#divinityrisen

" What does it mean, actually." mumbles Rya, still facing the decorated statue that warded the area. Words spoken with an innocent curiosity, than anything indented of ill-will.

The voice was a stranger; assuming to be accompanied by a pilgrim, a servant, perhaps another noble visiting the sacred spot, like Rya had earlier witnessed. Such rituals were absent in her life, as the goddess' presence lingered in mere name and necessary customs of her home.

Part of her is still captivated by the immortalized iconography and statues new and old, unchanged over the centuries. Unchanged those features manifest, as her gaze eventually averts towards the voice. Only the few were rumored to have the slightest chance of a direct audience. Some may have lived centuries in complete devotion, in doubt if their prayers were heard. Yet, to the serpent's fascination, they pray, maintaining hope. Someone alike to Rya, ( from a house of descending lineage, born against and severed from all current natural orders ) was THE LAST such an honor should ever grace.

The unexpected blessing freezes the noble woman on the spot. Not in awe, or in reverence: in uneasiness and insecurity, being alone before wrath so imminent and distant. And realization of the words spoken were by a divine mouth, those words weight heavy over her heart, that knows she deceits who ever gazes upon her. Only by cover, the golden haired maiden is like anyone else: a humble subject, who had come to see the sacred monument.

Serpent in the garden, is to be veiled by flowers, else repelled.

Her head lowers, as she always was taught before anyone above her rank. Is it still respect, or shame, is it covering in idea of a threat if the goddess saw through her. ( Any divine, just as well might! ) The very fear that is set in the mere presence, even when no accusations have been voiced?

Was this sense of dread, of feeling so small before someone who is believed to see through all and everything, to have power to decide of someone's mere existence, is this the very feeling of sin many spoke of ? Nothing she felt before facing the very divine power, the face of the laws of the land and nature.

divinityrisen asked: "i can't believe i just said that. it was supposed to be a secret." ( from sif )

[ ϟ ]—– It had become a rare sight, of hall and friends infused with meads and ale, and thunderer reveled in warmth and joy both, drinking in the laughter and song as greedily as the contents of his tankard.

Until words flowed freely from warrior's lips, and their meaning was sharp, unguarded, sinking into this being with a ferocity only truths ever did. Thunderer stilled, the very air around them growing weighty, and for a prolonged breath there was no retort formed or voiced, only an intent searching of her eyes as though he could catch the truth there before it fled.

Sif's voice had betrayed her intent, neither boast nor a jest, yet a raw admission pulled unbidden from her heart. Love.

A faint smile ghosted across the god's lips, sorrow and awe waging battle upon rugged features, ceruleans fixed upon her holding a flicker of joy that emerged with a spark, its presence utterly short.

' You have turned aside one that was worthy in the eyes of all of Asgard... for me?'

A faint shake of golden head brings loose strands to sway, mulled over thoughts and questions dismissed with the gesture, and voice turns softer still as attention is kept on familiar features.

' Norns, I have loved you since we were children... In silence, in shadow, in every battle we fought side by side. And you must have known this... surely you have not been that blind? Even a hint at courtship from my end was met with...'

A pause, and hand hovered for a moment before reaching for hers.

@divinityrisen's been invited to the garden...

'I used to hate seeing aerosol cans. When they first came out the guys from the docks were pulled into factories to pump the air in. Didn't last as long as it did later, but all that work, eighteen hour shifts for something to just empty out in a couple days...'

'It did mean that some of the older dock workers got good paychecks again since they took the younger ones to work the plungers to pump the air. But still... Just rough.'

“Let's hope the locals are friendly.” To Valkyrie // accepting. @divinityrisen

Far away planet, and an adventure promised— when the phone rang the night before and Carol's face appeared on the screen before her, the King knew that the day was ripe for both. The mere prospect of leaving the office for a day or two, and letting Elendil stretch his wings, was enough to accept the offer immediately.

That, and she could hardly ever say no to Marv.

The gust of wind, warm and dry, blows the hair out of her face as a soft chuckle leaves her in response to the blonde's words. Valkyrie's regular planet-hopping armour, fit for a King of New Asgard, is surprisingly comfortable even in a desert-like climate like this one. Carol, next to her, looks as good as ever.

"Like that's ever stopped you." She hums, fitting her gauntlets tighter around her wrists as she picks at the hilt of her sword and gently nudges Carol's shoulder with her own. Two of them, alone, at the outskirts of a civilization that Val has not encountered before. She still does not know the real reason behind the late night call, and an early morning departure, but she lets Carol stay silent about it until she's ready to disclose.

"And if not— it won't be the first time we get in trouble for your... notoriety." Another smile, and eyes peel away from Carol and towards the nearest building.

The first thing Torunn notices as she drifts back toward consciousness is the rough, scratchy fabric beneath her fingertips. It drags faintly against her skin when she shifts, unfamiliar and uncomfortable.

Then comes the sound, a continuous beeping that cuts through the fog in her head.

Her breath catches. For the last thing she remembers is the alley, the cold, the fear, the dark figure, the dizziness creeping in. A flicker of panic sparks in her chest as the realization settles in, she’s been moved.

Her eyes don’t open straight away, but her body tenses, every instinct sharpening despite the lingering heaviness in her limbs. The air smells different too, cleaner and sharper, almost clinical, which only makes her pulse quicken.

After what feels like a lifetime, her eyes finally manage to open, only for Torunn to flinch at the harsh brightness overhead. The light burns, sharp and unforgiving, and she squeezes her eyes shut again with a soft, pained wince.

A few slow breaths.

Then she tries again.

This time, she blinks rapidly, vision swimming as she forces her eyes to adjust. Shapes begin to form through the blur, white walls, muted colours, unfamiliar equipment and unoccupied chairs. The steady beeping she heard before syncs with the flicker of a monitor beside her bed.

And just like that, it clicks. She's in a hospital room.

She tries to sit up, needing to look for her parents, but instantly regrets it. Pain hits her from two different places at once, her head and her left arm, forcing a sharp hiss from her lips. The sudden intensity makes her abandon the attempt and she quickly sinks back down onto the bed.

Instinctively, Torunn reaches up with her other hand and touches her head, feeling the bandage wrapped around it. Then she glances down at her left arm, noticing the IV line connected to it, fluids steadily running through the tube.

The young blonde reaches over and unscrews the IV, and disconnecting herself, along with the leads that were connecting her to the monitor, before pushing up into a sitting position again. She bites down hard on her lip, trying to ignore the pain as it flares through her body. The overwhelming urge to get out of here, to find her parents, drives her to push through it.

She throws the covers off and shifts toward the edge of the bed, hands moving to the side rails. With a strained breath, she tries to force them down, but they don’t budge.

"Come on... Come on!... Just let me out!"

Sure, no one could see him up here but even before... whatever this was started happening he had made his suit with his own needs in mind. It was something he'd more or less adjusted to, but the initial spider bite had dialed up his senses to a degree. Not like this though. And webs that came out of his arms had not been part of the initial package either- unlike another Peter he'd met a few years ago.

"What is going on- why now?" he muttered to himself- unsure if he wanted to pace or sit or just collapse again. He'd had these powers for years now. Why all these sudden changes?

It was not even a little bit hard to break into Steve Rogers' home. She would have thought that an Avenger would have better security, but that apparently was not the case. Unfortunately, his lack of decent security system meant that he was not alerted to her presence—not that he would have been, in any case, but a bit of a challenge would have been nice—and Yelena had to wait for him to return. So she made herself comfortable and waited.

And waited.

And waited. Searched through the contents of his cupboards and fridge, went to the grocery store, bought a box of macaroni (and some hot sauce), returned, and cooked it—that was how long she had to wait. She was stirring the processed cheese powder in when the door eventually opened.