strangetrip | Check-In Day: A Carnival of WTFery

Burning up whenever she'd 'lived' too long was hella inconvenient.

Terrifying the first few times, too, but once she got used to that, it wasn't that different from becoming insubstantial. But being reborn from ashes? That full on sucked. Not because it hurt particularly. It wasn't exactly comfortable, but neither were the pointe shoes and the headdress she'd taken from the box to go with the Firebird costume she'd been working on for the last few months.

No, the part of being reborn from ashes that sucked was the mouth, eyes, ears, nose and other mucus membranes coated in ashes that came with it. Gross trumped uncomfortable and inconvenient any day. And the worst part was that if she tried to get herself totally cleaned up, she barely had enough time to do anything before she was ashes again.

Tending bar with bird claws was damn near impossible as it was. So by the time the newcomer arrived, she'd given up and taken to drifting lazily on the warm currents. She burned up less often that way.

[ OOC: Feel free to use this post for any November 1 costume related needs, but Kitty is only available for Valkyrie. ]

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'Child,' he says. Valkyrie made a cheeky little movement with her neck and held up the remains of her bottle in an invite--or a challenge. "Why? Surely the sight of a stranger in their underarmor isn't so formidable."

The bottle changed everything. For the promise of a drink, he could ignore her physical form, pleasant as it was. "Formidability has nothing to do with it. I worry for your soul with the temptation in this hotel."

But he gestured for her to join him at the table he met to sit at. "Planning to share or are you trying to lead me astray?"

"Let me worry about my soul and join me. I'm in need of your purported expertise. And a stiff drink." Valkyrie's fingers tapped the bottle enticingly before raising it to her lips for another hearty swig. Sealing it once she was satisfied, she tossed it Sam's way.

"That one's yours." She nabbed another fifth of whiskey. "This one's mine. Let's talk."

"What expertise would that be?" Samuel opened the bottle he'd just caught and forwent the obligatory wiping of the rim before taking a sip. It was alcohol. It would disinfect itself and it was the closest he'd get to her lips in this lifetime. God forgive him.

"If you're not concerned for the state of your soul, I'm sure how I can be of help."

Even if Valkyrie were concerned for the state of her soul, what would the man before her propose? Spreading the cloth of that stiff looking outfit into a pair of wings and helping it ascend to Valhalla?

"Information." Valkyrie answered promptly, sliding partly onto the table Sam was seated at, asserting herself into his entire field of view. "Here's what I know--" She paused to quench another spike of thirst, "We're in a pocket universe known as the Madonna Inn. Means of arrival unknown. Means of escape unknown. I'm in need of those blanks filled."

Since she seemed determined to put herself in his field of vision, Samuel gave in an permitted himself to look. As long as he didn't touch her -- or himself while thinking of her -- the would be no harm in it. Beauty was a gift from God, after all.

"Technically, the pocket universe extends four hours in each direction beyond the Inn. It includes a beach and ocean, but sailing to the horizon will only land you back here; the same as climbing the mountain out back. Everyone arrives the way you did, on the road, having been somewhere else. It generally occurs on the first or fifteenth of the month here. There's no known means of 'escape' although some people leave in the same unpredictable manner they arrived, and as of today, exactly one person has left and returned with their memories of the place intact."

That information given, Samuel rewarded himself with a generous swallow of the whiskey she'd put in his hand, and simply waited for the next round of questions. There would be one. The ones like her always had questions.

"And of the worlds we leave behind?" That question was sharper than the rest. The urgency Valkyrie felt to return to her people was readily felt, though she had nowhere to point that urgency. No feats to channel it into beyond her line of questioning. "We simply vanish?"

Ah. That question.

"We appear to be the products of divergent timelines." And he had learned from the books and Henry that time travel was possible. "Wherever you were, you still are. Simply not this current version of you."

"So we've simply--temporally split off." Valkyrie made a rapid circling gesture with her wrist as she thought to word it. "How do you know this?"

"There's a large group from a world called Exandria. They arrived separately from different points on their timelines. Some before others, some after." He palms his rosary again, pushing one bead through his fingers. "The ones who came after and from later in the timeline didn't know the others were missing."

The mouth of the bottle parted from Valkyrie's lips with a harsh 'pop!' as she lowered it. Father Samuel was neither lying nor had he doubts in the veracity of his claims--that much was clear.

How that boded for Valkyrie and her situation--her people weren't abandoned in a pure sense if this was, in fact, the case. Although they were traversing through the galaxies with their hopes high, it was a chaotic universe. A ship full of refugees with few combatants were pitifully easy targets for any roving bands, beasts, or even anyone with a grudge against the Asgardian throne.

This left an obvious pressing question in Valkyrie's mind. If this prison was not an act of sabotage, then what was left?

"The jailers. Who or what...?"

"There's been no sign of them since I arrived. It'll be two years at Christmas."

Samuel shrugged and all but upended the bottle over his face. He didn't like to think about the fact there was someone or something that could keep him here against the Lord's will, and if this was the Lord's will, what point was there in him being a priest? His flock such as it was included three lapsed Catholics, an erstwhile Anglican, a Jew. The rest appeared to be irreligious or pagans.

"Supplies arrive. No effort at tracking them has been remotely successful. The nearest we have to evidence of an exit is the mass entrance of an army of undead several months back." Another shrug and a deep swallow. "Neither the scientists nor the wizards have made any headway."

So the residents were not wholly complacent with their imprisonment. At the least in captivity there would be solidarity.

"Your graciousness is noted, Father Samuel, and something I intend to reward at a future time." Valkyrie clinked bottles before taking another swig off of her own, leaning well back to do it. The bottle was empty when it came back down and she capped it off with a disarming smirk. This Father (of what? She still didn't know but he clearly felt it important enough to emphasize as a title) was reassuring in his genuine disdain for their predicament.

"My last question. Are there any other Asgardian folk here?"

The word 'Asgardian' stirred up an intense antagonism that Samuel could find no source for. Perhaps he was simply jealous of the brothers, although they got along no better than he and Dean. Whatever the unknown cause, it provided no reason for not answering the young woman.

"I will have my reward in heaven," he replied, a cynical edge to his dutiful response. "But you will find two Asgardians here. One tall and fair, called Thor. One dark and slight, called Loki. If you write a message in your journal for them, one or both will doubtless appear."

So the infamous brotherly pair were about. The man she'd sworn her fealty to and the man she'd...also technically sworn fealty to in a traditional sense. And at no point had either mentioned a Madonna Inn nor any especially strange confinement. It was possible they'd both be from her own future but there was nothing for it until she found them.

Valkyrie's tense, bare shoulders relaxed the slightest amount. She gave Sam a quick pat to his cheek. "Wait if you must. I can grab us another bottle."

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