Before anything else, I wanna share with you that a dear friend of mine is going through a hard time, and, since I don't really have means of helping that person, I'm gonna write this with them on my mind, for, as self absorbed as it may sound, I know that they at least can get some distraction through this.
#BeStrong
Disclaimer: Well, if you came all the way here and still don't know that I don't own Thor or any of these Marvel characters, then you're a little weird. I do not own the work called "Re:Life" (anime nor any other media it may be associated with), but I do own my previous story arch of the same name, and so do I own my plot ideas here. Nothing more than that, though.
A sincere apology: I guess this was the longer time I've gone without updating, but it was for a reason beyond my control: my pc monitor stopped working, and I only got one at about a week ago. I was able to continue my work with Down With The Fallen at the same time. I was able to complete my sketches of 2 new fics (a oneshot that I promised sometime ago and what I'm guessing will be a 5-7 chapters fic), even thought they're all on paper and not nearly as finished as I'd like them to be. They're respectively called "Outline" and "Forsaken Howls", by the way, and both are part of Down With The Fallen's "universe".
AN: Here we'll be engaging into a new story Arch. This is going to be, by far, the most important one, so, please, pay attention to the details, for there are many hidden things there. The way words keep being repeated, and the way some thoughts are reinforced and even the way a character refers to another are all clues of what's to come.
Trivia: "Yore" means a distant past. It's mainly used with nostalgic undertones or mock nostalgic undertones. You'll be surprised at how great it fits this story arch.
PS: By the way, feel free to point out any mispelled words or things like that you might find in this and/or in other chapters. The word "woman" is repeated plenty of times here, but it's proposital.
Arch 3: Howls of Yore
Chapter 1: Ego
"So why then has all my life made no sound?"
Chevelle - Shameful Metaphors
The world span around her in a hauntingly familiar way. It's mockery of her sanity made the pain at the bottom of her back but a nuisance to her health. It was probably the fear of the unknown speaking out loud, though.
She didn't knew whether the obnoxious drama on the TV screen was more annoying than her headache, but she couldn't bing herself to care, anyway.
After a few moments of stretching and recollecting herself, Darcy groggily reached for the remote on the carpet and switched off the device. For a brief second, she wondered how Jane would react to find her there, were she to go home.
Shaking her head, she got up from the sofa and picked up the coffee cup off the floor. She almost forgot to leave the remote on the table, but caught herself in time. It seemed dizziness was an unwelcome add-on to sleeping on the hard surface of Jane's sofa. It wasn't like she chose to sleep there, though. There were just too many hours one could stay awake on caffeine alone, after all.
Her movements froze themselves when her eyes landed on the lonely figure standing by the kitchen's window. Hela stared outside with a look so lifeless Darcy wished she couldn't recognize as a long lost cousin of her own.
It was also the first time after the incident in which Darcy took in the brunette's attire. It was but a mix of dirty rags, and she felt bad with herself for even allowing her to stand there in such horrendous garments. The cold breeze that crept through the windows all but cemented her guilt.
"Your house is quite accommodating, miss Lewis" said Hela. Her eyes never left the outside and, for a moment, Darcy wondered if she was avoiding her or if there was something she longed for outside.
She took a minute to walk into the room and deposit her forgotten coffee at the sink before replying.
"It isn't really my house" she felt a little embarrassed to admit it, for whatever reason. She decided to elaborate when silence was her only answer. "It's a friend's house"
"Then I should give my thanks to said friend" she finally took her gaze inside and stared right into Darcy's eyes. "Even though you're the one who imprisons me in here"
"I do not 'imprison' you here" she ruffed in utter indignation. Was she for real? "I just don't want you going outside and dying and heightening my conscience, or something" Hela's gaze dropped to the floor at the comment, and Darcy felt something awful in her chest. She realized then the woman had probably meant it as a joke, and forced a shaky smile upon her face. "Plus, there's really no way to contact Jane right now. That woman has no liking for landline telephones, I tell you"
She breathed out when the woman barely hummed in response. Her hands fumbled with her clothes and she couldn't help but stare at the state of the brunette's own.
"It would seem I might need new garments sooner rather than later" Hela said as she reverted back to staring outside.
"You know" Darcy began. She cringed inside at how transparent was the insecurity of her voice. She made sure to avert the woman's questioning gaze that time. "I am going out today to buy myself a phone. That way I can contact my friend and tell her that we are at her house."
"...and?"
"And I was thinking that perhaps you'd want to go with me?"
She saw a perfect eyebrow shot up the woman's forehead, and forced more words from her mouth before her idea was nipped at it's very roots. "I mean, we need to get you new clothes and there is that small detail of you knowing shit about Earth - yes, I know you know what 'Midgard' is or whatever, but I also saw how confused everything made you that night...so, will you please go with me?"
A few tense seconds seemed a few too many, but finally Hela turned her body back around to face the younger woman's own.
"You're a lot smarter than you look, you know?"
"Thanks...I guess?"
The brunette tilted her head and finished her speech:
"I am ready to follow you outdoors. But know you, deary, that I do not believe this to be a good idea at all."
Darcy exhaled a trembling laugh and approached the goddess. "Just let me get ready first. I'll grab something for you to wear outside, too"
"What is the point of buying new garments of you already have ones in your possession? I do not believe myself to be able to repay such items any time soon"
"Which is exactly why you shouldn't be indebted to Jane." she gave the brunette a small smile and passed her through the kitchen's door.
"And, for the record, I don't think that it is a good idea, too." Her last words only reached the other's ears when she was already far from sight, but it made her sigh all the same.
They were walking down a random street of Larhills when the clouds started to form. They weren't ominous by any means, but an unspoken deal to complete their chores before any possible rainfall was sealed with a single glance.
It wasn't the first time Hela felt out of character around the young woman. She knew why it was, but preferred not to address it at the moment purely out of respect for the actions of her company.
She was utterly mesmerized by the city, though. She had seen many kinds of places on her time, Asgard included, but none of them compared to what she saw between the building jungle.
While it was true that each civilization had it's own architecture and it's own sense of morality, it made her wonder how far down Midgardians were willing to go for the pure sake of technology and income. After all, when you can smell your home's pleas for mercy, you know that your actions have gone a little bit too far.
Honestly, she never understood what was the big deal with technology. It was but a mere commodity that most could live without, yet decided to worship it's fragile lies with both their hands. It reminded her of Odin. He was a sucker for the material just like the people she walked across, but his obsession was focussed on the military section whether than the petty luxuries she kept spotting around. It made his desires even worse in her eyes, though. It was a thing to buy medical supplies, but it was another to use your people's trust to wage wars against itself.
The thought made her cringe. She had tried to do the same just after she was free from the old hag's grip. It was interesting how, regardless of how much planning she put into it, her footsteps tended to follow on his shady ones like arrows dreamed of hitting the bullseye.
She wasn't a pacifist, though. She wouldn't mind running her blades through a thousand heads if she needed to, but she'd avoid it if she could. Not like any of her people had stopped enough to realize it during her "invasion", though. Did they really believe she'd let them alive if she wanted mass murder? She made damn sure each of her blades pierced the flesh of a warrior. No civilian's hair was hurt by her. No baby was stolen from it's crib by her. And that was one of the things - if not the only one - in which she was better than Odin.
That thought brought a smile to her face.
A loud sound of one of the transportations around made her eyes follow it's metallic trail. The things were too common around for their own good. She knew a lot of warriors who would be pissed of beyond belief by the mere fact that a person would choose to abandon their legs to weakness for the comfort of a piece of metal.
"They are cars" she heard Darcy say from her right. It seemed her wondering eyes weren't as subtle as she believed them to be. The woman's voice brought together with it's gentle tone the sudden realization that Hela was not alone, though, and it made her stomach boil. It was the first and probably only time in which she would thank the vehicles for the foul scent they left behind. "The longer ones like that" she pointed to a big, white vehicle. "Are called buses. The ones with two tires are called motorbikes and the ones with that thing attached to their back are called trucks. There are smaller ones, though."
She made sure to pay attention to her words. It wasn't like she cared about how they were called or how they looked, but she had to distract herself from the hunger that threatened to devour her whole.
"Oh?" She managed to sound interested, albeit a little bored. It probably wouldn't hurt to indulge the dialogue a little bit, though. "I take it neither you nor your friend possesses any of these things? Not that I would want to travel inside them anytime soon."
Before she answered, the woman gave her an amused look she decided not to ponder too much about. "No, I do not own a car. At least not anymore. And Jane would probably hire someone to drive her around instead of doing so herself, since she's 'all-work' nowadays. Kinda sucks, if you ask me."
She was about to question about Darcy's friend when her nose was assaulted by a scent so good her toes almost curled inside her boots. She was sure that her intake of breath wasn't as subtle, though.
Her eyes travelled ahead - to the origin of such unashamed pleasure - and were faced with a group of young people striding towards them. She could feel her fingers dig at the flesh of her palms when the scent grew by the step.
She closes her eyes and took in a huge breath through her nose. Not the best idea, she knew, but it would have to satiate her hunger for the time being. The thought made her heart give a painful throb. It seemed that her self-control could only last too much, and her brain knew that before she even dared dream of it.
The sudden impact against her shoulder made her gaze snap to the teenage boy who brushed past her. He dared call back to her in what she was sure to be the most irritatingly annoyed voice - the likes that only a broody teen could replicate.
She felt the muscles of her legs twitch in anticipation of her chase. Saliva already started gathering inside her mouth and a tidal wave of murderous thoughts washed through her mind's eye.
Why had such a dirty peasant to smell like the fancier of all meals? The sheer ridiculously of would've made her sneer if not for the icy coldness that burned through her veins.
"There are a lot of bigger places around, you know?" She heard Darcy speak from somewhere to her right. Her focus drifted from the 'walking ration' to the woman beside her, and she couldn't help but wonder why she didn't smell as alluring to her. Could it be that she was-
"Oh, look!" The sudden exclamation broke itself against her thoughts and made her force her eyes to follow the direction of the pointed finger. Nothing extraordinary caught her attention there. "It's a coffee shop! Maybe we could pass by on our way back and buy some hot stuff."
"I believe that beverage you offered me was hot enough, miss Lewis" and there she was again, forcing words out of her throat merely to distract herself from the urges that crawled around her core. It almost made her feel bad for the woman beside her, but she had the strange certain that she already knew what her true intentions were.
"No" her negation was followed by the subtle scent of coffee. It made Hela wonder if the thing was really strong enough to reach her from across the street, or if there was something wrong with her nose. Besides it's belief that a person's was a walking piece of edible flesh, of course. "It's not a literal thing. It's just a way of saying 'something good and new' or the like."
"Then why not say it?"
"Because it would sound much less co-" she gave a brief pause in the middle of her speech. Hela was sure she was finding some words to replace whatever colloquial terms she was about to blurt out. "Appealing - much less appealing"
She raised an eyebrow when the woman's eyes met her own and silently challenged her to back her words up with some proof. The disappointment she felt when their stare broke left an unexpected void in her chest.
It seemed harder to focus on not devouring every living being around her when the woman's lips were shut. It was a risky situation she didn't wanted to expose herself to, much less at her current weak state.
That's why, at the risk of upsetting Darcy on a future date, the goddess decided to engage her on useless conversation. It was a possibility that the Midgardian's feelings would be hurt at a later date, but she supposed that would be a problem for her to deal in another date. If they were even together by then, of course.
To her personal credit, she tried her best to listen to the silly explanations the girl gave her about each small thing she could come with. To her demerit, though, she wasn't able to understand a single word she said. Not because they were difficult, but because that, to her ears, they were as distant as her last smile - maybe farther away, even.
Suddenly, the scents were too strong. They outnumbered her brain's basic functions and stole the whole of her focus from Darcy's words. She forced herself to grab a cold metal bar attached to the sidewalk to steady herself, and could hear the muffled gasp of the young woman.
Her head spun around and throbbed in a way she almost crushed the bar not to let go of it. She knew that, if she were to leave it behind, her only thoughts would be of satiating her hunger. The fact that she might hurt Darcy in the process made it even worse. It wasn't like she liked the woman or something. But she did appreciate the things she had done - and kept doing - for her.
"Hela?" She sounded genuinely concerned. The gentle touch of a hand to the middle of her back confirmed so. "Are you alright?"
Her hurtful comeback died at the bottom of her throat when she realized that it was all probably her own fault, and that the woman had no way of knowing that. She was pretty sure that she was the only one who knew about her deal with Mistress Death, after all. Other than the woman herself, of course.
"I'm fine" she managed to grit out as images of the skeletal woman crossed through her mind. The strained and raspy way that her voice sounded to her own ears made a furrow take hold of her brows. Not the best way to convince someone of her health status. "Let's keep going"
It was the Midgardian's gaze that made her wonder if it was all a bad choice at the end of the day. Not just to brushing her concerns off, but to leave the house with such hunger roaring it's dirty teeth.
She could see the woman deflate in front of her, as if giving up on whatever plan that she had in mind. Maybe she had remembered of the hallway incident? It wasn't her place to wonder. At least not after her actions.
"Okay" the girl skipped a little ahead on the pretense of guiding her way, but Hela knew that she was hurt. It irked her to the bone how easily she could read her emotions.
But how could it be hard, when they were a perfect mirror of her own?
They had barely crossed the store's entrance doors when a young woman arrived at their side. The way she ported herself denounced, together with her name tag, her status as a vendor. Hela couldn't help but notice how younger than Darcy she looked.
There was something utterly wrong about her, though. Something the goddess couldn't really put her finger in, but somehow knew was present. It was like a warning that told her to keep away from the girl - that she wasn't good for her taste buds. Probably because of how extravagant her clothes smelled.
"May I help you, ladies?" She asked. At least she was polite.
"Oh" Darcy seemed unaware of her approach. Wasn't she saying something about how boring 'tendencies' were? "We're fine for now, thank you!"
The vendor nodded twice and walked off leaving behind promises of help together with some extra miscellanea she wasn't half interested in hearing. She much more preferred to observe the strange clothes on display.
She elegantly followed Darcy along a small corridor of clothes, all the while listening to her explanations of how each garment worked, how she should look for their price, what were all those different fabrics for, and, of course, where she could proof wear them to see if they'd fit. To be honest with herself, she wasn't a big fan of changing her clothes at some unfamiliar place filled with strangers. She had done it in front of Death, of course, but that had felt so much different and reasonable somehow. The realization that she had done it because she had felt safe in the woman's presence hit her a little harder than she expected it to.
She let her gaze focus back on the clothes. She didn't needed to spend more time pondering about things she had no way of changing and no urgent desire of understanding. Much less when those same things took great pleasure on eating her from the inside.
It weirded her out how awful of a job some of these clothes did of covering one's body, when they covered something at all! There were "pants" who looked like underwear and underwear who looked like bare skin. These were clothes she wouldn't let herself be caught death in. Ever. And the weirdness only got worse when she saw how their price tags worked. Maybe the values should be read in reverse? There was no way such little fabrics could cost more than some far more accommodating and material demanding ones, after all.
They had just entered a new corridor when she had to fight down a sudden urge to ravish a new source of raw, delicious smell. A quick sweep of her eyes around the place told her it came from a young child who was bent forward and probing a pair of shoes.
She forced her eyes back to the woman beside her and asked for her to be shown to some real clothes. She took the chance to ask her about the unuseful garments, too, but all she received in response was a soft laugh and a shake of the head.
She didn't knew what it was that she said that could be so funny, but decided against commenting on it. She wasn't a stupid moron like her blacksmith wannabe sibling, though, so she understood the basics behind these clothes - that they were designed for some sort of seduction or some similar scheme...but wasn't it against trade rules to ask for more than something was worth and deliver much less than primarily agreed upon?
It used to be like that amongst her people, at least. Many, many years before she even started to fall for Odin's plans, though. Regardless, it just didn't pleased her at all. Were these the people called those like her "monsters"? They hurt their own indiscriminately for petty riches, and dared have a say at all?
It seemed Midgard never ceased to surprise her. It was a real shame that it had yet to be in a good way, too. Which made her wonder what could had happened to Darcy Lewis for her to be who she was. Surely she wasn't following some cultural thing like she first suspected...then why?
It was also true, though, that it was quite hard to find good things about a new place when all she saw of it made her want to open holes on someone's soul. So maybe her opinions were a tad bit biassed at the moment.
Hela was proud to spend so little time searching for clothes of her liking. It wasn't a common fact, but she never cared much for such things as clothes. She probably would if her father hadn't drilled the military arts on her brain so early in life. The other Asgardian women surely seemed to like them a quite a bit. Maybe even more so than miss Lewis, who she was sure had spent hours to find what she deemed to be a "suitable warm blouse".
And to think that the girl had the audacity of launching her plenty of weird stares when she saw the few clothes she had picked for herself! Well, maybe black and green weren't her favourites, and in all sincerity, she had no idea if they were even her own favourites, but at least they didn't looked like something a court jester would wear for it's job.
That was not to say she didn't found Darcy's purchases to be acceptable, though. They did suit her very well, unlike the orange monstrosity a woman was currently trying to force onto a young child. They looked worse than Thor's garments, and they looked like curtain remains!
If she imagined it just right, she swore she could picture Frigga giving the smug prince a few long earfuls. The thought almost formed a smile on her face. It instantly disappeared when she remembered what happened with the goddess when that woman decided she wasn't worth the effort anymore - that she wasn't worthy of her love.
A few years before, such painful reminder would be a critical stab against her core. But, as she was right then - waiting for Darcy to pay for the clothes they had purchased with what she thought to be a comforted smile -, the pain suddenly didn't hurt her so much.
It was all due to how the woman picked her curiosity, she was sure. Her whole being was a giant mystery to Hela, and she had no shame on admitting so. The most troubling part of the puzzle, though, was the fact that her scent wasn't all that troublesome to deal with like the others were. Maybe it was due to the fact that she saw Darcy as a person, and not as a Midgardian-shaped piece of meat.
It was said woman's touch who, once again, took all her attention away from the hunger inside. She was guiding her out the front doors and into the cold, windy streets, and she almost had to hold onto the girl's side when the menacing mixture of outdoors' scents rushed inside her nostrils at once. She was able to retain enough control to steady herself and pull away from the touch.
She didn't wanted Darcy's help. She didn't needed her help. She had already accepted so much aid from her, and there was just no way that she would let herself be in any bigger debts with her. She would have to overcome her own urges alone and in the cold if needed be, but she wouldn't let herself be helped through the whole ordeal. It was her battle to fight, not Darcy's.
The fact that they still needed to visit another store made her breathe out a heavy sigh. That was going to be a frustratingly long afternoon.
It was hard to fall asleep with shattered memories in her head. Her failures kept exposing their ugly faces every time she closed her eyes and her nose was assaulted by brand new smells every time she tried to breathe. Sometimes her bones seemed to claw against her insides when she dared roll around on the cushions, too.
She had once again lost one of the most important battles of her lifetime, and for no other reason than her lack of competence, even. There were no excuses she could come up with to justify her lost cause. There were no allies to tell her it was going to be okay, even if their words were hollowed and fake.
There was no one to blame but herself.
That's why she left the bed and put on the clothes Darcy had bought her during their trek. She put the softest pair of boots that laid on the wooden wardrobe and padded cautiously into the hallway. She could see the door that separated her from the other woman from there, but knew that she was long since drowned in a cloud of troubled sleep. A blind fool could see how exhausted she was.
She left silently through the front door and made sure to look around the street to remember her way back. Her plans weren't to cross the street and go back inside, and if she ended up lost there, her current predicament would only get worse.
Thinking of worse scenarios made her wonder when they both - Darcy and her - would stop their pretending. She wondered when they would stop acting like they were lifelong acquaintances or at the very least the best of friends. It was starting to get on her nerves too soon for her own comfort.
She wasn't sure why the woman decided to start their "game", but suspected it was almost the same reason for which she herself decided to indulge it for. It was another wonder, though, what kind of emotional pain could be behind the young woman's drive. It was no secret that she was deeply troubled by whatever it was. That was also the first reason as to why she had walked back to "her room" on that day instead of leaving the unexpected hospitality behind.
As if pretending would make anything better...
It wasn't any news for her that she had a curious mind. It was a truth she had accepted on her early days, back when she was still under Frigga's warm gaze. She remembered telling her of her desires to study on the arcane - to be a magician or a battlemage or whatever they were bent on calling it all those ages ahead.
As soon as her father's disapproving sneer reformed itself inside her mind, she decided to focus back on her troublesome association with Darcy. She could not believe that they had gone out to buy clothes, of all things. Were they both suffering brain damage or something? Or were she just a bigger coward than she believed herself to be? The thought made her cringe and step further into the night, the now familiar house forgotten behind.
She would prove that she did not needed any help. She would prove that she was no coward and force Odin's cursed spirit to watch her thrive were he had fallen many times before. But, most of all, she would prove herself that she was no imitation of his vile acts.
She'd never forget the way he looked at her as if she was a mere tool of his to use. Nothing like the way he looked at his wife, who she thought loved her, but was only planing on breaking her heart on the long run.
It was what her husband wanted, after all, and he had taken great pleasure on telling her just that when they clashed for the first and last time, after his precious Valkyries had been laid to waste in front of his one-eye.
Maybe he got mad that she was better than any of his other toys? She wondered how mad he would become if he ever were to breathe again, only to find his precious "golden city" a huge mass of dust, and his sons but two eternal teenagers aiming for each other's throats, when she herself would be reborn on her own image, no longer one of his dolls.
It was almost enough to make her wish him back to life just to see his horrified face.
She closed her eyes and took in the nightly aroma. It made her a little dizzy, but nothing compared to what she had felt during the last parts of her trip to the city, when they had entered another store to buy the strange devices she was told to be called "phones".
She opened her eyelids and drifted her irises to the sky above. She saw heavy clouds approach a full white moon, and a soft smile took hold of her face. In a completely weird and roundabout way, Hela thought they made a great retelling of her life: a brilliant, abused and lonesome child circled by disturbing old people who pretended to know what was best, but only wanted to devour her flames.
The moon would shine again when they went away, she knew. It would finally rest from their pitiful menace, yet, just like herself, it would be shinning a light that wasn't it's own. It would be merely reflecting the light of a sun who was all too happy to steal everyone away from the moon.
It made her feel sick. It looked like she was destined to live under the shadow of another and to reflect the sparks of their selfishness onto someone else's head. It happened at first with her progenitors, then, even if for a thankfully short while, with both her siblings, and finally, it happened with Darcy at the shop.
Her attention was captured by the lone figure she saw walking ahead of her. It was a female, that much was clear, and she seemed t be quite younger than an adult, though not as young as the vendor from the cloth store. Her skin was slightly dark in a way that made her remember the mixture of coffee and milk Darcy had helped herself to when they had returned from their trip.
She wondered if it tasted as delicious as it looked.
She focused on the strange device that blocked both her ears. Was it the cause of the tranquillity the young woman appeared to exude? If so, could one of these ever distract her from her own maddening thoughts? It would be a lead, at the very least.
Regardless of the accuracy of her guess, she had to force her eyes away. The lights around were just too bright for them, and they were everywhere! They shone from the side of walls and from the floor and even from the top of some buildings. The damnable vehicles who raced through the street, as few as they were, had lights on, too. And, if she didn't know best, she'd say they were purposefully aiming for her eyes.
If someone told her they were made by those annoying Vikings, she'd believe it with no further ado. They had such a tremendous appetite for the most horrendous of things they came across from, after all. It was exactly why they were so drawn to her people, in the first place. She remembered a time in which they were addressed as "gods" by the Midgardians. It pleased Odin so much that he made it official, even though he always made sure to deny any claims that he had anything to do with it, of course.
She couldn't comply too much, though. It was what saved her life when that blasted giant pierced her with his blade. Or at least that's what she believed, anyway. It wasn't like Mistress Death was open with all her motives, after all.
How low would her image be degraded in the eyes of said Vikings if they were to know what had become of her life? An almost death by the hands of a burning giant and a deal with Death herself orchestrated by the hands of her own insecurities and hollowed desires. Oh, and it was best not to forget the humiliating way in which she found herself in the care of a meek brat.
It was cruel of her to think of the woman who offered her dirty hands a way out of her hole - if only to feed her ego and play pretend -, she knew, but it was a truth, nonetheless. How old was she, anyway? Did the alluring beauty she had been absently following on the streets surpass her age, even though she didn't looked like it?
Suddenly, she felt the sting of something crawling inside her right arm and hissed under her breath. She saw the female look behind her shoulders just before she forced her eyes at what seemed to be black snakes sliding underneath her skin.
They twisted and turned, as if to break out from a cage she never meant to create, and she wondered if they would find success at the end of their fight. The mere thought of it sent unforgiving shivers through her core.
It was bizarre, though, how meeker they hurt compared to what she believed they should. It was enough for her to press herself against the cold walls of a building, though. She gripped her arm hard and tried to focus on something; anything that made it's presence know to her eyes. Even the lights would be welcomed at the time.
But the city seemed to mock her, for not even a single transport passed by on the streets. The lights seemed suddenly devoid of all their bright and the colors of their lure, almost as if their essence was robbed and plundered into something hidden in a place she just could not reach.
"A-are you alright?" She heard the uncertainty drip from the voice that stammered beside her, and the sudden smell of raw luxury invaded her lungs. It made her head throb and her legs shake so much it was a wonder how she even had the courage, not to mention the power, to face her temptress.
She was a cuter girl than she realized, too. Brown eyes, drowned in fearful concern; lips half parted as if to suck in the lips of a long-unseen lover; nose tilted as if to smell the lustful aroma that intoxicated her quite willing victims...
Oh, such a gorgeous female she was!
She had the sudden urge to touch her pretty face and to taste those appetizing lips. Her hand moved on it's own account and the girl took a step back in alarm. Had she seen it? The hunger that bathed her stare? The maddening desire to ravish her body of it's garments, throw her back down on the ground and devour every small piece of her being!?
Oh, how good wouldn't such a sweet young thing taste against her tongue! It made her whole self-delirious in pure bliss and utterly lost to all of her vices. If her mere aroma made her so tasty, then what about the rest? What about the softness of her throat? And the puckered flesh of her lips? And the pointy ends of her ears? And the red of her cheeks? Oh, she couldn't wait to experiment the taste of her soul! To bite it off her body and suck it raw of her severed limbs!
The anticipation was driving her crazier by the second!
And so she sew her eyes, threw her arm to her side, and, just as the girl gave another feeble step behind, she brought her hand back down onto her thigh and embedded the formed dagger deep on her own flesh.
She let out a painful grunt and locked gazes with the dark-skinned girl. There was no shame on her voice when she opened her mouth to curse her for being such a fool as to approach her on her most dangerous self, but the words failed her as the hunger started to crawl back into it's rightful place.
"Move!" She hissed instead. She forced herself to make the blade longer and to carve it deeper when all she got in response was a shocked stare. "Get away from me!" She screamed in rage. Had she not being so focused on controlling her anger, she would had noticed the extra layers that fused themselves with her voice.
And the woman finally moved. She sprinted away as if her life depended on the amount of times her feet kicked down against the ground. And Hela knew that it actually did. She had no doubts that, were she to stay there with her for a second too long, all pretenses of self-control would be thrown out the window as she savored her flesh and bones and her very soul!
Her back hit the ground and she let out a shaky breath as she stared to the clouds above. The moon was already gone now, and she could almost feel the first droplets of rain about to descent. The scene made her remember the time she spent with Mistress Death. She missed the way her head had felt rested above the female's knees. She'd trade her pained leg for it at any given time, she knew.
But, then again, what wouldn't she trade for that ounce of peace, anyway?
A long time had passed when she finally decided to get up from the floor. Her thigh had stopped hurting for a while, but all it did was to remind her of how fragile her self-control was, and how little it would take to make her into a starving lunatic.
She limped her way back to the wall, all the while using her arms as support to drag herself back through the way to Darcy. It stabbed her very soul to realize how dependant on the woman she was, and how there was no viable way for her to overcome such weakness.
Her legs were shaky and her teeth gritted in frustrated pain. A pang of jealousy formed itself in her stomach and took a hold of her throat, forcing her to stop her movements to take in a long intake of air. She never thought she'd be jealous of a Midgardian, not to mention a Midgardian brat.
Her reveries were broken by the loud gasp she heard from somewhere close to her. Her eyes traveled forward on the pavement and widened themselves before the lone man who stood dazzled in front of her.
It was none other than the same man from the hotel room. A brown bag laid forgotten on the ground and his hands were close to his face in what she deemed as mock surprise. There was half a stick stuck beneath his mask, and time seemed to slow down as it feel to the floor, breaking against the solid ground.
"You're the less insane Angelina Jolie from the hotel!" He screamed and pointed at her. Was he some kind of child or what?
Her teeth gritted in pure annoyance, and she wondered how she'd escape the situation she let herself fall into. Could her night get any worse!? If she didn't knew better, she'd say Odin's spirit was chasing her around just to make sure every ounce of misfortune fell on top of her head. It certainly would explain some stuff.
She tried to conjure a blade, but felt too drained by her hungry struggle to focus properly on the task. Her body shook with a wave of unadulterated dizziness and she had to brace herself fully against the wall. It didn't take long for the black dust to snake down her fingers and fall down onto the sidewalk.
"Now, just wait a second so we can have a nice, little chat" he sounded weird speaking around the remains of the stick she knew to be inside his mouth. Regardless, she was no moron to take his words at face value. She did not trust him at all. Sure she had found herself in a similar situation regarding Darcy and the way they met, but there was just something about the man that didn't bode well with her.
That's why, when he looked down to his bag, she used the last bit of her strength to throw a blade at his head. She was surprised when he crouched down to rummage through it's contents, and stared helplessly as her blade flew past him and disintegrated before it could even touch the ground.
She felt her core shake as her vision blurred so much she was mesmerized that she did not puke. But she knew that there was no time to lose, and so she turned around and gave her best to limp away from the man, completely abandoning the walls for what she thought to be a better mobility. Not that she was in any condition to move properly, though.
"This is so not how I remember it!" She heard him scream from somewhere at her back. So he had seen the blade, after all. Was he really so stupid as not to check on her to see if she was running away? It was not like he knew of her predicament, right? No. She knew what he was doing. He was mocking her. He knew there was just no way for her to run away - no way for her to escape.
The truth behind her thoughts was humiliating beyond belief. Hela, Odin's ex-executioner and the Goddess of Death - for real that time -, running away from a crazy Midgardian dressed in what she thought to be the second most ridiculous outfit ever created.
It almost made her glad that pretty much all Asgardian warriors were long since dead - plenty by her own hands, too. Otherwise, the shame of such predicament leaking out would surely be her downfall. If she ever survived enough to face such mockery, that was.
"Oh, shit!" He was so much louder than before. Why couldn't he just shut up!? How much did he need to humiliate her like that!? "Wait a minute! I just wanna talk!"
She could hear the urgency of his footsteps and urged her legs forward faster and faster, paying little mind to the pain that began to crawl out of her thigh. It proved to be a crucial mistake when her legs gave in not a full minute later.
She lost her equilibrium and knelt down on the middle of the street with a loud gasp. Her shallow breathing penetrated her ears with the gentle caress of a nail scratched against a blackboard. She had wished for that exact kind of pain back there with the young dark-skinned girl, but she never thought her wishes would come true at the least unfortunate time. But, in the end, Hela couldn't bring herself to feel overly surprised by the fact. Things weren't all that good for her since her young days, after all.
"Shit!" She heard his scream and forced herself back to her feet. She fumbled a little with her legs as she twisted her body around to face him, but stopped dead on her tracks when she saw him draw a weapon similar to the ones Skurge took great pride in. It seemed way smaller than his 'babies', though, and she caught herself wishing for it's damage to be equally smaller than her executioner's.
An utterly relieved breath almost escaped her mouth when she saw him aim the thing far away to her side. What kind of damage could he cause her if he couldn't even target her with his weapon, anyway? Sadly, the loud noise that came from the same side made her swallow all hopes and for her head to snap around on it's own.
She was faced with the two glaring lights of a fast approaching vehicle and closed her eyes tight in anticipation of the inevitable collision.
She heard profanities leave the man's mouth just before a gunshot invaded her ears. Her heart pumped faster and faster to a point she thought it would leave her chest for it's own nefarious purposes.
The crash came, and she felt a great weight leave her at once. It was like leaving all worries and insecurities behind, if only for a second. There was the pain, too, but nothing she had never felt before.
Then it was all quiet, and the unbelievable softness beneath her head told her exactly where she truly laid.