+fuzzyswordsbamf

 Dani felt uneasy, and that feeling alone only went to make her even more uneasy. It was a never ending, vicious cycle of grumbling and glaring as she tried to get over it. Needless to say right now she wasn’t winning the battle. Glancing over her shoulder once more at the man who seemed to be following her, she finally whirled around.

 ”What?! What do you want? Huh?” hands firmly planted on her hips she waited for a reply.

He was dark haired, with slender features, and he wore a hoodie and a long dark coat that looked like it had been spattered with paint. His skin was pale Caucasian, and his eyes were a ridiculously navy sort of blue.

He stepped back a bit as she snapped at him, and he held up elegant hands, though those hands looked a bit like he was doing the LLAP handsign except trying not to. One of those hands wore an amazingly sci-fi looking digital watch, like an Omnitrix in silver and blue.

“I am sorry, bitte,” he replied, his accent an educated sort of Bavarian. “It is just— I was buying a newspaper and you walked past and— do not take this the wrong way.”

“But you smelled of sulphur.”

“And— this is a long shot. But I wondered if we were related.”

Wait what no.

 Shit.

 This… This wasn’t good. Crap on a stick!

 Sighing, Dani looked him over wondering how in the hell he could smell the sulfur on her. No one else had been able to, and any demon she knew had never made mention of the smell on her before. Either they were playing it nice and sparing her feelings, or none of them had noticed it. Still if this Vulcan fan boy could smell it, either he was just leading her on or there was more to him than meets the eye.

 Instinctively her hand reaches back for her angel blade tucked nicely against the small of her back. It was smaller in size than the normal blades, easier to conceal but equally deadly if used properly. Thankfully she had been trained in how to use them, trained by the best in her mind. Still her hand only wrapped around the handle, she didn’t pull it free.

 ”I don’t know what you’re talking about pal. The only thing I smell like is soap and shampoo.” she laughs faintly. “And the only relative I know about is one aunt, aside from that I ain’t got jack for family. So.. Really.. Who are you exactly, and why are you following me? Cause I don’t buy your story.”

"Ach," his shoulders sagged.

He snapped a glance worriedly over one shoulder. "Maybe it did not come from you. Maybe I imagined it?"

Maybe someone was playing tricks on his senses. Was it Emma? ...or maybe it had been a prophetic vision from a higher power that he had just... misinterpreted? God moved in mysterious ways, why not the olfactory kind?

  You are growing old, Bruder Wagner, he tutted at himself. Old and desperate.

Kurt continued to hold his hands up in a position of surrender, unwilling to engage her in combat but confident in his ability to get away if the need arose.

He ran his tongue over his teeth.

I could get away. If it came to that. What do I have to lose?

He reached across and turned a knob on the side of the watch.

He shimmered. And then he turned blue, with pointed ears and cloven hands and feet, and a tail that swished the ground behind him.

"I only know my own mother," he explained, his voice unchanged despite the vast shift in appearance, fangs glinted now in his mouth, those midnight blue eyes were now molten golden. "And her, I am not so fond of."

"But as much as we are to honor our parents," he philosophized, "so also do I believe that the family God guides us to is our true family, over and above the ties of blood."

She was being good, if anybody cared to notice. Winter Cardwell-Smith (or Winter Harvey if you so prefer) was sitting down in a chair towards the very back of the coffee shop. Tea in hand she was making herself at home with people watching.

Which is exactly what she was doing when the bell above the door tinged.

He wore a red hooded sweatshirt and a black trenchcoat that looked like it had been spattered with some sort of paint. He wore a watch like something out of science fiction, and a gentle smile that looked like the better parts of Sunday School.

He was handsome in a slender sort of way, Caucasian, with hair so dark it seemed to have the blue highlights one sometimes saw on old drawings of Superman. Oddly enough, his eyes were that same impossibly navy blue, though despite their darkness they seemed to twinkle.

“Guten tag, mein Frau,” he waved to her. “I am sorry to interrupt your tea-time.”

Winter blinked and panicked slightly. She’d lived here a few years and still had trouble with English to American and back. German was a whole other issue. Still she smiled back and shook her head. 

“‘S no problem. You’re not interruptin’ anythin’ that can’t be continued later.” Her smile became somewhat sneaky as she stood up, draping the blanket over the back of the chair, and laughed softly. “I can even get y’some tea for yourself if you’d like.”

"Ach," he gestured hurriedly. "You should not trouble yourself! I mean, do not get me wrong, tea sounds good, I visited a bar with two of my friends last night and oh, Gott in Himmel, those two can drink!"

"But still, you are great with child! I could get my own tea. Self-service, yes? Or service from someone who is not you because you should be sitting and other people should be bringing you tea."

She was being good, if anybody cared to notice. Winter Cardwell-Smith (or Winter Harvey if you so prefer) was sitting down in a chair towards the very back of the coffee shop. Tea in hand she was making herself at home with people watching.

Which is exactly what she was doing when the bell above the door tinged.

He wore a red hooded sweatshirt and a black trenchcoat that looked like it had been spattered with some sort of paint. He wore a watch like something out of science fiction, and a gentle smile that looked like the better parts of Sunday School.

He was handsome in a slender sort of way, Caucasian, with hair so dark it seemed to have the blue highlights one sometimes saw on old drawings of Superman. Oddly enough, his eyes were that same impossibly navy blue, though despite their darkness they seemed to twinkle.

"Guten tag, mein Frau," he waved to her. "I am sorry to interrupt your tea-time."

+fuzzyswordsbamf

 Dani felt uneasy, and that feeling alone only went to make her even more uneasy. It was a never ending, vicious cycle of grumbling and glaring as she tried to get over it. Needless to say right now she wasn’t winning the battle. Glancing over her shoulder once more at the man who seemed to be following her, she finally whirled around.

 ”What?! What do you want? Huh?” hands firmly planted on her hips she waited for a reply.

He was dark haired, with slender features, and he wore a hoodie and a long dark coat that looked like it had been spattered with paint. His skin was pale Caucasian, and his eyes were a ridiculously navy sort of blue.

He stepped back a bit as she snapped at him, and he held up elegant hands, though those hands looked a bit like he was doing the LLAP handsign except trying not to. One of those hands wore an amazingly sci-fi looking digital watch, like an Omnitrix in silver and blue.

"I am sorry, bitte," he replied, his accent an educated sort of Bavarian. "It is just-- I was buying a newspaper and you walked past and-- do not take this the wrong way."

"But you smelled of sulphur."

"And-- this is a long shot. But I wondered if we were related."

SHZAK! THOD!

returnedhero replied to your post: Peggy Carter was a BAMF. If she and Steve somehow…

Eh, never mind, Steve.

See, I know that this is bad language.

But I cannot help but grin that my word, my personal-- sound effect-- has come to mean such a very cool thing on The Internet.

I am the original BAMF, and I approve this acronym.

Grabbing her whiteboard, Sig frowns, taps her marker onto her knee before writing at length.

‘Can someone please explain to me what this… Valentine’s Day is, and why everyone is so excited about it?’

:: approaching... somewhat hesitantly... for reasons... Kurt twitches his tail as he reads her sign and smiles a faint little smile :: It started out as a remembrance for a saint, a holy man who performed weddings for soldiers whose marriages had otherwise been declared verboten. 

It has changed since then. These days, it is more a celebration of... courtship. Romance. Sometimes flirtatious, sometimes seductive. Gifts are often exchanged, sometimes greeting cards, sometimes gestures of love.

Some say it is crass and commercialized. I suppose I am not all the way cynical yet. Still a bit of a romantic. I think it has that spark left.

One of the greatest scenes in all of modern cinema.

fuzzyswordsbamf started following you

“Any risk to my health is minimal now that the war between Asgard and Vanaheim is once more settled. I doubt they would issue any attacks upon me though they are unlikely too act kindly if I appear.” she pauses and shrugs idly, leaning back into her chair. “Whatever quarrels we had in the past are that, something of the past. Whether or not they still harbor ill will is upon their shoulders, not my own. I have forgiven them for the things they did in a time of war. If I were in their position I would have likely done the very same.”

She decides it’s best not to elaborate upon her torture, after all she was sure he wouldn’t care to hear of it as much as she didn’t want to speak of it. She still had the occasional nightmare born from the things that had happened but, she had truly begun to move past them.

“As for your parentage.. I do not think it comes down to genetics that make us who and what we are.” she smiles remembering having had perhaps a similar conversation in the past with Loki- well before he learned of who he was of course. “We can be born of demon blood, or of the blood of a dark Elf. It all comes down to how we are raised, those who see us every morning as we grow and learn. It is the ones who love and surround us who make us what we become.

“If we do not have that, if we in fact have the opposite.. Well I am sure you can understand where I am going with that.” she smiles and shakes her head. “When it comes down to it, if you were predestined to become evil even if there is no true evil within your body?” she makes a soft noise. “I do not think you would be capable of it, I see nothing but kindness within your eyes.”

The compliment regarding the kindness in his eyes was deeply felt, and he smiled faintly as he again rested his chin on arms that crossed atop his chair. “You do me more kindness than these eyes have seen in quite some time. And any who would deny you forgiveness— though combat makes monsters of us all —are fools to deny themselves friendship with you.”

He paused, and he considered, and he scritched at his chin with one fingertip.

“I have seen some wond’rous things in my time. But the realms of Norse myth, these have I not traversed. As I am compelled in this time to travel to the ends of The Earth, perhaps I should journey beyond those ends, as well. I certainly could not have asked for a better opportunity, nor a kinder guide.”

“If you are certain you will not suffer for your traveling, or for my joining you, I would love to go to this place with you. …I think that it is not outside the scope of my abilities to reach it, but I have difficulty when it comes to sending myself to places I have not been.”

“It would be my pleasure to be your guide upon the other Eight Realms, though Svartalheim is one Realm I cannot venture to ever again.” it was a sad truth however. Since her departure with her father and Odin of course, she was never allowed to return. She knew in her heart if she did and Malekith once more recognized her and his marks upon her, she would be exactly where she started when Odin arrived.

A slave.

She almost shuddered at the memories. “Asgard,” she soldiered on “would be the best place to start. My eyes have not witnessed the Realm Eternal in half a years time, I miss it greatly. It has been hard to return there and I fear my magic though strong as it may be, will tire me if I use it to return home.”

Then again any travel to the Realms would likely tire her to the point she would need a long rest before she were able to take him elsewhere. A day at most, perhaps more if the distance were greater. “Still, I would very much like to show you the one place I can call home.”

He did not possess the power of empathy, as such. But he was a former confessor, and a student of expressions, and he saw that shudder filter through her, and wondered at that unspoken pain. But a good swordsman-- for he was that, as well --knew when to press and when to fade, and as she pressed on he danced back away from the subject. 

If they were to talk on that topic, meet in that circle, they would come to it when the time came.

Instead, he changed subjects right along with her: "I would be delighted to see it. If you are certain of doing this? And should the travel exhaust you-- I will keep you safe. Like the Good Samaritan of old."

"Far be it from me to repay your good with evil."

fuzzyswordsbamf started following you

“Any risk to my health is minimal now that the war between Asgard and Vanaheim is once more settled. I doubt they would issue any attacks upon me though they are unlikely too act kindly if I appear.” she pauses and shrugs idly, leaning back into her chair. “Whatever quarrels we had in the past are that, something of the past. Whether or not they still harbor ill will is upon their shoulders, not my own. I have forgiven them for the things they did in a time of war. If I were in their position I would have likely done the very same.”

She decides it’s best not to elaborate upon her torture, after all she was sure he wouldn’t care to hear of it as much as she didn’t want to speak of it. She still had the occasional nightmare born from the things that had happened but, she had truly begun to move past them.

“As for your parentage.. I do not think it comes down to genetics that make us who and what we are.” she smiles remembering having had perhaps a similar conversation in the past with Loki- well before he learned of who he was of course. “We can be born of demon blood, or of the blood of a dark Elf. It all comes down to how we are raised, those who see us every morning as we grow and learn. It is the ones who love and surround us who make us what we become.

“If we do not have that, if we in fact have the opposite.. Well I am sure you can understand where I am going with that.” she smiles and shakes her head. “When it comes down to it, if you were predestined to become evil even if there is no true evil within your body?” she makes a soft noise. “I do not think you would be capable of it, I see nothing but kindness within your eyes.”

The compliment regarding the kindness in his eyes was deeply felt, and he smiled faintly as he again rested his chin on arms that crossed atop his chair. "You do me more kindness than these eyes have seen in quite some time. And any who would deny you forgiveness-- though combat makes monsters of us all --are fools to deny themselves friendship with you."

He paused, and he considered, and he scritched at his chin with one fingertip.

"I have seen some wond'rous things in my time. But the realms of Norse myth, these have I not traversed. As I am compelled in this time to travel to the ends of The Earth, perhaps I should journey beyond those ends, as well. I certainly could not have asked for a better opportunity, nor a kinder guide."

"If you are certain you will not suffer for your traveling, or for my joining you, I would love to go to this place with you. ...I think that it is not outside the scope of my abilities to reach it, but I have difficulty when it comes to sending myself to places I have not been."

Her blushing grows more wild, the shade perhaps a little darker than it would be on someone else of such paleness. She can’t keep a shy giggle from breaking past her lips, something which forces a hand to her mouth. She of course is not lost to the movements of his tail but they don’t bother her so it is not something she is going to point out. After all, she was born with Elven ears.

“You are far too kind..” she whispers at length having managed to stifle off the last remnants of her giggling. “I am unsure however that my appearances warrant such attentions. I have never found myself to be a thing of beauty like my mother.”

Ah, his bravery falters here. Curse his awkwardness, he takes the easy way out.

"Well. It is important to not engage in vanity. To not-- think too much of how one looks. A healthy balance of-- of self-awareness-- beauty is always in the eye of the beholder, after all, and such things are subjective and relative-- my own mother is very beautiful, in an eerie way-- I took more to another side of the family, as you know."

"But still. I call it as I see it. In my own, subjective way."

He rubs his ear with a fingertip and bites the corner of his lower lip. “I am— I’m reassured that you are not ungrateful. I had no-one to kiss either. And I was— staring into my mug in this bar I often visit with Peter and Logan—”

“—I could not get you off of my mind. Nor, it seemed, did I want to.”

Her dark eyebrows lift in a clear show of surprise. She of course hadn’t realized she’d managed to leave such an impression on him, or really anyone. Rubbing at her nose trying to in a sense rub away the slight fuzziness of alcohol from her mind she flashes a lopsided grin.

“Truly?” it was a simple reply but she could not think of anything else to say without sounding foolish.

Alcohol or no, he's always fuzzy! Of course, at this point it is figuratively as well as literally. 

"I do not," he gestured dramatically, "bear false witness. It is-- it is-- I hope-- not in a way that is creepy, stalkery, obsessive-- I just-- I thought of you. And I thought of this tradition of kissing. And I thought-- just maybe-- it would be nice to have my mouth where your mouth also is. If you'd permit it, even if only for a moment."

fuzzyswordsbamf started following you

As he reveals himself she by rights- if she were not so used to such sights- would have recoiled in surprise and in perhaps a small amount of fear. She however leans closer, further over the edge of the table. She wouldn’t lie to herself and say she hadn’t been curious as to what lay beneath the hood, what it was he was so intent on hiding.

“You look so much like those I grew up with.” she smiles brightly, clearly happy to see a sign of something familiar, something almost like home. “I know it may seem strange that I do not appear as you, or similar to you though my father is in fact a dark Elf.. I have tried to find a way to explain it though I suppose it is my mother’s genes that won that battle.”

She laughs lightly thinking back on how he assumed how she grew to gain her name. “Many people figure I gained my name for the same reasons. It is easiest to allow them to believe so but I find it is nothing more than a falsehood.. And I do not wish to live a lie while I remain here.

“I have heard tale of demons both from my own world and this. I do not think you have a drop of it within you, for you seem far too kind to hold any amount of evil within you.” she pauses, her eyes going sad- almost scared. “I have seen evil within its greatest forms.. I have lived through what it can do to someone.. It may be foolish of me but I believe that maybe.. I can recognize evil within someone now..” she waves a hand and forces a smile. “I could easily take you to Vanaheim if you would wish to see it. I am unsure how they would welcome me now but, I would be willing to try.”

"There are more mysteries to the intimacies and intricacies of genetics, it would seem," he smiled faintly, "than there are to the great wide scope of the stars. My own father-- his father was an incubus, a male demon, and while a priest performed ritual over my pregnant grandmother and removed the taint of the demon's spirit from her and from my father, the blood was still biologically demonic. this made my father a powerful wielder of magic, and gave him a strange form of immortality. He met my mother centuries later... only once, but that was enough."

"She is a mutant. A shapechanger in ability. And-- this is just a theory suggested by my friend Henry-- it has been speculated that because the demon biology was latent in my father, and because my mother's genetics are inherently malleable, self-altering... that I became a perfect identical copy of my father's father's species. But, as Doctor Strange himself once observed, free of demonic taint."

He laughed faintly. "...not that that stops people from accusing me of being The Anti-Christ, or a similarly apocalyptic figure."

"Though I have evil in me, it is no more than is born to any human, sapiens or superior. It is still a struggle to overcome that evil, just as it is for any such human. A lifelong quest."

He paused, and considered. "...I spoke of Vanaheim in strictly the figurative sense. I am on a pilgrimage, wandering, and searching, and this would be a fascinating place to see and search. But I would not ask you to go to a place where you were at risk. And I would, in fact, ask you not to go. I would not see you come to harm."

Watching the ball drop she sighs and finishes her drink. “Happy New Years New York..”

And as the ball sinks to its nadir, and her glass sinks from her lips, the air bursts near her in noxious fume, a billow of sulphrous flame and brimstone: BAMF.

And he’s there in front of her, and he gives her a giddy smile. He has, perhaps, indulged in a little bit of chemical courage. There’s a tinge of fine German ale to him, as well as the associated aromas of his teleportation. And, with acrobatic, scampering grace, he bounds up to her and takes her face in his strange two hands…

“Frohes Neues, Fraulein.”

…and kisses her.

The noise and appearance of the swirl of coloration to the air at first makes her believe she has been indulging herself far too much in festivities. Blinking back her surprise she grins- perhaps a bit drunkenly- at Kurt.

She would have spoken, in fact she was about to but the kiss was not something she expected. Her words of greeting were cut off instantly and though she squeaks in surprise at first, she grins once more and returns the holiday kiss.

She kisses him back, and makes that squeak, and his tail quivers like that of a rattlesnake, pure unbridled joy.

…and he withdraws, grinning a wobbly little grin, bioluminescent eyes half-lidded.

He chuckles, and even his softest laugh has a demonic echo to it, but somehow that darkly supernatural sound does not disguise his delight. So far as he’s concerned, this New Year is already perfectly perfectly Happy.

She lets out a quiet giggle, some how having managed to keep hold of her now empty glass despite her surprise. “I had not expected anyone to try and give me a New Years kiss. I… Am surprised but of course not ungrateful.”

He rubs his ear with a fingertip and bites the corner of his lower lip. "I am-- I'm reassured that you are not ungrateful. I had no-one to kiss either. And I was-- staring into my mug in this bar I often visit with Peter and Logan--"

"--I could not get you off of my mind. Nor, it seemed, did I want to."