As the Dust Settles | Open(ish) RP
Hela stiffened as Odin materialized, a hot flush of fury creeping over her, but she clenched her fists and breathed, forcing it back. Loki, Pepper, and Pepper’s family – their well-being was more important.
She placed her hand back on Pepper’s shoulder. “Everything will be all right,” she said, keeping her voice gentle. “I promise, Pepper. Tell me what you need, and I will help you.”
Loki, even as the Odin-spelled sleep claimed him, cried out as he was touched and lifted—but moments later he was deep in dreaming, far beyond the conscious reach of pain.
Jane watched – again, it was more like she stared – at everything going on around her. Thor had asked for bandages, which she could absolutely get, but she was torn between running to get them and waiting to see if anything else was needed.
There were a lot of things that were needed right now, but she couldn’t really get many of them. For now, she’d stick to bandages.
“I’ll get Happy, Pepper,” she said. “You worry about yourself and Tony.” She was stepping out of the room again before she could say anything else, running off to call Happy – his number had to be somewhere, right? – and get whatever she thought might be useful or helpful, but she didn’t think there was much she could get at the moment.
Odin materializing before them shocked even Sif, who in all her many years had never seen the All-Father appear seemingly out of nowhere. She blinked, remaining on her knees out of respect or sheer amazement, she could not have said. Her torn cloak lay forgotten in her trembling hands.
It would be alright. The golden glow was a boon, a literal Godsend. She felt herself breathe again and finally, finally, slouched where she sat, limp.
Thor had just begun to protest JARVIS’ words when Odin’s golden glow enveloped them and Loki was lifted away from him. His mouth fell open in pure shock, eyes going wide as he looked up at his father. Relief flooded him just as the godly glow flooded the room, along with the sharp tang of something deeper as he witnessed Odin lift Loki’s beleaguered form into his arms. He pushed himself to his feet, swallowing thickly. ”Father…”
After the standoff in the small shop Frigga had hurried outside just as Loki had reappeared alone and taunted the two men. She had been lost in the confusion and left behind as Heimdall and the Man of Iron ran (or flew) towards the big tower she had been welcomed in.
The crowd of people had been quickly dispersed by what she assumed were this world’s guards. The men in blue cam up to her, hands raised holding some sort of grey oddly shaped piece of metal pointed at her. Seeing her being just as confused and distressed as the previous onlookers, they had taken her in.
She had asked to be taken to the tall tower but they had refused calling it a “danger zone”. They would not listen to reason and not even a few minutes later some men dressed in suits similar to Loki’s had requested her accompanying them. Something felt off and she felt the lie as they promised to take her to the tower.
Summoning her magic and with great effort she had slipped into the shadows and melted away from them. Unfortunately all she could muster was barely a few blocks.
As they stared searching for her she ran as fast as she could trying to take the most direct path to the building her son was in.
She had to change paths and dodge the would-be captors pursuit many times, all the while new signs of abuse showing in the tower’s upper levels whenever she could chance a glance at it.
Eventually reaching the Stark tower she almost stumbled into more men in dark suits and was forced to further drain her magic by making herself unseen while she weaved her way between those great metal steeds… cars and trying not to bump into the plethora of Midgardians.
Shifting through the walls also weakened her, but she would not allow obstacles.
The mechanical traveling room took her as far up as it deemed safe, the rest Frigga would foot by herself.
Exhausted and slightly panting, the Queen reached into the disaster of a room which was left after the battle. Leaning on the ashen remains of a wall she dreaded the worst. She was too late. The only thing she caught was a fading glimpse of Odin’s golden magic and Thor’s word.
“Where…” her voice was shallow and strained.
Odin hardly heard Thor’s voice, or anyone else’s—everything around him seemed muted, faded from his sight except the battered body pressed close to his chest. With a hesitant hand and an unreadable expression his face, he wiped away the bloodied tear streaks from the eyes of his boy—his boy, for in his arms, though broken and bruised, Odin could not help but see the babe he had rescued from the cold winds of Jotunheim so many years ago as he poured warmth over his flesh. The protective spell never wavered, though Odin knew this one could only be a temporary relief from the damage Loki had suffered.
He looked down at his feet where Sif knelt, and forced his throat to utter a single command, simple and urgent, but masking a well of something deeper he would not allow to be released.
“Lead,” he ordered.
