5218/A Horse Of Course

A Horse Of Course
Date of Scene:	16 February 2021
Location:	Medical Ward: Triskelion
Synopsis:	Bring out your dead!
Cast of Characters:	Daisy Johnson, Jane Foster, Jemma Simmons
Tinyplot:	1000 Faces of Death

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Daisy Johnson has posed:
Day X of looking over Jane's body at Medical. And with the Furiae never leaving one of theirs behind meant it was time to burn the midnight oil in looking for answers, along with keeping a vigil on Jane. Yet even Furiae had to eat so Daisy had been sent in the most important of missions.

Chinese takeout.

She is just returning back to the triskelion after a run at the Royal Dragon (Hell's Kitchen and one of her fav spots), a message sent to the Furiae group.

> Incoming with food. Any news about our sleeping beauty?

She gets into the elevator, booping the medical floor button and then the ascension starts. Elevator music included ...

Jane Foster has posed:
Day X of Jane... just being there. No change in the readings. They remain identical to all the various medical equipment sustaining the essentials of life: nutrients, removal of thereof, oxygen and heart and mental monitors all struggling to find signs of life. This is how the world looks if one walks away and leaves behind a shell.

If it's even life, an argument of the gods.

The lingering dance of beeps and flashing lights give no improvement or decline. For all it matters, nothing itself has changed at all. At least that makes her a fantastic work partner, easy to share space with. Just toss on some tunes and go to town.

Jemma Simmons has posed:
> Our Briar Rose still slumbers. Continuing scanning for traces.

What traces? Jemma doesn't clarify on the text, but she knows what she is looking for. After her talk with Thor and his questioning about Valkyrie-like tendencies, Jemma has been concentrating on more places where death is an occurrence, with varying degrees of success. Does this mean that Jemma can pinpoint where Jane is at spiritually? No...but it is more data...and narrows down the search considerably.

In the meantime, Jemma keeps her vigil, watching Jane diligently. Nothing changed...nothing changes...all is monotonous. But...is no news good news for this? Perhaps.

Daisy Johnson has posed:
> Briar Rose? Getting poetic or is this not enough sleep?

Might as well send some relaxed texts to lower the tension some about what was their search to get their friend back to shape and running. Sure, great company as she'd never complain about Daisy's choice of music. Even on her more edgy times. Which was always a plus. But unfortunately it wasn't music that could raise the dead.

> Speaking of, I heard a rumor about Thor having been here?

The long-sought 'ding' of the elevator comes and she steps out of it, bags of chinese takeout in hand and ambling to where her two friends are. The door opens. "I am back. With food." she announces. "Right from the Royal Dragon. Your favorite too, Jane."

Jane Foster has posed:
Royal Dragon, good enough for the Ten Realms. Nine Realms plus that fake one.

If that doesn't wake Jane up then nothing will. She's not been known to resist the joys of good noodles or potstickers, dripping with a savory finish. The mouth-watering goodness in Daisy's possession doesn't earn any drooling because that spontaneous reaction requires an active mind to respond to the stimuli. Plus, her mouth's pretty dry.

Nothing of particular interest otherwise. She is just as diminished as usual. Nothing amiss.

Jemma Simmons has posed:
As Daisy walks in, Jemma doesn't look up from her tablet. Truly, she already smelled the food coming in before the door opened. But, the Briar Rose offers explanation. "Really Daisy, you are not up on your classic movies. Briar Rose is the name the three fairies give Aurora when she is living with them so that no one would recognize fair Sleeping Beauty for the princess." A genius scientist and closet Disney animation buff? Stranger things have happened.

Jemma, however, does finally look up to regard Daisy. "And yes, it is not a rumour. Thor was indeed here. In this very room. It was rather....difficult...to converse with him." Nevermind the star-struck moment. Jemma is thinking more of the remorse the God of Thunder felt...and the lack of comfort Jemma could bring. Really, how does one console a living god?

"However, he did give an insight we were missing before." With that, Jemma steps up and around, pointing towards the shiny golden bauble on Jane's arm. "He said that our little trinket here is tied in with the Valkyrie mythos. Which got me to thinking...and ultimately refine our search." With that, the tablet slides the display to the larger monitor in the room. "The traces of energy we have been detecting...are isolating themselves to locations associated with death. With our latest hit actually in Gotham, at the very site of the mass murder on Valentine's day that was just recently reported."

Daisy Johnson has posed:
"Sure ..., of course I knew that." Daisy totally didn't. Disney animations! Not this hackerette's strong point. Nope, this is the Bringer of Food we are talking about, not the Bringer of Disney knowledge. That is left to Jemma Knowsitall! Literally.

She places the food on a table, not too far from Jane so she can smell it. Just in case. A brief look is given to Jane and then back to Jemma when she starts talking about Thor. She quirks a brow. "Uh, I can imagine. He looks the type to feel things deeply." bags start to be opened, food passed along.

"Valkyries?" she considers that for a time, rubbing at her chin, "Do we have any of them in our databases?" yet it's what Jemma says last that has Daisy's eyes shine. "Ahah! So definitely a link. She is going to places of death. To bring people over? But she isn't a valkyrie or...?" a look to Jane's arm again. She isn't the best at this mystical thing. "Regardless, how *could* we get her back?"

Jane Foster has posed:
DJ Encyclopedia Britannica there, wise and hip to the beats of truth in the world, surely can appreciate the Mighty Bringer of Food. It's not exactly the shortest codename. Daisy Johnson could have the codename 'Fancy Feast.' Maybe?

Jane's arm is boring as can be. See? Plain gold bracelet. Cannula, IV line, plastic tube. Hopefully someone has the presence of mind to wash off the sticky bits from the bandages and gauze that always remain stuck to the skin after prolonged contact -- say, more than four seconds -- for the gunky adhesive they use. Medical supplies are a bear.

Bags open, food passed around. Nomnomnom.

Jemma Simmons has posed:
Of course Jemma has the cleaning duties down to, well, a science. No sticky residue to be had upon Jane's person. Of course, that is normally a nurse's job...but there has been neither hide nor hair of a nurse-like personage since Jane has been given her own personal suite.

No. It is highly probable (and true) that Jemma has refused any admittance by any other except her, Daisy, and those choice few that Jemma sees fit. Even the Odinson himself could not have stood against the fury of the medical doctor, should she have deemed his solicitation harmful.

"Alas, Thor was not all that helpful in the mystical applications. He had suggested talking to his mother, but I felt it was prudent to not pull in any more deities than truly necessary." The phrase was spoken perfectly flat, without inflection, and yet there was still a sense of sarcasm in there. Wonders of the dry humour of the British. "As such, I have yet to deduce a way to rejoin Jane's soul, as it were, to her body. But...it does help to isolate her movements. We have a much better pattern of 'appearances' now."

Daisy Johnson has posed:
"To his mother." Daisy says, repeating it to make sure they are being serious. "Frygga. Up on Asgard. I mean, sure. Maybe *he* can but us going up there? Doesn't sound feasible. But maybe you could put in some of that extra time you got and.., you know. Vacation on Asgard?" she heard it's like Tahiti. A magical place! Though now the more she thinks about it the better it sounds, "What if you can find her up in Asgard with your device?" she muses. "I don't know how it works but she could be a .., spirit here and real up there?" look at Daisy throwing mud at the wall to see if it sticks. But it sounds logical for her!

"But anyway, we understand a bit more of the why she is going to these places of death at least. Now to put that knowledge to something pratical." She starting to munch on her food. Nomnomnom indeed.

Jane Foster has posed:
The Asgard Tourism Board hasn't existed since basically ever. Heimdall would probably be pretty unhappy realizing people want to climb his bridge and take selfies from the great observatory where he watches over the Nine Realms, and occasionally daydreams about calzones or hiding underneath a tree for a nice, long break. If only. Alas, no naps while he holds vigil and no humans in Asgard. Except the dead ones, and the einherjar and the Valkyries haven't been collecting those dead in a few hundred years.

Really. Totally.

It's all on that front, however, that the conversation can flow on. Let them enjoy their delicious meal, the various tasty treats. Munch munch. The delectable offerings in all their savoury delight beg for greater appreciation.

"Superlative; the star anise has just the perfect balance. Green onions could be a mite fresher." Paper rustling about probably matches the qualifying statements in a masculine voice. Crunching through cardboard to get to the generous filling of tasty potstickers beg for, perhaps, a disruption.

"Right then, pardon me. I regrettably must interrupt your conversation about holidaying, but perhaps you might direct me to local lodgings?"

It not exactly the largest suite in there. Really, it isn't. Which would explain, perhaps, why a well-mannered creature of myth keeps his vast feathered wings folded neatly to his marble-gleaming sides. The sensitive neck, tilted high, to avoid nudging anything.

He's a horse.

A big horse.

A majestic white steed tasting some Chinese food. Well, okay, /all/ six of the potstickers in that corner of the bag, but it's an apologetic matter.

Jemma Simmons has posed:
There isn't much that rattles Jemma when she is in her element. Fitz complaining about feline dissections next to his lunch? Paltry distraction at best. Agents breaking medical protocol passed down by Jemma herself? Child's play. Even god-like beings walking in asking for Jemma's assistance warrant only so much as a blink of surprise and a momentary pause for composure before Jemma is all business.

However, a talking horse just..appearing from the proverbial thin air? That's something. And...not only a horse...but a pegasus? Eating potstickers and speaking proper Queen's English? That is something that there is little preparation for and even less recorded response to.

So, with an absurd thought of hopefully the horse does not mind the awkward silence, Jemma just stands there. For perhaps the first time in her life, almost utterly dumbfounded. The tablet is forgotten in her hand as the scientist just stands there, mouth agape, as her poor mind scrambles for something, anything, to use to speak.

Eventually, it is just a look to Daisy, wided-eyed and innocent, with the unspoken question clearly heard.

Is there really a horse in the medical suite eating take-out, or is Jemma really that over-worked?

Daisy Johnson has posed:
Okkkk, is Daisy hallucinating? A quick peek at Jemma tells her that it isn't so, unless it's a mass hallucination! Which would be a scary thought indeed. Maybe the food being spiked? No, she trusts the Royal Dragon people. Besides, they know she is friends with Jessica Jones. They wouldn't want *her* wrecking up the place.

So what's left?

Eyebrows arch up to Jemma, as if confirming that yes, there's a pegasus here and then she breaks the silence that was turning to something beyond awkward. "Strider?" she asks tentatively. "I ..., weren't you with Dane? I haven't seen him in a long while." look, it's not as if Daisy knows pegasus exist in multiples around Jane! So she goes for the more logical explanation. The pegasus she has been a fan of since she first saw Dane riding around on it!

"And local lodgings... You are inside SHIELD, this may not be the best place for you to stay in unless Dane is with you but..." she slides a small box of rolls towards the horse. It was going to be her little sin, straight to the hips. But she might as well offer the extra to the pegasus.

Rules of hospitality!

Jane Foster has posed:
Nope, not hallucinating. Once upon a time there was a very handsome horse who chased down the horrific shadows over Metropolis. Then flew across the bridge from Jersey to Manhattan, wings spread wide, galloping in the air to keep a treasured relic from reaching foul hands.

Except the horse tended /not/ to talk so much.

Much less in a northern British accent of some kind. He's no received pronunciation, poncy Westminster horse. Oh no, this is a horse with a foot in Avalon or Orkney or Ireland, bits and pieces that lilt gracefully to the ear getting Queen's English with music and splendour. Because that voice is perfectly adapted to them; doesn't matter what their native language is, the women will understand.

"Pardon again. I seem not to have the proper serviette." But those velvety lips have managed to chomp a potsticker in one go with no watery wrapper sticking to his noble chin, nor dumped a pile of filling in a heap somewhere. Fastidious horse, then. All he needs is a bowtie to take up a role somewhere in bureaucracy. "Ladies." There is a proper dip of his head; bowing would be unseemly. Or he'd knock into a table, considering how tightly packed they may be when approaching his impressive withers.

This is very much a horse Hercules could ride. Or the Hulk. Or the Black Knight. And none of them would be particularly embarrassed.

His keen eyes watch them, and he twitches his tail. The rolls earn a whicker. "Thank you. Most gracious, I appreciate the kindness. I am in a shield?" He looks about, and then regards them. "You mean a fortress or a castle?" His perplexed state counts for something. "The lord knight, yes, would be suitable for lodgings if he can accommodate. It would not be my wish to impress myself unwontedly on anyone."

Because being overbearing over a several ton pegasus could be a problem. Really. "Marvellous, ladies. Praytell where might I find him?"

He can /see/ Jane there. He can also turn a blind eye. Noble, fancy horse.

Jemma Simmons has posed:
Oh, yes. This majestic creature is most assuredly here. Jemma is not dreaming, so there is a small comfort with that. With Daisy also seeing a snowy-white pegasus, at least now Jemma can process thought without worrying about her mental state.

"Oh, pardon me. Allow me to introduce myself" There is a shrug to Daisy. After all, it is only proper to introduce oneself, yes? "I am Doctor Jemma Simmons. And you find yourself in the headquarters of the organization known as the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division. Or, SHIELD, for short, as it is quite a mouthful to say." Nevermind the fact that Jemma is talking to a mythical creature. She continues onward. "Might I ask for your appellation? How would you wish to be addressed? I am sure that we can direct you to a suitable place of lodging...certainly one far more comfortable than this medical ward we are presently in."

No, Jemma is not going to address the hor, err, elephant in the room. This is what she gets for messing with mystical goings-on.

Daisy Johnson has posed:
Might as well be polite when in the presence of such a dapper pegasus. So Daisy follows Jemma's cue and also introduces herself. "And I am Daisy Johnson." a nod given at the explanation of where the pegasus is.

But then .., a pause. This is a Daisy that literally fangirled about Strider like she was 12 again. So the differences are there, besides the pegasus ACTUALLY talking. "Wait, you are not Strider. Who are you?" but at least he seems to know Dane. That's something at least. "And I .., haven't seen him in some time. We were hoping you would know but.." she sighs, a look given to Jemma. "He would had been able to help with this."

And sure, lets address the elephant in the room! "Why are you here?" she asks. There! Another roll is offered if the pegasus is amenable to such.

Jane Foster has posed:
"Doctor Simmons. Very good. Lady Johnson." Manners! Horsey manners.

"I," he announces, "am called Mr. Horse."

He's serious. Earnest about it, anyway. "Strider is a cousin. A respectable cousin, a respectable visitor, and not one of those posh southern ponies prancing around like ninnies, causing no end of headaches. I shall apologise if you formed an opinion based on their uncouth behaviour. They have been spoiled by my grandsire's poor example." Really. Jemma is faced by a pegasus. It's a pegasus who very much has opinions about the world, and might mournfully consider the lack of soy sauce -- low sodium, perhaps -- a travesty beyond compare. Oh well, no one is offering him mash in a dirty bucket! Things are on the upswing.

He lightly picks up his bun with a nip, trying very hard indeed not to smash it to pieces or dent the other buns. No pegasus slobber; that's not a good idea when it has value to someone. Some bad caster, no doubt. Loki, collector of horse drool and wolf-fur.

He takes a bite, and it's quite gone, a little happy morsel of soft rice and toasty filling. Alert and interested in their processes and answers, he gauges the two women with keen interest. Possibly security is going to be having a field day with the sudden appearance of a horse, if they know (of course, of course). A handsome beast, at that! Bring the nukes.

He happily bobs his head. "Ah! I came to acquire accommodation and present myself with proper credentials to the affirmed court established here. I do not believe you to be in a state of open war or undeclared hostilities that would preclude me from acquainting myself with this fine city. Or this estimable SHIELD." He eyes another bun. It's calling his name. Best eat it before it causes any of the humans to be imperiled. Nom! Gone.

Jemma Simmons has posed:
"Ah, yes. A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mr. Horse"

The seriousness is palpable, which is why Jemma takes her own actions with equal seriousness. How does one treat a talking pegasus, at least in Jemma's mind? Just like anyone else. Therefore, Jemma's smile comes to her, the first in her arsenal of painfully British polite mannerisms. The second? Direct eye contact. "As far as accommodation, I fear I am not exactly the most appropriate person to inquire of such. While I am quite aware of the needs and the comforts that one such as you may require, my own living quarters are not immediately tailored to your expected opulence, I would imagine."

A beat, then Jemma continues. "While you are familiar with Dane, I do fear that we have not seen him as of late. I daresay that our mutual friend Jane here..." With that, Jemma indicates to the other warm body in the room that she is sure that Mr. Horse has witnessed. "...would have been the last person to know of Dane's whereabouts. And, as you can see, she is not in an appropriate state for conversation, regardless of whatever actions we take to bring her to such a desired status. I fear that there is little that I know to alleviate such a condition. My expertise is not in the mystical arts."

It should be obvious that Jemma is no wizard (or witch) in this manner. But, perhaps their new-found equine friend might be interested. The ploy is subtle, but there. To talk about Jane in front of said pegasus...and perhaps stir his intrigue...not only for the fact that it is a problem that requires a solution...but also perhaps to attain the said accommodation he is searching for.

Daisy Johnson has posed:
Jemma said it with a serious tone. Mr. Horse. Really? And she just greets him back in that british manner of hers. "But you are a pegasus." look, someone has to put these questions! Of course that it may not be healthy in case Mr. Horse takes offense and, good lord, maybe even challenge her for a duel?! Hooves at dawn? She'd be at a serious disadvantage. She puts a hand in front of her her lips to hide the smile there at the absurdity of that thought. She is taking it a lot less serious than Jemma is. Hey, they deal with things differently!

"No can do with me either. My boyfriend wouldn't agree with having a guest at our place either." nor would Director Furry, their cat, approve. "But we can find something for you I am sure. Though for you to just ..., appear here. You have a connection with our friend, don't you?" the word 'friend' being spoken in a nearly fierce manner. It's the kind of manner that's telling that this horse better not be here to take Jane away.

And no, Daisy not as subtle as Jemma!

Jane Foster has posed:
"I confess I had rather hoped to meet up with the good sir knight. Mark me, no failings on your part, my lady and doctor." Mr. Horse isn't wholly given over to disappointment, but he tries. "I had it on my cousin's authority that such a venerable acquaintance could render assistance in those particulars. Even if he comes from the south, and I more the north country."

Maybe Mr. Horse comes with five thousand a year, and after a lovely ball at Merton, wondrous things might happen. It's only fair; he does know a Mr. Knightly.

Now it's not really for him to kick the can down the street, but he objectively considers the pair of them. Their meal has been interrupted. "Bother, more worry about invitations and introductions. I had so hoped to take in a show before the evening was out. Another night, at least." He truly does sound disappointed about that, his ear flicking flat and feathers rustling in a splendid opalescent expression fit to make angels jealous. If they're the wind with wings, not the ones with eighty-thousand eyes on a ring of fire. Jemma pulls his attention back from dreaming about a horse-sized bourbon, probably.

"I beg your pardon, ma'am?" His long-lashed eyes blink and he turns his head a little to the body there. "Goodness. Your connexion to this one somehow...? I daresay she is in a ghastly state. My condolences, you have been burdened by a great purpose." His nostrils flare slightly as if he intends to sniff out crime. He bends his neck, the equine body still and smooth in the light. Perhaps it's an acknowledgment of the seriousness of the events. "I've taken too much advantage of your hospitality while you were caring for a woman. This one, known to the knight? Perhaps it would be fitting to call on you, Doctor and lady, once I have settled myself and you have completed your physicking. Never let it be said Mr. Horse rudely barged in and commanded his due when you were working." He pauses. "Truly sorry. I thought you were dining, I did."

He rustles his wings again. "Failing to locate the knight, I suspect I shall turn my attentions to a proper hostel beyond these walls. The embassy must be /somewhere./ That boy gets himself up to enough trouble, but there's enough of his mother in him to expect he should be there, I wager." Horsey thoughts are horsey.

Jemma Simmons has posed:
"Hmm...yes. I do fear that our good Doctor Jane Foster is in a less-than-enviable state." The name drop, while again gentle, was certainly intentional. To see how their esteemed guest reacts, perchance? "She was Sir Whitman's paramour, at last recollection." That method of speech must be intoxicating. Jemma is now using it! Or, perhaps she is releasing her British inhibitions. Who can say?

"As far as the embassy, I imagine you are referring to the Asgardian Embassy." Consider it a lucky guess or an educated hypothesis. "We can most assuredly provide directions to said embassy, should you desire."

Daisy Johnson has posed:
Gosh, surrouded by brits! It's enough to have Daisy bring one hand to her forehead, letting out a sigh. She tries to keep inwards but it's loudly heard. Ooops. Still, no break on her stride. Full on trotting with the conversation, "Yes, we can provide directions, or even an escort if you so want back to the Embassy." she offers. Least she can do! "And yes, we were having dinner." she gestures at the food. "While keeping our friend company while she is in this state. We have been ..., studying her condition, see?"

She takes a bit more of peking duck into her mouth, chewing quietly. If there's one thing to be said about British politeness is that it's very soothing to the ears. Of course that now Jemma is going full-british. She then offers, "If you are still feeling peckish we can offer you some more food too." she gestures to the takeout food around. "Or bring you somewhere, unles you prefer to eat back at the embassy."

She seems fine with either! Never be said that anyone visiting SHIELD goes away feeling hungry.

Jane Foster has posed:
Mr. Horse folds his wings back a little more. He isn't going to eat duck; there might be something inherently peculiar about a pegasus doing that. Grapes, bourbon, maybe a good cigar? All game. Perhaps the pork filling of a potsticker or a bun is not bothersome, but a duck must be where he draws the line. "I am quite well, Lady Johnson, you may be sure. I do not lack for a proper meal, thank you for inquiring. Such arrangements shall be mended once I have secured proper accommodations." A bob of his pearly head informs that with unvaried certainty. Possibly he can kick in a door or window if he must, but that's an unlikely state of affairs.

He nonetheless stands a little straighter. "There must surely be a number of other embassies, though I should not imagine bothering them unless all other avenues prove exhausted. Indeed, locating the Asgardian embassy should be a foremost concern of mine. Would you offer me directions, I shall render my gratitude and be out of your hair so you might return to your grave business."

His head shaken mildly again, he adds. "Ah, yes. My cousin did not express all the particulars, for such business is his and his lord knight's. Something I can correct him on immediately upon straightening out more immediate issues. You can expect I will roundly question why he allowed such matters to pass without notifying his close associate. I would /never/ overlook such things."

Wanna bet, horse?

Daisy Johnson has posed:
No duck. Fair enough. But Daisy knows the look, no winged beings like him? Makes sense. Ah well, bad choice of dinner tonight. But there are still the rolls, and the chow mein. All available. For snacking purposes of course. No bourbon or cigars though. That's where SHIELD draws the line! (But there's still chocolate in a drawer or another).

"I *really* want to visit that embassy one of these days." She confesses towards Jemma before addressing Mr. Horse again. "Well, how good are you with google maps?" before she just sighs and rolls her eyes, "Nevermind that. But well, you are not far." she does turn on her phone, opening a map of the area. Directions. At least *those* Mr. Horse will know. So with those she will offer him directions. Some north-northwest. Turn right on 52th street. Always ahead. And after a mile or two he will be there. Easy peasy!

But probably simply flying northwest will go easier. Daisy does show him a few pics of the area though, along with one of the place itself. "So there you go, do take care and don't be a stranger. And if you ever want to come over to partake on some lunch or dinner let us know. We will prepare something."

See? Daisy can be polite. Inviting Mr. Horse for dinner someday!