milliways_bar | (no subject)

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It has been...a time, since last she entered. As the mortals count it that time may have been long. It is a blink of her bad eye, in a way. For her, it is easier to stay outside, to walk with Baldur the Beautiful as the season turns from warmth and light to the bone-aching chill of winter.

She ducks as she enters from the lakeside door, golden-blond braids scraping the floor and skirts tangling around the left leg, which fails to step cleanly or easily counter time with the right.

She has, again, fallen out of the habit of speaking much; only to Baldur and only when they remember to. For her the fact that he is there is enough, and Hel has never been grand with words.

She straightens, and allows the living eye to skip across the patrons. Fifteen feet tall, this half-dead goddess, and like a willow-tree battered by the ages; the one side slender and supple, the other side withered and rough.

Her left hand, gloved, she trails over Bar and in return a mug of appropriate size filled with a spicy scented cocoa appears. She nods, slightly, in thanks and then makes her way to a spot near the fire with rolling, mis-matched steps.

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"Holy crap, you're tall."

Steph is all :o! at her.

Hel's first reaction is best explained as "..." and after some few seconds she says,

"Yes. I am."

Mortals. Go figure.

"No, like, seriously tall," Steph says, gesturing with her hands to emphasise. "I mean, wow. Tall." She grins. "I mean, just in case you didn't notice."

"I am half a giant."

Her voice is faintly slurred by the fact that the left side of her face is mummified and does not move correctly,

"It could be as well said that you are tiny."

Because, really. Everyone is.

"Well, I know that," Steph says, grinning. "I mean, I'm shorter than, like, everyone. Half a giant? That's totally awesome! How come?"

She's just politely ignoring the dead half. She's lived at Milliways for over a year: she's seen weirder.

"Because my mother was a giant."

Hel has never, even at Milliways, talked to someone quite like Stephanie. She is a goddess of the dead (although Steph? Definitely not one of her kind of dead. By definition Hel doesn't get Heroes), but she's never met one so...effervescent.

"I figured that. Well, I mean, not necessarily your mom, but one of them. But, like." Again with the gesturing arms. "I mean, how tall is a giant? So, like, your dad and your mom... how did they even meet? I've never met a giant."

Steph's all bubbly enthusiasm, even when she's as tactful as a falling anvil.

"Father is a god."

It explains a lot, don't you think?

"And was a giant before he became a god. Unlike me. I was born a goddess."

He'ls expression is still fairly bemused (although only on the right side).

"Really? That's really cool!" Steph beams. "I've never met a goddess before. Well, not unless you count the one with the corkscrews and stuff, she was awesome, but she wasn't, like, huge like you. What are you god of?"

"I am Hel."

It sounds exactly like hell,

"I am goddess of the unworthy dead, those that the gods of Man choose to banish and forsake."

She says it without any form of emotional overtones; she neither hates it nor loves it. She is what she was born to be,

"...oh."

Blink. Several blinks, actually.

"...huh. ... is that good?"

"According to the Eddas I am a being of evil."

Ask her opinion of good and evil, just ask her,

"But the winners are always painted as good, are they not? I take those who would otherwise suffer alone and love them until the mists of Niflheim steal their minds."

And then she just cares for them.

"Oh."

Steph's looking at her a bit warily, now. She doesn't classify herself as a hero, so much. 'Unworthy dead' sounds like it'd fit her right down to the toes.

... la la, conversation-killer. Steph makes an effort. "That's really nice of you. I mean, at least that way they're not alone."

"You are not one of mine."

Because its rather important to little dead things that they know that,

"Anyone who dies in battle is a hero, and I see it shining brightly on your soul."

Even if Stephanie was tortured, she was a fighter. A combatant. It means something, to the Norse. To Hel. Perhaps the most telling thing is that her slurred, soft soprano has no more emotion in it than she's had throughout the conversation; she's simply stating facts that she doesn't care about either way.

Steph puts her hands over her face for a moment, looking like she might be about to cry.

"That's, um. Thanks." A deep breath.

"So. I'm Steph, and you're Hell. Nice to meet you?" She gives a slightly wavery grin, not quite as bright as before.

...Please don't cry, Steph. It would make the goddess uncomfortable as the only being she's known that has cried at her before is Random. And Stephs are not quite as teddy-bear as Randoms because they aren't known as well.

"It is nice to meet you, Steph. You should speak with Baldur, if you see him."

He's a lot better at comfort than Hel. Hel doesn't have the experience.

"Okay," Steph says, obligingly. "Who's he?"

She's not gonna cry. ... Maybe later. She just ... needed a moment.

"My..." opposite number, friend, beloved "counterpart. He is as close to a god of peace as those of Asgard could be. He is blond, and often petting the bunnies."

Hel is as weirded out by bunny-petting as everyone else is, trust me.

"...the demon bunnies?" Steph asks, tilting her head. "I mean, just to clarify, he pets the demon bunnies?"

"Have you heard of prozac?"

Hel...has done a lot of reading. She had centuries in Niflheim the last time, and as many books-on-disk as one goddess could carry. Which is a lot,

"He's kind of like that in living form."

Steph giggles. "He must be pretty awesome."

"Yes."

She smiles, with the half of her face that moves,

"He is."

"Oooh," Steph says, with a thoughtful smile. "Is he, like, your - your partner? Thing?"

It's hard to find the right word for a Thing in Milliways. 'Boyfriend' somehow doesn't seem appropriate when you're talking about deities.

"He is my best beloved enemy."

Because he's still married, and that's that.

Steph doesn't really have any beloved enemies.

Not even Ichigo. He's only sort of an enemy. He's more just this Really Annoying Kid who hangs around.

And the Joker, well. Not so much beloved happening there.

So she gives Hel a quizzical stare. "You love him, but you're on different sides, or something?"