milliways_bar | First Entrance

First Entrance

There was only so much downtime between returning Thor to Asgard and the next set of events. In truth with the Biofrost Bridge having been destroyed, there was... a predicament going on across the Nine Realms. In truth it was predictable if the Lady allowed herself to think on it. It wasn't very often that the Asgardians were in such a spot that, of course, those on the wrong side of the law would seek to take advantage of it. Thankfully they could get to work ending it now, bringing order back to what the Marauders sought to undo.

Returning to her quarters to gather her things the armor wearing Asgardian only had a few things she needed to retrieve before jaunting off to Vanaheim for a much needed fight. Her skin itched to release emotions that were unfamiliar to her,feelings she had long thought buried under the weight of status and skill. He loved the mortal. Not her.

Swallowing pride she pushed her door open and stopped in her tracks. Why was...

"Volstagg..." she growled under her breath before a soft grin tugged at the corners of her lips. Only he would be so bold enough to figure a tavern in her quarters. They all had been under a lot of stress lately. It was a good, solid, prank.

She'd get him back one day.

Welcome to Milliways, Lady Sif.

[tiny tag: Sif]

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She seems surprised by the bar as well, though her acceptance of it is interesting.

"Who's Volstagg?" John asks, hoping a friendly overture might get him some answers.

Who is Volstagg?

The look that Sif tosses in the man's direction is one of amusement, or so says the quirk of her lips and cant of her head. "Why, one of the best warriors living. He's one for a good prank." To go along with that quirk of her lips a slender brow gently started to rise. "And one who also appreciates a good mug of ale."

With the walk of a cat she crossed the distance over to where the man was at paying little attention to the door closing behind her. "So tell me, good sir. In which tavern did my brother-in-arms decided to toss me into now?"

Edited 2018-02-23 22:25 (UTC)

OK, was she from some Ren Faire or reenactment club?

"To be honest," John says, scratching his head an eyeing her stance as she approaches for any hint of an attack, "I have no idea. This was supposed to be the laundry room at my apartment."

It would be quite easy for those outside of certain circles to see Asgard as a Ren Faire, yes, but higher class.

Her smile was wry still as she rested her right hand on her hip. She had no weapon, her tools back in her quarters on Asgard, leaving her only armored. However that didn't mean she couldn't defend herself if need be. Sif had a reputation to uphold after all. "Aaah so you have someone playing tricks on you as well then? I will see us returned to a safer place then... once I discover exactly where in the Nine Realms we are at"

Heimdall would know. But alas he also seemed to like his fair bit of small tricks on certain days as well. He could easily turn a blind ear to her calls. "Do you know where this place is or what it is called outside of laundry room or personal quarters?"

"Helloooo, nurse," says the guy standing near the door when he sees the hot lady enter.

He has a glass of slushed coffee in hand and is wearing a T-shirt which says 'Never trust an atom, they make up everything'.

Beaming at the woman, he says, "Hi!"

Odin could no doubt see her eye roll from where she stood.

Men.

There were certain ways to call a woman and as far as Sif could remember she had never heard of 'helloooooo nurse' in her thousands of years of life. Even the young man's shirt had a dry sense of humor to it that spoke of only one place: Midgard. Earth. Of course she could be wrong. It had been quite some time since the Asgardians had been on Earth and their progression through the centuries obviously made their humor lost on her.

But, never one to be rude, the armored woman simply stepped aside from the door taking her time to fully turn her attention fully on the young man. "Good afternoon to you. So tell me," she said without pause, "in which tavern do I find myself in? I dare say I am not familiar with this one."

Oh, oh! She's talking to him, he didn't expect that!

Of course, maybe he should have, seeing as to how he did say 'hi' and everything. Usually, though, girls just give polite smiles or roll their eyes and then walk away. He forgets that people in Milliways are generally different, and in this case didn't have a plan for anything coming after that initial greeting and now he's stuck for what to do.

This whole thought process probably flashes across Cisco's features as he stands in stumped surprise, but finally at the end of it he rallies and finds actual words to say back to her.

"Hi." Okay, he said that already, what's step two, Cisco?! "Oh uh, I'm Cisco. And this is Milliways."

Nailed it.

Freya bless him. The man was stumbling on his words. It was an easy smile that slid across Sif's face as she studied him. No doubt he would be no threat and willing to give her an information she asked for that he might have. Heimdall no doubt was rolling with laughter by now possibly along with the Warriors Three. "An honor to meet you, Cisco. I am called Sif."

With greetings aside she took a quick glance about the tavern, assessing exits, people, threats, and everything in just a matter of seconds. The large window is mostly ignored but not forgotten as she turned her attention back towards her greeter. "Tell me- in which of the Nine Realms does Milliways reside in? I cannot say I have ever been here before nor heard tales of its... character."

And she smiled at him! Cisco might be falling in love for the second time this week. Smiling back, he nods. "Nice to meet you."

He's totally fully prepared to share everything he knows about this place, but then her first question is a total stumper right off the bat.

"Nine Realms? I don't know what that is," he admits. "But Milliways is at the end of the universe, so it's probably at the end of those, too. Check it."

Turning he points at the observation window with the hand holding his drink. Outside the window is the sight of everything indeed ending.

Well then- most people knew what the Nine Realms were and the people of Midgard often saw them as myth. In truth they were considering how long it had been since her people had come to Earth and why. Studying Cisco slightly the taller of the two simply canted her head. "Yes. On which planet do you call home? Surely you are aware how you got here. Trafficking of unsuspecting citizens of the Realms is a crime."

One she would address while she was there if that were the case.

When he mentioned the window she turned her attention to it now taking the time to watch the events going on outside. The end of everything for them was called Ragnarok and if it was truly the end of all things then they would not be standing there and she would have died a warriors death if they had failed. They must have been on Muspelheim or close to it.

Casting a glance towards Cisco she quirked a brow. "That is not the end, friend. If it ever does you will find me standing at the front fighting to keep it from continuing."

"Oh yeah, I'm from Central City. On Earth. But Milliways is a kind of multiversal nexus where the front door serves as an access point for multiple points across space, time and different realities."

Simple, right?

Watching her check out the view, and hearing her assessment, he grins. "Yeah? Are you a warrior or something? OH! Are you an Amazon?" Cisco knows an Amazon, and she's awesome.

"You are a human of Midgard then," Sif replied, pleased with her assumption from before. She was getting better at picking out the humans. However at the explanation of a multiversal nexus she quirked a brow, raising her eyes slightly to look at the ceiling. Heimdall was not going to like this place much. Perhaps. He was an odd man but one she greatly appreciated. When a man saw and heard all it couldn't have been easy.

"I see," she replied, looking back to Cisco before canting her head. "Though I am not an Amazon, Cisco of Central City. I am a warrior of Asgard, loyal warrior to Odin and his son Thor." Then she paused thinking through her memories of what she had learned from her short time back on Earth. "I believe that you have stories about us. In Norway."

"Midgard. That sounds so awesome," Cisco enthuses.

Well now Odin and Thor totally ring bells and Cisco bobs his head rapidly. "Now them I know. I mean-- not personally, we've never met, but in the stories. Which isn't to say they're not real! Because, y'know, obviously they are, if you know them. Right? And you're real, so... yeah."

Oh man, he was doing so well, too.

There is a large, pallid human behind the bar, dressed in a cobalt tunic, black cargo trousers and with tinted goggles pulled firmly over his eyes. At the sound of the door opening, he looks up from writing something on a small blackboard. From the look of slight confusion on the woman's face, she must be a new arrival.

New people are seldom boring around here.

"Hello!" Zso Sahaal calls out. "Would you like a drink?"

New, amused, and ready for some answers: that was the best way to sum up the cat like woman slinking her way towards him. Warrior she may be there was still a feminine touch to her appearance. Perhaps this man could give her some answers.It would be amusing to find out which tavern in the Nine Realms that her brother had sent her to.

Resting her palms on the warm surface of the bar she gave the man a wry smile. "Something strong if you will, good sir." Hazel eyes took a quick glance about the bar this time simply looking for recognition rather than those looking for a fight. "I do not know this tavern. In which of the Realms are we in? I dare say my brother-at-arms has a fair sense of humor when it comes to his pranks."

Sahaal's a Space Marine. Femininity isn't something he really understands. He just thinks she's walking strangely.

Something strong is rather relative, as orders go. What is strong for a mortal man is watered-down for him, and strong for him is death via alcohol poisoning for a mortal. He settles for mortal-level strong, and puts a bottle from under the bar on the countertop.

"Here you are. One bottle of Russian vodka." A glass soon joins it, as well as a bowl of crisps.

"To answer your question, we are in Milliways, the Bar at the End of the Universe. I'm really not sure what you mean by Realms, but whatever they are to you, we're outside them."

While not immortal, they were not exactly mortal. Asgardians could die but it took a heck of a lot to take one down. Especially one like Sif. When the bottle was produced she eyed it curiously not having seen that sort of drink before. Perhaps it would be good. Hazel eyes flickered back up to the man with the goggles before she gave him a wry smile. "I am not familiar with this. What is vodka?"

When the items appeared out of nowhere on the counter top she simply quirked a brow before looking back up at him. Oddities were daily in her life. Until she knew exactly what was going on she wouldn't mention what sorts to prevent confusion.

They were what? That made the Asgardian blink. They were outside of the Realms? Canting her head slowly to the left she gave the man a solid look before speaking up again. "While there are plants outside of the Nine Realms, it seems quite unlikely that my brother-in-arms would pull such a cruel trick especially with us preparing to leave." Then she paused, a small frown tugging at her lips. "If we are outside of the Realms then which system are we in?"

Tinted lenses match the hazel eyes. "I don't know. All I know is that it's potently alcoholic, it's from Earth, and I quite like it."

Sahaal catches the quirked eyebrow, and more importantly, the lack of any other response. A good sign. Spending any time at all in Milliways means that you're going to be exposed to things beyond your understanding, and having the capacity to deal with that is very helpful. He certainly didn't have it when he first came.

She keeps referring to some brother-in-arms, and he's not sure why. Obviously this woman is a warrior, and that's not surprising, because a lot of patrons are, and Sahaal knows how warrior fraternities are all too well, but what sort of society considers teleportation across vast gulfs of space as a practical joke normal? Come to think of it, what sort of civilisation even has that power?

"This system doesn't have a name. Like I said, we're at the end of the universe. Would you really try to put a name on that?" He gestures to the window, where the quite literal end of everything lights up the void. It's actually rather beautiful, for a massive explosion.

Glancing to the window she watched it briefly before looking back to the man. Oddly enough her smile is warm even after seeing that. To her that was not Ragnarok: if it were they wouldn't be there right then and, no doubt, Sif would be fighting hard to see it didn't happen. Thankfully there were safeguards in place to keep such an event from happening or so they were told. Picking up the drink she studied the clear liquid before replying. "I am not sure I have a word in my language that would translate quite well for that. You can rest assure that what you see, friend, is not Ragnarok."

Or at least the Ragnarok she is familiar with.

Tossing back the drink she made a face. It was... tasteless. The sort of drink she was expecting was something quite stronger. Looking down at bar the Lady gave a quick smile before asking. "Perhaps there is something more to an Asgardian's taste?"

The drink that appeared was strong enough it could burn the hair off any mortal's head.

That's the first time Sahaal's ever seen a new arrival not be fearful of the literal death of the multiverse, but then again, he doesn't usually do introduction to the Bar. Explaining things is not his strong suit.

Ragnarok. Hmm. An old word for apocalypse, as far as he can remember. "Well, if you're sure, but I'm certain that is indeed the multiverse being destroyed at the end of time."

Sahaal looks at the drink that appears with interest. It smells familiar, and the alcohol content seems high enough to get him tipsy. "Bar, would you give me a glass of that stuff, please?" Another mug appears on the counter. He picks it up, and downs a quarter of it in one go. Behind his goggles, the Night Lord's eyes twitch.

"That is... bloody hell. That's Fenrisian Ale." Sahaal grins. "This is the stuff designed to get those like me drunk. You Asgardians, whoever that is, must be tough."

"Perhaps it is, and perhaps it isn't. I for one know that Ragnarok won't see me in a tavern anywhere in the universe." She was a warrior of Asgard, sworn to protect and serve the Allfather and Thor when he took the throne. When the time would come she would be on the front lines fighting until she was no more or there was victory.

Seeing the reaction of the man she chuckled, picking up the mug and taking a drink. It was just strong enough for her to enjoy without pushing too many limits before she would have to go to battle. "We have a long history of loving drinks- especially those of a stronger nature. In truth we tend to burn through it quickly." Then the woman smiled giving him a nod of her head. "I am Sif of Asgard."

"I thought that I'd spend my life fighting a war of vengeance in the name of my sacrificed Primarch, but," Sahaal spreads his arms wide, pale, almost translucent skin shining in the cozy lamplight, "I have found that fate had a different idea." Well, that's not strictly true. Just because he lives beyond the confines of his home universe doesn't mean that he doesn't still strike out at the hated Imperium, but that undermines his point somewhat.

"A warrior woman who can hold her liquor. I know a few patrons here who will adore you." He holds out his hand out to shake. "Nice to meet you, Sif. So, what is Asgard?"

Nodding her head she gave the man an approving smile then a slight nod of her head. There was a time she wished to die in battle and have songs written about her, but she was older now- well slightly older, but Thor certainly was helping with her change of mind and heart. Perhaps she would know better when her own day came.

But then she cracked a wry smile, looking at the gesture that he was doing before mimicking him with the same hand. She knew nothing of shaking hands or other odd Earthling greetings. "Asgard is the home of Odin, King of the Nine Realms. We are not of a world like the others in the Realms but it serves its purpose and is home."

"I do not believe I caught your name," Sif asked lightly, canting her head slightly as she took another drink from her mug. It would be a nice gesture to have instead of calling him man.

"I apologise. My name is Zso Sahaal."

He pauses. Usually, he doesn't give out his titles, but since Sif did, it's probably politest to return the favour.

"First Captain of the Night Lords, named Talonmaster by my Primarch and commander, and Raptor of the Eighth Legion. I come from Terra, or Earth as most people here call it, in the 42nd Millennium."

Something about his posture straightens when he refers to his Legion, and if Sif could see past the tinted lenses of his goggles, there would be a glimmer of pride in them.

To be very honest, Jemma Simmons doesn't know much about your average Asgardian.

(Give it a few weeks).

She was, however, given a list of such beings that were considered friendly, and who's appearance should rate something other than 'grab whatever weapon you have and USE IT'.

(That second list only has one entry, and Jemma would like to NEVER MEET HIM).

Considering that S.H.I.E.L.D. only has information on five Asgardians in total, the first list isn't exactly difficult to memorize. This would be why one Jemma Simmons nearly drops her tea in her lap when someone on that list makes an appearance. The sound of fumbled china does make a bit of a racket.

Sif is quite aware of SHIELD, though in truth it is only one man in particular that she recalls the most. She hasn't had much dealings with them yet though Fate will change that in due time. For the moment she is in the disadvantage of knowing much about the agency or the woman who is fumbling china somewhere int he room.

It didn't take long before hazel eyes found the woman before her head canted to the side. The smile that crossed her face was a wry one before she nodded her head in greeting. Jemma did not seem a threat.

Jemma is too a...

...

Yeah, no, Jemma Simmons is not a threat, not unless given time to prepare and possibly a list of objectives and maybe a wall to hide behind because physical violence really isn't her specialty and everything else takes prep work. Honestly, she's a little worried that she's deeply under-qualified to even be greeting an Asgardian because frankly, this part was never covered in training.

(It was assumed if you were meeting an Asgardian and you didn't know how address them Shit Would Be Going Down and honestly politics weren't going to be important.)

(You know what they say about assumptions.)

Jemma is thankful the tea didn't actually spill on her as she rises, putting on her best 'I am a professional Agent and Scientist and gosh-darn-it people like me' smile.

(It's a lot nervous.)

"Hullo, are you... um. New here?" She asks, inwardly cringing. That was the worst opening line in the history of opening lines. She's already decided she's not telling ANYONE on the Bus about this. Ever.

Sinric looks up from his place by the fire, lowering the flute he's playing. For a moment his eyes seem to be gold rather than brown but it could be a trick of the light. "Welcome, m'lady." he offers with a small bow.

Edited 2018-02-24 07:52 (UTC)

The music was familiar to that of her home though different- in a good way. While she might be a warrior she was also a woman who loved a few finger things in life and one of them was music. Not that she would admit to much due to her friends, but it was true. Hazel eyes quickly found the source which brought a small smile to her face before she crossed the distance between the two.

The idea of pranks and revenge could wait a moment.

"Fair even, good sir. You play quite well- the tune is also familiar. What is it called?" she asked curiously, kindly.

He bows his thanks. "You're too kind, m'lady. It is a Ballard of the Varangians, the Northmen. It has no name I know of. It is an entreaty to the Goddess Freyja, to protect a warrior's loved ones while they are at war."

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First Entrance

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