6136/Truths In Peril

Truths In Peril
Date of Scene:	05 May 2021
Location:	Asgardian Embassy
Synopsis:	Thor gets mead and a horse peptalk. Trouble abounds, and Loki is no doubt blamed for it all. Or some of it all.
Cast of Characters:	Jane Foster, Thor

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Jane Foster has posed:
The Asgardian Embassy acts as an outpost of the great kingdom of Asgard on the middle world of the great ash tree. There was a time when such ideas might be laughable, but the world has changed since the Thunderer fell from the sky to some point in New Mexico at his father's displeasure. Humanity moves at an astonishing clip, sped along by the restless endeavours of their mayfly lives. Even this change, of course, is significant. Revelations of alien species, gods, and wizards certainly end up taken in stride in New York though. As long as someone pays for the multimillion dollar property in money they recognize, what's another beacon of weird?

But that edge comes from somewhere. The staff within move as elegantly as ever, trained for centuries to the role even if they're in self-imposed exile or working off a debt, adventuresome about a place other than the Golden City or dragged along for the ride. They've stepped lightly with the royal princes about, and haphazard attempts to not walk on eggshells are pointless. Gossip churns through the woodwork. Something terrible went down. Sif was blackened and sooty! Worshippers of Odin's -- and by proxy, Freyja, Freyr, and other gods of Asgard -- simultaneously wiped off the board and not found in death or in life.

Also, the mead shipment was late.

Said mead shipment is overlooked by one pearl-white stallion built on a scale that would make an Andalusian blush, partly because /he/ is not any mere pony from an Asgardian stable. It's rare enough to have a horse of the commingled bloodlines of any other realm, but the Vanir-Aesir stock he represents has a twist, and the royal bloodline of Sleipnir to boot. Mr. Horse to the rest of the world, Grani to his kin, lightly stamps a hoof on the floor. Sparks fly. "I daresay, that most divine of brews shall be precisely the thing to brighten the spirits." For reasons unto himself, he speaks with an impeccable English accent. Not London posh; he doesn't sound like a damn barrister. No, the English of yore who used to raid and sack things, then retire to their studies for drinking after a long day of stalking, overthrowing other countries, and planting flags in things. He is most distinctly not Aesir-accented. Then again, with a wingspan sufficient to span the Nine Realms when he likes, or giving free rides to his uncles and able to accommodate them, he's not exactly a shy member of the species. Even if Dad gets to deal with Odin.

His tail swishes, and he perks his silvery ears. "Ah, right on time."

Thor has posed:
It would seem the son of Sleipnir has company in pacing about at a late mead shipment. Thor Odinson himself is waiting on the drink. He does not seem to mind the talking horse. It's not an unknown quality to him when it comes to his father's horse's breed. Rather, he asks, "What is Heimdall playing at keeping this from the Embassy? Surely he knows how..important...for..outreach this mead is." Outreach, as in him reaching out and depositing it in his gullet. When the Bifrost opens, he strides towards it, looking about ready to give the deliverer a piece of his mind.

Jane Foster has posed:
The son of Sleipnir is, in his usual way, an elegant creature hewn of alabaster and moonlight. The silvery sheen to his ridiculously fine mane echoes storms and the foam of the sea, while he otherwise keeps those immense pearly wings folded neatly at his sides. How he manages grooming of sorts is a secret known only to pegasi, the Valkyrior steeds, and probably half of the female cohort in Asgard itself. Still, he has no one present to comb his tail or worry his plumage, and that's all the better. Some matters are purely a matter for a warrior to worry about. And for all his appearances, he's not a /posh/, lazy pony. The idea would bother him greatly.

Nonetheless, he sidesteps with care as Thor makes his presence known. The delight expressed in Grani's voice is unmistakable. "Uncle! You understand the heart of the matter as I have not been able to convey with our most charming staff. They would presume that mead can wait an hour or two. Suppose you had come directly from the field of battle. Is this any way to greet you from your adventures?" He flicks an ear and would raise his long nose in a furtive opinion about the matter, but harassing the help is not done. Low breeding, that. Plus, it's rather awkward when there are issues like doors. Kicking one open with a deadly hoof is frowned upon for some reason. "Will the Great Watcher deliver with such alacrity?" He stays clear of any image of the great rainbow bridge, eyes sharp for proof of an extra keg. Or, in his case, probably a trough. They have one about the embassy for him and the rare others who show up. "What great epic deeds have you pursued of late? Surely there must be much to speak of."

Thor has posed:
"Aegir!" Thor calls to the Asgardian who arrives with the kegs. The many, many kegs that are stacked on the cart he stands before. One of Mr. Horse's cousins ready to pull it down into the cellars. "What has kept you from your task? We were...nearly...out of drink. Which would be a shame, as then our staff would have gone thirsty in their important work," he says, perhaps trailing off a little lamely at the end. Aegir for his part just smiles wanly at the Prince, bows, and replies, "It shall not happen again, Your Highness," as the cart with kegs pass him by. Thor crosses his arms and grumbles, "Be sure it does not. Or I shall be sending Grani here take over your route."

He then turns to the horse, and replies, "There have been no great deeds since the rescue of Jane Foster's body. I have been waiting for a sign for what to do next, but none have been forthcoming. So, I wait. And wonder if perhaps smiting Loki might be the correct move to get him to reveal his secrets that I am sure he is holding on to."

Jane Foster has posed:
Grani swishes his tail lightly and perks to the possible refreshments awaiting him immediately. Patience is a gift, one he intends to play out to the hilt. The rewards are too fine. Now any chance of /him/ being lashed to a cart are next to null; Sleipnir wouldn't do it, and he won't either. But encouragement? Naturally. "Quickly, then, to receive the accolades of our peers for a timely delivery," he tells Aegir, and the horse. The smooth clack of his heavy dinner plate hooves on the floor marks a tattoo where he goes. "Ever thirsty work, no? Perhaps that will hasten him upon his way?"

He flicks his ears again and then utters a low sound that passes for a chuckle. "The Crown Prince of Asgard, restricted from the pursuit of justice? That shall be cause for greater rejoicing when you overcome those hurdles put in your way. I have not seen much of my other esteemed uncle, though he was last found stalking about the libraries. Perchance he has endeavoured to educate himself further on the matter. I dare not suggest he hides from your wrath." Except he just did. Well, that's how it goes. "Lady Sif was about, so I have heard. Perhaps she brings her support to advance this cause. I met with the physicians who tended to the fallen woman -- mortal healers of no little skill among their own. At least one. They were most surprised by my presence, and one of them acted quite out of sorts. Perchance they were overcome by my arrival? Either way, I would advise that perhaps they can be called upon to assist you. They belong to the institution of the Aegis, though their new longhouse is /miserable/. Most unremarkable, most lacking in size. It lacks culture of any sort. Not a single worthy pub in sight."

He scowls, as much as a horse can, dropping his voice to warn Thor: "It is in Delaware. I believe it not to exist at all."

Thor has posed:
"He undoubtedly has, and has educated himself on a number of other items that will fit into his plots and schemes." Thor grumbles at the mention of Loki 'researching'. He glowers at the drink as it is carted away, though he's clearly not mad at the drink itself, or the deliverers -- however late they were -- but rather the situation as a whole. "I had heard Lady Sif is here for...this reason amongst others, I will have to seek her out to speak with her about what she has found. Though I am loathe to visit Delaware. I think there was once a shrine to me there, but that was many centuries ago and has surely fallen into the sea."

Jane Foster has posed:
"I would never assume to know his purpose." Grani sniffs, looking for any indication the mead has been poured. That's important, though his need for refreshment isn't so great that he must run off to throw himself into a libation. "The matter seems to be a sensitive one. I have not heard a great deal myself. Nonetheless it would not discount much to be had. Lady Sif would not have come without a just cause. Is there any relation, or has her role to support you taken a different approach?" He pricks his ear. "The healer Jemma, where you discovered the body, and her companion Lady Daisy were of great interest, surely? Though mind, they have a most uneasy nature about them. I blame Delaware as a source of contention."

Thor has posed:
Thor Odinson hmms quietly, "I do not think the healer Jemma nor her friend Lady Daisy will have more to add to this tale, though I should grant them a favor for their assistance. And for having to travel to Deleware." He then shakes his head to the horse, "No. Lady Sif's support continues as it has before. I am...just..." he shakes his head, "Nevermind. Horse, drink your fill but leave enough for a few mere Asgardians, I need to go find my brother and make sure he isn't lighting fire to New York City."