InsaneJournal

Tweak says, "not enough, not nearly enough."

Irene Adler (makethembeg) wrote in wariscoming,
@ 2012-01-08 17:45:00

Entry tags:

irene adler, thor

Who: Irene Adler and whoever turns up!

What: The Woman arrives

Where: A Lawrence street

When: Evening of the 8th

Rating: TBD (It's Adler, so there'll be sexual/bdsm references if nothing else)

Status: In Progress

The woman was at least two turns from Baker Street by now, so she stopped and leaned against a wall, furiously fighting back the tears and fear that threatened to overwhelm her. She wasn't entirely sure which direction she'd walked in, but it didn't really matter - nowhere was safe, except maybe around him, and that was the last place she wanted to be.

She'd been stupid, so stupid, and she knew it – that was the worst part. He was right, she loved to play games, and the delicious thrill of using something so very obvious, so out of character had tempted her until she couldn't resist.

Temptation was within her trade though, so she should have known better - how many men and woman had she brought to their knees (literally in some cases) with a tantalizing smile and a riding crop dangling casually from one hand. A smirk teased the corner of her mouth as she thought of it. Then she remembered the cold, hard look in his eyes when he'd oh-so-slowly unlocked her phone, and it faded as quickly as it appeared. 'Know when you've been beaten', as her website said, and she did. Oh, she did.

Turning her head to rest her cheek against the wall, taking a deep breath, she let the rough feel of the stonework steady her. Concentrating on it, letting sensation rule for a second. Just long enough to rein in her emotion, to work out her next move. She closed her eyes and exhaled slowly, calmly.

Then the sensation changed, and she tensed, unnerved. Stone couldn't suddenly smooth itself, change its texture. Opening her eyes hesitantly, she suppressed a gasp as she took in the street in front of her. This....this was not London.

A split second of panic, then she quelled it ruthlessly. How could this happen? Drugs...no. She knew every chemical way to knock someone out and there was nothing that could do it this quickly and seamlessly. Then...was she hallucinating? Not normal for her, but again, a drug could do it. But there was no one who could have drugged her....Sherlock wouldn't, she knew that instinctively, and Mycroft was not that subtle.

The breeze made her shiver and she realised that where ever she was, it was cooler than London. The glitzy dress and tiny bolero she was wearing were not made for this weather. Which made her next step simpler – forget about working out how she got her, and move onto where here was – and if there was a warm place she could take advantage of.

Taking a moment to make sure her make up was still ok, and checking her phone was still with her (her secondary phone, she thought bitterly, but better than nothing) she glanced around, noting anything could tell her where she was.

A parked car, left hand drive. And another. License plates not English – not the UK then. All the street signs in English. Two fast food places – McDonalds, which could be anywhere, and...Chick-fil-A? What a ridiculous name...a 7-11. Almost definitely America then. And a newspaper, crumpled but still legible, a few feet from her. Which, having moved closer, told her she was in Lawrence, Kansas.

Where she knew no one. No one at all. She leant against the wall again, not caring now that it wasn't a London wall. At least here, she had some chance of staying safe. Now though.

She needed a plan.

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thunderhippie
2012-01-09 03:12 am UTC (link)

Thor wasn’t used to this. He was used to being significantly more active than this. Back home, the world was his to protect, by dint of his choice and his father’s mission for him. Back home, if the Morningstar chose in his arrogant folly to rise up and attempt to consume the world in his fire, he would be met by the thunder and the lightning. The apocalypse of the celestials held no fear for Thor, not because he would not be swept up in it, but because he was already witness to his own. Ragnarok came and went in the year the mortals knew as 1939, and while it was the end of everything Thor had known, he had learned in time that every end only made way for a new beginning. True to Balder’s words, Odin All-Father was reborn, and with it Asgard and all the power of the gods.

Here, things were different. Here, Thor could not simply resolutely plant himself in the Morningstar’s path and hold fast in furious battle. Here he could not even walk amongst the mortals publicly. Back home he was able to flit freely about and let everyone believe he was merely just another of their own genetically modified superheroes, but here there was no such thing. He could not openly aid in UN relief efforts, he could not hold speaking tours, and he had the sneaking suspicion that if he wanted any shot at getting his nearly complete manuscript published, he would have to do so under a pseudonym. That was how it had to be, Thor knew, as while this was Midgard, it was not his Midgard, and it was not his right to interfere with it on such grand a scale.

Even if a very big part of him did want to say to Hel with the rules and their butcher-beast “gods”.

It left him in an awkward position. He had family here, versions of his loved ones from other worlds like Loki and Sif, as well as connections here. People he would count as friends and, in Needy’s case, more. If it came to it, he would damn the rules and take up Mjolnir in stolid defense of the world and everyone on it. If it ever came to that, a possibility Thor both dreaded and longed for. How he hated these hidden wars, these sneaky wars, these wars that lashed him to small actions. While they certainly had their time and place, the subtle war and the cosmic rules prevented him from doing what he truly could do to aid this war. Until it was open war, he could do little more than play by the rules of the subtle war, and for a god, that might as well have been doing nothing at all.

Once, his older brother Balder the Brave – and, Thor had come to know, also Balder the Wise – had told him to have faith. It hadn’t been easy for him, certainly not after Ragnarok and the fall of Asgard, but eventually, he had unstoppered his ears and let the sense in his brother’s words reach him. He remembered those words fondly now, and girded himself against the doubts and frustrations of this world. While he understood that the Seal brought him here, he knew it could not have done so had his father not wished it. There was a reason he was here, some purpose that would make itself known in good time, and until then Thor would simply have to have faith.

Besides, he wasn’t totally useless.

Spending more time in America after joining the Ultimates had introduced him to more of American culture, and entirely by accident, Thor found himself quite enamored of the banana ice drink made by their 7-11 chain of convenience stores. They called it a Slurpee, which Thor found a little on the silly side, but the simplicity of the taste, could not fail to make him smile. It was why he had located a 7-11 near the complex almost as soon as he’d moved in, and why he routinely paid the place a visit when he wasn’t off anonymously building homes in Mexico or aiding drought-plagued villages in the various deserts of the world. This was why he was coming out of his favorite 7-11 at the right time to spot a clearly troubled woman leaning heavily against the buildings outer wall.

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