stealerofthymen (stealerofthymen) wrote in marvel_united, @ 2011-07-29 23:26:00 |
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Entry tags: | enchantress |
Who: Amora the Enchantress
NPCs: Avenger fanboys
When: July 22, 2011 (backdated)
Where: Comic book shop in NYC (HQ for the Official Avengers Fan Club)
What: To learn more about her enemies, the Enchantress goes straight to the best source... fanboys! (Narrative in progress)
After agreeing upon an alliance with Loki, Amora had taken some time necessary to settle her scores in Asgard and the other of the Nine Realms where she conducted business. She did not want her sojourn on Midgard to be interrupted by Frost Giants, trolls, dwarves and their ilk... unless she invited their company, of course. She wanted to be completely devoted to Thor.
The last she did not share with Loki, who would mock her affections.
As if she needed the reminder that Thor was not hers, not now and not rightfully in the eyes of the Aesir. Again and again she was denied him, but that denial only made her want him more... only strengthened her resolve to do whatever it took. In this life, that involved learning about a group called the 'Avengers'. They were a group of 'superheroes', whatever that meant, and Thor was principal among them. Clearly, he had been the one to give the group its name.
Avenging wrongs had always been in Thor's nature, and it suited him well to do so. Amora found him most attractive after a lengthy battle from which he'd emerged victorious. Thinking of it gave her a tingle and made her long for the celebratory after-feasts, as per Asgardian tradition.
She longed for Thor, who was most decidedly not himself, merged with the human Blake. With Loki's help, Amora planned to reawaken Thor's true spirit and restore him to Godliness. To do that, though, she needed to gain more knowledge of her enemies: the Avengers.
Simply observing them was not enough.
Amora entered the comic book store that served as the base for the Official Avengers Fan Club without pausing to take in her surroundings. They did not particularly interest her. She strode straight to the back counter where payment for goods was exchanged.
"Greetings," she said, already turning on her charm.
The twenty-six-year-old male grad student manning the cash mistook Amora's Asgardian attire for a homage to the elven style as described by JRR Tolkein:
"Dude, that is the hottest COSplay ever," he breathed.
"COSplay?" Amora echoed, masking her confusion with supercilious amusement.
She had no idea what 'COSplay', but she certainly knew when she was being lusted after. She gave him a quick once-over: he was not particularly attractive. He was chubby, without any leftover boyishness that might have garnered him some pity. He had watery eyes, and a stubborn, scraggly goatee that was a pathetic excuse for facial hair. Inwardly, Amora scoffed; she was more than willing to be a fantasy in the flesh, however, if it was advantageous to her ends. It hadn't even required any work on her part, this time.
"Costume-play," answered his co-worker, who was also male and younger by a few years. Eighteen, maybe nineteen. He had potential, the goddess thought.
The Midgard way of speaking had diverged from the rest of the Nine Realms ages ago, but Amora's sway over men still came from her ability to seduce them. That did not require words, but she found that whole exercise much more entertaining for her part if they could communicate. The Enchantress was very careful to watch her words when she spoke. These were boys, fully mature in the physical respect only. They were man-Children, in need of showing what it meant to be a real man.
"An actress dost not 'play' with costumes. A good actress disappears the moment she dons another's clothes, nay? Like a spell cast."
"You're a method actress," said the one with potential.
"Aye, verily," Amora answered. She thought fleetingly of dear, sweet Marilyn. What fun they'd had! "I must stay in character. Wouldst thou like an autograph?"
The Enchantress smiled at her captivated audience with a brightness that would have had the Valkryies rolling their eyes. After a moment, she pretended to flush and ducked her head in a demure gesture. Acting was indeed a skill she counted among her best:
“Such boldness! Forgive me. It is as foreign to me as this New York metropolis! It is so big, and makes me feel so small! I do not know what to do with myself, but for acting…”
As she expected, it was they who were tripping over themselves to apologize after her display of helpless femininity.