Owner	Pose
Jane Foster	Sunrise exists on the moon, naturally. Though without the cloud-kissed atmosphere of Earth, it looks rather different. Piercing rays ignite the blasted grey expanse of lunar dust filling seas and oceans that last had liquid about three billion years ago. Pitiless assaults against darkness send the night into retreat back on the cratered far side. Day breaks over Attilan in tremendous force, the life-giving warmth funnelled into towers and houses, ruins and mysteries. Such is the Blue Area of the Moon. It helps to be able to go back and forth at will. Sometimes, you need a fantastic pastrami sandwich on marbled rye or authentic hand-pulled noodles from a food cart in Ho Chi Minh City, and the substitutes produced by machines or Attilanese tech just isn't up to the task. A basket of various goodies acquired from a stint through Hong Kong and inexplicable calls to Vietnam -- why an Asgardian worshipper /there/ is dead, Jane doesn't know. But it means food. It means a proper set of savory fragrances, milk bread as fluffy as a dream, and pastries that mix east and west. A couple fresh subtropical fruits round out what counts as a meal. The inexcusable effort of vanishing from her human apartment to work and then return in a muted glimmer surely won't upset anyone. They can all say 'Yes, she was right here the whole time.' Especially after being asked to deliver a message to the King about breakfast. Presumably he's the one to provide it, but that's what the courier-ap-guard doesn't know. Or that she has bloody good fresh coffee, to boot, still hot. Teleportation is grand.
Blackagar Boltagon	The foods of the Earth have been quite an important thing to Blackagar, having grown rather attached to a few items that he can only attain from the world. Travelling back and forth between Attilan and the City has been more frequent of late, his purposes done quietly. But to set time aside, particularly upon a morning to bask in the glows of the sun and company was a needed respite from the political drudgery that has seemingly been increasing of late. The reality that there is something afoot has not been lost on him, despite the belief of some that he is a bit on the simpler side, the insightfulness of the King is well established. But those concerns are set aside for the morning as the first cup of the fresh coffee is sipped and the cosmic rays begin to dance over the horizon, sparking a thought. <<The scientists believe that there perhaps is a cosmic energy element to your body detachment.>>
Jane Foster	Her typical attire about Attilan is simple, but Jane adopts the customs of the Inhumans in many ways. Wearing a long robe over fitted pants is appropriate, for all that she's unused to such flowing dresses. No pastel colours here, nor the strident gold. Midnight blue for once, instead of endless greys or whites, probably serves to make her stand out among the buildings. Best if your visitor can be easily spotted without the aid of an orange reflective safety vest. She busies herself with pulling her hair back into a partial braid, looking out wistfully over the pastry box while forcing another pin to keep her hair from falling out again. Something afoot; something off. If he speaks of it, Jane could attest to that. Daisy, too. In his city, the breach of the alpha primitives in the residential quarter wasn't an accident. Injuries taken by his people weren't imagined. Chance? Well, could be, but an angry earth shaker on the loose isn't a thing to be toyed with. "I've missed you." A softer statement comes when Blackagar finds his coffee, and with it, the multipass for getting out of human quarter captivity waits for her. Their goods can be easily slid into a bag or a backpack, the latter well-suited for an amble outside the city walls. She finishes up with the fussy clip and turns, gliding across the ground. Lunar gravity is so light, whatever keeps her pinned a marvel still. Alas, no astronaut bounces out here. <<Cosmic energy? That's more the province of Captain Marvel to understand than me. Are they suggesting exposure or bombardment?>>
Blackagar Boltagon	<<It is speculation at present,>> he amends softly before continuing, <<If it is an element of things... well we shall see. The logic is that since there seems to be some component missing that it must be an energy factor generally not accounted for.>> Blackagar grins almost sheepishly at the thought, <<A small amount of unattested energy could be the last piece of the puzzle. They are working on it, I am hopeful for a resolution soon.>> An update, even if vague. He has not given up that hope, nor will he. He looks at the pastries, momentarily, then back at Jane and offers a wry grin, <<I have missed you as well, although I must state that more and more you are passing as any other Inhuman would in appearance, stature and behavior.>> There is compliment in those sentiments, a bit of bemused awe as well.
Jane Foster	The familiar weight of his thoughts percolating through her mind brings a smile, an easing of a knot ever present under the chest. Jane nods, hooking her finger around the strap of the backpack and hoisting it over her shoulder. A multitude of hidden cuts give the overrobe a fan tail effect in the back, sweeping carelessly around her legs in the front. <<Cosmic background radiation? Possibly one of the higher energy options making a barrier between me and my body? I have to trust my body will be kept fine in cryogenic suspension.>> A mild twinge of her lips could be a frown, trying to fit together. <<Given I cannot see it, maybe the issue really is a frequency one. Like you can't spot ultraviolet light, but to a bee, it's patently obvious. Unless you can, and then just put 'microwaves' or something in there.>> Hope is not lost. She can walk about, do her job, taste food, be in his company. Things aren't entirely different as long as a mad telepath isn't running around. <<You /are/ sure it's still there, yes? You realize someone could steal it. I would never know. Perfect crime, the witness can't confirm one way or another. Very Agatha Christie of us.>> Theft on the Inhuman Express! It's a book not waiting to be written. Offering Blackagar her arm, she says, "Walking before treats. Lockjaw would agree, you know that." Her tone is amused, full of affection. <<I'm trying to learn your culture and avoid any diplomatic faux pas that would make your life harder. That's the right thing to do. I don't want to cause you headaches, I want to be your support.>>
Blackagar Boltagon	<<Oh, are you saying that I am not getting enough exercise?>> He asks with more amusement present than before. He knows it is a bit of a loaded question, but putting such to her is an opportunity to make the woman have to shift a bit. Hopefully the humor present let's her know it is a joke. <<That is an operating theory. A barrier preventing the resync. So breaking the energy barrier and then resyncing the frequencies together. As for swiping your body, I believe that may be a bit difficult considering it is in the Royal vaults that only myself and those personally appointed can access.>> Blackagar does cast a momentary glance though, amusement present again, <<I do not suspect anyone even knows it is in there.>> <<I am certain others appreciate you attempting to learn the culture. For myself? I do not find it necessary, you are who you are. While I can appreciate the intent, do not feel that you have to fit into the Inhuman culture on my behalf.>>
Jane Foster	<<Earn the pastry. Or the pho, for that matter, though I'm tempted to peel the lid off and have it right here.>> The fragrant broth pretty well spells doom for Jane, who can probably curl up with a bowl of pho everyday if she were given the chance. She moves carefully with Blackagar, mindful the liquids are in a container that could leak or spill. <<Break the energy barrier. It has its charms. I also wonder if that barrier originates from a stubborn companion that holds me here.>> Said presence has decided to appear like a lazy twist of gold around the cuff of the midnight-blue sleeve draping in fluid lines over her arm. It likes to be stylish. <<Good.>> All he needs to know on the condition of said battered 80s-era SHIELD pod with her body stuck inside. It pays not to dwell on. <<It may not be necessary, but it's good for us on a few levels. It helps me appreciate where you came from, and not be an ignorant American standing by the wayside assuming everyone has to make their culture match mine, for one. There's some respect involved. But if I'm here, I want to be a good visitor or neighbour. It's already enough I catch your eye.>> Oh, the pearl clutching and hair pulling. She winks, and gestures. <<Let's go play in the moon dust. Or at least find somewhere for you to have a chocolate croissant.>>
Blackagar Boltagon	Since she is occupied with carefully carrying the soup, it makes it far easier for Blackagar to stop and slide himself directly in Jane's path, to stand in front of her and doing so silently for a few moments. The height gap allows him to look down, his hands gently falling on her arms just below the shoulders with a soft grasp that steadies. Gaze looks down, again just the silence that matches the quiet of the moon itself as the sun continues to break over the horizon line sending its raw light unobstructed by atmosphere across the desolate landscape. <<Behold. The barren wasteland. And it's all ours.>> It is a desolate wasteland, until it is broken by the blue zone and Attilan. But it is all theirs in that moment. <<You know, there's a good number of your people who have looked up and desired to give their beloved the moon and stars. Is it pompous of me to point out, that I can?>>
Jane Foster	He floats like a ghost, a creature of Dream and Shadow rather than a man tramping through the streets of Attilan. Back-lit by the sun, that coronet of shadows around his head and face drawn into sharper lines can arrest her heart more easily. Jane pauses, tilting her gaze up to see him, her hands at her sides rather than rising to grip his wrists. The heliad nimbus puts Blackagar in fierce relief, and she smiles in spite of herself. Some moments must be remembered for a lifetime, framed against the alabaster and basalt backdrop. <<No. You have given me very much that, and I have brought you countless jewels... merely in a liquid rain form on a planet we couldn't otherwise survive.>>
Blackagar Boltagon	<<That you have,>> Blackagar intones back thoughtfully. A glance is given around them and then his brow furrows slightly. The hands over Jane's arms dip down towards her hands and an inclination of his head follows. <<I owe you a picnic. But that is going to need to wait.>> The grin follows, very sly and quite telling. <<Before that however, there is a place to observe the sunrise I wish you to see.>> A tilt of his head for her to walk with him, off the path they were on to some new destination.