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[thunderriere]

[ the video opens on the handsome face and stupidly broad shoulders of a rather cheery-looking man, which is a little at odds with the fact that he's in a holding cell in a Heropan police station. it looks like he's wearing some sort of leather-like tunic, like a lightweight armor; there's a bright blue pauldron covering one shoulder, the other bare, and there's clearly a cape attached on one side, but not the other. his hair and beard are both short, neatly trimmed, and his smile is a friendly, genuine sort — again, a little at odds with the scene behind him, where the sliding crossed-bar metal door separates the man from the wider view of the police station, several uniformed officials in the background going about their jobs. ]

[ also, he's got an eye patch. metal. ... literally, it's made of metal. there's a wicked-looking scar running beneath it, from his brow and across his cheek, so the covering is probably deserved. ]

Hello there, New Earth.

[ he waves at the camera. ]

It's quite a different planet than the last Earth I visited. A little less familiar, a little less besieged by aliens. Fewer wizards, maybe. Still mostly human, though, you've got that going for you.

[ although there's some din of other people in the ambient background noise, there's a suspicious-sounding cough caught suspiciously-close to the microphone; the man's single eye flicks away from the camera to instead stare at the suspiciously off-screen source. ]

What? Oh, come on, would you really have preferred an Earth full of Dark Elves?

[ he continues to stare at this suspicious someone off-screen; the camera shifts a little to the side, and starts to turn— ]

[ —there's a somewhat comedic-sounding yelp, and then... some sort of bird call? the camera jostles violently before being covered by something dark. ]

[ a heavy sigh follows. ]

Now you're just being absurd.

[ after a moment, the feed comes back to show a pretty brunette woman in a blue dress, looking like she tumbled in from a semi-casual renaissance faire. she stands stiffly, her arms crossed, sending an absolutely murderous glare towards the first speaker. her lips are pressed tightly together, and she seems to have no intention of actually saying anything. from elsewhere-further off-camera, a younger man's voice: dude! do Beyonce next! ]

You'll have to excuse my brother here. [ the one-eyed man indicates the brunette woman with an extended thumb; there are smears of blood on his fingers, a splash of red all across his palm. he smiles, but it's quite Tired. ] He's a bit of a coward when it comes to meeting new people. Always makes a bad first impression. I can't take him anywhere.

I told you I wouldn't include myself in this. [ the woman (apparently the man's "brother") finally speaks, but her words are hushed and angry, and directed at the one-eyed man. she reaches toward the camera—it swings away from her before she can grab it, and the picture is a blur of color. her voice continues from off-screen in an anxious hiss: ] I'm trying to keep a low profile. Stop talking before you completely ruin it.

If you wanted to keep a low profile, you shouldn't have gotten us arrested the day we got here.

[ the picture finally refocuses from a different angle; it's further away from our idiot leads, who are clearly distracted by their argument. ]

How was I supposed to know they'd overreact? You're the expert on this backwoods planet. [ he isn't given chance to interrupt; the woman barrels on, as if her few minutes of silence had only allowed her thoughts to build up pressure for a flood: ] We don't even have to be here, you know. I can just walk us out whenever we like. This cell isn't even enchanted. [ a beat. ] It's pitiful, really.

We're not becoming fugitives of human law because you don't want to pay bail after you stabbed a man in a diner.

[ the man rolls his single eye and shrugs his shoulders, but looks once more at the camera. he smiles, deflective. just a little spat between siblings! that's normal! ]

Sorry. Where are my manners? I am Thor, son of Odin of Asgard. Thank you for bringing me and my brother to your planet. Unfortunately, I've already had my share of being imprisoned this week, so if any of you would like to barter for my release, that'd be great, thanks.

[ he waves his hand toward the camera — yep, still covered in blood — and the feed ends there. ]

Comments

[slightlyoffchilt]

Well, you do seem like a busy man. God? Whatever term you most prefer. Are you keen to meet the godlings of this realm?

I wouldn't blame you, if you weren't.

[thunderriere]

God. [ we are not going through another lord of sparkles debacle. ]

Who are the "godlings," Doctor?

[slightlyoffchilt]

["Lord of Sparkles" might very well be the logical conclusion.]

Oh -- Dionysus, Baal, Woden. Inanna. Some others I can't remember. A spread of pantheons. All seemingly under twenty-five years of age.

[thunderriere]

So they're infants. [ nodding, thoughtful. ] That explains a lot.

[slightlyoffchilt]

I mean, they might act like infants. Except for Baal. [HE'S STILL TRYING TO GREASE THAT WHEEL.] I suppose the assertion holds, then, yes.

[thunderriere]

Oh, right, right. My apologies, I've forgotten, how long do humans live? Two, three hundred years? Roughly? So twenty-five must not seem that young to you.

[slightlyoffchilt]

Our average hits about three hundred and fifty now -- I think David Blake lingers around that -- only because our medicine has improved a little bit over the past two millennia. But you are correct in that twenty-five seems much too aged to be considered infantile by current standards.

[thunderriere]

Congratulations.

[ (. ]

My people are much longer-lived than yours, Doctor. I'm over fifteen hundred years old, and should I live to the lengths of my father before me, I have thousands upon thousands of years more until I join my people in the halls of Valhalla. For my brother, it is the same.

If your godlings are true gods, then they are still like children.

[slightlyoffchilt]

Thank you. [He says that, as if he's personally responsible for anything other than his lie.]

Perhaps they might benefit from your guidance, then. As a mentor.

[thunderriere]

They would. [ he's not trying to brag, but Thor has never been one for false humility. ] And if they seek it, they can find me.

[slightlyoffchilt]

I wouldn't doubt that Baal might seek you out. He is also rather... Striking.

[Because lol lightning.]

[thunderriere]

You must think highly of him.

[slightlyoffchilt]

He is an Ambassador. They are intended to represent our imPort cities, although some are left to be desired.

[thunderriere]

Uh-huh... So of the three, he's the only one you desire?

[ (. ]

I'm sure he'll be flattered by your efforts, Doctor, and should we meet, I'll remember this conversation.

[slightlyoffchilt]

[THOR.]

Much appreciated.

[Chilton admitted, however silently, that Thor caught onto the art of politics a lot quicker than credit might have been given.]

And I'll mention your merit to him, should I see him first.