Golden halls rang true to the disposition of the masters that bore residence here. There was a quietness to the halls of the Gods colour not lacking in the truth of grandior, yet as with all royalty and regale means there was an absence of homeliness and comfort to cool stone. Searching for anything warm and kind in the holdings of a nation was foolish for the fires could not be stoked with good ideals alone. Desire was but for power in such a place or one would assume, there was much to do with title that one could not comprehend could not bend their lives to the true of nobility yet alone to those that wore a crown. Yet as entry was granted to a small party eyes scanned memories of a homeland not so different resounding. In times of turmoil unity was needed spurring those of station into alliance into deals forged of blood and cunning that would forever determine the realms beyond. One word spoken could present a future whether it be good or bad. A part of this slender woman stepping in foreign halls would not return she mused.<br/><br/>Guardians mounted to her sides fell to the heels of the dark locked woman her chin held high gown hue of sapphire clinging to her form concealed by a navy cloak hood drawn to contain the ambient mystery of this new guest. The years had led her to this path the willing of her mother, a Goddess of great power a ruler of their realm, the sister world of this Asgard. Although, their people were somewhat differing where here in these golden halls they took up blade and cast their will in brute force. Her people chose the discrete needs of magics and foresight, speculating to the stars the outline of their lives. It was never so simple and fate often proved a fickle beast. Darkness existed to make light truly know or rather that was what the woman chose to believe for in the uncertainty of shadows one had to seek redemption or sanity might be an object of contemplation. It was not before long that two grand doors were presented before them and stiffly coated warriors ushered them in, to her fate to the ruling King and Queen of Asgard.<br/><br/>Heels clipped across floor as the woman came to stand in front of the two, an aging man speculative with one eye preening down to her and her guard. Accompanied by a woman of warmth golden girls touching her head intricately working into her crown. Kari despite being the daughter of Freyja held not illusion to the place of the mighty realm of Asgard. The ruler holding the scepter bore the rule of Nine Realms binding them all to his will with the knowledge their freedom was but a condition if they maintained the peace. Bowing her head in respect she lowered the hood disclosing her fine features sharp in their beauty. “Your Majesties, my mother Freyja and Vanaheimr bear greetings,” she offered her tongue of the politician but if any knew the woman they knew her heart was of something more a wildness in the eyes of the woman, the sparkling blue claiming the soul if they could not have the actions. There was a plan here, for her people and for extended unity of their two worlds and it bore no interest to her but with the firm pressing of her mother here she was.<br/><br/>“Kari of Vanaheimr, I do not believe we have had the pleasure for some hundred years, I have heard of your accomplishments.” The King spoke from his posture assumed on the throne. He looked down to the girl, she was lovely in appearance and he knew of her kinship with magic and proficiency with the bow. He did not deny his longing to take this woman into their holds, a seer in the making if only there was a way to find her permanent station within his halls like Heimdall. “I will not keep you, but let us rejoice at the company of the Vanir. Tonight we shall feast, until then let one of my sons accompany you. Show you to your quarters and perhaps a tour of the place?” The man sought the assembled crowd for either a God of Thunder or Mischief to make an appearance and offer their service either for the company of the woman or in return for his praise.<br/><br/><br/>As golden rays spewed through the palace windows it coated them with a warmth and beckoning to the outer day. How one would long to stray to those rays instead of intently standing before an empty room. The power of appearance nothing to a good weapon, the promise of strength could be shown not pretended. A warrior could not simply comprehend these politics for to the broad shouldered man they were unneeded lies in the wake of truths. He would offer a smile or a grin when they were of relevance and he felt them, there was no falsity to this man. He had assumed it to be corrupt and where many had the silver tongue and the disposition of a ruler that would walk the fine lines he would often glance in the direction of a dark haired brother knowing that the other would be more suited for said tasks. Yet, the man of golden hair knew that in his birthright and with the might of his hammer he would be King and he would rule his people with a transparency he hoped that they might admire.<br/><br/>For to be a God was to be revered and yet it was not something that he dare crave. The disposition of this man was for battle and ale, loving the two quite fondly hand in hand they strove for the betterment of words. Of course in the splendor of his time he was still naive to much, his heart untouched other than by what he sought to take for himself. Glory and promise of a world better for the slaining of foes. Little else mattered to the son of Odin, he had been bred on the finer stories of his father hearing of the great battles and splendid victories. It was hard to imagine where he had gotten the notions of how he would rule, falling from the lessons of words and wisdom he bore them no heed with a youthful arrogance some might find laughable. Others found him quite charming and with time knew that he would be fit to lead them. He took comfort in the backing of the Warrior Three and his closest friends, they saw to his grounding as well as shared battles between them it brought them closer hand in hand with victories and glories for the realm and themselves of course.<br/><br/>Nearly shaken from the dull nature of standing, waiting for a woman he had never met soon the doors open and brought for the creature. As he drew back her hood he felt the smile touch his lips. He could sense the magics flowing from her form as he noted when in the presence of his younger sibling. Despite what some might call him Thor was no fool and he had been victim enough to the trickings of Loki to know the flowing of such power even in the throne room. He barely listened to the words of his father to the kindness offered by his mother. Yes, they sought for someone to take lead on escorting this maiden through their home and yet he could not bring himself to take on the task. Training called him beyond the doors of these halls the golden towers to be forgotten in the background for Mjolnir had been far too neglected with the passing morn and he wished to rectify the bond between them the strength of a man and his hammer.