Thomas Jefferson Jr.

Pretty much this is your excuse to do what you want to my muse and see if you can get away with it. So go crazy! 

“Magnus! Your muffin is getting cold!” She calls before remembering that she’d promised not to mom him. Oops. “Coming!” Magnus calls back before clambering down the stairs with his bag over his shoulder. He heads into the kitchen, grabbing a muffin. “Thanks, mom. Hey T.J.!”

When Magnus steps in the room, T.J. perks up a little more and waves, not wanting to spew half-chewed muffin crumbs across the room. “Hey Magnus, what’s up?” he asks after allowing a moment to finish his bite.

“Says the boy caring a rifle on his back.” Prue replies, cold eyes studying the teen for any signs of the mist covering something up. “What are you? Because you sure as Hades aren’t mortal.” She replies, mortals passing by them and probably seeing nothing but a girl holding her phone and carrying on a conversation with a ‘normal’ teenage boy. “You’ve only got a few seconds to start spouting out the truth before I start getting violent, and trust me, the odds are in my favor. If you knew who my father was, you would know my aim is pretty much perfect long range so I’ll have absolutely no problems carving a nice sized hole in your gut. Start talking.” She says, silently counting in her head. She’d give him five seconds and that’s only if he didn’t make a move first. If he made a move first… well, she was going for the kill. She hadn’t survive away from camp halfblood this long by being sweet and charming.

The einherji took a deep breath and just got it over with. “I’m dead. I have been for a while. I’m only here from the afterlife -- I come from Valhalla -- to see the 54th Massachusetts Regiment memorial. I come and go every year, and I'm not looking for trouble here. I already died once today a century and a half ago, so if you could just...” He trailed off, waiting for her to react to everything he just said.

“Not in the present, at least.” Prue replies, her adrenaline already starting to get going. There was definitely something really off about this kid and that ‘RUN’ feeling was just screaming at her again, though just like before, she ignores it. She wouldn’t be able to get her bow fast enough if he attacked her, but that’s okay, she didn’t need a long range weapon anyway. Her dagger was stashed on her side, hidden by her jacket. Stay calm, Prue. Except it’s not her own ‘voice’ which supposedly one hears as their conscious. It was Seth’s. It was always Seth’s. Most of the time it sounded like his voice when they’d train together. He’d always been a better fight. But sometimes… sometimes it was the softest whisper, the one that gives her chills and immediately brings her back to fourteen soaked by rain and huddled in a small cave with Seth and Brooke. Brooke is asleep but she and Seth are wide awake and shivering. He’d moved close to her and wrapped his arms around her and they’d help a completely whispered conversation, so intimate in the most innocent of ways. The opportunity to kiss had been there and neither had taken it. She hated herself everyday for it. Damn it, Prue! Focus! It was Seth’s voice again, but this time she doesn’t let it distract her. Instead, she does something absolutely stupid and she pulls out her dagger.

He knew coming to Midguard was a mistake -- it practically always was -- as soon as this girl pulled a knife on him. T.J. stepped back and brought his hands up a little, tempted to reach for the bayonet attached to the muzzle of his rifle, but decided against it for now. Assuming she knew how to use it (and she looked like she did), he could be in some serious trouble if he didn’t find a way to diffuse the situation or flee before it was too late, since he wasn’t exactly planning on wounding or killing anyone on this trip. “Oh, hey. Wow, um, okay.” This trip was getting more and more memorable by the second. “Listen, I’m not looking for trouble, okay? I’m just trying to get to 24 Beacon street, and I’d rather not die on the way there, if it’s all the same with you.” If she was just some easily-spooked civilian with a dagger, hopefully she’d listen to reason -- if she was something more threatening... well, T.J. was used to fighting for his life by this point.

He’d never feared death until this very moment.

“Stay with me, Magnus. Don’t you go anywhere.”

Magnus pushes himself up off of the floor and stands, shoving his hands into his pockets as he follows after T.J.. The blond hadn’t even been to Valhalla’s library yet, hadn’t even really thought about it. He already had a shelf of books in his room and he’d been pretty busy which left him with little time to read anyway. “You have a favorite part of the library? That’s a little nerdy.” He teases lightly, trying to lighten the air between them and get himself out of his own funk. 

T.J. didn’t take Magnus’s comment personally. He knew Valhalla was the hall for fallen warriors, not fallen bookworms -- though, he supposed he was after-living proof that the two weren’t necessarily mutually exclusive. “I mean, we can do something else if you want. It was just the first thing that came to mind. Have you had the chance to explore yet? Would you rather do that?”

“Nice jacket.”

He turned to look at her head-on. T.J. hadn’t planned on giving her much thought, but she seemed... well, different from the mortals on Midguard. “I don’t know, is it?” he asked. He had never been very good at staying vague. It wasn’t until her last statement did he figure something was definitely off. He couldn’t quite figure out what, but she seemed to see that he didn’t exactly belong here anymore. “Thanks. It’s vintage.” Ordinarily, he wouldn’t mind striking up a longer and more meaningful conversation, but at the moment, he had other things on his mind; on top of that, he was trying to assess whether or not this stranger girl was less harmless mortal and more glamoured threat.

Blair didn’t know what to think when a teenage boy came rushing into the store. She raises an eyebrow from behind the counter, straightening in her seat. Please don’t let this be another runaway from the cops. “Hey, kid. You can’t hang around if you aren’t buying anything.”

T.J. was on a mission in Midguard -- no leisurely stroll to the mortal world would be worth this danger right now -- when he may or may not have busted a fire hydrant a street or two away... in front of a couple of police officers on horses. He rushed into the nearest store to get away from them, but found himself faced with another issue: he didn’t have any mortal money, but he wasn’t eager to be thrown in prison again. Out of breath and trying to stay away from the window, he looked to the lady behind the counter. “I -- please,” T.J asked desperately. He wasn’t willing to try his luck and possibly get in more trouble, but he really needed some refuge and kindness from a stranger right now.

“Hey there, friend. You alright?” Seth asks, looming over the previously unconscious teen. He had absolutely no clue who this kid was, but he was inclined to help. “What’s your name?”

The einherji didn’t remember passing out, or why. Actually, he didn’t remember a whole lot when he came-to again besides the fact that he didn’t belong here. He insisted on standing up once he felt well enough, and, to his surprise, found a young man helping him out. He was a stranger, but T.J was willing to accept the help until he could further assess the risk in it. “I -- thanks.” It took a few seconds for his vision to clear up, and for the second question to register. T.J. brought a hand to his head. “I’m Thomas. Uh -- call me T.J. Thanks, uh...?”

Normally Prue would mind her business and just carry on with her life, ignoring everything else around her. But this… this was too strange to just overlook. “Are you… is that a rifle over your shoulder?” It wasn’t just any rifle either, it looked like a Civil war era rifle and on top of that, the boy’s coat seemed to match that era as well. Could be a convention or something going on, but something in her gut told her otherwise. It told her to run away, just like she ran from everything else. She told that feeling to shut it’s ugly trap and mind it’s own damn business.

T.J. knew how dangerous it was to go to Midguard alone, but some things... some things he couldn’t get his friends involved in. He figured as long as he was back before anyone noticed he was gone, he would be fine. He hadn’t however, anticipated people stopping him on the street, asking about his weapon. Actually, he hadn’t anticipated anyone stopping him, period; not many had before. He turned to the girl and adjusted the strap on his shoulder. No one had seemed to notice before today, and if they did, they hadn’t said anything. “Uh... yeah?”

Magnus grins, deflecting another blow. “See? I knew you wouldn’t kill me.” He replies, playfully winking at the other teen just as he’s speared straight through his midsection. Ouch. The blond sputters before falling to the ground, Jack zooming over and dropping into Magnus’ left hand. 

The boy was inclined to roll his eyes, and noticed just a second too late that there was a spear headed straight for Magnus. Now he was alone, assuming Mallory and Halfborn died already -- even if they hadn’t, T.J. hadn’t seen them since the first few minutes of the battle, so them coming back again seemed a little unlikely -- though the crowd of warriors had seemed to thin out a little. He continued fighting, as an einherjar should, until the fatigue from dealing with the arrowhead still plunged into the back of his leg and intensely battling for his life for what had to have been rounding on an hour now caught up to him -- his defenses lowered and he caught an axe to the neck.

                            Werewolves,                           and Demigods,                             and Mutants,                                                                       Oh my!