7458/Star Girl and Moon King, pt. 1

Star Girl and Moon King, pt. 1
Date of Scene:	20 August 2021
Location:	Arctic Circle, North America
Synopsis:	Reading into weird energy signatures produces a deeply disturbing attack by wild animals in the high Arctic.
Cast of Characters:	Blackagar Boltagon, Jane Foster

Blackagar Boltagon has posed:
The cold wind whips around, blowing at Blackagar's coat as the snow billows up and then dissipates from the drifts that start to form. To say the Arctic Circle is frigid is an understatement, it is particularly cold this close to the North Pole, but that wasn't enough to dissuade him from going. The fact that he had invited Jane to accompany him may have been a bad idea but it was one that he had made anyway. There had been an interest in going places together and when he had received word that there had been an odd energy surge located in the Arctic.

<<It had an energy signature we are familiar with, and with the reports we have been hearing of intergalactic conflict, there is a concern that warrants investigation.>> he had explained to Jane while they travelled to the location. Now, upon a ridge of ice, he stands looking down into the cracked valley before them. <<And who better to bring than an astrophysicist, hmm?>>

Jane Foster has posed:
The last time she was near the Arctic Circle, she was dead. Orkney isn't technically all the way there, but winter time and a heavy, warm coat combined with the fury of the North Sea lead to some parallels. It's entirely different being up at the top of the world on the waning side of summer, but Jane might be particularly unnerved about falling through holes in the ice or finding icy draugr showing up to cast stones and those bloody spears. Her shoulder twinges in mute agreement at the memory, though not a hint of the scar that ought to be there shows up. In fairness, her body in the Triskelion doesn't have a scar either.

The convenient choice to not be cold is an option she ignores, and thus huddles pretty damn close to Blackagar for security at not falling through the rotten ice to hit the bottom of the Arctic seabed, or be harassed by a passing gale. Her eyes are narrowed, and once again, she might be reconsidering the whole 'frail mortal' option when sidestepping into her divine pact would make none of this an issue. Best not to upset the cause of the energy surge.

<<Lucky you were paying attention. Here I thought we might have no more difficulties than figuring out the ideal way to project the surface of Europa for tonight's transit of Jupiter. I thought we worked out all the snags.>> An ironic tone is still saturated by warmth, plenty of it. <<Your reports of intergalactic conflict aren't wrong. IHave you heard about the Shi'ar? They showed up on the list. Among others.>> The bag she carries holds a fair amount of her equipment, slender variations, and who knows how long that poor tablet will last in those conditions. Still, it could be worse as she carefully picks her way along the slope, staring into the moon-blasted world that hasn't ever known the sun's love.

Blackagar Boltagon has posed:
<<We only concern ourselves with one entity>>, Blackagar considers Jane as they stand there. His blue eyes are surveying the landscape looking for the point of origin for the source of the odd energy readings. <<The Kree.>> It is simple enough, the creators, the harbingers, those who will undoubtedly return. The old prophecies of prediction within the Inhuman culture, identifying him as the one who will end the Kree Empire (depending upon interpretations of course) make it a priority. <<The only reason we are here is that the brief detection led some to believe this source is in fact Kree in origin.>>

Reaching over, he takes Jane's gloved hand into his own. It is cold, but so is space and Blackagar has spent enough time there to accept the reality that a chill is part of life. Against that, however, he still dons that thick coat. <<That said, I have heard of them. Attilan was monitoring the conflict from the Moon to ensure nothing go too close to them. It did not.>> He glances again longly at their surroundings before nodding, <<Where would you like to set up? I can prepare the space to the best we can so that you can conduct the readings you need to.>>

Jane Foster has posed:
The flick of her cocoa-brown eyes away from the rugged extrusions of ancient, ice-worn rock and the endless snow back to Blackagar lingers for a long moment. <<The Kree. Been one of them for a short time. Not exactly the happiest moment of my life.>> The idle side comment might be alarming, but considering who he is in relation to prophecy, all the more non-bothersome. <<I admit I don't know how you calibrate between a Kree source and other ones, but grabbing readings on the electromagnetic spectrum, determining their frequency, or any variations from expected are all perfectly within today's range of activities.>> Confidence in the technology under gruelling conditions is one thing.

Squeezing the Inhuman king's hand in her mittened own is another, reason to raise her chin and face the world. <<We'll probably want to pop down at least two of the stakes on the slope down there. The valley floor won't be as useful as exposed readings on the ridges. I should be able to start from there and determine if there's any radiation to worry about, for example.>> Not that it's clear radiation would do a thing to him, but the astrophysicist cares anyway. <<Good that no inherent invasion force bothered Attilan. I'd hate to think of you stuck up there for months on end dealing with negotiations. At that point, I might have to apply for a work visa.>> With her finger pointed at the ridge she wants, it just becomes a matter of slip-sliding her way down there. However sure-footed they get to be, the Arctic is a hostile environment. There will be slippage.

Blackagar Boltagon has posed:
Blackagar shakes his head, <<That's the deal, the energy signature is difficult to identify.>> He looks over at Jane, eyebrow lifting and a bare smirk appearing on his lips, <<The genetic signature wasn't.>> Eyes wander back down the valley, it would explain why he keeps surveying so readily. If there was a genetic signature it could be a scout, a crash, perhaps just a fluke. But all of those means he will keep a wary eye on things. <<That said, we do have methods of identifying some of their energy sources more than their energy itself. Designs, all those fundamentals can provide a view of who we are dealing with.>> Blue eyes drift to the sky then back to the brown-eyed woman.

<<Let's start with the slope then. How would you like to go about this? I can do it myself, we could walk together. I do not think you going on your own up those ridges would be wise, in case they give way.>> A protective look graces his expression. <<The radiation is not a concern for me, at least we have not found any that is to this point. Being able to move the energy of the atom itself has advantages.>> But that is not to say there isn't the chance something could exist. When she mentions being stuck up there dealing with negotiations there is a humored feel from him and he turns blue eyes to Jane, <<If an alien force invaded Attilan, I would most likely have a very brief conversation with them.>> Conversation in that sense does come with the reality that it would be actual speaking.

Jane begins leading the way to the ridge, Blackagar a bit more sure footed as he helps Jane, but he slips as well. He could just as easily lift them, fly them, but to do so could pull attention and if there is a presence here, surprise may be needed.

Jane Foster has posed:
Chivalry isn't dead. Not precisely. Jane has to unsling the heavy pack and carefully work it around to her front, not trusting putting it on the ground. Rotten snow or an ice pack chewed through by successively warmer summers could endanger the valuable items she's made painstakingly by hand, proof her engineering skills are not particularly shabby at any rate. Plucking out two devices that look a lot like metal tent-stakes, or something equivalent, she extends both of them to Blackagar. <<They work on a telescopic function. You embed the pointed end into the ground, and the force of burying them will extend the middle and top about seven inches. You can twist them to get another four inches of height, though it's only necessary for dealing with protruding rock or interference. I can control them from afar, but the main point is to make sure they are secure. I'm going to bring along two more sensitive readers, though they have to be placed more carefully to establish a better web.>> The idea of those interconnected pieces as anchorages for a complex network able to read fine details over a hemispheric or circular path is shared, minus the unnecessary equations, a dome circling through the variety of fine-tuned readers put on the ground.

His concerns remain a valid point as she pulls out the additional stake, and swings the closed backpack around to her spine with somewhat laborious movements. Bulk cannot be compensated for, if nothing else. Genetic signatures are his business more than her own -- at the moment. <<To confirm, we're keeping a low profile and avoiding standing out in the open on a rockface. Got it.>> A nudge of affirmation flickers between them, sent with a smile. Her attention turns immediately to the landscape, particularly the geology, avoiding any nice, tempting crevasses for flat faces on the valley wall that look outward or spots on the ridge that rise a little higher than the surroundings, where another sensor sticky-taped to a rock will hardly impede local wildlife, flora, or possibly problematic Kree lurkers eager to jump out and make a nuisance of themselves. <<In the event of anyone being in peril, I might not get a choice about going to help them. We haven't really talked about that, but... patience, it never takes long. Except when I decide to have a chat, like your subject trying to bring down a building.>>

Her careful footsteps mean hunching lower for sneaky purposes. Really. Or because that boulder that's been sitting there for probably 800,000 years could get up and leap away. The one she wants is easy to spot, and she creeps up from behind. Granite is notoriously easy to startle. Nothing like arming the sensor and pulling the sticky backing open, something she can press in. A bit of dusting off the snow and making a clear spot, open to the sun, and then... Smack! It's on.

The least threatening act of violence in a month, right? <<You're up, love. I'll cross over there, to that spot sticking up a couple feet higher. It should give me good triangulation to test out.>> The tablet will come out once that's done, assuming that some furious lichen doesn't attempt to eat her.

Blackagar Boltagon has posed:
<<Stick the pointed end into the rock, got it.>> Blackagar summarizes with a grin flashing towards Jane, he gives a small shrug, leaning into that impression that he is just a simple guy. <<If there's a better way to do it, let me know. I'm sure I can bludgeon something into place.>> Although he does show a delicacy with the sensitive custom equipment he nit's handed to him. <<Specific placement or just generally in those areas you indicated?>> All the details being asked while they climb onto the ridge.

<<If anyone shows up, or if there's any danger, I will handle it. It will be easier knowing if you're keeping yourself safe and focusing on the work.>> He affirms with a glance over his shoulders, the nod of approval to the mindset of trying to remain low key given. <> The idea has crossed his mind, that perhaps the crashing energy signal is not an actual threat but perhaps just a beacon that could be detected.

When she tells him he's up, and calls him love, a soft glance is given to her with an upturned eyebrow. <<Affectionate names already? I thought that required at least three months of being together.>> The joking is a cover though, tension is present in his demeanor and mind. Wariness about the surroundings and the potential threats. But he does the task she's asked, placing it where it needs to go so that the process can begin.

The energy signature does exist within the range of the triangulation, detectable on the northern edge of the perimeter. Definitely not Terran in origin.

Jane Foster has posed:
<<Their specific design has a full range of detection, and calibrates to the given energy sources. I've placed several contact points through the stake so that it isn't limited specifically to one plane or location, otherwise its use would be fairly limited. The design keeps improving as I get the experience in calibrating them, though much of it comes down to the programming.>> Jane, engineer and astrophysicist, is definitely better at one than the other. But the other works for the knowledge of the stars. She laughs softly under her breath, thoughts dancing around. <<You bludgeon so well, I almost don't have the heart to tell you not to. You most certainly know your way about jackhammering bits into place by the sounds of it. Fancy yourself a geologist out there cracking rocks open?>> Blackagar's grin is a thing that warms her despite the bitter chill that makes her cheeks unhappily pink despite the sunscreen on them as a precautionary measure. <<However, straight up is ideal. I can accommodate them at just about any angle, but it helps when they're straight. Less fiddling with the tablet. Thank goodness for contact through gloves that don't require me to take them off.>>

That's a fact as she trudges through the snow and clings to the rockface when the ground gets especially icy, all kern and no good footing. Stupid thing. <<Active monitoring isn't necessary. How do you think I found the Asgardians? The array has only become a lot more sophisticated since then. I would've cold-hardened these better if I knew we needed them to stay up here, but for a short-term fix until we can bring something better back, they'll hold. I wouldn't want them here in a storm in November, but they would function.>> Her lips turn up as she needs to edge her way towards him with care, staying low to the ground and approaching the next segment of rock. Seven feet up might be ideal, but she will deal with six and sticking the next sensor there. By the third try, she has it.

<<Would you like me to use a different endearment? You already told me ix-nay on the royal titles. I can't just call 'Hey handsome' either. That would get too many heads turning, most of them not the right one.>> Her lips lift anyway. He might be tense, but her mood is less stressed by people popping out and more by landing on her butt in the snow. Like is surely bound to happen for some reason or another.

Tablet out, she shields it with her body as it stirs, unhappy about the cold. Bringing up the program takes a moment. <<We're probably helped by there being a few satellites in geosynchronous orbit I'm allowed to tap into, though not many up this way. Another consideration, how they will relay the news to you. I don't suppose you have a special Moon network.>> Another endearing tease follows as she fine tunes the response. <<We'll want to get another few hundred meters up the ride or along the valley. The results are here, but precisely distinguishing the frequency or stability is going to be easier the more of these we have. You're not off on setting a perimeter though. Think of it as a laser line they can trip over, like in Entrapment or other bad spy movies.>>

Blackagar Boltagon has posed:
Setting them at the appropriate angle, straight up, does not take terribly much effort. Leveraging the devices into the rock does not either except for the fact that he's trying to do it delicately so as to not damage them. Blackagar finds that balance between brute force and delicate touch to be a constant balance point while visiting Earth, particularly when dealing with the people around him. The look he gives Jane when she comments about his bludgeoning prowess earns a smirk and a humored sensation from him. <<Geology is quite interesting when you consider it. Especially the similar geology of Earth and Moon.>> Getting things fiddled where he works reduces her fiddling with the tablet, so he does his best.

<> He asks oh so innocently. <<Or stumbled upon them on a bridge? Wait, no, that was someone else.>> All those humored flares help to diminish the tension he feels with the environment. <<And I prefer that whatever term you like, that one was quite adequate. Welcome even.>> With the implements in a place he makes his way back towards her rubbing his hands together. If he feels the cold he cannot imagine what it is like for Jane. If she lands on her butt in the snow, that may earn her a custom term of endearment in turn. <<You could always go with Blue Eyes.>>

<<We do have some systems in place about Attilan, but they're designed for specific purposes that are more designed for external detections. Outside of our own solar system. It is why we do not pay too much attention to Earth, it is less of a concern in threat for us. Well, was.>> That part helps to highlight why he is here after all. <<Let's set the laser line then, as you put it. If it is a Kree actually here, we have no need to engage and alert them that we know they're here. If it's something else, or a beacon, or any number of things we'll have a warning in place. Then we can get someplace warm.>>

Jane Foster has posed:
<<Was.>> Jane projects agreement with that danger to Attilan with a wry turn of her mouth. Yes, she's going to be in the snow in three, two... A crunch and her boot goes through the old crust, a generous amount sliding down the valley slope and harmlessly accumulating in small drifts. She drops in an ungainly fashion, the bag keeping her upright, her legs splayed out in front of her. "You bad..." The mutter is continued mentally, a colourful opinion of Odin's beard and where it can go. Habit, really. Her hands disappear up to the forearms in the snow and ice, and she pulls up a handful with a pointed look. Throwing it at someone, totally unreasonable. Unless it's an alien threatening her, which none seem to be.

<> The tablet is screen-up, the heavy rubberized case protective and cold-resistant. SHIELD tech is a good thing. <<If you want to go ahead and take a look, I can turn into a snowman back here and remember I do know how to walk.>> Honestly she does. It's rather frustrating to be buried in snow in the Arctic, but it's also a convenient place for Blackagar to do away with her if he felt the need to, presumably. She gives him a wry grin and then sighs, dusting snow off her coat and pants. <<I feel like the Franklin Expedition over here. Say, that area looks nice! Then snowed in. I agree, too, that geology is fascinating. The Moon-Earth origin theories are always a hot topic with astrogeologists.>>

Some further work is performed for her to re-run the readings against any known celestial origins, and to gain an idea if the frequency of that energy is more like a humming engine, a specific bleat every so often, or widely variable frequencies that could be a problem. <<Let's go get those things planted. You pick the way forward and I can supply you like... I'm not saying a mule. Neither of us suits mules. I like Blue Eyes better. They're beautiful, one of your finest features. Though the rest of you... that's a pretty darn good package too.>>

Let's just ignore dusting the last of the snow off. She blithely resumes her trudging, looking between the tablet, him, and the landscape for ideal places to stick down another stake. The going is slow. <<Somewhere warm. Mm. I could be all about that.>>

Blackagar Boltagon has posed:
He doesn't laugh. Part of him almost does because the view of the cascading and impending fall that Jane is about to take happens so quickly that he barely has time to react. But Blackagar manages to not laugh, only be humored particularly since she is uninjured. That would have immediately dampened any humor he might have felt. The distance is closed then, his feet hopping over the snow and sinking in steps until he arrives by Jane to help her up out of her predicament.

<<You reference something I do not know. Is Franklin the President during the war?>> he inquires, clearly confused and not feigning that. But he shakes his head, <<I would prefer not to leave you alone, especially not knowing the potential threat or danger that might be here. It would be much better to get you someplace safe and come back rather than to leave you here like this.>>

The slow pacing of their steps is fine, he'd rather her take the safe route than the expedited one. Of course, the exposure is a concern for her, more than him, one that he is keeping in mind as they move. <<It does not have to be perfect, only good enough for the purpose. I am not sure how long you can stay out here, I suspect shorter than I can.>> Now with his attention split, between Jane and the horizon, he doesn't notice the figure behind them that is beginning to shadow their progress.

Jane Foster has posed:
<<The Franklin Expedition was named for a doomed British explorer of the Arctic. Franklin took two ships, the HMS Erebus and the HMS Terror, to seek a passage from the Atlantic to the Pacific.>> Jane hasn't too much trouble admitting to her own stumbles, especially in winter conditions. She reaches up her hands to Blackagar with a mental sigh at herself, and pops up with the ease of someone who can undeniably prove more stable in the world than she is. <<The expedition was declared lost after the ships never returned. They were locked in the ice, and the men started a southern trek into largely unknown lands. It didn't end well. They all starved to death, fell to scurvy and other assorted diseases of malnutrition and severe hardships. Quite a sad story, honestly. Just no reason for me to fall into the snow and vanish.>>

Her fingers trace the tablet to assure it's quite well, and then go back to measuring the results on the screen. Graphics and streams of information probably make sense to someone, notably her. Jane tilts it for Blackagar to see the readings. <<I understand. No reason to split up unless there is significant need. I promise, despite the obvious evidence to the contrary, we'll manage. The array should weather at least ninety days without trouble. Figure we can return before it turns to everlasting night, we can rig up a better alternative or a stronger one. But we can keep taking these readings from afar. Going around the whole perimeter is obviously ideal, but we can make the most of it now.>>

A hint of a smile traces her lips, and she stands on tiptoe to kiss his cheek before they go on again. More of a cold nose to his cheek, but the thought counts. <<Let's keep moving and take it from there.>>

It's not likely she notices the figure either, not inherently, though trying to stalk them could be perhaps the stupidest idea on earth. Hopefully it's a hungry polar bear.

Blackagar Boltagon has posed:
Blackagar gives Jane a rather blank stare for a few moments when she starts explaining the expedition, <<What is it with human exploration and the devolving into cannibalism? It seems there are so many stories such as that. Of course, you did not mention that but I have always wondered.>> It's a rather random thought but one that carries with it a side of humor that is also disturbed at the thought of it. <<Do not worry, you will not fall into the snow and disappear, I'll come get you.>>

As he moves and let's her do the scientific stuff <<Part of why I do not wish to split up. That and I enjoy the conversation as I am unable to do much beyond provide brute labor in this situation.>> Which is true, he could carry all the equipment easily enough but he is letting Jane do the works he needs to while accepting the kiss to his cheek. Even in the cold, his skin is warm. <<The moon gets colder than this you know.>>

He looks past her to their rear when they're standing together for a moment, head tilting slowly. <> he impresses, a hand coming up to her side as if to protect her and warn her. The next moment that movement is realized as bounding from the snow far closer than he realizes comes a pair of rather territorial polar bears that are far more agitated than they should be considering the conditions.

Jane Foster has posed:
<<They lacked provisions in a place without adequate resources. Hunting in northern climates required experience and their mindset didn't accommodate eating or hunting seal, caribou or whales. They could have learned from the natives, but often chose not to for xenophobic reasons.>> The wan thoughts trail with the perspective of 175 years or so, and skill at that. <<Hunger will drive you to survive however you can. Nature can be bleak. Were we exiled, we might have to adjust to different values and requirements than we were used to, I suppose.>>

Her fingertips brush Blackagar's arm through the thick gloves impervious to the cold, but still able to manipulate a tablet. When it's not in use, she unzips her parka enough to shove it against the cradle of her body, kept warm by the shared heat. A zip up and back to looking properly like a caterpillar. <<You provide plenty more than conversation and brute force. For one, you can block out the sun if it ever shows up.>> Jane smiles, the suggestion of a tease playing out. <<You act like I have been to the Moon. I have been to moons, but not ours. At least that I could stop and appreciate for a moment. The display on Europa I set up doesn't count; it's based on satellite data and telemetry or other factors. Planning to take us up there for a lunar picnic one day?>>

She scuffs at the rock and snow, product of generations eroded by humanity disregarding its cares. There is going to be a chip wrapper on a beach somewhere, a Coke bottle floating in the sea too. But for now, she removes another stake and carefully modulates it, arming two small sensors. Driving it into the snow comes later, when she can hide it from the worst of the weather and sink it into the ground a short distance away where it registers readings in a spectrum to the astronomical horizon. <<This one will let us know about any unusual fluctuations, especially along more theoretical spectra. It should be useful for something.>> Her head lifts, and she casts a look back to him. Then past, since finding the Midnight King is the easiest part in a grey and white landscape. White landscape hiding whiteish yellow monsters brings the refrain unbeckoned to her lips. "Brown, stay down. Black, fight back. White, good night." The old song of how to deal with bears isn't helpful, is it?

A grim situation possibly, though she asks, "What are the chances you can detect a plump seal nearby?"

Because the other choice is going to be awkward.

Blackagar Boltagon has posed:
<<Adjusting and adapting is a necessary trait for survival in all species, but I do see what you are saying. That is interesting, the perspective of xenophobia of the natives preventing them from seeking help. One would expect they could have learned lessons from the first settlers to the continent that had similar issues until consulting with the indigenous population.>> Even here, in the midst of the frozen wasteland they are having their philosophical back and forth. It is little surprise when Blackagar turns his gaze on Jane it is affectionate.

<<Moon picnics are highly overrated. No cheese despite common belief to the contrary. Imagine having a picnic in the desert, but with no atmosphere.>> He is a bit humored at that imagery, the humor dissipating when he shakes his head at the sight of the bears.

<<A seal?>> Confusion is in his tone and in his posture and impressed on her. He steps forward towards the bears, a bit of a stern expression on his face. <<Allow me to presume you do not want them harmed?>> Blackagar inquires, already feeling the impact from the of the beasts impending upon him. No one told him he would be in for a bear fight this day.

Jane Foster has posed:
Jane's volley of thought slipstreams alongside his. <<Seal meat can be detrimental in high quantities. The Norse in Greenland and Antarctic explorers fell prey to the same mistakes.>> Further communion about the failures of people to adapt to their environments by observing others who already live there will have to wait, though history is chockful of such mistakes and erroneous opinions. Getting to those failures means not dying... again. <<Let me try it once and determine the validity of that statement.>>

Approaching polar bears aren't cute. They do not galumph charmingly. They are the apex predators of the Arctic, the largest land mammals with pointy teeth, and mossy in spaces in their fur, so a patchwork green scare. Swamp Thing might have opinions about the horror they are about to face.

<<No, I generally don't harass animals unless they present a real threat to me or them.>> Fighting with the zipper of her coat again takes some moments, and she can't risk pulling off her glove. Getting it open enough to shift the tablet is one option, but the other is the ICER she pulls out through the hissing, pummelling winds. Skirling snow and bits don't stop her from drawing the weapon and levelling it upon one of the bears that approaches. <>

The bear colliding with him is jarring enough. The lizard brain wants to run, and in her case, it is /loud/. Louder than the average mind, for the coalescing clarity of their thoughts has a diamond-tipped brilliance. Squaring off her arm isn't instinctive. But it's a giant white bear, and hard to miss the one not quite engaged.

"Both of you, stop." If they have any tongue to speak of, any ability to communicate, the gift from Undrjarn on her wrist extends to that command. Otherwise, the countdown is plain: three, two, one. Shoot.

Blackagar Boltagon has posed:
That first bear that collides with Blackagar sends him stepping back on the ice shelf, the lack of traction evident in that moment and he grimaces. It isn't pain that pulls out the reaction but rather the sensation of weight. He is trying to be delicate with the creature, they are the intruders in this situation so to simply 'dispose' of the bear is not a pleasant situation.

No language that can be discerned, even if there is one, both of these bears seem more aggressive than they should be, the other making its beeline for Jane to be met with ICER toxin and to push through the effects. Blackagar's eyes widen when the gun has minimal if any effect. <<Is this normal behavior for these creatures?>> he asks with concern. He shoves the bear with him back, sending it sliding across the ice before moving to try to intercept the one that is giving Jane intent. If he must tackle it, he will. <<We are intruding their space, but these both seem so aggressive. As if they have intent towards us beyond just protection of their territory."

Jane Foster has posed:
<<Hungry bears, yes. Normal bears, no.>> Jane mentally sighs when the bears refuse to respond. It was a good attempt. <<Do you think they were commanded to guard it?>>

The ICER discharges those cyanotic bolts in a pair of shots. The second is meant to be a seductive reprieve from violence if they hit. Their failure to do much has her shifting back. No luck with dendrotoxin then. Blackagar looking her way is a danger to him, black paws and hoary claws worth worrying about. <<Look away!>>

Thank the All-Father for telepathy for thoughts to zip between them both, because the accepted laws of physics break down on the subliminal edge of merging planes. The girl doesn't back away from the bear, and the second straying too close at a charge probably collides with an easy dinner. An audible "Nnf!" comes a beat ahead of light exploding in all directions, probably registering as an incredibly bright spike on par with a nano-Tunguska Event. Selves collapse across multiple axes, pulled into one woman with a waist-length braid and the winged helm covering more of her face than not. Rolling with the bear over rock and ice comes as less of an awkward tumble, and more a deliberate purpose to wrestle the thing. Though whether a ton of male bear falls or slides is a mathematical oddity in the Arctic, when dealing with the angle into the valley and their naked location on the ridge.

<>

Blackagar Boltagon has posed:
Bears attacking, which seems weird. Investigating an energy signature in the Arctic, which seems weird. There is a lot of oddity happening in Blackagar's life at the moment, but it gets trumped when Jane tells him to look away and he does at the last second as that brilliant light flashes and she transforms. When his blue eyes look back up at her transfigured form a trio of thoughts form. He hasn't seen that yet. She is still Jane. And the last is the one he voice, <<Show off>>. The words are adorned with some adoration however. When she says that she is going to take off with him, Blackagar nods his head in assent. <<Do such, I will handle this one.>>

Even as he thinks it, the bear swipes it's claws at him only to find that the surface of the Inhuman King has hardened under a wall of electrons which enrages the bear further who roars. The brief thought of roaring back is discarded, even in the Arctic the damage would be to severe. So instead his hand reaches up and he once more shoves the bear back, as if trying to discourage it. Sending it sliding several dozen yards away, tumbling end over end, the bear shakes free then starts to charge him once more.

Meanwhile Jane's friendly boy, well he is not getting into line. He is very feisty it would seem attempting to grab a hold of something of her to bite down upon.

Jane Foster has posed:
The smirk answering Blackagar is one part arrogant, two parts affectionate. It has to mostly be mental considering she hugs a smelly, shaggy bear that outweighs her by at least a hundred kilograms, give or take. Metal greaves scrape across the ground, her boots kicking up a spray of icy chips, a rooster tail of them scudding down in a gentle rain. Valkyrie takes the worst of it on her hip and shoulder, shaken free from the claws raking against her flexible chain and scale ensemble. The armour's appearance hardly matters, fortified against the likes of such laughable notions as 'claws' or 'horns' or 'some alien made of teeth.'

A hard kick deflects the bear's maw trying to chew into her side, shoving it up and back with a substantial amount of force. Enough for her to roll out, anyway, throwing her wrist out. A whip in scintillating bronze unspools, uru hardening from the liquid energy that probably stings like a mother when colliding with the beast. It's not a glancing blow, but not Indiana Jones muzzling a snake, either, which is probably more the intention. "Naughty bear. We use ours words, not our teeth. Only one boy gets to bite me, and you are not he."

She keeps watch over Blackagar while circling the stung and angry bear, cape flickering in the wind altogether far too heroically for her liking. Thanks a lot, Odin. <<Still the same girl at heart. Shall we scoop these friends up and take a closer look, or are we going to have to put them to naptime?>>

Blackagar Boltagon has posed:
The exchange that Blackagar has with the re-charging bear momentarily postpones his comments back to Jane. He has to unfortunately punch the bear squarely in the face which causes it's nose to bleed. It's rather tragic in a way, but with no real other alternative, it's what the King turns to. <<These poor animals>> he thinks towards Jane, a look of concern sent her way <<Should they not flee when properly disciplined?>> That concern is still there.

In the distance, a low howl begins, followed by a couple others. Arctic wolves? That pulls blue eyes back up and with a momentary flash of annoyance, Blackagar steps back, turns and throws the bear over his hip and sends it flying for an area of thinner ice so that it can crash through it and into the water. Hopefully it is still alive. But his blue gaze is instead on the horizon. <<The energy signal, could it be disrupting the wild life?>> he asks towards the winged Valkyrie, pausing to add, <<I'm not entirely sure how comfortable those brass leggings are, they do look like they might chafe.>>

Jane Foster has posed:
<<They would not normally keep attacking except for starvation. Their health does not imply a lack of available nutrients.>> Jane's own language patterns alter to the dance of divinity through her, though she's steadfastly avoiding the thee-thou connotations of other Asgardians. Aesir habits she does not share, at least among the few. She snaps the whip again in a dance, the shockwave noisy enough to hurt ursine hearing, but it doesn't stop her unwanted friend from growling and going up on two legs to swat at her. Her simple response is to charge at it, shoulder down and fully fit to send the very heavy beast flying. <<Removing ourselves could possibly provide insight how they would normally behave. Their coordination is unusual too; polar bears are solitary except when mating or raising cubs.>>

A flash of the wings unfolding from behind her keeps her from running into the water too, brazen edges alight with sparks of sunshine. She's pulled up by two strong beats, feet off the ground, and a sheer sense of satisfaction at flight awash between them. "Let's go." A brief smile follows. <<Only the plates around my shins are metal. The rest are comfortably fitted cloth leggings for now. I saw no need to adopt a higher-technology aspect.>> The unwieldy conditions that sent them skidding over the snow haven't changed much, but she has the strength to fight back against them now. A hand extended to Blackagar bares her palm, lifelines traced in detail. <<Staying here runs a risk. Heading to the other side may provide additional understanding for whatever is buried or crashed here. The signal might be subliminally affecting any local inhabitants. Though it begs the question, why not either of us?>>

Blackagar Boltagon has posed:
Blackagar look sat the bared palm, the extended hand that come when she offers for them to get away. A dark eyebrow lifts up questioningly and he slowly begins to rise from the ground, surrounded with his field of electrons to lift him away and upwards until he is even in flight with the winged Valkyrie. <<Let us go to a location to consider. Someplace the animals may not be upset or even someplace warm. Let the instruments do their work and we can observe.>> He looks down beneath them, wondering idly why the animals could be acting up, why they are not affected.

<<We are higher evolved. We are enhanced. Our minds are linked. Choose any number of possibilities, it is all correlation until we can find the cause. But we will need to.>> A hand does reach out then to take hers, after all they are both already in flight. <<The Call of the Wild is quite strong it would seem.>>

Jane Foster has posed:
He flies, this is known. She can, in this state, though the wings are merely an accessory to enhance that ability. <<And there goes my brilliant plan to avoid detection with two separate silhouettes pinging on radar.>> A dry statement could only be serious if he were not privy to her mind. He is, though strange depths of it remain almost ephemeral, echoes of self that operate in several locations at once. For her job never stops. Life keeps on grinding through its phases, and the violent or gentle termination calls a psychopomp to serve. It always has. It ever shall.

Blackagar makes perfectly sensible recommendations. She loops her fingers around his, far from cold. <<Some place even warm? We may be far too many degrees north for that. A south-facing rock might be suitable, unless you took note of any springs nearby.>> Shoulders flex as her wings shift, giving them altitude over the howling pack. Dots below might correspond to those too late for dinner. <<Next stop, Iqaluit or Yellowknife otherwise. Unless you fancy stopping in Russia.>>

Somewhere, Mr. Horse ceases to examine a dissertation on the environmental damage for hydroelectric dams on the Blue Nile and their downstream economic and ecological impacts on Egypt to no doubt question if his presence is needed.

7458/Star Girl and Moon King, pt. 1

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