thy_enchantress (thy_enchantress) wrote in newalliance, @ 2012-09-28 02:27:00 |
|
|||
Entry tags: | [event] age swap, amora |
Who: Amora the Enchantress
Where: Hotel, NYC
When: Waaay backdated to during the Wild West Challenge during the Age Swap[
What: The Enchantress copes with being a teenager by throwing a tantrum and deciding to seduce an Avenger (who?)
Rating: PG-13 {at least)
Amora was extremely vexed with this Mojo creature who was always appearing on the television. The Enchantress was both a goddess and a supreme sorceress, and the fact that she’d been reduced to her teenage self by a guileless, bottom-feeding alien was infuriating. Such things did not happen. No one dared risk the wrath of Asgard.
That was part of the problem. Thanks to Loki and Thor’s antics, anyone on Midgard was persona non grata in the rest of the Nine Realms. Why did she stay? She could leave Loki to his scheming; leave Thor to living a life of mediocrity amongst the humans. She could forget them. Only she could not. Amora balked at the idea of Thor not claiming his rightful place on the throne of Asgard, with her by his side. And it wasn’t because she sought and glorified the position this would put her in (but she did). It was because she loved him. Love. What power did Thor have over The Enchantress’ heart?
Amora despised Thor for making her weak; for making her care. If she did not care, she would not be in this mess in the first place.
“Heimdall! Heimdall! Open the Bifrost! I canst take one more minute on this truly Godforsaken realm!” Amora pleaded with the heavens of her room. The hotel ceiling had an impressive chandelier suspended above her bed. When it became apparent that the Gatekeeper was unable to hear her pleas (or ignoring them), the Enchantress grew angry. She stamped her feet like a child, shrieked in frustration and began to make threats: “Heimdall, if thou hast ever loved me, open the Bifrost! I willst not be ignored! I am the Enchantress!”
Then and there, Amora vowed that Heimdall the Gatekeeper would regret this day.
She was in the most foul of moods. She wanted to throw something, so she did. The alarm clock went hurtling across the room, smashing into the wall and into several pieces with a satisfying crash. Of course, that soon alerted the Worm. Or maybe it had been the shrieking from before.
“Is everything alright, Miss?” asked Larry, the smitten bell-hop. Everyone was smitten with Amora, thanks to her magic and charm, but Larry had been the first to volunteer. In Amora’s mind, he was a Worm. Beneath her. Most everyone was. She was a goddess.
“No!” she snapped, and nearly snapped at him to fix it, until she thought better of it. What could he do? He was only human.
“Leave me! I do not wish to be disturbed!” Amora said dramatically, with an air of finality. Then: “Draw me a bath!”
It never occurred to Amora that she was contradicting herself.
The bewildered Larry did as he was told. The whole time, he behaved rather like an obedient puppy that yearned for its master’s affection but was afraid of punishment.
Amora dismissed him after he was done without thanks. The Enchantress had smiled at him as he left, however, indicating her approval.
She sunk into the bath, all the while thinking of her private spring lake--hidden away in the mountains of Asgard and hidden by her own powerful magic. The pulsating jets were no match for her waterfall; but when slumming it on Midgard, sometimes a girl had to make do. She wondered if Loki encountered this problem, but dared not ask. It would only lead to mockery. Or cruelty. Amora could be certain of this, because in that regard, as in many others, she and Loki were very much the same. That was why they could never truly be lovers: they were too much alike, and too likely to stab each other in the back.
She soaped herself clean and spent an inordinate amount of time massaging her scalp and lathering shampoo into her hair. Amora’s luxurious golden locks were--and had always been--a point of pride. Gentlemen preferred blondes. Amora knew that first hand... and blondes certainly had more fun. Bad girls, too.