#niteswcrd

@niteswcrd​ said;  the goddess surged forward with alien speed --- horned visage evident with rage as she gripped the midgardian's neck, raising him up with the one hand as she pinned him further against the wall. " you dare! i am a god, you dull creature! " // what he do? 👀

    he should have just kept his mouth shut

    the offhanded comment is met with more rage than the ex-assassin is prepared for, hands shooting out to grasp at her hand as he’s lifted up with .. zero effort at all. that’s concerning enough as he’s pressed against the wall, struggling to get himself free. 

    he knows power -- the super soldier serum coursing through his veins isn’t just for show, but there’s entities that are otherwordly and so much more powerful and right now he’s inwardly cursing himself for getting her attention like that in the first place. 

      he’s never gotten such strange readings from someone before. it almost feels like sheer power emanating from her, and it pinches his brows together slightly before he stops himself colliding into her.  ❝ sorry-- excuse me... ❞

In the twilight of a lazy Sunday afternoon, Eden sat in his bar alone. It was typical on Sunday that the bar would scant see a patron--many people needed their burdens lifted or a place to dwell--or perhaps the bar itself was reluctant to tantalizing the common people into spilling their secrets. Not when the good people have just let out of church and synagogues -- their guilt satiated and light--at the very least it was Eden had suspected in the lack of patrons on an apparent holy day. 

The soft melodies of jazz instruments echoed in relaxing hymnals of trumpets, pianos, and mesmerizing drumming. It was his go to when he had to do the books--in which had become a ritual every Sunday evening. He sat in his own establishment in a blessed musical silence with a cigarette lit and his mind utterly focused on what he needed as far as inventory. 

This Sunday was no different, as he inhaled the alluring smoke of his cancer stick. He had promised himself that he would quit--and he nearly did once--but like most promises he made to regards of his health--it was empty. He was just about to turn the page of his ledger when the door opened; and rather easily. 

His brows furrowed a bit as he put out his cigarette, his calloused hand wharfing the smoke away quickly. 

“ Guid day.” he said without looking up. “ We got rums half off if yer interested. Or perhaps ye want somethin’ harder?” he asked and finally looked up to see a strange dressed woman. 

“ Oh.” he said and offered a charming, fox sly smile. “ Ye seem interestin’.“ he said as he crossed his arms over his chest. He could sense something from her--of what--he dare not describe. It was like looking into the abyss and finding it staring back at you. 

“ Or perhaps wine is more yer taste.” 

@niteswcrd​ S.C.

@niteswcrd​ : [  downpour  ]  receiver  finds  sender  out  in  the  rain  | nonverbal prompts. 

It was early when he found her, not quite the middle of the night but not quite the morning; he found her in the early hours, the in-between time. She stood at the cliff’s edge, soaking in the downpour from a thunderstorm that had decided to camp out above New Asgard, and while she was pointed towards the ocean, Loki had a feeling she wasn’t there for the view. 

He, of course, was awake. He always seemed to be. He’d seen her from his office windows, and had decided it was worth approaching. In his mind, they were not all that different -- shunned for what they were, their purpose not entirely understood or accepted. The worlds needed gods like them, gods of darkness and chaos, to keep things moving ever-forward.

And so the king walked up to his sister with an umbrella in hand and, ever the gentleman, lifted it above her head. 

"I’d ask you what’s got you out here in the rain, but I’ve a feeling you don’t trust me enough to answer.”