6982/O Brother, Where Art Thou

O Brother, Where Art Thou
Date of Scene:	21 March 2019
Location:	Unknown
Synopsis:	Summary needed
Cast of Characters:	Scarlet Witch, Balder Odinson

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Scarlet Witch has posed:
The library this is... And isn't. Technically there is a room beside the library and that would be the one where Wanda floats in a circle of candles. Mustn't burn the books, after all, nor the priceless tomes recovered from a dozen worlds not their own. She sits cross-legged, at least three feet off the ground. She has no need for a book to perform the work: ash branches serve instead, each one of them carefully engraved with the name of a realm, arranged just so. The fluidity of the dimension flows right through her as its Nexus, its living heart. As it does most days, that means little other than finding the right resonance for her spellcasting. Her thoughts aren't too jumbled, but jumbled enough given the consequential events of the previous evening. It'll eventually explain the error.

The futhark for Thor, a jagged thorn, hangs in the iar with an electrical vibrancy that surges and hisses. Her energy supports its making, poured in just enough to align to the Odinson she knows best. His golden aspect hangs in her thought as she works her will, teeth set. A missing friend. An attack. An assault by things beyond her ken, possibly dangerous enough to target what she is. Minor problems. As she raises her hand to inscribe the next sigil in all its burning grandeur, that worry and agony for the sake of Janet van Dyne burns into the witch's mind. Her magic is an act of will. Her summons -- this is merely to call home, a pinging note, seeking out Thor. Thor Odinson, you have mystic-mail!

Except as so often happens, the burning inscription as she adds the messenger rune, Ansuz, goes a little awry. Ansuz is sacred to Loki. Loki understands email. Maybe he rerouted things. Maybe 'shine a light on the problem' in her thoughts meant /the literal light/.

<<We need your help. I need your help. She's missing.>>

A vision of the Wasp, flashed and wound through her invocation. Doesn't matter where, all the Ten Realms belong to Yggdrasil and Yggdrasil in the end is Odin's courier system, no?

Balder Odinson has posed:
Well, Balder WAS in New Asgard. He just finished carrying a very large concrete block with ease and set it in proper place in what would be New Asgard's defensive wall. They already had many enemies, so it was wise to improve defenses while they still could.

...Until...

A sharp turn of his head, and suddenly, Balder is gone!

He had leapt into the sky Like a beam of light, traveling like the ray of sunshine and beauty that he is, and in the library of the Avengers mansion? He arrives!

...but is clearly not the mighty thunderer. Instead, it is the God of Light, Balder Odinson! "Hail and well met! Tell me, where this woman is, that I might find her and ensure her safety, if but for the sake of you, my lady." He kneels and everything.

Chivalrous behavior!

Scarlet Witch has posed:
New Asgard. Old Asgard. Uter-Asgard. Breaking down the call slowly, the Witch hangs in the air. She rubs her shoulder gently as the spell takes hold, yanking a handful of energy out of her. Radiance doesn't flow, and neither is there a halcyon crown of burning amethyst embers around her head. All in all, it's just a girl in a dark corset and dark jeans, all under that trademark mulberry coat. Hardly the stuff of miracles.

Well, Captain America has saved the world in a grey hoodie. There's that. Soon as the sparkling light resolves itself in a burst of something that invariably panics the security systems -- but this /is/ the light-quick Odinson, not the lightning-quick Odinson -- things... get loud.

Starting with "Who are you?" echoing from some computer system.

Followed by "Who are you?" from the woman whose accent probably immediately sounds more Norse than most do nowadays. Partly because she's Slavic, and the Slavic traditions still blend hard into the Teutonic travelers in her crossroads of Europe. The widening of her eyes lifts to take Balder in. Both runes are plain as day, sparkling, snapping excitedly like a pair of puppies noticing their person just came home after being gone ten thousand years or twenty four minutes.

It's the bowing that throws her. She stares down at him. "You," a guess, "are not Thor."

Balder Odinson has posed:
Balder than slowly rises up to his feet, the cloak of fur hanging from his shoulders that manages to still reveal the leather armor and the purple cloth beneath. A beautiful smile is offered to the Scarlet Witch as he introduces himself. "I am Balder, Son of Odin and Prince of Asgard. Though...I thought Thor would be here." he admits, but then he smiles to her.

"Correct, I am not my brother. But...it is you who summoned me? If you do not wish for me, I can attempt to find my brother? Though he has been...slippery, as of late." He offers the Scarlet Witch his hand, giving her a friendly smile as well.

Hopefully his introduction was enough to make the alert systems go down.

If not? Well...Balder also doesn't know how to use a computer, so..."

Scarlet Witch has posed:
Royalty presents itself and the witch's eyes widen -- but a little, but significant all the same. The film of fiery amaranth dissipates, literally hauled back into the vicinity of her pupils. A blink, gone. But indicative all the same she isn't normal, either.

Unfolding her legs, she drops to stand. On her feet, she waves a hand. "Acknowledged. Prince Balder of Asgard, brother of Prince Thor Odinson of Asgard." Her words gently reframe his name. She raises a hand, and the fizzing runes wink out. "Wanda Maximoff. Avenger, one of your brother's associates. Companions?" A correction. English isn't her native language by a longshot, and the calculated effort for the right word takes a moment of distinct hesitation. Angry beep signalling the silence of the security system, she draws out a breath. "I apologize. I set up a..." Pause. Word. "Beacon. Something to let him know we had need of him. Another companion, she is missing. Taken by force."

The air crawls. Wrath simmers away behind her taut expression. A smile isn't possible. Her hand: that she can do, with a hint of restraint, fingers bare, nails manicured. No danger, except she's a spellcaster and the weight of her active magic is still fading.

Balder Odinson has posed:
Balder gives a very gentle smile to Wanda, the handshake accepted without any kind of hesitation or delay to Wanda. Though he does nod very softly in greeting. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Wanda. If you wish to speak in your native language, you very much so may. or simply whatever is comfortable to you. I possess the Allspeak, so there is no reason for you to be polite." he smiles oh so kindly once again.

They did say Balder was the God of beauty as well in the ancient texts. Not exactly wrong. But, Balder is here on business, and he doubts Wanda wants her time wasted. A knightly kiss to her knuckles is given, unless Wanda pulls her hand away. It is an act of chivalry, old-fashiond as it may be, and not one of flirtatious intent. "Stolen away? By whom? Do you know?" He asks curiously. "I am not my brother, but...I am willing to help all the same."

Scarlet Witch has posed:
That curious gentleness meets her open, if veiled gaze. There might be a foolishness into touching someone, but the kinetosphere of raw chaos and fortune hangs back like a serpent waiting to strike. As if this, too, must be held back for purposes of mute diplomacy. So negotiation goes before violence. The test is simple; she drops into German like her native tongue, though it's a far cry from Transian, that native blend of Romance languages chased around by the peoples that later settled in Central Europe as far as England and the polar regions of Scandinavia. "I speak poor English." The implications lay flat. "I do not mean to give offense by addressing you improperly, Your Highness. Nor to bring you here in haste. Your brother is somewhere here."

She doesn't pull her hand away. She blinks, certainly. Old courtly forms and chivalrous behaviour are, for the most part, a forgotten relic, a bygone age stamped on, trampled over, and vanished in tank treads, Napoleonic codes, and the guillotine dropped from a slender wooden frame. Perhaps even earlier, aspirations beyond the Sun King burning them to pieces. Her breath exhales. "Stolen away by robots," she says, "ones that target people with unique abilities. Or defenders and guardians, as she is. Your brother ought to know as much. There will be some effort there, though I cannot be certain who is involved fully or how. Perhaps it is right to say that this offer is not unwelcome, merely I am the wrong person to direct it to." The witch's aura crackles. A songbird note of turbulence ripples in the spectrum of magic; it's there for anyone sensitive who can hear.

"At least it's something, however. Will you think the less of me were I to say the choice is in suspension til we learn more?"

Balder Odinson has posed:
"It is alright." To Wanda, it would sound as if he was speaking German fluently, Balder pronunciation is perfect and smooth. Though his eyes remain on Wanda's own, unmobing as he gives her his utmost attention. "Robots? By what manner of machine could do such a thing?" he hmms.

"I See. Thank you for telling me as such." and yes, he does feel that sharp magic of Wanda's auro touch him so softly, yet anyone with a magical sense can feel that.

"Upon meeting you, I do not think it's possible for me to think less of you. For I view a person by their heart and actions."

He smiles gently. "But do not fear. We will find your friend, and to my utmost wish, safe and sound."