out Asgard. Beyond that? Who knows. "Nowhere here is called Heaven. Heaven's Hill or Heaven Lake are the closest I can find. Is there any other information that you can supply if you wish this transaction to occur?"

Dane Whitman has posed:
Dane mostly goes silent at this point. "Bargaining" in that tone is rarely something that turns out well, though there's a quizzical expression on his face as bluntly, Angela doesn't look like the type that's usually looking to buy off souls and the like. At least in his recollection. So for the moment, while still clearly wary, he lets the ladies do the talking. No need to inadvertently antagonize if they can work out the peaceable solution.

Sera has posed:
"Of course I want her here. After what I learnt in Hel? ..the universe is better off when I can look after her. She has a.. ahem.. way with people." There's a smirk on Sera's face as she places the dish in to the dishwasher and continues, "I know I'd be fine - lonely, yes. I doubt I could ever love another, not after Angela. But she'd be an absolute wreck. Huh.. now that I think about it, after I died must have been a really rough time for her. And then she gets this random message 'Hey honey I'm in Hel come save me'. I mean, it wasn't that blaze.. actually, yes it was. Anyway, point being. It was //real// good to see her," Sera says to the tall man. "Besides, she makes for the best stories."

Aldrif Odinsdottir has posed:
    Angela tilts her head as Tigra approaches, but at least her hand leaves the hilt of the broadsword. And perhaps surprisingly so, she doesn't do anything drastic when the feline woman puts an arm around her shoulder. The tall redhead takes a couple steps, and all seems to be going well.

"Sera is dark of hair and dark of skin. She smiles often, and her songs are a force of nature itself. She should be newly-arrived here, unless I miss my guess. I have fought my way through Hel to find her." Angela replies simply. "And if you continue to touch me, welcoming party or no, I will remove your hand."

"Doctor Jane Foster." the tall redhead repeats, smoothly disengaging from under Tigra's arm. She points towards the bracelet and adds. "You are more than a scientist. I do not mean 'Heaven' in your understanding, as you call this Midgard your 'Earth'. I mean Heven, the lost Tenth Realm. Home of the Angels. It is where she and I first met."

Greer Grant has posed:
    The hand of Tigra slowly lifts off of Angela's shoulder as she splays her fingers wide to prevent any accidental contact from hence forth. "No more touchie, gotcha, but you will have to tell me where you get your bikini, I think I could rock a gold swimsuit. What do you two think?" Tigra asks, her tail swaying softly as she tries her damndest to keep the situation calm and cool.

    "But Thor always talks about the nine realms. I would think he would know, unless you truly mean lost-LOST. Do you want some help with that?"

Jane Foster has posed:
"The lost," repeats Jane, although her voice dips under Tigra's brightly toned statement about Thor and nine, not ten. There is a simple bracelet on her wrist, and it absolutely has Asgardian symbols on it for those who recognize such things. Might be hard to see, they aren't stamped inches high, but present nonetheless. Her gaze flicks briefly sidelong while thumbing the screen of the phone, the device glossy and black and completely unassuming. She exhales long and slow through rounded lips, taking that moment to dash a piece of her hair back behind her ear. "All right. Dark haired, dark-skinned, an excellent singer. I can be quite certain that is no celebrity recently come to the stage." Each word is surprisingly calm for someone who is 'just' a scientist but this is New York. Everything weird happens in New York eventually.

She turns her head to Dane and gives a smile his way, a smile that doesn't melt her warm eyes. "A realm of angels lost from Yggdrasil. It is no longer on the tree, is that correct?" There is respect in the questions poised to Angela. Do not poke the bristling fun-ball. "The lady there is quite correct, a golden swimsuit would be quite smashing. She is unfamiliar with your customs, so aims to make you feel at ease and welcome as possible. We apologize for any insults that might have come from a position of ignorance. This Sera..." She takes a slow breath. "Was in Hel? Or Niflheim? I appreciate that's a rather impressive feat to leave it yourself, and you must be quite concerned for her. Those subjects are not often released, as I understand."

The bracelet has opinions that it keeps to itself.

Dane Whitman has posed:
"Lost -Tenth-...?" Dane isn't as expect in Asgardian lore as Jane is, but he's still read up enough to know that's quite a monkeywrench into the "what we thought we knew" pile. He glances towards Jane, with an expression filled with a lot of questions that he's not inclined to voice. What he is certain of is that Angela doesn't immediately strike him as what he would traditionally consider an Angel, and that she's walking the fine line between belligerence and diplomacy, but given no weapons have been drawn, he's not going to be the one to start that fight. "So she's dark of hair and skin and otherwise...a lot like you, physically and in uh...fashion sense?"

Sera has posed:
Leaning against the machine the tall man is pumping the weights on, she has been continuing to chat with him. He's easy to talk to because he barely says anything at all. "The ship was just massive. It's a real test of ones magical abilities.. engine versus magical will, you know?" Of course he doesn't, sorcerers just aren't that common. "Which is why you should always pay attention when they do the wagers portion of a poker game. What the heck was I going to do with a spaceship? Long story short, I ended up losing that hand and on my goodness the looks on their faces.. Speaking of faces, I was given a phone number. How does one procure a phone on this world?"

Aldrif Odinsdottir has posed:
Angela hisses at the mention of Thor, her breath drawing sharply as all thoughts of the bikini conversation are displaced. "You KNOW Thor Odinson?" The ribbons, which had settled into casual waving about her, raise high as if to strike. And then Jane begins speaking in terms the redhead can understand.

Hel. Niflheim. She relaxes.

"Yes, Heven is no longer on Yggdrasil. Long ago, the Angels warred with Asgard and lost. Odin stretched forth his power and cast out the Realm of Heven, severing it from Yggdrasil and sending it into darkness. Sera made a bargain for her freedom with me, and I escaped from Heven with her into the other realms. When she died, I brought her back from the Realm of Hel." Or, rather, Niflheim.

Angela apparently isn't used to being told she can't have something."

Greer Grant has posed:
    "I mean, I work with him, I wouldn't say I KNOW him. He's like... what's the word. That big oaf of a man, that would wouldn't trust to do simple math, but no better man to have walk you to your car late at night. Or really anything late at night." Tigra says, her eyes glazing over as she talks about and thinks about Thor again.

    A shake of her head and then Tigra gestures a hand over her head with a whistle accompanying the motion, "All this talk is way over my head ladies, and Dane." She winks towards the lone male, "Angie, hit me up on soash with your armor-er, that's a word, don't judge me. Either way, I think Sera might actually be my newest roommate. Victoria's Secret Angel Model look a like, yeah? I think she was back at the mansion." Greer says with a smile and motions for the three to start to follow her, either way, she's headed back to her bed. Hopefully those sirens are shut off by then.

Jane Foster has posed:
A look that suggests 'I am going to need a drink' probably looks exactly the same as 'I am going to need to talk to Thor' or 'it's all Loki's fault.' Even if Loki technically had nothing exactly to do with this particular situation as it probably predated his birth by a few years. Jane isn't retreating, no. She is just going to stand beside Dane, a degree angled in so stepping in front of her is ridiculously easy.

"That makes sense," she agrees, nodding with clear insight. Even if it's dizzying to comprehend. "That Odin removed Heven, and that would be why so few stories prevail. I see now." Even if the declaration 'I took a dead soul from Hela!' should really be terrorizing a Valkyrie, it obviously is not. Not to the degree it ought. Tigra, however, saves that day about where they might be headed. Sera has a roommate. Right. She tilts her head to Dane and brushes his hand with her own. The one with the bangle, as it happens. "Seeing that's all handled, we should be on our way. I'm sorry we didn't have a chance to say hello at the birthday party," she adds for Tigra. "But definitely owe you a coffee. Call in the favour any time."

Dane Whitman has posed:
"All's well that ends well?" Dane qeuries in a tone that may not be -entirely- reassured, but at least doesn't seem completely skeptical either. "You are so writing the report on this one, because I get the feeling you've just opened a new branch of Asgardian History in your head." He adds with a faint grin, glancing back towards Angela, then to Jane once more, "Though I guess I can talk about the sword at least. If that's what I think it is I never figured to see it in person."

He does give Tigra a wave, tacking on with Jane, "Yeah, we can catch up later. Kinda getting the impression your new friend and new roommate aren't likely to want fourth and fifth wheels around for the happy reunion."

Aldrif Odinsdottir has posed:
Okay, so Tigra just took Angela's mood completely in another direction. "I know not what these 'Victoria's Secret Angel Models' look like, but from the way your breathing quickens I think I understand. And your new roommate is my Sera."

Talk about your possessive pronouns. Angela's ribbons relax their cobra posture and just wiggle in the air. Playfully.

And now, dispite her earlier warnings, Angela drapes an arm over Tigra's shoulder to follow her. Mission accomplished, apparently.

As the two start back towards the Mansion, wherever THAT is, Angela looks back over her shoulder towards the others. "You and I have more to discuss, Doctor Jane Foster." she declares.

Sera has posed:
The tall man is certainly patient with Sera who doesn't know too many people in this world yet. As they wander out of the gym and back through the entrance way she spies the kitty cat woman coming back in and tilts her head. She ran off so quickly before. But then seeing Angela enter she drops the phone she was just given on the floor.

With hushed excited tones, "This is the one, this is the one where she comes to Midgard too.." Louder and with a rush to Angela's arms, "Angela!"

Jane Foster has posed:
"I have. Certain timelines are a jumble. Perhaps Angela of Heven will one day favour me with explanations I have not heard." Jane speaks softly so as not to pull unnecessary attention, but she follows Dane safely into the shelter afforded by lots of mortals and solid buildings.

Because an angel is bloody well coming for her. NO pressure.

"Be you well, all. Road rise to meet your feet." It's an Irish proverb but a friendly one. Better than 'Live in interesting times.' She waves a warm farewell to Tigra. Not running. Not running. Totally staying next to the knight for the night.