861/Gnori: Birds of a Feather

Gnori: Birds of a Feather
Date of Scene:	30 March 2020
Location:	Asgard's hoary mountains
Synopsis:	Sif brings Caitlin to meet the King of the Eagles on Asgard's mountains.
Cast of Characters:	Sif, Caitlin Fairchild

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Sif has posed:
Asgard as a realm is a vast place encompassing many types of terrain. The Golden City itself sits at the horizon's broad edge of crystalline sea falling into the starry depths and space. Beyond its borders? Grassy fields blending into rolling hills and rivers; these fall to cataracts and these grand waterfalls plunge into deep lakes reflecting the skies above. Grand mountains rise in crisp white peaks shadowed in blues and purples and it's to one particular spectacular set of cliffs that Sif travels to. She isn't alone in her travels.

Nor is she on the ground.

"Are you faring well still, Lady Caitlin?" she says back over her shoulder, voice pitched loud enough to carry against the rushing of the wind. Typhon continues lazily following the air currents, uncaring of two weighs on his back as his broadly-feathered wings catch and lift.

Caitlin Fairchild has posed:
"Uh..." Caitlin sounds a bit faint, and her hands shift slightly where she's gripping Sif's waist for balance behind her. "I think I'm okay now that we're in the calmer air," she says. It's a little white lie; Caitlin had been doing fine for a few minutes, but rough air had provoked a little air sickness and her stomach went overboard.

At least they hadn't had lunch first.

"I gotta get used to the rolling, it's just... yeah, I'm fine. I'm fine!" she repeats. "How much furthur is it, though?"

Good job she had breathmints in her little travel pack.

Sif has posed:
"Not much further. See the peak shaped as a giant's face?" Sif with loose hands on the spartan reins of the pegasus lets go of one side to point in the direction of a particular formation; if one squints, it's possible to see the nose and chin jutting out, art formed through the ancient wearing of wind and weather.

"Gnori's aerie is located on the sheer cliff beneath this, where the fissure cracks and the glacier water flows. It is impossible to reach save for by wing." Her free hand pats at the pegasus-stallion's neck lovingly. "We will be there in but minutes. I have not spoken to him in some years and it behooves me to continue our friendship. He is wise in his ways and if called for assistance, many would fear whom he aids. He has access to many wisdoms that many do not," the Aesir warrior explains over her shoulder again.

Caitlin Fairchild has posed:
"I don't know much about rock climbing," Caitlin confesses. "I always figured I was a bit too heavy for it. I could get pretty far by jumping but it looks really unstable out here; I don't want to have to swim my way out of an avalance if I landed wrong," she confesses.

The path takes them closer to the Aerie and Caitlin taps Sif's waist to get her attention. "Uh, anything about the rules of court I should know about? I tried reading books about it but my Asgardian's still pretty rusty, and we've got nothing about eagle manners in my copy of Emily Post," she clarifies.

Sif has posed:
As they begin to get closer, Typhon begins a slow and circling descent from the higher and still winds of the skies. Sif glances back over her shoulder again. A loose strand of hair from her braid whips and slides about, possibly bouncing off Caitlin's face.

"I do not believe we will need to deal with avalances or with Gnori's court. It is not the breeding season and he does not hold court unless this is nigh. He will likely be on his own unless he is exchanging word with one of his people."

As the pegasus drops lower yet through the air, there comes a sudden and ear-piercing scream. If it feels like the bones in the body shudder, it might be true; even Sif's silvery armor resonates to the volume of the cry. Out of the weak cloud cover above stoops an eagle easily the size of a small personal airplane, talons extended!

Caitlin Fairchild has posed:
Caitlin's head whips around and she clenches tight on Sif. "Bogey incoming, two o'clock high!" she screams in Sif's ear-- and just to drive the point home, she points directly at the swooping eagle. Her instinct is to shift back and get ready for a fight; fortunately Caitlin fights those instincts, and instead clings tighter to Sif until they can figure out what to do next. There's a lot in that handy little haversack of hers, but a weapon isn't among them. There aren't a lot of problems Caitlin can't punch into submission, after all.

Then again, it's not like it's ever occurred to her to engage in mounted aerial combat on a pegasus, either.

Sif has posed:
Typhon's reins are dropped entirely. Caitlin had better hang on to her Asgardian friend because the dark-haired woman reaches for the grip of her sword, intending to take the fight to this giant bird!

Until she realizes that this is merely one of Gnori's sky-guards and returns that screech with shocking accuracy of mimicry! How a bird that size can manage a half-turn barrel roll to avoid contact with the pegasus and his two riders could be magic, but the displacement of air is cold and brisk as the giant eagle simply free-drops past them. The snapping WHUMP of wings catching beneath them is followed by another deeper screech from the cliffs before them, no doubt belonging to Gnori himself.

"That was Hvalrad. He must be patrolling," comments Sif, cool as a cucumber.

Caitlin Fairchild has posed:
"Holy criminey that scared me!" Caitlin gasps, and puts a hand over her thundering heart. "I thought for sure we were getting attacked for trespassing or something."

Her grip on Sif relaxes and she watches Hvalrad with obvious awe and envy. "Golly, he's a pretty bird. Raptor," she amends. "I mean, taxonomically? Whatever. Being able to fly like that is incredible. It must be so nice to be able to just go out over the clouds any time you want," she says, wistfully.

"Also, you gotta teach me that eagle cry. That was -awesome-," she exults.

Sif has posed:
"I shall try to teach you the cry we are far from the city. It is not something to be practiced in the royal palace or elsewise. You must use all of your lung power for it. It is not conducive to polite manners, much less the general peace of the city itself." Still, Caitlin will feel the dark-haired Valkyrie's ribs flexing in a series of silent chuckles at the idea of 'disrupting the peace' as such. "Hold tightly," Sif warns briskly.

Better hold on: Typhon drops into a sudden near-stoop himself in order to approach the cliff's ledge. He swoops up at the last second in order to land on the cold, wind-swept expanse with serene clip-clop-clops in total controlled counter to that abrupt descent.

Sif dismounts as if nothing happened, though she does pause to take Caitlin into account. "If we had not dropped at that speed, the winds might have caught us and dashed us upon the high rocks above," she explains, her expression empathetic of concern caused. So very see this cast of brows and purse of lips. The sky-guard eagle continues his turn and disappears up into the thin clouds once more.

Caitlin Fairchild has posed:
"You know I can survive a pretty good fall, right?" Caitlin inquires of Sif. She dismounts a little less smoothly, propelling herself away from Typhon so there's no tangling his wings or the saddle on his back. Her little haversack's adjusted and slung between her shoulders; her green dress is a split-panel affair with grey trousers and riding boots under it. Easy to move in, comfortable, and quite modest all at once. Caitlin reaches up to undo her ponytail and rebind the tendrils of hair that'd worked loose during the ride.

"I mean, I think re-entry shock would kill me, but I'm pretty sure I've hit terminal velocity a few times. Just makes my knees hurt for a bit and then I'm right as rain."

Sif has posed:
Sif's brows lift. "Oh, no, I did not know this, Lady Caitlin. I will keep your secret to myself. This may come tactically handy in combat should we find your present and Asgard comes under attack. I highly doubt it will," she notes as she goes to the saddlebag tucked to Typhon's side. A moderately-sized bundling wrapped in oil-cloth is retrieved and tucked beneath her arm.

"Here, come and stay close by my side. It may be best if you do not speak unless spoken to, to state things most simply as to manners about the aerie. Gnori is a proud creature until you earn his trust." Sif does offer to link arms with the young redhead before beginning to walk. Her path seems to aim to wind into a narrow crevice barely lit by the weak sun overhead.

Caitlin Fairchild has posed:
"You know there was some old Earth design called an orbital kinetic weapon?" Caitlin tells Sif as they walk. "It was a project that got scuttled for cost overruns. Put a twenty ton tungsten carbide rod in low orbit and drop it on anything you want obliterated. It's completely unstoppable, can't be traced or tracked, and hits as hard as a low-yield nuclear explosive, without the radiation. Kinda cool. Horrifying," she says, and her button nose wrinkles. "But cool."

Once they cross into the aerie proper, Caitlin falls silent and matches Sif's pace deliberately. It keeps her from running, slowing, or most importantly, tripping. Her fingers feel a little clammy against Sif's hands, but despite her nerves Caitlin's doing her best impression of Sif and walking with her head high and shoulders back.

Sif has posed:
"I do not know if cool is the correct term. Horrifying, yes. I saw the effects of your world's nuclear weaponry not long after they were tested and then used. It brought me to wondering how advanced your world truly is." There's a decided lack of judgment in the Aesir's musing as they walk into the cold, chilly shadows of the narrow crevice. If there's an opinion to have been found, Sif doesn't share it. Rather, she gives Caitlin's arm a gently reassuring squeeze.

"You did well riding on Typhon. Many of the Einherjar in training do not fare as well on their first ride on the upper winds. I rarely allow them to ride behind me, but some claim they have the stomach for it. I test this claim." The end of the aperture shows up ahead in a far brighter crooked break of light against the blackness of the stone walls hemming them in. "But it seems Gnori is in, so he will be able to accept my gift in person rather than finding it later and perhaps being confused. He is in his silver-plumed years now," Sif explains quietly as they reach the brightness.

Stepping beyond and into it brings both women to a broad circular swoop of wind-wear. A shelf overhead keeps away the worst of rain and snow and there's enough space for a large bird or two to descend in and land. Now, the King of the Snow Eagles sitting on a boulder?

He's...even bigger than Hvalrad the Greeting Committee and eyes both with a gleaming golden eye against plumage almost angelically white. His beak and feet are sooty-grey, those recurved talons as large as a threshing scythe. And he squints silently.

Caitlin Fairchild has posed:
Caitlin comes up short when they round the corner and see the majestic bird perched atop the boulder. Her eyes go wide despite herself; the definiton of regal, a 'terrifying beauty'. Those claws certainly do nothing to detract from her sudden apprenhension about meeting royalty. She's almost gotten used to being around Thor and Sif in the comfortable elements of their antechambers, and even then the relatively gruff formality of the Asgardians is largely relaxed compared to court behaviour.

With no idea how to react, Caitlin simply clings to Sif as discreetly as she can; a lifeline on how to properly behave around a peer of the Realms, and one who has no human features for her to remotely get a read on.

Sif has posed:
Feeling how Caitlin clings, her Asgardian comrade does give her arm another squeeze. Gnori turns his face head-on to pin them with both of his grand, cold avian eyes and shifts on the boulder; talon-tips make foreboding clicks of adjustment against the mountain boulder. Sif stops at what must be some respectful distance and seems to begin to make a motion.

She then realizes Caitlin still holds her arm. "A moment, allow me movement and mimic as I move," she whispers to the redhead. On the back of Gnori's head, a skull-rounding lift of feathers rises in what must be interest. With her arm freed, Sif then sets down the moderately-sized bundling and then bows, her arms outspread gracefully to the sides as if to mimic wings.

"Gnori, Herald of the North Wind and Grand-Sire of Lerad, I, the Lady Sif of Vanaheim and Asgard both, bid you greeting. It has been some time. I thought to bring you a gift."

Gnori looks down at the bundling and back at Sif. His beak parts and surprisingly eloquent speech follows, if raspy: <<Greetings, Lady Sif. Is this other being your gift?>>

"No, King Gnori, she is a friend. This is the gift in question," Sif clarifies calmly with a gesture towards the bundling.

No, Caitlin is not lunch.

Caitlin Fairchild has posed:
Cripes, Sif is doing a fancy bow. Caitlin fakes it pretty well, though she gets the wrong foot backwards and narrowly avoids knocking Sif over with a swing of her own arms. It's as cumbersome as a wrong-footed shoe, but she at least manages to convey some polite respect in her attempt.

Caitlin almost opens her mouth to speak, then thinks better of it; Sif did advise polite silence, after all. She waits until Sif straightens and then matches the motion. The redhead stands a hairsbreadth to Sif's left and behind her. Not a position of servility, by any means, but subtly nodding towards Sif's social status as the Lady greets the King.

Sif has posed:
<<Alas. She does appear to have not much meat upon her.>> Caitlin is squinted at. <<Where does this being hail from? I can sense she is not of Asgard.>>

"You are perceptive, King Gnori," Sif notes. Yes, there is a subtle courtier's tease there, especially in light of the keen-sighted eagle so closely peering at Caitlin. He even drops his head down closer. It brings bringing those gigantic wings to mantle and it can easily be extrapolated that their span might be as broad as a private jet and possibly a foot more.

<<Where do you hail from, earth-walker?>> Gnori now asks of Caitlin, tone imperious.

Caitlin Fairchild has posed:
Caitlin starts to speak and coughs. Dry throat. She clears it and curtseys a little in a way she's seen Sif's attendants do. A polite acknowledgement she's being addressed, without the formal bow of greeting.

"I'm Caitlin Fairchild," she says, voice coming out a little strong. Caitlin suppresses a wince. "I'm from Iowa, which is a ... uh... province of Midgard," she informs Gnori. At least she doesn't drop her voice down, keeping her tone consistent and firm.

"Er, your Majesty," she adds, a beat later. "It's very nice t-- I mean, I'm honored to meet you," she adds. There's a certain rhythm and language to court banter that Caitlin clearly hasn't quite mastered yet, but her open features are at least earnest and sincere.

Sif has posed:
<<Midgard. It has been some time since a being of Midgard stood within my aerie.>> Gnori's keen eyes shift to Sif now. <<You count her friend, Asgardian?>>

"I do, King Gnori, of great reknown and fondness. The Lady Caitlin has been under my tutelage in the arts of warfare," she informs the giant eagle. He pulls his head back and settles his wings. It sounds like giant sheets caught in an hurricane briefly.

<<Then well-met, Lady Caitlin of Midgard, guest and not gift. What have you brought me, Lady Sif?>>

"A mere trinket of my affection, King Gnori, and in respect for your boon of a feather those centuries back. The Golden City does not forget your aid." She glances over at Caitlin and there's a hint of a smile about her lips. "Lady Caitlin, would you mind unwrapping the cloth about it? Be careful when you do that the foot remains upon the stone." She gestures towards the bundling in invitation to open it indeed.

Caitlin Fairchild has posed:
"Not at all, Lady Sif," Caitlin says, and steps forward. She kneels down carefully and starts unbinding the cords holding the wrap together, and then carefully clears the bag while keeping the parcel oriented properly.

It's a unique musical instrument, a wind harp. The design has a very broad balanced shape and the strings are meant to be strummed by the wind and not human fingers. Gold filigree in delicate engraving is pressed into the dark wood, and silver strings glitter like the icicles overhead.

Caitlin glances behind her at Sif, then carefully leans forward while gathering a lungful of air. She purses her lips and blows a firm gust of wind through the instrument, letting the pressure modulate itself and send the strings vibrating with a glissando melody.

She straightens, backs up respectfully (never show your rear to a monarch!), and finds her feet next to Sif again.

Sif has posed:
From on high (literally), Gnori observes the unwrapping of the parcel with a distinctly avian tilt of his head. When the cloth is pulled away, he brings his gigantic beak down level with the creation and Caitlin by proxy. She breathes upon the translucent strings, far stronger than their imagery belies, and he tilts his head yet again to hear the sparkling shimmers of notes rise from the instrument.

<<This is a grand creation,>> says the great eagle, his beak parted and head-cresting of feathers lifted. <<You, Midgardian, make it play again.>>

Sif glances over at Caitlin with a small, almost smug smile on her face.

Caitlin Fairchild has posed:
Caitlin blinks, and steps forward. "Um... yes sir," she says, tentatively, and dips her head once more. A slow exhalation of air passes pursed lips and makes the strings tinkle and chime. The sound reverberates around the cavern long after Caitlin exhales the contents of her lungs. She can hold her breath quite a while, but even Caitlin needs to breathe oxygen, and there's only so much she can do at once.

When the last of the resonance passes, she gestures a little at the harp. "Would Your Majesty like me to move the harp to somewhere the wind can play it for you more easily?" she offers. "Then you can hear it all the time, and not just when I'm here."

Sif has posed:
Clearly charmed by the instrument, the King of the Snow Eagles mantles again. His talons reset on the stone in those echoing click-clicks, sharp as snapping bones.

<<Yes, move it so that I may hear it when the wind runs along the face of the mountain. I know its cries and mournful moans well, but this is something new and delightful,>> Gnori says, looking away from the harp and between the women. <<I thought at first to dismiss you both as useless, but I am glad I did not.>>

Sif keeps a pleasant expression on her face yet, her hands rested at her hips, though, again, she gives Caitlin a smug little glance.

Caitlin Fairchild has posed:
Carefully, Caitlin lifts the harp (supporting it by the base!) and moves it to a good location. It's near where the wind enters the cave, so it won't be exposed to cooling shock, and where the wind can brush against it without jangling the delicate-looking braided silver. It surely won't hurt the Asgardian craftsmanship, but she's diligent about that sort of thing.

"I try to be useful, your Majesty," Caitlin tells the Lord of Eagles. "I wish I'd thought of such a pretty gift. It's really Lady Sif's idea," she points out. "I'm just glad I could be here to hear it played in the aerie. The views here are amazing."

Sif has posed:
"Nonsense. You enabled King Gnori to appreciate this gift," Sif demures politely with a gesture towards the wind-harp. The string sing delicately in fascinating shifts in and out of harmony, entirely directed by the whims of the breeze itself.

<<And appreciate it, I do. My gratitude to you both, earth-walkers of Asgard and Midgard alike. Now, begone. I wish to appreciate my gift in silence.>> Well, not silence, but without further interference from his visitors. Sif enacts another bow, no doubt echoed by Caitlin, and the Aesir warrior then links arms with the redhead. When they're far enough into the shadowy crevice once more, she notes lightly,

"Well done, Lady Caitlin. I thought I might need to rescue you from his craw, but no need. You would have gotten stuck anyways. Your build is slim."

Of course, she teases. Mission Wind-Harp Delivery: Success!