Sera - Marvel 616 (minstrel) wrote in thedisplaced, @ 2017-11-29 15:19:00 |
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Entry tags: | !log/thread, angela odinsdottir (616), sera (616) |
Who: Angela & Sera
What: A real talk
Where: Angela’s mansion
When: last week sometime!
Warnings: They maybe haven’t had all the talks they should,so grumpy!Sera.
This world was a fascinating place so far. It wasn’t like she hadn’t been to the Earth of her own universe before - which was frighteningly similar to where they currently where. Well, without all the strange locales and houses that appeared to have cross populated the realms from which the various inhabitants of this town had originated. However, wasn't that half of the mystery of this place? Half of the storyteller’s drawn down, around and about town. Admittedly, she’d avoided a majority of the small fuzzy creature catastrophe that had occurred due to being locked up when it all had begun, but… That was certainly a story Sera had opted to commit to memory. Perhaps a few details altered would make it more a lively and engaging, but those were all items she could sort out with a little time and ad libbing while recanting the anecdote for future listeners of her fabulous accounts. Yet, this did not change the other factors that had been at play. Being locked in Hela’s dungeon. Being trapped here. Angela’s commentary about swapped times, and the Angel’s extensive actions to assure Sera had been properly seen after and released post haste once her time had been up. Admittedly, Sera had still been a touch cold, a bit displeased with the whole thing and Angela still, but…. At least she was out, of it we’re of Angela’s actions or not. Out of quarantine, out of Hela’s underground dungeon, out of torture…. Out of death. Which was perhaps the most curious of the circumstances presented thus far in all of this. Even with this Sera had largely kept those thoughts and misgivings to herself. She needed time to mull over these things, to test if she were really alive, to…. Let herself relax into this new setting, and get her wits back around her all over again. Conversations had been kept to surface topics if it could be helped and while she had gone with Angela - begrudgingly in appearances at least - back to the other woman’s home Sera had still kept her tongue held tight instead of lashing out. That wasn’t to say she hadn’t been tempted, or that she hadn’t taken some minor pot shots here and there - because she completely had - but the full brunt of her fury still resided firmly trapped within the walls of her chest, kept close by a still beating heart. Fingers passively stroked over a bit of material. It was a boon to be clean, and fed, and not have her voice half gone from hymns and to be alive again at all, but…. There were still other forces at play, forces she feared might rear their ugly heads and strike her down into Hela’s torturous dungeon once more if the bard allowed her wits to slip from her even if only for a second. While Sera longed to be near Angela, to sleep next to her and warm her feet - there was a reason why she’d tricked Angela into owing her debts, even if a debt to her seemed One Angela was happy to take - and just be like they once were…. Nothing of this seemed entirely right, or at least not right enough, for her to allow her guard to down anymore. For all that Angela had hoped for Sera’s arrival, things were… not as she’d expected. Tense. It was the timing that was the problem. She’d known, obviously, that people could come from times in the past or future, but she hadn’t expected that it would happen. A failure of imagination on her part, and therefore possibly entirely predictable - it was something Sera had accused her of before, after all. She had always been by far the more creative of the two. It grated, though. She didn’t know what to say to fix it. Last time she had simply conquered Helheim, taken Hela as her prisoner, rewrote the rules of the realm to provide their people with a proper afterlife, and restored Sera’s life. Well, perhaps not simply; she still did not know what manner of memory she might have lost during those trials. But she had always preferred actions to words, and here, where Sera no longer needed rescue, she was adrift. The conundrum weighed on her mind as she paced through the lodge that had been hers in Heven, furnished with items traded in deals or confiscated for the breaking of an oath. She barely saw it, caring little for the luxury, and it took her a moment to realise that the room she had entered was not so empty as she’d thought. She paused barely past the threshold, uncertain if her presence would be welcome. Sera might not have looked busy, but it was always possible that she was working on something in her mind. She was canny in that way. What goes on in there? she wanted to ask, but the question seemed… intimate. Too presumptuous. Perhaps there were pieces she were missing, this all a puzzle she hadn’t the notion to be a part of even if she was. The pieces would appear simple, even a dull witted fool could put together the basics she’d been left with but— The thought died in her own mind as ears picked up that she were no longer alone. The slightly hunched posture that allowed lips to be pressed against the back of her knuckles while she sat was unfolded from. A long exhale was silently released - her posture shifting from the loss of air - as eyes were cast in the intruders direction. A long moment of consideration would be allowed to fall silent between them if Angela didn’t speak before Sera shifted once more to move eyes away, and making room where she sat for Angela to join as the cushion was patted welcomingly. “To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit, Odinsdottir?” Even if she’d wished against it - she didn’t - the tone would have still come out removed and clinging to a bit of emotional ice. There was soreness here and it would not be easily banished by a hot meal and a soft bed. People called Angela cold. She felt-- irritation, at the name, though it did not show on her face. It was rare that anything did, though she was learning, perhaps. Now, of course, was not the time for it. She wanted to fix things, not make them worse, and with the difference in their timelines the set of scales that was always shifting and see-sawing behind her eyes was confused. Possibly irreparably. If Asgardians were gods, then she was the goddess of deals and balances. What was she without that? More, still, than she had been without Sera. “Have you acquainted yourself with the town?” It had been over a week since the military had released her from their prison. For someone such as Sera who had such interest in people, it seemed like long enough to begin. Angela would hardly be surprised if she knew things about the place that she had yet to discover herself. “To a degree.” The sentence was short, intentionally left without much detail at all. How out of place the bard’s inaction would be was galling without question, but she didn’t need to admit that to Angela yet. What Angela may have figured out with the lack of sleep, the passive pacing, the trying to remain out of eye that she’d done, well… Angela was one of the best, it was unlikely that the creeping nightmares that Sera had run away from would be hidden from the other woman at all. That combined with the lingering tension of neglect, doubt and strain her body had endured, well… Sera was loathe to admit it but she really was in need of a good rest away from the nightmares of living and sleep. “I have been….” And what should she admit here? Did Angela already not know it all? “Preoccupied with a varied manner of entertainments and stories of this land.” It wasn’t an inaccurate statement, but it also wasn’t completely honest. “Have you acquainted yourself well?” Because as much as she was disgruntled and emotionally sore and catty feeling - ultimately - she did still care about the woman nearby. That there was more than she had even gotten from the newly arrived Loki, playing at being her father. Though she had a certain amount of respect for his lonesomeness, it wasn’t something Angela was accustomed to from her blood family, and something she wasn’t sure she could stand from Sera. The question, then, was welcome, for all that it sounded more like politeness than intimacy. “It has been difficult to understand these people,” she admitted; their lives seemed altogether small, focused around the necessity of working and desperately clinging to each other as protection from the unknown. “I find myself… unsure how to proceed.” At least the all-too-common recommendation of Netflix given to new arrivals ought be pleasing Sera - normally, at least. Right now she looked restless, almost faded, as though something had passed a filthy eraser over her to leave her smudged on the page. “Is there nowhere you can rest?” she asked abruptly, impatient with this dancing around each other. Sera looked tired, and even for Angela who could sometimes be entirely stupid about such things it was not hard to understand why. “An upper room, with open windows?” That somehow had slipped by Sera. Well, not particularly slipped as much as she hadn’t had the mental bandwidth to take that aspect of Angela’s semi social cultural-ostracization into consideration. Instantly, Sera’s heart went out to the other woman. Even with the tender and hurt feelings still lingering within there was…. “Oh Angela.” Her voice instantly reflected a sort of sorrowful understanding of the situation the other woman must have endured. Angela never really understood things outside the confines of the checks, measures and deals of heven. There was a desire to reach out to the other woman, to touch and sooth while also drawing her own comfort from the contact and…. Brows furrowed for a moment as Sera seemed caught in debate within her own head for a moment. That moment only lasted until the other woman’s direct statement cut through the silence once more. How should she respond? Maybe some space between them would assist her in sorting out how she felt and the frustrations and re-lived trauma, and…. “Angela.” Once again there was a tone there, One she suspected Angela might not fully understand, One that was attempting to be patient and not lash out regardless of her ill rest and frustrations. They had been about each other long enough that some vague registering should occur. “This will not be cured by room or light alone.” Which was true, there were feelings here. Feelings she’d normallyl leave Angela to avenge or find a good spell to embarrass and outcast anything or anyone who may make her feel so forlorn. Only then would a sigh be released and the sit next to her patted again as the prior spikes of emotional defenses she’d constructed seemed to be slowly coming down. “Sit with me.” She obeyed, of course she did. She’d always been helpless in the face of Sera. Nonetheless, she left some space between them - enough that she could place her hand on the loveseat and the gap that remained would be the perfect size for Sera’s own, for their little fingers to line up against each other. In the past - in her past - when Sera struggled they would wrap themselves around each other, but she was uncertain that her touch would be accepted, today. “It could be a start. Until you are ready to let me--” Angela wasn’t quite sure how to finish that sentence, the words said carefully as she looked straight ahead rather than give herself another fill of Sera’s disappointment and hurt. “I don’t like to see you like this.” “Nor do I find pleasure in being such a… way.” There were too many words that could fill that gap - angry, upset, sad, frustrated, vengeful, hurt - but the storyteller would opt for obscurity this eve maybe she ought to tell Angela exactly where she was mentally, how emotionally destroyed she’d been when she’d been locked unground with no chance of Angela even being capable of keeping her promise, of…. Of being thrust back into a nightmare when the only thing of heven that had ever meant anything to her still ran free. There was another heavy, tired sigh released and Sera’s posture slumped a bit in her seat, just enough to make it seem like their hands coming in contact was an accident. What clearly wasn’t an accident was how Sera wouldn’t remove herself from the contact before beginning to speak again. “It would appear that your family is making themselves quite comfortable here. Have you thought to interact with them more?” There was a beat before Sera would press forward, talking about a topic that she had no personal investment in allowed the facade of lacking troubles to be ever present. “The Thor I spoke mentioned that Frigga had… Passed.” Only then would Sera turn her head to look over Angela. “I know your relations with the Asgardians proper has been disheveled at best, and murderous at worst, but if there is anything you wish to engage in as a final… Send off. I do not believe it would be thought ill of by the rest of Odin’s….” The hand not comfortably resting against Angela’s gestured passively in the air with a turn of her wrist. “Collection.” Because what else was there to say? And collection sounded much nicer than hoard as well, even if the latter were likely more true of labeling than not. Her family. That was always a fraught topic, given that the first time she had attended a proper gathering at the palace on Asgard, she had ended the frivolities by kidnapping her newborn sister with the intent of throwing her into an ever-burning furnace. Most of her relatives here were unaware of that incident, of course, or the fact that Laussa was just as unscathed as Angela had planned for, but she had still had a very different upbringing than theirs. And while, yes, her mother was safe and well in her own version of the Ten Realms, she had been surprised at how hearing of her death had affected her. A woman she had never really met, and who may never have given birth to another Angela-- no. If she had existed in that world, she would likely have both lived and died as Aldrif. She gave herself permission to look directly down at Sera, who had slumped down enough that a shift of position would almost have her cuddling into Angela’s side. “If she were struck down by an army I would destroy them to the last warrior--” (there was no need to describe the blood bath that had ensued when Sera was taken from her, but a certain weight to her words said that she was not speaking in hypotheticals) “--but you know I am not good at remembrances. I am not sure they would understand, if they thought me to be… unaffected.” Her voice was low, as though even in the otherwise empty lodge she did not wish to be overheard in her confession. There were few who understood the level of control she maintained, and exactly what it had the potential to cost her at times. The habits of an Asgardian lifespan did not change in a mere few years. “Yet that particular scenario is naught, and we are left with the troubles, frustrations and pains which we currently endure regardless of our personal preferences or ease of understanding and handling of such, lo-.... Angela.” The hand which had been left resting against Angela’s tensed for a moment, almost as if the words Sera had spoke had hurt herself in some manner or another before the muscles in her hand were forcibly relaxed. “You are not skilled in remembrances, yet I can fathom a million ways we could attempt with food and song and a flaming send off, if you so wish.” There was another pause. “Thor seems particularly troubled. It may be a point with him for which you could connect.” Eyes shifted, lingering down to visually inspect their hands resting against each other for a moment before her gaze turned away, and the side of her hand was used to press against Angela’s. Hinting it was the other woman’s turn to take action now if she were going to take one at all. “I could speak with him.” A beat. “Arrange something of a send off for you both. He seems quite torn.” Everything in her tone and words said this was an action for Angela, with Thor’s feelings simply riding on the coattails of the motions she’d take if Angela spoke of this as a personal want. “Bonding with your kin - while they are a strange and brutish sort, Thor no better than a common jestering beautiful blonde buffoon from what I have witnessed, and Loki a misguided narcissist - may not be an ill advised pursuit for assisting in your adjustment to this new land if we are trapped here as I have been informed.” Because as much as everything hurt, and Sera still felt pained many levels over, she did care. More than she wished she did, but she did. Besides, speaking like this? It… Almost made her feel normal. Almost. Not completely yet, but… She was getting there. Slowly, very slowly, but just…. Being around Angela helped. Being in the same space as her. On the same seat. Touching… But Angela was her greatest source of might, and simultaneously her most majestic downfall. It was easier to lay her hand atop Sera’s if she didn’t allow herself to think about what she was doing, simply let her body speak for itself. It felt natural to be touching her, something she’d been missing for more than just the last week and a half, and even that small contact eased her feeling of wrongness enough to be able to pay more attention to what Sera was saying. “No doubt he is planning to chase Loki down. Perhaps when they return…” However long that took. The Loki she knew, at least, was quite adept at slipping out of tight spots, and though they did seem to be more restricted in their destinations or manner of travel in this realm, she suspected he would still be able to give Thor a run for his money. “I always did prefer him to Thor, though it remains to be seen whether this one shares the same humour.” For a moment she contemplated the little she’d seen of him so far; it was difficult to judge a person’s character when they were attempting to disguise themselves as another, but there were still clues. It had been “Odin”’s apparent lack of curiosity about a stranger claiming to be his daughter that had convinced her something was not as it seemed, after all, and that led credence to Sera’s description of him as a narcissist. But then, perhaps it was natural to focus on your own trouble when you feared exposure. “I see no reason we cannot invite all three for food and drinks.” There was a consideration given to the notion of Thor hunting Loki down. That seemed like it was likely to cause a great many problems for the people of this land if the two got into an altercation in front of anyone. The story would be amazing to retell to others though. It was the sort of thing that could ring through taverns over ale and hunks of cooked meat. That story would likely have a worth in trade if she could find the right person to buy it. “He always did seem the much more sensible of the two.” Sera confirmed regarding a preference for Loki’s humors to Thor’s. If either of those boys could actually be classified as sensible was an entirely different beast of a conversation that was not for tonight. And as this continued on? The longer they spoke? The more Sera would seem to relax, the more the edge would be lost from her tone and posturing to the point that fingers would shift, splaying apart so that Angela’s fingers could interlace between her own. “If that is what you wish, then I’m certain we could arrange it easily enough.” The we dropped into the sentence was more habitual than intentional as Sera found herself slipping back into that comfortable space between the two of them more and more as they spoke. There was a near instant pang of annoyance with herself, but that would be shrugged off. At least she’d try until another thought struck. “If you expect my magic to be able to sustain food and drink for four Asgardians then we are bound to have a grave disagreement upon our hands.” The words held a bit of edge to them, a challenge to not test exactly what she could get away with for now. The truth of the emotions however was still much more deeply rooted in the underlying soreness harbored for their situation as a whole. How dare Angela break that promise, how dare Angela just swoop in and make her feel this way while also feeling betrayed, how dare Angela just….. How did Angela always do this to her? “I’m sure it can be purchased.” Angela had not bothered yet to seek employment; with the lodge here, there were were enough valuables on hand to pay for what she needed without her having to turn herself into some manner of serving maid or hired guard. If they had been in one of the larger cities of Midgard she might have been more willing to look into what was available, but she could hardly imagine anything wanting doing here in Tumbleweed that would be a suitable match for her. A thought occurred to her, then, a memory of when they had been attempting to outrun Thor and Heimdall on their way to bring Laussa to Heven to burn Surtur’s influence out of her. It had really been Malekith by her side of course, though in constant communication with Sera where Hela had her trapped in her dungeons. Angela had wondered many times whether things could have been done differently, if she could have worked things out sooner and gone for Sera before dealing with Laussa. Not that she could change it now. “There is a store here that sells nothing but ice cream. I am certain it is one of the best foodstuffs Midgard has created. Have you seen it?” She would not admit that she had spent an entire afternoon there some weeks back, trying every flavour that they offered. “Then it shall.” Sera would offer firmly in response to the concept of the food stuffs and drinks being purchasable. The shift of facial features and clear tonal displeasure should be enough that even someone of Angela’s restrictions ought to catch on. She was not back from the dead in order to play house wench for the rest of eternity, and while she doubted Angela would ever hold that expectation for her it was better clearly stated. A vague disclaimer never assisted anyone. This next line of questioning though? About foodstuffs and what she had or hadn’t witnessed in her time. Eyes shifted, looking over Angela’s ribbons to see what tell type of poker like tell they may give off in regards to the other woman’s real deeper feelings about the stuff. At the exact same time her mind searched itself, trying to find any mention of the…. Oh. “Through the eyes of Malekith.” Because it was the honest answer she had for Angela. The last time she’d seen anything like ice cream was not with her own eyes, and it was during the time that Angela hadn’t a clue of her real location as well…. It stung. “You were quite fond I recall.” The words came out smaller, a pained yearning littering them as eyes fell away from Angela and her ribbons again while fingers loosened but didn’t remove from the other woman’s grasp. Sera was right; her change in mood did not escape Angela. She struggled with her own emotions, both in allowing herself to simply feel them and in expressing them to others, but she wasn’t completely blind to the feelings of others. Particularly not those she was invested in, and Sera would always be that. “You do remember.” If someone listened very, very carefully and was in possession of a little bit of imagination, they could almost believe that there was a hint of something in her tone. Certainly her ribbons showed a subtle difference in their movement, drawing inwards slightly. Most wouldn’t have noticed; to those who did, it would likely be unclear whether it was an indication of protectiveness, or guardedness, or melancholy. “Leah, too?” How much of what they had shared had come to pass so far? No doubt if she knew Leah at all it would be as a tentative or potential ally more than someone who had become a strange sort of family, but Angela still found herself wanting the answer to be yes, as though it would be another connection to strengthen the link between them. “Of course I do.” The words held an annoyance to them, a frustration. How could Angela think she not care to remember, how dare Angela think she not…. “Of course I remember.” These words were softer in volume and tone. Something a bit more emotionally soft, more vulnerable. “I always remember these things when they come to you.” Fingers tightened, actually shifting more into firmly holding hands with Angela instead of simply letting their hands rest against each other, and only a brief glance would be cast at the physicality now shared between them before thoughtful eyes turned away. “Leah too.” Sera confirmed, a slight nod of her head accenting the point of agreement. The handmaiden of Hela was an interesting sort, and at least she had been able to physically interact with the other woman instead of just watching all of events with Angela through Malekith’s eyes. “The length at which mythos sometimes takes itself literally with Hela having a maiden made of her own hand is laughable at times.” And really, it was. “Though it is details of that sort that truly make a story more interesting than not, wouldn’t you agree?” The hurt was evident, and for a moment the corner of Angela’s mouth might have twitched downwards slightly, trying to consider her words to explain what she meant without making things worse. She was off-kilter, too used to them being on the same page, to Sera being able to see into the depths of her. “I did not think you had forgotten. Only that I was unsure whether it had yet occurred. The disparate timelines are… disconcerting.” It was something she’d have to narrow down, later. Revisit her own memories to remember in what order everything had happened to match against Sera’s position. A small sigh escaped, but she turned in towards her a little more as though the rest of the room - let alone the rest of the house or the town itself - didn’t exist. “Hela is ever-dramatic, and lacks the creativity to make it tolerable. I suppose she reflects her realm in that way. Perhaps she finds that providing fodder for tales is a better contribution to any other she can offer.” She wanted to voice an assurance that at least the witch was quite out of reach in Helheim, but with two Lokis and a Thor already present in this realm she knew that it was not entirely impossible that Hela too might appear, and though she was not afraid to make extravagant promises on occasion she at least tended to keep them to the violently achievable. “I am familiar with the world and events of our adventures and missions until my… End. From there it was your ventures with Malekith which I had much insight to in order to be able to feed him the appropriate phrases and responses while with you. In fact, you had even found him out.” Her explanation was simple, there were no extra words or plays of tongue used in this which showed a level of comfort, a level of calming down since she was no longer attempting to use verbal barbs against the other woman right now. “That is to say, in short: Anything you may recall of our adventures up until finding Malekith out I should also know.” Maybe that would be enough clarification, hopefully it would. She was becoming terribly exhausted of this conversation. Angela’s assurance seemed to press Sera into a place of consideration. There was still a lingering displeasure a frustration and upsetness that could not be properly rectified because the perfect solution had been robbed from them both. “Tell me…” There was a consideration again as her phrased temporarily dropped off for a moment, eyes pensive. “Tell me the story of how you rescued me from Hela’s grasp? How my chainmail bikini clad savior conquered both Hela and my own death.” Even though what she said was technically a question it felt like a statement, perhaps even bordering on a command. This was the last grasp she could make, a grand gesture of how maybe she could get over herself And this in one foul swoop and they both could move on with their lives. Angela was not a storyteller, traditionally. She had little sense of the minor details that would best add flavour and had little talent for wordplay. No one knew this more than Sera though, who had spent so much time attempting to improve her literary instincts through exposure. It was unlikely she truly expected Angela to do real justice to the events, but it still took her a few moments to attempt to gather her thoughts, to try to find the best way to explain. “Hela… ruled harshly, and made few friends. Leah told me of the three trials required to gain enough power to challenge her even in her own realm. She said that Hel is memory.” Memory and confusion and regret, a place where a person could review their greatest sins in excruciating detail, experience again their lowest lows. “The first trial was fear. The creature Draugr sought to mire me in a trap of my own memories. The day you died.” She glanced down at Sera for a moment, her very lack of expression betraying the tight control she required to rein in the emotions the recollection brought her. Though she had broken free - a fear that lay in the past, after all, held less power than one yet to come, and she had already lived that moment and suffered the aftermath - it still haunted her. Likely always would. “The second trial was chaos. We sought an army of angels, to build an uprising. To win them over I fought one of their warriors in single combat. Forcing her to yield, showing mercy without gain and solving a problem without killing proved sufficient in time to mount a successful defense against Hela’s champions. My brothers Balder and Tyr, the executioner Skurge, and my grandfather Bor who is as vile as the stories paint him. “Finally the third trial. Pain. A life lived in which we did not meet.” She swallowed; she had no details to offer, here, or none that she knew how to recount with the gravity they deserved. Proof that without Sera she was nothing, a flawed force of nature, powerful and without purpose. In the end the only commentary she offered was a soft, “You were still glorious, of course. Nothing could contain you.” The only conclusion to be reached was that Angela herself had not been. “Fear, chaos and pain. I bound them to my will, harnessed their power to challenge Hela, stole her crown and bound her in chains. For their aid, I created an afterlife for our people so that no angel would fall again into Hel. Leah I freed, and you… you, I gave life. A long life, beginning in New York with Leah as our ward and Balder as my regent.” It was not, perhaps, a story well-told, but it possessed a satisfying ending. Heroes triumphant. Debts repaid. Justice prevailing. The fact that Angela wasn’t a storyteller was the exact reason why Sera had asked her to recant the tale. It was easy to fall into their standard game of Sera’s passive manipulation, with Angela simply following along. This would show two things: If Angela’s creativity had increased any - unlikely - and secondly any strange or unusual twists that were in the story would add to its validity of what Angela had actually done. Not to mention the recanting of the story would show some sort of feelings from her Asgardian lover that Angela had actually been invested in them at all. She knew different but being left in the dark had…. Caused an insecurity or two. Eyes searched over Angela’s features and ribbons as she spoke. The two combined always revealed far more about her partner than Angela likely enjoyed. If it was a tightening of features, or a flicker of ribbon there was an emotional story - as emotional as the hunter got - all there between the lines. As much as it was in her nature to speak, and carry on extensively, and fill the silence between herself and Angela in this moment Sera silenced herself. The only action she’d take would be letting her other hand come to rest lightly on the other woman’s forearm so that fingers could softly caress and sooth as Angela continued to speak. The other woman’s attempt at reconstructing the tale? It proved everything Sera had suspected. The fact that everything largely played out as she expected with Angela’s telling - even if she didn’t expect the story’s plot to be what it had - brought an instant soothing balm and a touch of remorse to the mage’s mind. “You are through it now, defeated and dead are the trials three of pain, chaos and fear.” What else was there to say? Sera had her answers, the story of Angela coming for her was true. The other woman wasn’t creative or imaginative enough to come up with a story like that, and it wasn’t exactly a simple tale even if Angela had presented it so. The hand that had laid upon Angela’s arm slid up in a soothing motion - increasing their contact - before Sera patted gently at it. There would be a pause before the bard would lean in briefly before raising from her seat to stand before Angela partly bent forward to assure they were eye to eye. “It sounds as though the knight has rescued the damsel, made amends with the gods that had been angered and is finally deserving of her rightful reward after such a hard war won.” A smile would emerge even if it was faint due to the wear and tear she’d been under as of late. “Is ice cream this champion’s choice of reward?” Who would have thought that radical honesty would be the solution to the tension that had been thick between them? It was likely, though, that it would not have been received earlier - there were some wounds that needed to be nurtured a little before they could begin to heal. It was something that you couldn’t help but learn when you lived as long as Angels and Asgardians. Age made patience a more common, if not universal, trait. Relaxation removed the tightness from around her mouth, but the more obvious change to those who knew her well would be the slowed movement of the ribbons as they extended their reach to include Sera in the range of their swirls. “You said something like that before,” she recalled. She couldn’t remember precisely, only a brief conversation about saving the day and winning the girl. It was only the word reward that had reminded her, really. “Ice cream it must be, I think, for as I said then, you are more than a prize. Certainly more than a damsel.” Angela was hardly a stranger to dramatic proclamations - her smack-talk could be truly something to behold at times - so for all her stoicness and emotional restraint, it wasn’t out of character for her to come across as outright besotted in her speech. It was a habit that really only got worse when she was flummoxed or insecure. A rare event, but one that always seemed to involve Sera somehow. As much and often as Angela was cold, there was something within the encirclement of her ribbons that always made Sera warm. Maybe it was just the weird, complimentary chemistry they always seemed to have that kept them a team, a unit, an unstoppable force when together that could overcome any obstacle it faced. Apparently, even death after the story and situation had been revealed and explained. With those thoughts, with this situation, and the burden relieved from her shoulders of distress and betrayal…. Sera would lean forward, invading Angela’s personal space more as a sly smile began to spread across her lips. Clearly, there was another plan now in mind. Something more playful, and perhaps just a touch seductive. Eyes rolled up to meet the other woman’s with a flirty bit of brightness clear in them. “If ice cream is all you want of a reward than I am certain we can assure it’s acquisition. However, if there is some other act or obtainment that may be a more favored I believe now is your time to speak before one's tongue must be held, my love.” Sera was exquisite like this. Maddening sometimes, but in a way that she surely knew Angela didn’t really mind at all. Enjoyed it, even. “I would like you to move into my room.” It wasn’t the flirtation that Sera probably expected, but it was the truth - and it encompassed that, too. She was tired of sleeping alone. She wanted her there, at night, in the morning, to talk quietly in the dark, to have sex, to keep her feet warm. If it was more than what Sera was ready for she wouldn’t argue, she’d always been a hopeless case when it came to giving Sera what she wanted, but if she could have anything? Yeah, that was what she’d go for. Not that that meant she couldn’t flirt as well. “Then perhaps my tongue can be held or not at your convenience. You are ever so talented with yours, after all.” There was a quirk of eyebrow, a tick of mouth muscles that flicked her lips into a wicked half smirk. It was almost hilarious how reversed the power dynamic played between them in reality compared to what others may expect between Heven’s mightiest Angel and a position deserting Anchorite. “Would you?” The question was an intentionally loaded one, her tone and volume teasing something crossed between seduction and provocation as she remained leaned in. The distance between them would be easy to close, but Sera hadn’t entirely made up her mind if she wanted to be the one to cross it or not. Even if she did think it was one that ought to be crossed. Angela’s retort and continued flirtation caused a soft laughter to slip out. “Am I to choose if your tongue is held or not before or after our heroines have traversed the grand wilds of these lands to retrieve the aforementioned foodstuffs?” There would be a passive wetting of lips as eyes slipped down over Angela’s form with the very obvious intention of reveling in the gorgeous rippling muscles and lean build of her lover. “If there is no preference you wish to voice, I would be pleased to interject my own desire upon the matter.” Only with the last word would her eyes rise to meet Angela’s once again. With the proof of Angela’s story - the stiff telling and details the hunter could never have come up with on her own - Sera had been left the emotional bandwidth to process and accept the other feelings that had lingered as well. Those feelings? That complex mesh of interaction of emotions and thoughts? Well, with the negative largely now removed there were plenty of other lovely positive notions that could clog up her head. How she missed Angela, how she longed to touch and feel her, how wonderful it was to be alive, and all the other sensations and joys that came with being alive and with the person who meant the most to you. Even the touch of Sera’s admiring gaze warmed her. It would probably be wisest to bring some ice cream back to the house, ideally to eat later, but it hadn’t only been since she’d been here in Tumbleweed that they’d been apart. She didn’t like to think about how the Badoon had managed to take her unawares even though, given how comprehensive the security on their prison had been, it had clearly been quite impressively pre-meditated, but she didn’t need to dwell on it to resent the time it had taken. With the possibility as having things back as they had been, even the walk to the shop and back seemed an inconvenience. But; “and what is your desire?” she asked, reaching to touch the fall of her hair, because Sera’s ideas were usually good ones and she couldn’t deny that hearing her say what she wanted was an addictive thrill. So much of her life had been about debts and ledgers and payments, and while that would undoubtedly remain a huge part of her, that Sera could simply decide she wanted something and say so when she’d been raised even more strictly than Angela had was something she envied. Angela had been shaped by her environment, something all too obvious when she was around other Asgardians. But Sera had shaped her environment to herself. As much as things could be an utter calamity of chaos, a complete maddening mayhem, an stupendously muddled mess, a horrific hoopla of horrible heathens…. Wait. Wasn’t that generally what Sera attempted to cause after leaving the shackles of Heven? Well, maybe not complete chaos, but a healthy dosing never hurt anyone. At least, not anyone she cared about which really that was all she sought in most instances and interactions. As long as Angela and herself were safe, as long as they could get around and accomplish whatever it was they had set out to do, as long as…. The slight sly smile shifted into something warmer when the hunter reached out to touch. There would be no attempt or even a single notion of shying away at all. While she wasn’t entirely certain she wanted to press into it - she did, but not yet - Angela advancing any affection was quite welcome. “As you have foregone your option for preference, then it is left for the court of the minstrel to decide.” Because clearly if the other woman was asking what she desired then this whole game was starting to be left within Sera’s very own grasp. Yet, this was a game, something she could twist and wind and make mischief with, and that could never be left to chance. That was why eyes lingered from Angela’s eyes, following down over strong jaw, and as they trailed down the other woman’s neck Sera would lean in close enough so that she could easily be heard, even at the whispering volume she’d taken to. “My decree of election falls within the appropriate confines of both.” Because when given two obvious options, why not attempt to covet them all? Angela did smile at that, the briefest hint of an expression that was rare on her face - though slowly becoming a little less so. This world was not her own, not even the one she had been starting to learn, and the restrictiveness of having to hide those things which made her not human rankled, but she thought that it might not be so terrible. There was Sera, and one brother who knew her, one who accepted her, and one who… well, things would develop with Loki or not. Oh, yeah, and Sera, precious enough to mention twice. “If that is your desire, then it shall be both.” She kept her voice low and promising, lifting Sera’s hand to press kisses against her skin. “It shall be everything. You’re the ideas woman after all, so you need only lead the way.” And such wonderful ideas she had, too. Oh, she’d gotten a smile. This only drove the whimsical feelings beginning to perpetuate within her. Normally when it came to Angela the bard would more likely to look to the other woman’s ribbons for emotions, for tells and signals to how she felt, but a smile? Oh no. There was no need for that here. Even the faintest smile meant a world of things from Angela. If Sera had had her own ribbons they would have danced and rejoiced, happily flipping about in a sort of frolic. Alas, the minstrel would have to make do without. Thankfully, that didn’t seem a particularly difficult challenge considering the circumstances they now were in. The look on her own face softened as fingers tightened while holding Angela’s hand before Sera would lean in attempting to place a feather soft kiss - one that barely touched at all - against the hunter’s cheek before dropping her voice to a more alluring tone. “Then I expect you to deliver.” |