2013.05.01 - Thrimilci Feast, Vignette: Begin At The Beginning

Announcements of upcoming nuptuals and official adoptions are always cause for celebrations, and the merry-making that goes on around is certainly keeping in line. Time for a little Asgardian 'letting hair down', though.. to celebrate in such a fashion in Midgard seems.. hollow. At least to one who has situated himself at the mead table, blue eyes watching his horse as the animal happily grazes amongst the fragrant roses.

Lifting a tankard that is covered in deep, old runes, Fandral drinks deeply at the sweet mead, his gaze still upon those around him. After a few, long easy draughts, he lowers it again and whistles a soft, two-toned whistle. Off, in the grass, the large, bay horse raises his head, ears perking forward, nostrils flaring in a soft whicker. His rider doesn't need to be close to know the sounds of his companion.. and he smiles.. and nods. "Enjoy, Firehooves.. you deserve the celebration too."

After a few of those tasty champagne drinks and even more tasty cheesecake stuffed strawberries, Fern is ready to check out the real food available. Still, she takes a round-about route, as she typically does, and is just approaching the horse when it lifts it's head and huffs it's breath. Although she's from a small town, she has very little experience with farm animals, even though the beast munching on grass is more than any mere farm horse. The horse's movement has Fern stopped in her tracks, eyes widened and fixed on the large beast. She glances around, then leans a little closer to it, her voice almost a whisper, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to almost walk on your meal." She didn't quite catch the whistle that the horse did, and doesn't realize that is what he is responding to, not her potential intrusion.

The large bay horse certainly does look imposing. He's tacked up, a pair of swords hangs upon his norse-runed saddle. They're heavy looking weapons, sheathed, thankfully. With his head raised, he has been 'released', after a fashion, to return to his meal, but for this creature that now stands before him.. and is talking to him! With widened nostrils, Firehooves leans his neck out to reach a good distance to sniff at Fern, the snuffles sounding more like a dog than a horse.. rapid intakes and then a *puff* of air out. A step forward is taken in her direction, and again, a *puff* of air is blown. The ears, now, flicker.. one in front, one to the side.

"That's how he says 'hello'," comes a voice. Fandral, dressed in his green finery, completely with cloak set upon his shoulder, stands with his mug. "Do him the courtesy to blow upon his nose in greeting?" There's a ready smile; could be that he's putting the poor girl on!

Fern watches the horse as it's attention fully falls on her, unafraid, and not because of the champagne drinks. She's respectful of animals, but rarely fears them. At the first puff of air, she giggles, and she doesn't back away as the animal steps forward. The second puff tickles at the strands of hair that have escaped captivity, but a resonant voice draws her attention away from the beast. Fern turns, having already surely given Fandral an eyeful of the cut out back of her dress, revealing the sparkly, sweetheart cut front. "Blow on his nose?" she questions, her head giving a curious tilt. If he is having her on, she doesn't get it, because she turns back to Firehooves and purses her lips, blowing back at his muzzle.

No question that Fandral appreciates the form and figure of a woman, and there's no telling how long he was there before he chose to spoke! His brows rise, and he nods towards his horse in an encouraging way, a silent 'go on'.. as the horse stands almost.. expectantly, nose down, ears forward. "Yea.. if thou dost truly wish to speak with him, it should be done in a manner of his understanding."

When Fern does blow on his muzzle, Firehooves lifts his head and moves to rest his chin on Fern's shoulder, blowing air through those large nostrils of his before his rubber nose and lips start playing with earrings and wisps of hair.

Now, Fandral laughs and reaches out to pat the horse's neck and gives him warning, "She is not thine, Firehooves. Thou canst not claim her either. Let her be and allow her to remain comely for the rest of the evening."

Fandral looks to Fern now and makes the 'official' introduction. "This is Firehooves. War steed and shameless flirt."

The turn should please Fandral further, then, as it reveals what seems to be a long dress from the back, is significantly shorter in the front, displaying quite the expanse of slender leg. Her smile is warm and friendly, but her eyes widen again as the horse becomes more familiar. The widening is not in fear, shown when her laugh comes, and one hand raises to rest lightly on the horse's neck. "Don't eat my earrings, please, they're borrowed," she chides gently. Her head tips back as she looks up to Fandral's considerable height, besting her own by more than a foot. At the introduction she looks to the horse, sketching the same curtsey she still habitually gives for Thor and Sif. "It's my pleasure to meet you, Firehooves." Her eyes shift back to Fandral, glittering with amusement. "And you are?"

Fandral certainly has taken note of the cut of the dress, and taken with his horse's seeming forwardness, offers an even broader smile in the fact that she doesn't take offense. At the question, however, the Warrior looks a little taken aback. Even the children worked out who he was! Doesn't everyone?

Still..

Reaching for her hand now, Fandral drops his hand from the horse's neck to do so, he'll press his lips to her knuckles if allowed. "Fandral.. at thy service, fair maiden." There is a pause before, "Swordsman of the Warriors Three, Protector of Asgard, and sword brother to mine Prince, Thor Odinson."

Of course, it's obvious just by his garb that the man is linked with the God and Goddess, but she had to look them up to familiarize herself with their history. Her hand is surrendered willingly, the charm of the gesture bringing a feint blush to Fern's cheeks. Or is that from the champagne drinks? The curtsey she had given the horse is repeated to the man... or is he a God as well? Something more to look up, unless the drinks loosen her tongue enough that she simply grows bold enough to ask. "It's an honor, sir. My name is Fern Fiddlehead."

Fandral makes no such claim to godhood, though he is almost as long lived as Thor himself. Upon her introduction, he inclines his head, "Well met, my lady Fern." There comes a brief pause before, "Sif recounted to me in much detail on how lovely the ladies are in Midgard, and I am now caught as a fool as I did not believe the stories." Rising from his bow, Fandral releases her hand gently, and offers a smile. "And may I ask how it is I come to find thee here present at the party?" He chuckles softly, "All of Asgard is speaking enviously of it.. is it the same here in Midgard?"

Fern's blush only deepens at Fandral's words, and she looks away, suddenly much more shy. Who wouldn't be, with the towering Adonis doling out compliments? She glances up to him, unable yet to look fully, and offers, "I met Sif and Thor ... well, during something of a misadventure." Yes, that's a good description for being caught out in the middle of the city by orcs and trolls and the like. "Thor dropped his hat," helmet! "and I returned it to him. They were kind enough to invite me." To further avoid looking at Fandral, Fern's eyes drift about the milling crowds. "I can't imagine that anyone wouldn't want to be here. It's lovely."

"Misadventure?" Fandral laughs and shakes his head. "Any adventure of theirs is certain to offer a great deal of.. challenge." Those blue eyes twinkle with good humour, the sound of his laugh carrying easily in his tones. "And Thor dropped his helm? It must have been a great blow to his head that would dislodged it." Which, in his book, makes it particularly MORE fun. "Thou must tell me thy story, of this 'misadventure'." Waving his hand dismissively, he allows for her turning him down for the time being. It is a party after all, and one such as she must have numerous suitors all willing to take her by the hand and lead her away.

Bah! Not that chivalrous. He'll take her time for a little longer. "Oh, this party is one that many would dream of attending. The coming wedding of Thor and Sif? It has been in the works for.." Here, Fandral seems at a loss. Time goes so.. differently here. When was he last here? Shaking his head, he lifts his hand to scratch at the back of his neck in theatric.. confusion. "Many years."

For a moment, Fern is on the verge of telling the story here and now. But the wave of Fandral's hand insures her silence on the matter, and she does fleetingly think that owing a story might perhaps insure another opportunity to talk to Sif and Thor's friend. Hey, she's only human. Although, there doesn't seem to be any line waiting for her attention, so clearly the Asgardian is being kind. Her eyes drift, finding Thor and Sif among a group of their friends, including Miss Potts and Mr. Stark. "It's a wonderful love story," she says, perhaps a bit wistfully.

Of course it means a story for another time! It's one of many reasons why Fandral's asked for it to come at another time. Part of it is to be sure he asks Thor about it before he catches the story.

Offering his arm, the Warrior gestures towards the tables.. most importantly, the mead. "Wouldst thou join me at yon table of sweets?" Of course dessert before dinner! Fandral does chuckle at the wistful sigh, and shakes his head. "I shan't disavow thee of thy romantic leanings, but it has always been by the sword where the two find their fondness." Whether or not that's changed? Well.. who knows?

"Believe it or not, Sif is a fine warrior in her own right. Joining me many times in battle." Fandral shakes his head in fond memory. "And what battles they were."

With her eyes still on the couple, Fern dares to disagree with the Asgardian. "Perhaps that's how it began, but you can see it in Sif's eyes every time she looks at Thor. She... glows." Not literally, of course. Mostly. The young woman snaps out of her momentary reverie, looking back to Fandral with a smile. "Dessert before the meal? Is that customary where you're from?" She's ready enough to step along with him, having had nowhere pressing to be. "It seems like everyone I meet any more is a wonderful warrior, or a superhero, or someone brave and strong." The tone of her words might give the fact that she herself is not any of these things.

Glow? What?

Fandral looks over at the couple, his gaze lingering for a few long moments before he shrugs and brings it back to his companion of the moment. "I shall take thy word at it, Lady Fern." Perhaps he's just blind when it comes to his friends?

As they approach the desserts table, Fandral laughs and shakes his head. "Customary, nay.. but when there are none around to scold? Eat, drink and be merry. Besides, should we be sent on a quest and not return, it would be a sadness if we did not eat the sweets." Life is short, eat dessert first!

Stopping to look over the pastries, there are.. well, nothing really that he recognizes. Other than the fact that it's dessert. At Fern's words, however, the Warrior straightens again, and looks down at the slight redheaded form that is Fern. "And there is shame in not being any of those, Lady Fern?" Shaking his head, he pulls a seat out and offers it to her. "Thou art.. who thou shouldst be. In that, thou dost serve a purpose."

The grass, while lovely, is not always the most even of surfaces for one in high heels, and at one point Fern has to reach out and lightly touch Fandral's arm to steady herself. It's a fleeting touch, only lasting long enough for her to regain her balance and let her hand fall away. She can't help but smile as the first thing that catches her eye on the table is the massive amount of cannoli. She unclasps her clutch purse, taking out her phone, smiling at Fandral.

"I need to get a picture... those," she says, indicating with her phone, "Are from the restaurant where I work. Anita will be so happy if I send her a picture." It's a short moment to snap a picture of the beautifully appointed table, another to quickly tap in the number and send it. Then the phone is stowed, attention back on Fandral. Her smile is impish as she says agreeably, "I cannot argue that with you." Part of her purpose seems to have been getting the delicious cannoli out to the guests of her friends.

When Fern leans upon him to steady herself, his hand comes out quickly, easily.. naturally in order to keep her aright. Upon the table sits such delicacies, and each and every one of them.. a puzzle that he'll enjoy undertaking. Not too much, however.. he's not given to excesses. Not like some others!

The cellphone, however, gains a curious look from the Warrior, and his brow creases in curiosity. "A picture.. send her a picture?" There are no artists in the hall- something that he's actually surprised about. "With.. that?" And Fern is done.. and when its put back, he shakes his head slowly, and he laughs softly. "Surely things have changed since last I've visited."

Still, purpose is under discussion, and gesturing towards the seat, Fandral looks.. pleased with the lack of argument. Even moreso in the agreement! "Then be not vexed or dismayed. All will think the same of thou when they make thine acquaintance. 'How a lady so passing fair can have such an unbothered, pleasant life while mine is filled with such dread and hardship at every turn!'" He makes it a touch theatric, of course, his tones arching a little in the drama. "'I wouldst know her secret!'"

Just as the purse clasp snaps shut, Fern spies the curiosity on Fandral's face. She sweeps her skirt under herself hastily as she sits, at once taking the phone back out. "Yes, a picture with this." She quickly pulls the picture back up, leaning as she holds the phone toward Fandral, not so much offering it to be taken, as offering it for him to look at with her. "This can send this image to my boss, Anita, so she can see how lovely the dessert table looks."

And indeed, it is a majestic sight, with flaming baked Alaska, the chocolate cake decorated with red strawberries, and the other goodies. The grandness of his tone draws a soft laugh from her, and she does demure part of what he says. "I don't think many people are very envious of me." It's a gentle voice of opinion, given as she crosses one leg over the other, her skirt slipping but her attention otherwise occupied so she doesn't quickly cover her leg. Besides, it's a pleasant night, and she shows more in a bathing suit!

Fandral takes a swallow of what is left in his mug and sets it aside on the table of desserts as he looks at the phone when she pulls it back out. He crouches slowly, his hand upon the back of the chair for balance (as if he needs it!) and looks curiously. "It is a picture of--" that dessert table. "Remarkable!" He reaches for the phone to get a closer look, his fingers threatening to hit too many buttons. Might actually call someone inadvertently!

"You would never know, perchance. Some who envy thy life would speak not upon it.."

Fern does release the phone... what harm can he do? And his large thumb hits upon just the right combination to draw a whirring buzz from the device's little speaker, before a voice says, "Jenny? Hey, call me back!". Another beep signals the end of the message. The girl's eyes roll, and she murmurs lightly, "I'm always getting wrong numbers like that."

A close look is given to this phone, peering at it. As Fandral tries to work out exactly how it holds such a thing even as the screen goes a little grey from no input, the voice rises from its little speakers. He drops the phone when it goes off in momentary surprise, and looks again at Fern. "Wrong numbers?" and a hand lifts to scratch at the back of his neck again. Realizing that he's dropped it, the phone is retrieved and handed back, his fingers no doubt messing up some setting or other. "A strange thing indeed."

Fern laughs softly, nodding, "When someone calls you, but wants someone that you don't know." She realizes it's not a very good explanation, and amends with her typical kindness, "One day, if no one does it before me, I'll show you how it works." The phone is taken back, fingers brushing lightly against his as she accepts it, and it disappears into her purse again. Her eyes turn to the bounty before them, and she asks eagerly, "Where do you think we ought to begin?"

"Mistaken identity.." Fandral nods, though the words are a question in themselves. "I believe that there will be no real reason for learning such.. though if I find my time here is .. longer than expected, I will ask for thine instruction, Lady Fern." And it should be an interesting time!

As for where to begin with the sweets? Ha! Rising from his crouch, Fandral offers his hand soon after, watching the fabric of the dress simply.. slide across her flesh. He smiles again, a genuinely.. pleasant expression, and raises his voice. "At the beginning!"