[ The gift on her doorstep is small and simple, a letter wrapped carefully around a wooden carving of a clam . They have only met once and spoken twice, but she has made an impression and he has a promise to keep. ]
Angela,
I hope this letter finds you well. It has come to my attention that a holiday is coming that may prove painful to you. Do not let the past control you and take heart. A pearl starts as worthless grains of sand. You are greater than the monster form you wear and the sorrow left behind.
Runyu
Edited 2021-02-19 11:36 (UTC)
A Cross-Canon Thing from TFLN Overflow - we can handwave Angela picked up sign in her many travels?
The moment the phone conversation was done, she went into panic mode. She wasn't exactly sloppy, per se. Not the 'lose a plate under the old newspapers' - just...untidy when it came to papers and blankets and things.
And so she set about the tidying with absolute speed, straightening or, well, better hiding it at least. At least the kitchen and bathroom were immaculate - the former because she made meals like marshaling yards organized military campaigns, and the latter because, well, the whole indoor plumbing and running water thing was still a bit of a miracle to her.
Once that was done, of course, she could concentrate on not wearing a hoodie and leggings, both also quasi-miracles on this planet. It was...well. Angela was...beyond impressive. She had tremendous respect for her skills, and for what she represented - but above all who she was.
You didn't greet that in a hoodie.
What she chose was perhaps not much better, but Earth fashion was something she only was beginning to understand. A fresh blouse, pants and suspenders. She liked it. It was comfortable but chic. That it was also something Garbo would have worn was entirely beyond her knowledge. Hard to leap up centuries all at once, really.
Tempting though it was to greet her in full armor and see what came of that.
[ I'm *pretty sure* that since Angela is Asgardian, she knows the All-Speak automatically, and iirc comics have confirmed that that includes all forms of sign. ]
Amaya may have stressed about what to wear, but the honest truth is that Angela would not have cared about being greeted in comfortable clothes. She likewise wouldn't have batted an eye if Amaya had answered the door in her full armor. It's a toss up whether Angela wears modern Earth fashion or just her usual breastplate and skirt on any given day.
Today is a fashion day, seeing Angela choosing a floral romper and sweater combo for a relaxed, yet feminine look. She finds her way easily to the Avenger's apartments they keep on retainer for unexpected otherworldly guests, having stayed there once or twice before, herself. Rather than knock or ring the bell when she arrives, she pulls her phone out of her pocket and shoots off a text to Amaya.
It was, she had concluded, being tossed through universes like a ragdoll that had done it. Magic was strange, and not her ken - but she was still trying to find her equilibrium in this world. Her confidence was there, but it wasn't firing as it should be.
That she kept running headlong into staggeringly skilled and gorgeous women was not helping. Ugh, it felt like being a teenager again, but somehow better and worse at the same time. And of them all, Angela was the most...well. Words were inadequate. Fire made flesh, blades moving like the wrath of gods.
She read the text, heading for the door. She paused next to the hallway mirror, tapping a closed fist against her forehead, taking a few deep breaths. Then frowning at herself and signing.
You've stared down magical monsters and dark wizards. You aren't a girl-crazy teenager anymore. You're doing something nice, being a friend. It's like a thousand degrees out tonight, after all. Suck it up, General.
With a last breath, she opened the door.
Sorry I'm so slow! I'm still interested, I promise!
Angela is far too old to get the fluttery feeling in her chest that comes from talking to a beautiful woman. But she is recently single (for a relative version of "recent") after a long, committed relationship, so she is tentatively opening herself to the possibility of new romance. She does not know if her newfound friendship with Amaya might develop in that direction, but... She must admit, the offer to give her lodgings on this, the hottest night of the Earthen summer, had given her reason to hope so.
When Amaya opens the door, Angela offers the smile she reserves for women she finds competent enough to deserve her respect. Gamora, Monica Rambeau, Jessica Drew, Katherine Pryde, all fall into this category. And now, General Amaya. She raises a hand to sign her greeting.
Hello. Thank you again for inviting me over.
No worries, I'm in the middle of moving so this was a lovely treat to find after a long day!
She isn't. It's not that she isn't confident. She is. But someone like Angela is...a shark among minnows. And she struck just as hard, literally and figuratively.
On the upside, it was nice to know that crushes were still possible at her age, so there was that. And ye Gods, that smile. And she signs, too. Katolis didn't make 'em like this. Well, outside of the story books.
You're very welcome, she replied, with a nod of her head. And she felt the thick, humid air rolling in from outside, and made a face, signing again, stepping aside.
If we threw sawdust in the air, we could cut it and make cubes to build with.
If crushes have an age limit, then Angela will be very displeased, given that she would likely be thousands of years older than the cutoff. Thankfully, there does not seem to be any deadline when it comes to developing affection for another. She always did like women with a sense of humor, so her smile at Amaya's comment is genuine.
She takes the invitation to step inside the apartment, closing her eyes once inside and just taking a moment to relish the feeling of the cool air against her sweat dampened skin. She sighs, releasing long-held tension from between her shoulders.
That's much better.
Movers fleeced us, and they brought too small a truck so now we're hoofing loads to the new place :P
She likes that moment. It's the sort she's had herself in special moments, and she's glad to have helped provide it. She moves to stand in front of Angela, signing slowly.
Can I get you something to drink? I have water, some iced tea, and what the one called Hawkeye referred to as 'soda.'
It's not exactly something in her experience either. And the cans that had been left for her are just...strange. But iced tea was a quick favorite, especially given the weather. Because that she can sweeten to mood or taste, and it can come in a pitcher that actually pours.
And not in a tin can, which is still...kind of unnatural to her. And some of them explode if shaken or dropped, so there's that.
She gestures at Angela to make herself comfortable, heading into the kitchen to fix some - using another revelation she's very fond of - the ice cube maker on the fridge. It had taken a little persuading to convince her those weren't magic.
When she comes back, it's with two full glasses, the first of which she offers over.
Angela touches her fingertips to her chin and brings her hand down into the palm of her other hand, before reaching to take the offered glass and draw a long, grateful sip. The drink is refreshing, exactly what's needed on a hot day like this. She shifts the glass to her off hand so that her dominant hand is free to sign.
[She doesn't really know what to say next. Stupid. Why does she do this shit, messaging Angela when she doesn't even have a reason? Just because she needs a distraction? Fuck, Beth, you need to get your shit together.]
[Okay. Think of a reason. There's got to be a reason she was messaging.]
I was gonna go out and punch some people, if you want in.
[Realistically, it's the latter, but she doesn't want to admit that. Not to Angela. She's got this weird, stupid need for Angela to forget what a chaotic mess she is, and to make Angela think she's got some sort of plan. So, thinking quickly (or as quickly as the grogginess of insomnia will allow):]
Yeah, there's a guy I'm pretty sure is working with the poachers. Downtown, near the strip club.
[ Angela fails any attempt at insight, and accepts Bethan's story at face value. Maybe she's not perceptive enough. Or maybe she just feels like attacking someone, regardless of justification. ]
[Bethan is already there, because, well, she was already dressed. In the same clothes she's been wearing non-stop for three days, sure, but there's nothing new there.]
[She gives Angela a thin little smile as the other minotaur approaches, sticking her hands deep in her jacket pockets as she slopes over.]
[ Angela smiles back at Bethan, sheathing her broadsword in her belt as she joins her and claps a strong hand on her shoulder. She understands from one look that Bethan has likely not slept in days, and there is a silent message conveyed in the nod she gives her that she knows this, but she will do her friend the favor of not commenting on how unhealthy that is. ]
Yes. Let us enact enact retribution as only we can.
[The thing is: Bethan knows that look. She's seen that look from her family for years. It makes her chest ache, just a little. It makes her feel... not safe, never that, but better.]
[She clasps the other minotaur's shoulder in turn, and thinks how strange it is, how close Angela feels now. It's almost comforting.]
Enough to have my wits about me, but you know, the hunger is never sated.
[ It is the nature of the curse the Fog has placed upon them, after all. The burden all monsters must bear. She deals with it in her own way, hunting when she must and targeting only those who she deems to deserve it. It is far from an ideal way of life, but she has accepted that there is little else she can do. ]
[Which is, unfortunately, not that unfamiliar from her old life. At least she has the means to sate it, now - even if she's conscious of the nagging guilt that goes along with it.]
[She stretches, rolling her head this way and that, as she starts towards the exit.]
I hope he's got friends. Otherwise, this is gonna be a pretty short outing.
[ Angela follows, cracking her knuckles menacingly. ]
I am sure we will be able to find prey enough to entertain ourselves.
[ The world of men has no shortage of wicked hearts. Angela finds that just as her hunger is never satisfied, her work cleansing the streets of Bavan is never done. ]
[Entertain doesn't quite feel like a comfortable word for it. An accurate one, maybe, but not a comfortable one. Bethan clears her throat, hunching her shoulders a little more, and changes the subject.]
How come you're still up, anyway? 'S pretty late.
[...and immediately regrets changing the subject. Why don't you just shut up, Bethan?]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
A small bundle - dated back to February 12
Angela,
I hope this letter finds you well. It has come to my attention that a holiday is coming that may prove painful to you. Do not let the past control you and take heart. A pearl starts as worthless grains of sand. You are greater than the monster form you wear and the sorrow left behind.
Runyu
A Cross-Canon Thing from TFLN Overflow - we can handwave Angela picked up sign in her many travels?
And so she set about the tidying with absolute speed, straightening or, well, better hiding it at least. At least the kitchen and bathroom were immaculate - the former because she made meals like marshaling yards organized military campaigns, and the latter because, well, the whole indoor plumbing and running water thing was still a bit of a miracle to her.
Once that was done, of course, she could concentrate on not wearing a hoodie and leggings, both also quasi-miracles on this planet. It was...well. Angela was...beyond impressive. She had tremendous respect for her skills, and for what she represented - but above all who she was.
You didn't greet that in a hoodie.
What she chose was perhaps not much better, but Earth fashion was something she only was beginning to understand. A fresh blouse, pants and suspenders. She liked it. It was comfortable but chic. That it was also something Garbo would have worn was entirely beyond her knowledge. Hard to leap up centuries all at once, really.
Tempting though it was to greet her in full armor and see what came of that.
no subject
Amaya may have stressed about what to wear, but the honest truth is that Angela would not have cared about being greeted in comfortable clothes. She likewise wouldn't have batted an eye if Amaya had answered the door in her full armor. It's a toss up whether Angela wears modern Earth fashion or just her usual breastplate and skirt on any given day.
Today is a fashion day, seeing Angela choosing a floral romper and sweater combo for a relaxed, yet feminine look. She finds her way easily to the Avenger's apartments they keep on retainer for unexpected otherworldly guests, having stayed there once or twice before, herself. Rather than knock or ring the bell when she arrives, she pulls her phone out of her pocket and shoots off a text to Amaya.
I am here. 👋
no subject
That she kept running headlong into staggeringly skilled and gorgeous women was not helping. Ugh, it felt like being a teenager again, but somehow better and worse at the same time. And of them all, Angela was the most...well. Words were inadequate. Fire made flesh, blades moving like the wrath of gods.
She read the text, heading for the door. She paused next to the hallway mirror, tapping a closed fist against her forehead, taking a few deep breaths. Then frowning at herself and signing.
You've stared down magical monsters and dark wizards. You aren't a girl-crazy teenager anymore. You're doing something nice, being a friend. It's like a thousand degrees out tonight, after all. Suck it up, General.
With a last breath, she opened the door.
Sorry I'm so slow! I'm still interested, I promise!
When Amaya opens the door, Angela offers the smile she reserves for women she finds competent enough to deserve her respect. Gamora, Monica Rambeau, Jessica Drew, Katherine Pryde, all fall into this category. And now, General Amaya. She raises a hand to sign her greeting.
Hello. Thank you again for inviting me over.
No worries, I'm in the middle of moving so this was a lovely treat to find after a long day!
On the upside, it was nice to know that crushes were still possible at her age, so there was that. And ye Gods, that smile. And she signs, too. Katolis didn't make 'em like this. Well, outside of the story books.
You're very welcome, she replied, with a nod of her head. And she felt the thick, humid air rolling in from outside, and made a face, signing again, stepping aside.
If we threw sawdust in the air, we could cut it and make cubes to build with.
I hope your move is/was going well!
She takes the invitation to step inside the apartment, closing her eyes once inside and just taking a moment to relish the feeling of the cool air against her sweat dampened skin. She sighs, releasing long-held tension from between her shoulders.
That's much better.
Movers fleeced us, and they brought too small a truck so now we're hoofing loads to the new place :P
Can I get you something to drink? I have water, some iced tea, and what the one called Hawkeye referred to as 'soda.'
;A; OH NO!! so sorry, that totally whomps
Iced tea sounds delightful.
She may have gotten used to living on Midgard, but she never did develop a taste for sugary sodas.
no subject
And not in a tin can, which is still...kind of unnatural to her. And some of them explode if shaken or dropped, so there's that.
She gestures at Angela to make herself comfortable, heading into the kitchen to fix some - using another revelation she's very fond of - the ice cube maker on the fridge. It had taken a little persuading to convince her those weren't magic.
When she comes back, it's with two full glasses, the first of which she offers over.
no subject
Delicious. That really hits the spot.
no subject
I'm glad. I'm also just glad to help - I've never felt a night stickier than this.
She sipped at her own, hands only fidgeting a little before she signed again.
Please, make yourself comfortable?
no subject
You awake?
no subject
I have not yet gone to sleep, no.
no subject
[She doesn't really know what to say next. Stupid. Why does she do this shit, messaging Angela when she doesn't even have a reason? Just because she needs a distraction? Fuck, Beth, you need to get your shit together.]
[Okay. Think of a reason. There's got to be a reason she was messaging.]
I was gonna go out and punch some people, if you want in.
no subject
Have you specific targets in mind? Or are we waging wanton violence?
no subject
Yeah, there's a guy I'm pretty sure is working with the poachers. Downtown, near the strip club.
no subject
Very well. He shall meet the pain of our fists.
no subject
Meet you downstairs in ten?
no subject
[ She'll be there in eight, actually. It takes her half as long to get dressed now that she doesn't need to worry about boots or pants. ]
no subject
[She gives Angela a thin little smile as the other minotaur approaches, sticking her hands deep in her jacket pockets as she slopes over.]
Hey. Ready to go?
no subject
Yes. Let us enact enact retribution as only we can.
no subject
[She clasps the other minotaur's shoulder in turn, and thinks how strange it is, how close Angela feels now. It's almost comforting.]
Cool. You eaten lately?
no subject
[ It is the nature of the curse the Fog has placed upon them, after all. The burden all monsters must bear. She deals with it in her own way, hunting when she must and targeting only those who she deems to deserve it. It is far from an ideal way of life, but she has accepted that there is little else she can do. ]
no subject
[Which is, unfortunately, not that unfamiliar from her old life. At least she has the means to sate it, now - even if she's conscious of the nagging guilt that goes along with it.]
[She stretches, rolling her head this way and that, as she starts towards the exit.]
I hope he's got friends. Otherwise, this is gonna be a pretty short outing.
no subject
I am sure we will be able to find prey enough to entertain ourselves.
[ The world of men has no shortage of wicked hearts. Angela finds that just as her hunger is never satisfied, her work cleansing the streets of Bavan is never done. ]
no subject
How come you're still up, anyway? 'S pretty late.
[...and immediately regrets changing the subject. Why don't you just shut up, Bethan?]