WELCOME TO ASGARD (part two) [OPEN]

[asgardmods]

 Who: EVERYONE!
What: Getting introduced to the city
When: Day 1, around noon
Where: The castle plaza and the Welcome Halls
Rating: Worksafe -- If this changes, please inform the mods.

[Welcome to the city of Asgard. Now that you've woken up and been given your welcome instructions (as per the FAQ), what will you do? There are a good number of other new

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HEL

[asgardmods]

[roadstotheriver]

[Lirael might not have been too sure about this whole place, but she never could put off exploring, so here she is, poking and prodding about her new home. It isn't really very big, is it? Not compared to the housing halls of the Clayr, or the Great Library, but there's enough for her to stick her nose into, at least for now.

She's still wearing her rose-colored surcoat, embroidered with silver keys and golden stars, and she's still wearing her sword and the bandolier across her chest with all seven bells. Just in case. So maybe she's not entirely sure that they don't work here, despite not being able to reach the Charter-- the source of her magic. Maybe they're just for her own peace of mind. But they're not coming off any time soon.]

[parasiteye]

[ She's like a walking trinket stand--and a lot softer on the eyes than Anemone. So Kaz has little trouble approaching her prior to his venture into town, lips tilted in a crooked smile. ]

Somethin' on your mind?

[roadstotheriver]

[It isn't hard to see him coming, so Lirael isn't too surprised. She is, however, nervous. These aren't Clayr, or part of the Abhorsen line, or even remotely like anything she's ever met before. So she hangs her head a little, her hair half-hiding her eyes, and puts her hand discretely on the leather-bound bells, more for some kind of moral support than out of any thought that she'll need to use them.]

Um. No... I'm just... looking around.

[Her voice is very low, and she's most definitely not looking directly at him.]

[parasiteye]

[ ...Well that's new. Usually the people in this house are either abrasive or a pain in the ass--not insecure and shy. Color him intrigued! ]

You lost?

[roadstotheriver]

[Lirael shakes her head a little, heavy hair swinging. Really, the house isn't big enough to get lost in.]

My room is, um. Upstairs.

[She peeks a little at him through her hair. He doesn't seem to be too difficult... she hasn't met anyone else here yet, though, besides the maid, who was admittedly very polite. Really, she ought to say more. Ask a question. Introduce herself. Something.]

[parasiteye]

--You live here? Seriously?

[roadstotheriver]

[Now she winces just a little.]

Is that wrong? The maid showed me where my room was, and that-- that I was here to live under... someone named Hel...?

[She has no real concept of Gods beyond their being advanced Free Magic creatures, like those of the Beginning, and admittedly that scares her just a little.]

[parasiteye]

No, that shit's all right...but you don't exactly fit into the "type" here, y'know?

[roadstotheriver]

Type? [she repeats, puzzled. More information is obviously needed here.] I don't know much about this place... or Hel. [Whoever she is, besides a goddess.]

[parasiteye]

She's a creep, more or less. Ignore her.

[roadstotheriver]

Oh.

[Well. She's not sure what to make of that. But she does finally start pushing her hair back a little, so he can see her face, and the Charter mark on her forehead.]

Who is she?

[Besides a goddess and a creep, she means.]

[parasiteye]

[ His answer comes out a bit delayed--he's busy staring unabashedly at her head ]

....Some shadow-lady. I dunno. Didn't do much but creep.

[roadstotheriver]

Oh. All right.

[Shadows might have something to do with it, then. Lirael has always been a bit morbid and certainly focused on death. But now she's tempted to let her hair fall back down again. She shifts uncomfortably under his gaze, looking away from him.]

Um. Is there... something wrong?

[parasiteye]

You don't exactly seem like th' type that's been gettin' tossed in here.

[roadstotheriver]

You said that....

[At least he isn't staring quite so hard anymore. She shifts uncomfortably again, from foot to foot, and finally asks,] Um. What is the "type"?