7660/Mister Belvedere's Castle

Mister Belvedere's Castle
Date of Scene:	02 September 2021
Location:	Belvedere Castle
Synopsis:	A chance encounter leads to Sif being curious about the taste of moose. Confused? You won't be, after this episode of...
Cast of Characters:	Terry O'Neil, Pol Hevonen, Sif

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Terry O'Neil has posed:
The Summer term semester was coming to a close, and a celebration of sorts was in order. Admittedly, this only really affected Myth, since Terry was not enrolled in college... but he was more than glad to celebrate anything after spending a week and a half cooped up in the apartment, loopy and delirious while Phoebe's holy magic drained gradually out of him.

Hot dogs had been secured, and they were ambling around. They had visited the Alice in Wonderland statue, where Terry took a good five minutes in complaining how they had gotten all the details wrong, and now they were coming upon Belvedere Castle.

"My mom used to bring me here all the time when I was a kid and she needed to clear her mind from a case." The redhead glances at the Mythic one and adds, "You'll meet her at some point, I'm sure. She always brings offerings of food with her."

Pol Hevonen has posed:
Finals are Done for Pol Hevonen. This is now time to de-stress.

He was disheveled earlier, because he ran the circuit of Central Park five times while waiting for Terry to show up, but that's his own fault for getting here early. However, there are hoses and such and he rinsed off and bought a size 2X shirt (which is a bit small for him to be honest) and honestly it looks from a distance like he's here with a kid.

"Your mom came to a castle to clear her mind?"

He squints at the statue as it becomes visible.

"The big three? Interesting."

Sif has posed:
Did someone ask for Mythic? And running? Say no more! Living legend on the scene!

OK, it's not immediately obvious that this is the case. Living legends rarely fill out too-tight yoga pants in burgundy and even tighter babydoll tees hand tie-died. Nor do they typically wear canvas sneakers and carry small clutch purses.

They do, however, sometimes wear daggers in bejeweled sheathes that hang jauntily from a belt barely slung at the hips. So there is that. And they often are far taller than average for their perceived species and gender. And this particular possible living legend is wearing all of that well, with rippling muscle beneath the skin (or, equivalently, clothing) doing well-practiced routines as she lightly races through the park.

Sif shoots by the talking pair before halting, back-pedaling and looking Terry over.

"You're Terry O'Neil, right? The one who interviewed me?"

Terry O'Neil has posed:
It happens- not a lot of people recognize Terry when he's in his human form, because he deliberately pushes the feline persona to be all-encompassing across social media and his byline. This allowed him a little bit of anonymity within his status as a public identity superhero.

It won't last for long, though. "Lady Sif!" Terry says, surprised. It's unclear whether he is surprised because of running into Sif, or because of her outfit. Then again, he had to admit, it was a good disguise. As good a disguise as one can have with /her/ frame. "Yes, it's me! How lovely to see you again! Let me introduce..."

He glances over at Pol, "Pol, this is the Lady Sif of Asgard. Lady Sif, this is my friend Pol Hevonen."

He realizes just then that he is essentially standing between two towering piles of muscle. Now it looks like Terry is a little kid, out and about with his parents.

Pol Hevonen has posed:
<< POL! That's not a normal person!! >> says the little voice in Pol's head. Actually the little voice is Pol's twin brother; they time-share the body.

<< I know, she's not short, >> Pol answers. And Terry explains why ... Oh cool.

"An honor to meet you," he says, reflexively offering a hand to shake because that's his familial training. Meet the gaze directly, shake hands firmly but not excessively, and smile without leering.

Sif has posed:
The hand is clasped at the wrist in the old warrior's greeting. "Yes it is," Sif says, "an honour." In what sounds like perfect Finnish, albeit of a slightly dated vocabulary. "To meet a friend of the man whose interview made me a household name."

Built up that way it sounds quite a bit less egotistical than it did at the start.

"Is he interviewing you next? I would love to see it if it is on this Internet of mine."

She pulls a small tablet out of the patent leather white clutch purse she carries that's far too small to fit a tablet of that size. "I have not yet worked out how to use this Internet fully, but I have a 'Tinder' or a 'Grindr' or some such in it and there is an 'app' that feeds me 'news' from the latter-day skalds. But if Terry O'Neil is going to again interview a personage, I will look forward to watching it."

Pol Hevonen has posed:
"I don't know. Are you planning to interview me, Terry? I mean, I'm pretty boring," Pol says, completely ignoring the whole "turns into mythical beings" thing. Well. Just the one, if you ignore that he's also manifesting Orion at the moment. But that's his normal self right?

He quirks an eyebrow to the mention of online dating.

<<Well honestly, considering the red-hairy-bear version of Thor and the even hairier cognate with Perun, I can see her looking on Grindr but someone should tell her...>> "OH KAY" Pol says to shut up his brother who is trying to blow up his brain with that.

"Uhm. Terry? Could you please explain to the Lady Sif what 'Grindr' is? Because I'm not sure how to explain that part..."

Terry O'Neil has posed:
"Oh, no, we are just taking a well-deserved stroll. Pol's summer semester at the university is done, and I recovered from a mortal wound. We felt a little celebrating was in order." He gestures to his almost-finished hot dog.

The mention of Tinder gets a quick little cough out of him, and he is curious to ask, but somehow manages to overcome the curiosity (probably because he's not a cat right now).

And then Pol boards that ship like a Viking on bender. "Right. Um... so, Tinder is an app that people use to look for... er, romantic prospects. If that's your intent, then Tinder is the one- but... make sure it's not Grindr. That's the app that men who like men use to--- well, they SAY it is to find romantic prospects, but most use it as a hook-u... for the purpose of casual amorous trysts." He rubs the back of his head and glances at Pol, "Not that I ever needed it. I had guys falling prostate at my feet. Positively head over heels for m-- PROSTRATE. Prostrate. At. My. Feet."

He is now of a coloration that almost matches his hair.

Sif has posed:
"It must be Tinder yes," Sif says as she slips the tablet back into her purse. "So Grindr is for men like Harkred who enjoys swiving other men. That is not the one I was put on, no."

There's a short pause. It comes paired with a puzzled expression, completely gratis!

"Why are these separated? Is Tinder only for those seeking to swive across the gender divide? Then Grindr is for men who swive men. Is there one for women who swive women? Women who swive both? Men who swive both? Women and/or men who swive anything?"

It's probably best left to the imagination what an Asgardian means by 'swiving anything' given the world they inhabit...

"Does it not get complicated arranging things? It would seem best to have a single such 'app' for all to interact with like a drinking hall so that all who seek companionship in any form can find it."

Yes, Terry, this is the past calling. The past saying WHY DID YOU NOT ADDRESS THIS IN YOUR INTERVIEW!?

Sif shakes her head. "I still do not comprehend the ways of Midgard now." Then key words sink in. "Pardon, you said ... mortal injury?"

Pol Hevonen has posed:
"He did say that. What mortal injury? Terry, who killed you and how did you get better?"

If this seems a bit scolding, imagine how it looks to our hypothetical onlooker, seeing the kid being scolded by the theoretical parental adults (Terry's earlier view) for actually getting himself killed.

Cas moves the starscape in his astral space around, to put Ophiucus in position where he can look through its eyes at Terry.

<< He has a big stab wound that was healed by some sort of magic quick-set spiritual concrete, apparently. OK I can't look any more, the colors are too disturbing. >>

Terry O'Neil has posed:
Terry's eyes go wide, and lose a little focus as he starts calculating all of the crisscrossing of the swiving, hither and tither. A whole new idea blossoms just then and there: Dear Sif, an advice column on issues of the heart from an Asgardian perspective. This also reminds him that he wants to talk to Sif about the OTHER idea, and he starts to open his mouth to say it when the issue of his wound comes up.

"Oh... that thing? Some alien invaders tried to kill a friend of ours and we tried to stop them. In the process, this /strange/ man who absorbed everything-- magic, energy, telepathy-- drained me momentarily of my chaos magic, and then lasered me. I had a hole in my stomach and my arm was almost severed completely. I was dying..."

He winces, rubbing his arm, "But we got a friend, who is a healer. She healed Wonder Woman out of a coma, so she helped to put me back together again.... but I had to be confined to bed for a week because she used holy magic... and holy magic basically makes me drunk. I was drunk for a week."

Sif has posed:
This is a look Terry likely sees quite often. Sheer bewilderment as Sif tries to piece together the jumping narrative and odd details. There's silence for a few seconds as she visibly churns through the facts thrown at her in an incoherent pile, forming some semblance of order to them before putting on a grave face.

"I am gratified to hear that you survived this, Terry O'Neil. If there is vengeance to be served, consider my blade to be yours to command."

Something in the set of her face says this is not an idle promise. Nor an idle threat. Sif is built on the premise of there being a right side and a wrong side of her regard. And further on the premise that if you're on the wrong side, you a) know it, and b) are going to have a very bad day.

And whoever hurt Terry is on her wrong side...

Pol Hevonen has posed:
<<Or, basically, Terry channeled the Asgardian lifestyle for a week, except for the fighting part,>> Cas says, and Pol has a sort of fixed, unnatural looking smile while he contemplates just swapping right now and letting his snarky brother deal... in fact, he does that.

"So strange absorbing sponge-Bob with a laser? How does that work?" Cas asks. Though honestly one might be forgiven for not noticing that it isn't Pol since they don't physically change much when they swap. Just some minor body language.

"And yeah, I'll help hunt it down and shoot it if you want," the too-tall man says.

Terry O'Neil has posed:
Terry gives both of them a broad grin, "Thank you- both of you, it means a lot to me." After all, who wouldn't want terrifyingly strong people willing to punch someone through a mountain for you? "I think the problem has been solved, but if they ever do come back around, I will let you know."

And if they do come back... woe betide them. "BUT... Lady Sif. I wanted to talk to you about something. As part of your continued acclimation to the strangeness of Midgard... how would you like to be part- of an internet web series? I was thinking of one, focused around you and your discovery of different things in Midgard, and your reaction to them!"

Sif has posed:
"Webs? Is this like that strange program with stupid people doing stupid things they're afraid of? Because I am not afraid of spiders, no matter their size, even when they are large enough to cover a town in their silk. I have battled them before."

She muses a bit.

"My reaction upon discovering giant spiders might be entertaining for those who watch it," she begrudginly accepts. "One thing the people of Midgard have not lost is the love for spectacle and it would be precisely this."

She looks up at Pol-no-Cas-...-whatever.

"Would you be interested in fighting such creatures for spectacle?"

Pol Hevonen has posed:
<< You're offering to be violent again, Cas. >>

<< Yeah I'm not the wannabe pacifist here. >>

Then Terry suggests a truly horrifying ... well perhaps NOT so horrifying as if it were network or cable but ... that just means lower production values.

"I'd say that he's channeling Loki with that suggestion except that I can tell he honestly thinks it's a good idea," Cas says in somewhat flawed Finnish. Because he doesn't speak Norse or Aesir at the moment, not having found the right constellation to tap. "Web means the connection between different phones and tablets and other computers, because it looks like one when you draw it. Actual spiders aren't involved. Which is good because I usually like them, they eat pests."

He nods to the not-quite-small garden spider doing just that in a nearby bush, wrapping up an unfortunate grasshopper-type insect for dinner later.

Terry O'Neil has posed:
"I... spiders are a case by case thing for me. Some I can take, others... no. Kill it with fire." He grins. "If you like the idea, we can discuss it and what the format will be."

He makes a note: No giant spiders.

Or, at least, for season one. "But maybe we should discuss this over dessert? I happen to know there's a place out across that has the best mousse I've ever tasted. It's as good as it gets outside of going to Paris. Shall we adjourn?" he grins to Pol and Sif. He doesn't ask what that mention of Loki was... but he is curious.

Sif has posed:
Sif raises her eyebrows in surprise. "I am now very intrigued. I have had foods prepared by the finest of roasters and purveyors of sweetmeats and other delicacies and never, once, have I had moose provided as a dessert. Usually one finds game to be made with savoury recipes. It intrigues me to hear of dessert moose."

She's thinking elks' bigger cousin. Because of course she is.

"Lead on, Terry O'Neil. You are always good for surprises and interesting experiences."