Scene #1131: A Little Thor

Owner	Pose
Riva Banari	Riva is absolutely ruthless when she gets an opening. She thinks Inga getting a chance to hang out and get a more personal interaction with an alternate universe manifestation of her pantheon would do her good. It was on her bucket list next to 'Go to a rock concert with Jesus Christ' and 'Give Buddha a High Five'. So here she is, carrying Inga through Njorun because she KEEPS PASSING OUT. She finds a good chair in the Ring and sets out some mead (BECAUSE MEAD IS HOW YOU ROLL), letting Inga try to recover before she alerts Thor he's got a worshipper hanging around.
Thor	Thor is here, sitting about as he munches a thing of schwarma while awaiting the arrival of this norse pagan. It seems Riva insists on a meeting, so THor is not one to deny them. More food is provided, as is ale to drink while Thor himself cracks open a can of soda to sip from while he waits. Thor is patient, he's kind of got to be around humans, and this seems to be a meeting that /will/ happen no matter what he says. There's no way this won't turn out horrible, and Thor is bracing himself for the worst as he continues his evening meal. He is in for a very confusing sight when Riva and Inga arrive.
Riva Banari	Riva gets out a small hand fan and gives Inga a breeze to give her a hand while she's at it. "Come on, Inga, you need to make a good impression here."
Inga Freyjasdottir	Inga is being carried like a sack of potatoes to greet a version of one of her gods. This is the most undignified possible things to ever happen to her. As this is apparently happening wether she is ready for it or not, Inga insists that Riva put her down so that she can walk her own way over. So, after taking a moment to compose herself and arrange her clothing, Inga walks in, leaning on her staff. She's dressed in a long skirt and a red cashmere sweater, her hair neatly braided and pulled over her shoulder. It isn't what she'd have choosen to meet Thor, but there it is. Still, around her neck hangs a pendant, shaped like a hammer, carved with the thurisaz rune. It is obviously mean to represent mjolnir. Upon seeing Thor, Inga's eyes go wide. This...is not what she expected. Oh, he is a very good looking man. Incredibly so. Tall and well built she'd expected....but the beard? Lacking. The air of...godly majesty? Well, perhaps he's just not...playing that up at the momet. Still, she looks stunned. Inga approaches to get a little closer before she drops to her knees and bows low, her forhead nearly to the floor. Thor. She's meeting the great thunderer himself. To whom she prayed and sacrificed...or was it? The multiverse is still mind boggling. She takes a deep breath. "Great thunderer, you honor me by meeting with me. I...I did not have time to prepare a suitable gift," she says, swallowing hard. Will he be offended? Will he know her for what she is? Will he even care?
Thor	Thor is /not/ in keeping with Norse legend, no. His hair's blond instead of red, for one, and the beard is mostly just stubble compared to the massive jaw of facial hair in paintings. Then again, blame Volstagg for that one. Things get confused when legends are spun about aliens from space, after all. However this isn't the first time he's had a mortal throw themselves to his feet like this, and he simply lets her speak. "Well met, Inga, child of the Norse lands." He says after he sets his foot aside, standing before Inga. Needless to say, Thor /towers/ over Inga and Riva both with his height and musculature. It's honestly pretty intimidating to say the least. "You need not provide tribute in sacrifices to me. Your words of worship are merely enough to honor me for the time being." He offers a smile, before his hand reaches down to Inga in helping her up. "My days of traveling to Midgard and being worshipped are behind me, for the most part, however flattering this may be. I do admit, I am curious as to where and /when/ you unified from to be exact." Thor's voice and tone are deep in pitch and commanding in style, just like papa, even as he looks befuddled at Riva essentially playing matchmaker for this occassion. A golden eyebrow arches in her direction before he shrugs a shoulder. "You must be RIva. Well met."
Riva Banari	Where Inga is super worshipful, Riva is kind of chill, though clearly excited. Mischief is definately dancing in her eyes, though she seems to be more teasinly good-natured about it instead of nasty. While Inga is formal, Riva is dressed casually. Look, when you see a god drinking cola and eating a shawarma sandwich, it means they're /probably/ actually kind of chill. That doesn't keep her from giving a silent whistle of admiration when she looks over the Big Man himself. "Hi there! I'm Riva! Nice to meet you!" She says with a smile. "I mean, when I found out you had been out here before, it would just be a matter of time before you showed up again, and well... She is /really/ devoted to you guys, so..." she shrugs. See? She's putting in a good word for you, Inga!
Inga Freyjasdottir	Inga is trembling. She's trying not to, but she can't quite control it completely. She raises her head, her expression difficult to read. There's a maelstrom of emotions and thoughts swirling in her--its so strong as to almost be felt even by those insensitive to such thing. A hand is extended toward her. She looks at it for a few moments as if she's confused what it's there for. As if she forgot what a hand /is/. She shakes her head slightly, as if chasing out the moths, and takes the offered hand. It's warm, strong. Human feeling. That can't be too surprising, why it is said their people are descendants of the very gods... Inga, once on her feet, almost immediately sits again. She's rather afraid she's going to topple over. "Well...met. Inga Freyasdottir, wisewoman of Uppsala. Seer and seid-worker..." she says, trying to keep her voice steady. OH LOOK THERE IS MEAD. Inga drinks some. She needs it. Her brow furrows. His days of traveling to midgard to be worshipped are over!? Inga pales. Gulp. "I am from Uppsala. I was...brought forward in time. It was the year 782. Charlamagne wages his war against the Saxons," she informs him. Inga looks to Riva and her attitute, frowning reproachfully, though inwardly she wonders if she doesn't have the right idea... The wisewoman is experiencing a severe crisis of faith at the moment.