2013.08.17 - Weather Dieties Converge

It's a perfectly bright summer day. Not a cloud in the sky. Well, except for this tiny little spot in Central Park. It's cloudy there. Fat heavy dark grey rain clouds that were dumping a gentle but steady rain down on a rather small area of park.

In the middle of the rain shower was Thor, on his knees, by a very healthy young sapling oak, which has a ring of brightly blooming wildflowers around it. Winged helmet hanging from Mjolnir's handle and sitting off to one side, the Thunderer has his fingers in the dirt, gently pulling up sproulting wildflowers by the roots.

Storm had been waiting for the weather-mucking alien to show up again, and the moment she could sense the unnatural tiny patch of rain clouds over Central Park she headed down that way. She doesn't bother to wait for explanations or apologies, she simply banishes the rain clouds and corrects the humidity around the rest of the area. The barometric pressure over Pennsylvania will have to wait a little longer. Right now she's doing the hovering overhead disapprovingly thing.

That was... odd. Unless Thor wills it, the weather is sets to motion doesn't just... turn off like that. The blonde god of storms turns to look at Mjolnir, as if looking at the hammer would make it smile and shyly return the rain to what it was.

Thor blinks at his hammer, voice carrying faintly, "Well, I didn't ask thee to stop." His blue eyes return to the tree, finger tips resting in the moist soil about the young tree's growing root structure. Seeming satisfied with something, Thor stands and summons his hammer to him. Time to find out why the weather just poofed on him. And maybe go have a chat with the jetstream. It's been seeming a little unhappy lately.

Of COURSE the jetstream is unhappy, getting shoved about like sand on a beach by a toddler. Seeing the large man stand away from the oak and pull the weapon to his hand by some invisible means, Storm moves closer and into his line of sight. "You are from Asgard, yes?" Her eyes remain solid white as she controls the air currents that keep her aloft.

Thor looks up at Storm and for a moment just looks confused. And then the expression shifts to childishly gleeful. He too takes to the air, floating up to meet eye level with the Weather Witch. Blue eyes settle on white.

"Indeed, I am. I greet thee, Wind Maiden," he starts ready to launch into his litany of titles, if she'll let him, as he hangs, almost carelessly on a tiny zephyr.

Storm says, "I greet thee as well, visitor from Asgard." Thor isn't the only one that can do formality. "I must ask, though, to what end do you disrupt the weather patterns in this region?"

Well! This is interesting. Thor's head tilts to one side as the mortal... she is mortal yes?... speaks to him thusly. "For the moment.. I am tending a tree..." Because that's a good reason.

Storm nods a bit. "And you took into consideration that creating a small localized rain storm here would potentially lengthen the drought others are suffering to the west?" Despite the slightly accusatory words, her tone and facial expressions are completely neutral.

"Indeed. The rain was meant to move westerly once Ale was done," Thor says before his smile turns faintly rueful. "Unless Midgard summoned me to attend to something none of her Champions could, which I admit has been infrequent as of late. Jotunheim is gearing up for something, I am certain," he says, still peering into those white eyes of Storms.

"Sending this rain to the west would have been worse. The brief rainfall at the expense of extending the drought would not have been to anyone's benefit." The white-haired, white-eyed woman tilts her head slightly. "Are you unable to sense this world's weather patterns, or do you simply disregard them?" Again, the lack of noticeable emotion might make it difficult to determine if she's accusatory or not.

"Matters would not be helped if I simply sat myself above the area and made it rain for two score of days," replies Thor, his use of All Tongue shifting his words into Storm's native tongue.

"And Midgard does tell me when She requires my hand in things such as that. The air currents are only now growing restless with my works," he adds, amused by her tone of voice, the lack of emotion. Is she a goddess as well? Maybe related to the god Kurt spoke of? Certainly, she is not of Norse or Olympian origin.

"Might I know thy name, Weather Woman? And I can offer mine in return?"

Storm's lips twitch ever so slightly downward as the armored man switches to what her ears sounds like the Arabic she grew up speaking in Cairo. Not the best choice, but she doesn't realize that it's not something he can actually select. Switching to Swahili herself, she says in the most formal manner possible, "I am Ororo Munroe of Kenya, known as Mistress of the Winds by my tribe."

In midair, Thor gives an elegant and regal bow, Mjolnir sweeping as his cape flutters with the motion.

"I am Thor Odinson, Son of Frigga, Child of Jord called Gaea by the Greeks. I am Lord of Thurdheim, Prince of Asgard; called Donar the Mighty, Wielder of Mjolnir, Protector of Midgard, Lord of Storms and God of Thunder, among many others. I am husband to Sif Ragnahilde, the Goddess of War. I am honored to meet thee, Ororo Munroe of Kenya, Mistress of the Winds," Thor says words still formal to her ears. As she shifts languages, so might his words, mid-sentence if need be, to follow her mind's 'native' tongue. It's always confusing for those native in more than one. As their thoughts shift so does the All-Tongue. And Thor following along pleasantly, unaware that his words are shifting about in that he's aware that the All-Tongue does it, but not aware of how or when.

Storm blinks once as the man switches from Arabic to Swahili practically mid-word but otherwise doesn't visibly react. Has Thor seen any of the TV show Star Trek? If so, her behavior might seem familiar. "Well met, Prince Odinson. Shall we see about settling Gaea's currents?"

Thor's lucky to know what TV is let alone have watched Star Trek all the way through.

"My Mother speaks with thee?" Thor asks, sounding amazed at this revelation. Even so, he drifts closer nodding with an honest and open smile.

"If She hath need of it, then let us see it done."

Storm offers the faintest hint of a smile at the confusion. All-Tongue is apparently not completely flawless. "Apparently, my people's name for the Earth Mother has not changed recently." Her head turns to one side, as if she is listening to something, and she nods to the blond man. "Let us see it done."

All-Tongue translates words, not meanings. Modern vernacular is confusing! "Gaea is a name my birth-mother has been called before. Jord is how she is known in Asgard," offers Thor, trying to be helpful as he floats along at Storm's side. Floating at this leisurely pace seems to be easy for him.

Storm is maintaining the leisurely pace because she knows that stronger air currents mean more disruption to correct later. So much easier to leave a minimal footprint. She leads Thor to where the air currents feel the most 'uneasy' and stops. "This is the crux."

Thor hovers at Ororo's side, pausing to let the feel of the winds brush over him. His eyes flicker toward the electric spectrum as he seems to glance about. Mjolnir's runes gleaming, Thor finds no storms to manipulate, and so his eyes return to normal and he looks at Ororo expectantly... without really having done anything.

Storm watches Thor until he looks at her expectantly. "Can you not feel that? The currents are not shifting smoothly as they should." She gestures with one hand. "Were I to encourage them to go this way, the area I spoke of under drought would receive much-needed rain. And yet, doing so would create winds in that direction and stir a small wild fire into spreading across territory the rescue crews would be unable to maintain." She gestures in another direction. "If I send the currents in this other direction, the winds around the fire die completely. But then the drought will not break for another week." Her white eyes regard the tall man seemingly blankly, as if waiting for something as well.

The way Thor's brows lift make it clear that Thor does not have an answer for Ororo's question of feeling anything. He does try, however, eyes taking on a far away glaze, the hue dancing toward ocean blue for a moment.

"None of what thou did describe are of threat to Midgard proper," Thor finally says, eyes tracking her movements toward various areas. And then he smiles, as if something is clear to him.

"AH! I do see. Thou art as Freyr, my uncle, is. He doth speak to the wind and the clouds and the sun, ensuring they are directed as needs be to ensure the harvests. Forgive me, Mistress, such things are beyond my ken. I am the Lord of Storms. To the fires I would bring heavy rain or snow. To the parched land a thunderstorm, with lightning that fires might spread and return vitality to a barren field," Thor says, trying to explain that he simply can't nudge winds this way or that way. Sure, he's forced the jetstream here and there when his storms start toward global havoc, the kind that tend to summon hurricanes toward Staten Island, but the sort of jetstream chess Ororo's talking about? So not his windspeed.

Storm ahs as well, but faintly. Then as she gestures again, the air currents smooth to what they should be, ensuring that the wildfire does not spread out of control while avoiding prolonging the drought in Pennsylvania. "What I do is not so much to ensure harvests as it is to try and maintain the planet's ... equilibrium, I suppose is the simplest term for it." She switched back to English on that last part, as complex mathematical concepts were never really discussed with her in either Arabic or Swahili. "Every time either of us directly affect the weather, it has much farther-reaching results that I suspect anyone not attuned to Gaea would realize."

"Well, certainly. But Mother, I'm sure, understands that when the jotun or daemons or other manner of beast to which mortals are no longer familiar invade, I shall do as I must to repel them," says Thor, his language once more keeping pace with Ororo. Equilibrium? What's that!?

Storm nods to acknowledge Thor's words much as his mother Frigga would. "Of course. I likewise would do no less. But then, once the danger has passed, I proceed to restore everything to equilibrium as best I can, so as to reduce further damage."

And Thor grins at this, the smile almost boyish, "Well... I was never proficient at tidying up. I shall try to remember, Mistress of Winds."

Storm says, "That is all I can ask, Lord of Storms." She starts back toward Central Park at the same sedate pace, apparently fully expecting him to follow her again."

Of course Thor follows. Not quite puppy like, but it's intriguing to find someone like this. "Art thou mortal, Mistress?" he asks, trying to sound polite.

Now that finally gets a sort of emotional reaction from Storm. With a faint chuckle and a small smile she answers as honestly as she can. "I am not entirely certain, Your Highness. So far I have lived a normal mortal lifespan, so I suppose I shall have to wait to find out." At the very least she knows she doesn't have Logan's healing factor and looks pretty much her actual age, so far as she can tell.

"I understand. Have thou dwelled long upon this part of Midgard?" Thor, not trying to hit on Ororo, yet to the casual observer.... yeah.

The pupil-less eyes give Thor an evaluating look, especially considering he mentioned his wife when he introduced himself, and she decides he might be simple enough to deal with if he turns out to be one of those handsy types. "Several years, yes. I assist with a school in upstate New York."

"Thou art a teacher as well? A care taker of children?" asks Thor, truly sounding pleased as punch. "Verily am I quite honored to have come to make thy acquaintance, Ororo Munroe of Kenya, Mistress of Winds."

Storm nods again seemingly serenely. "I am. And thank you, You Highness. Though you may call me Ororo if you wish, or Storm." Please, for the love of sanity.

"Thou did not mention Storm in thy litany, and might that get confusing...? No, not perhaps not. Thou art Mistress of Wind, I am Lord of Storms. Very well, Ororo," Thor says, smile beaming again. "It is our hope that the All-Father allow us rights to raise our children upon Midgard, for a time, at least. Should one display a gift for storms, I would be please for thy guidance in the child's education," he says, Mjolnir still in his hand.

"It is what many call me when I am defending civilians, and I can see how it might be confusing." When he mentions wanting her to help with his children, she's very much surprised, and more than a little honored. "I would be honored to do so should I be given the opportunity, Your Highness."

"It's not in my hands, but everything is being done to ensure their healthy birth, so... yes. I shall come calling. Might I know the location of thy schoolhouse? That I may drop in with glad tidings?" Thor asks as if this was a completely normal Sunday afternoon.

At this, Storm hesitates. She's not entirely sure how the Professor would react to her inviting Thor to the school. Better to play it safe, most likely. "I would need to confirm with the school's owner that sharing such information would not put the students at risk." A neutral, hopefully safe answer.

"Of course. I understand, and I thank thee for thy consideration. Might I show thee my living space, " Thor adds with no loss of his good humor.

Storm says, "Perhaps another time. I need to return to the school now. Until then, Lord of Storms?"

Thor sweeps into a bow. "Until then, Mistress of Winds."

Storm returns the bow and swoops away toward the north, moving more quickly now.