4083/SHIELD Maiden: Intake

SHIELD Maiden: Intake
Date of Scene:	16 March 2018
Location:	An Undisclosed SHIELD safehouse in the Cincinnati area
Synopsis:	The Son of Coul interviews another Asgardian.
Cast of Characters:	Phil Coulson, Vintridr

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Phil Coulson has posed:
While things have not been the most pleasant in their most recent contacts, SHIELD has sent word to Vintridr to meet with their representative at a rather unassuming location, on which the inside has been turned into a makeshift safehouse with jammers and security. Phil sits at a desk with a paper bag on it, and a tablet in front of him, awaiting the arrival.

Vintridr has posed:
    And it's not long at all until the unmarked black van containing his guest arrives. Out of deference to the fact that she hasn't offered any of the SHIELD agents any violence, Vintridr is not cuffed. Out of deference to the fact that SHIELD doesn't employ fools, her 'honor guard' is quite well armed and keeps a respectful distance as they escort her into the building and to Phil's makeshift office.

    She looks Phil over evaluatingly as she enters the office, then inclines her head respectfully before sitting down.

Phil Coulson has posed:
"Welcome. My name is Senior Agent Phil Coulson. I have been assigned as SHIELD's liaison to speak and work with you while you are here," He opens the paper bag and pulls out a bottle of mead and edges it closer to Vintridr, "A gift from us." The agent relaxes his posture a little, "So, do you have any questions or comments?"

Vintridr has posed:
    Vintridr shakes her head. "Not many," she replies. "I suspect that at this point I probably know more of SHIELD than you do of me." She smiles briefly. "Just because I tend to choose quiet lives doesn't mean I wasn't paying attention. How did your subordinate think I knew to look for him the moment I decided I no longer wished to be found?"

Phil Coulson has posed:
"I see," Phil remarks and notes it on the tablet with a stylus. "Very well, I will grant that and have assumed as much." He ponders and motions on the tablet and holds the stylus, "Then if you do not mind I'll ask a few. What can you tell us about yourself? I'd like to get to know who I am working with."

Vintridr has posed:
    A nod, and when she opens her mouth again the cadence of her speech changes noticeably - where her accent was a mix of Brooklyn and Boston, it is suddenly more formal, "I am Vintridr. I was born in Asgard, around what would be the fifth century CE as Midgard reckons it. I had an aptitude for combat and hunting even at an early age, and started training in the arts of war after my first century. I earned my first title during a conflict with the Jotun about twelve centuries ago when I spotted a flanking party hidden under illusion by the way the winds shifted around a space our eyes insisted was empty. I am Wind-reader."
    She smiles briefly in memory, then continues. "Odin called me to serve as one of his Valkyries then; I earned my second title during a skirmish with the trolls of Hrugnir, where I led a division of our forces to a flanking maneuver concealed in a cloud bank where the trolls could not see us until we struck them from behind. I am Cloud-rider. I have fought in many battles, in all of the Realms, and it was given to me to seek out the victorious fallen that were called to the halls of Valhalla, where the brave live forever, and together with my sisters, to lead the Einherjar against Asgard's enemies when Odin called."

    Another pause, then she continues. "I earned my third title during a war with the Svartalfar, when one of their war-leaders had holed up in a network of caves. I scouted the caves and eluded his sentries and traps, then led my sisters to ambush him and take his head, depriving their main army of his reinforcements when they needed them. I am Path-finder."

    Her face falls. "And four of your centuries ago, I decided I could no longer follow my conscience /and/ my Lord's commands, and I came to Midgard to live in relative quiet for a spell. And here I remained until this day."

Phil Coulson has posed:
"Hm," Phil says as he jots down notes of Vintridr's story. "Very well, so at least your intentions are good in regards to us. I would assume you have no intention of getting involved with local, national, or international affairs?"

Vintridr has posed:
    Vintridr shrugs. "Affairs of state, no," She replies. "I bear this country no ill will, but no more or less than I do many other nations I've lived in. And I've lived in quite a few. In that much, Odin was correct - Midgard should be free to seek its own destiny without our interference, for better or worse. But that does not mean I'm of a mind to sit idle when evil threatens, even if my response is likely to be extremely local."

Phil Coulson has posed:
"Those were the answers I was seeking," Phil notes and writes for a second. "Mainly I am trying to figure out how involved you plan on being. We perhaps can be in agreement on a few things and would like to avoid future confrontation between SHIELD and yourself." He smiles, "So should any issues arise, I would appreciate you contacting me" The agent slides his card across the table, disguised as a simple mechanic's card, "If you need anything, ask for Cheese."

Vintridr has posed:
    Vintridr smiles and takes the card, her eyes flicking over the number to memorize it. "Cheese is perhaps one of your more baffling discoveries," she muses. "I wasn't there when it was discovered, but the first man who decided to try to eat the solidified remains of curdled milk must have had courage and desperation in equal measure."

    She smiles again, then turns her gaze back on Phil. "Very well. And should you wish to call upon my aid... I believe I'll be re-opening the Sacred Grounds once I get back to Boston. You'll be able to find me there."

Phil Coulson has posed:
"Whoever it was probably lost a bet," Phil laughs and nods, "We will stay in touch, and hopefully we can work together in the future."

Vintridr has posed:
    A chuckle. "Quite possible. And I hope so as well."

She rises and turns to walk toward the door, only to pause on the treshold. "Be thee well... Son of Coul."