(no subject)
It was bound to happen eventually.
And so a shadow falls over the hotel.
It's large, very large; for a moment, it fills the sky. Silver, made of metals humanity hasn't discovered yet, this is an O'Neill-class battleship, sleek, streamlined, and nothing if not formidable.
It hovers there a while, all silent after the sonic boom. It's waiting. Observing. Scanning. Just outside the hotel lobby, without warning and after a long while, there's a flash of light: beaming technology.
A figure appears-- slighty smaller than a man, slighter still, with long limbs, webbed hands and feet. He (an asexual he, for lack of a better term) wears no clothes and yet exhibits no shame. He is the very picture of something that is, above all, alien-- the picture of something found in the the Roswell space crash and abduction reports from across the globe.
Thor blinks, slowly, and watches the community with black, black eyes. "I am here."
Typist: An invasion, of sorts. Thor, courtesy of Stargate SG-1.
And so a shadow falls over the hotel.
It's large, very large; for a moment, it fills the sky. Silver, made of metals humanity hasn't discovered yet, this is an O'Neill-class battleship, sleek, streamlined, and nothing if not formidable.
It hovers there a while, all silent after the sonic boom. It's waiting. Observing. Scanning. Just outside the hotel lobby, without warning and after a long while, there's a flash of light: beaming technology.
A figure appears-- slighty smaller than a man, slighter still, with long limbs, webbed hands and feet. He (an asexual he, for lack of a better term) wears no clothes and yet exhibits no shame. He is the very picture of something that is, above all, alien-- the picture of something found in the the Roswell space crash and abduction reports from across the globe.
Thor blinks, slowly, and watches the community with black, black eyes. "I am here."
Typist: An invasion, of sorts. Thor, courtesy of Stargate SG-1.