May 31, 2012
ladyfrigga liked your post: Loki,
Ah, there you are, your Highness!
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ladyfrigga liked your post: Loki,
Ah, there you are, your Highness!
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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So this thing came in the mail today...
WHAT COULD THIS POSSIBLY BE? Please ignore my lame attempt at covering up the addresses that 90% of the internet probably already has BUT STILL.
Also the back. AVENGERS.
WHAT COULD THIS POSSIBLY BE?
BEST INVITATION EVER OH MY GOD LYN I LOVE YOUR LOKI AND THEN THERE IS THOR HE IS ALSO HERE *scream*
Dear Loki + Thor:
I will gladly invade your mortal home.
Love, Reg/Lady Frigga
ladyfrigga replied to your post: It has been suggested we campaign together for the presidency. Would you oblige me, good sir?
Averting disaster is the main goal, yes.
Then consider it done.
Thor shoulders a number of his mother's things in addition to a few of his own, keeping the overly large pile balanced with one arm against his left shoulder as he stands near the edge of Heimdall's Observatory. Unwilling to leave his father's weapon behind in anyone else's care, it peeks out from beneath the mess, clutched tightly in his hand. His right is extended towards Frigga with an inviting, eager grin. He's ready to return to Midgard, and with both realms restored to him the sorrow in his heart left in the wake of Loki's betrayal is more than eased.Â
"Ready?"Â
the taste of dried-up hopes in my mouth, and the landscape of merry and desperate drought
Heimdall alerts her to Thor’s impending return, and Frigga discards her spinning wheel immediately. She is a mess – her hair falls unbound down her back, her gown is simple and plain, and she wears no other adornments but earrings that were a gift from Odin two centuries ago. As she hurries through the halls, her heart bursting with anticipating, her stomach twisting in knots, she earns more than a few stares. It is rare that Asgard’s queen is so obvious and free with her feelings and actions, but she will not walk for this. She will not measure her steps and put on a placid, pleasant mask.
She is overjoyed. She is exhilarated. And if that is weakness, so be it: she will be weak.
Overwhelmed with nervous energy, she paces the length of Heimdall’s observatory until, in a quiet, gentle voice, the guardian suggests she stills. Even then, she laces and unlaces her fingers, combing them through her wild and curling hair. Her son is coming home.
Yet even this is tinged with sadness, for Loki is not with Thor. Loki will not be with Thor, and her heart mourns this loss. Desperately, she wants to hold both her sons. She wants to bring them into her arms like she did when they were young and small. It is an impossible thing, and she knows, like all mothers, she must let go. But just a little longer. Just a little longer.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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you were not there for me, i was unraveling
No one has told her much of anything. What little she knows of Thor and Loki has been gleaned from other conversations, and to say she is annoyed would be far too mild. But Frigga has no intention of confronting either of her sons on the matter. The situation is delicate enough without adding angry words to the mix. Instead, she dresses in a fitted tunic and trousers, binds her hair in braids about her head, and sweeps from her rooms with her sword in hand.
No one bars her path to the warriors’ training grounds, and she proceeds there swiftly, unhindered by offers of casual conversation. She is sure of the expression on her face: fierce, furious, and thoroughly annoyed. All of Asgard bows and backs away when she passes, and their silence is the mildest of balms on her upset.
She steps into the training yard and, without much thought, grabs the closest warrior by his arm and all but hauls him toward the practice ring. “Your services are required,” she says, and she immediately regrets the sharp and caustic tone. Yet her face remains as stone and she releases the warrior only when they are in the ring. Only then does she realize Asvaror is the warrior in the ring with her, and she offers him the smallest of smiles. It is, she readily admits to herself, a trifling attempt at assurance. Â
Behold, I am The Oracle! I possess the Power of Foresight!
And I have foreseen this, the future of Asgard!
And it is good.
(Disclaimer: Alicia is in no way, shape, or form The Oracle. Or, well, form she sort of is, being in a wheelchair like Barbara Gordon and all, but that's just coincidence and she's not as hot as Babs, anyway. Still, the whole "Power of Foresight" thing is total bullshit. Barbara doesn't even really have that; she's just really smart. Alicia doesn't have that trait, either.)