(( note, 11/21: I've been feeling under the weather, and thus slow with the tags, but I will get back to everyone's tags! Feel free to toss people at Wednesday. Today is, after all, his day
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Mel isn't drawn by the aspect of money, though it would be nice to get something decent for Brice for Christmas. And she can do a lot with £50.
'That myth,' she says, careful not to insult any gods as she once did whilst talking about the Egyptians (and thus getting sent back in time with her demon archenemy) 'Is it the one with Thor's hammer and Freya having to marry the frost giant, and Thor going as her? Loki accompanied them, the hammer was brought out because the giant had stolen, and they smashed a few skulls and went back to Asgard?'
And, because this guy is really freaky, she ducks her head as she finishes, almost afraid it's wrong.
A studious schoolgirl, is she? Don't think Wednesday doesn't pick up those angelic vibes, either. One of his gifts is to know the names of all the gods; he can tell a supernatural being when he sees one.
She's no maiden, either, young as she is, holy as she is. Wednesday finds her, too, amusing. This place promises much entertainment. Wordplay is the only kind of entertainment he expects or wants from this angel girl, luckily.
(She's a brunette, and also he doesn't much like things appertaining to the Judeo-Christian god. Though he holds neither of these against her, it doesn't add up to attractive.)
"Tell me the name of the frost giant, and I'll toss in another fifty, sky-maid."
Mel's eyes, when she looks up, are not surprised, but they are a little wary. She shakes her head. 'I only remember how he was described. 'A boil the size of a dinner plate and skin the consistency of rice pudding.''
(She doesn't remember that much about Norse myths, and is hoping the giant and this Wednesday character are not related.)
'And I'm Mel--Melanie--by the way. Do you know where you are?'
It's a safe bet he does, being a god and all. But it's polite to ask.
Shrugging, Wednesday opens his wallet and hands over a single crisp bill with a picture of Benjamin Franklin on it. Is it legit? Maybe. What matters is that it will be accepted as legal tender anywhere.
"A pleasure to meet you, Melanie, and to hear your fine answers. Why don't you tell me where I am?"
Mel plucks the note from his fingers with a civil thank-you, folding it and putting it in her front pocket without really looking at the picture of the man on it. She wouldn't know who it was, anyway. She's not thick, she just died before she did that in History at school.
On slightly more comfortable territory, she sticks her hands into her back pockets and shakes her hair back. 'You're at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Scotland. 2007.' She cocks her head a little. 'Why are you here, if you don't mind my asking?'
"Any ocean or all." A question for a question, and he prefers to take more than he gives: "What kinds of experiences has Hogwarts offered you, Melanie?"
Fine, be a difficult crosspatch, then. Mel raises her eyebrows. She has very expressive eyebrows, does Mel. Her 'Fine, be that way' look is quite clear.
'Don't eat the chocolates and don't provoke the demons or demon-hunters,' she eventually replies.
Mel's fine, be that way look elicits from Wednesday a smile that says mainly I will. I like being that way.
Was there any other way for him to be, really?
"Good counsel that I'll remember well," he promises. The whiff of brimstone hasn't escaped his nostrils, either. It rises from the stones like the old smells of cooking that soak into the flimsy walls of a boarding-house. "Where do you go to keep away from demons, and where do you go to find them?"
'They generally belong in Slytherin,' Mel tells him. 'The dungeons beneath the castle. I ward my room, and I'm not in that house. Plus, you know, being an angel helps sometimes.'
Only sometimes, though. Not at all confident she's got his measure, Mel surveys him closely. 'Where would you like to go, then, Mr. Wednesday?'
"I'd think being an angel made them harder to avoid at times, the great battle and all that. But that's no war of mine. I've never been fond of snakes, so let's set Slytherin aside, shall we? I've always been partial to ravens."
Re: Vote: RavenclawcallmewednesdayNovember 17 2007, 22:30:17 UTC
"Why, thank you, Melanie," said Wednesday, pleased. "I'll tell you something, for that."
He leans a little closer -- not so close as to be mistaken for Making a Move, just close enough to speak unheard by anyone save his intended audience. He smells like expensive cologne and, more faintly, like not-so-expensive whiskey.
"The frost giant's name," he says for only Mel to hear, "was Thrym."
Then he straightens and gives her an end-of-interview smile.
'That myth,' she says, careful not to insult any gods as she once did whilst talking about the Egyptians (and thus getting sent back in time with her demon archenemy) 'Is it the one with Thor's hammer and Freya having to marry the frost giant, and Thor going as her? Loki accompanied them, the hammer was brought out because the giant had stolen, and they smashed a few skulls and went back to Asgard?'
And, because this guy is really freaky, she ducks her head as she finishes, almost afraid it's wrong.
Reply
She's no maiden, either, young as she is, holy as she is. Wednesday finds her, too, amusing. This place promises much entertainment. Wordplay is the only kind of entertainment he expects or wants from this angel girl, luckily.
(She's a brunette, and also he doesn't much like things appertaining to the Judeo-Christian god. Though he holds neither of these against her, it doesn't add up to attractive.)
"Tell me the name of the frost giant, and I'll toss in another fifty, sky-maid."
Reply
(She doesn't remember that much about Norse myths, and is hoping the giant and this Wednesday character are not related.)
'And I'm Mel--Melanie--by the way. Do you know where you are?'
It's a safe bet he does, being a god and all. But it's polite to ask.
Reply
"A pleasure to meet you, Melanie, and to hear your fine answers. Why don't you tell me where I am?"
Note he didn't say he didn't know.
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On slightly more comfortable territory, she sticks her hands into her back pockets and shakes her hair back. 'You're at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Scotland. 2007.' She cocks her head a little. 'Why are you here, if you don't mind my asking?'
Reply
"I'm here," he says, "because I learned how to cross the ocean." He seems oddly pleased by that fact. "And why are you here?"
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Because the old and the new of him she can't quite squash together.
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'Don't eat the chocolates and don't provoke the demons or demon-hunters,' she eventually replies.
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Was there any other way for him to be, really?
"Good counsel that I'll remember well," he promises. The whiff of brimstone hasn't escaped his nostrils, either. It rises from the stones like the old smells of cooking that soak into the flimsy walls of a boarding-house. "Where do you go to keep away from demons, and where do you go to find them?"
Reply
Only sometimes, though. Not at all confident she's got his measure, Mel surveys him closely. 'Where would you like to go, then, Mr. Wednesday?'
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This was true.
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The moral highground suits her.
'Ravenclaw for you,' she says, more brightly than she feels. 'Have a nice time here, Mr. Wednesday.'
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He leans a little closer -- not so close as to be mistaken for Making a Move, just close enough to speak unheard by anyone save his intended audience. He smells like expensive cologne and, more faintly, like not-so-expensive whiskey.
"The frost giant's name," he says for only Mel to hear, "was Thrym."
Then he straightens and gives her an end-of-interview smile.
Reply
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