[Here's a face you haven't seen in awhile, Asgard. He's been hiding out lately for various reasons, but after the recent discussion about and with the gods, he can't stay quiet any longer.

He's in a typical Baldr House room, virtually undecorated except for the dozens of flickering candles that line the shelves, surfaces, and anywhere else they'll fit. They give the video an eerie sort of feeling, otherworldly - which is completely destroyed by the look on Pyro's face. Either someone just waved shit under his nose, or he's deeply displeased with all of you.]

So you get a chance to have another one of our kidnappers offed, without even getting our own hands dirty, and you all vote to keep her. And save the dead one. Someone really should rename this fucking city Stockholm.

Or maybe Jonestown, 'cause I have a feeling the Kool-Aid's coming out any day now, and you'll all be draining your cups.

((ooc: a decision-making post, if you will. just want to see how it goes and decide if a drop will be necessary.))

[ boredom. that's what greets the feed. but it doesn't last. boredom is soon replaced by a lazy smile. there's little that's pleasant about it though. it's never pleasant having a lion bare its fangs ]

Your letter explains very little about why I'm actually here and your maid servant, even less. Though she was kind enough to tell me that I'm a prisoner here. Your letter, however, conveniently left that part out. Perhaps you should see to it that it's included, if you wish to attempt this again, this... poor method of capture. And sending your maid to speak with me? It's a cowardly and dishonourable man who doesn't venture forth and speak to his captive himself.

So, I would ask that you come and speak to me yourself. Unless, of course, I frighten you now that I'm no longer in irons.

[The image is a somewhat rare sight. Samantha is seated behind a worktable. There are a series of beakers in front of her and she seems to have something or another bubbling in a larger one of them. She takes a whiff of it and nodded in satisfaction before shifting to the side and looking at the camera.

Did she have a sort of smirk on her face?]

So, here I am working on magical defenses against the rigors of making certain fish-brained, fin-rotted, purple-obsessed morons look like chumps, and I was almost curious if they were making any progress with their "White Sciences" [Yes, she actually made the quote signs with her fingers as she said that, snickering.] in preparing my ultimate downfall. I mean, it isn't as if they don't prattle about all the ways they're going to have me at their mercy, and I was honest to god wondering if all of that was just a bunch of hot air.

...this is Eridan Ampora. What the hell am I talking about? Of course anything Captain Ahab's said's all hot air.

[Another snicker. Anyone who knew Samantha very well might recognize that some of it was effected bravado. She was still struggling with what her feelings were about him, but these little games were much easier to play on the network, and part of her had a feeling he'd get a kick out of shouting back at her.]

But, since I was thinking about it, I got to thinking some more. What really are the differences between magic and science? It's not like I haven't talked with a few of you about this, and I know what a certain moron thinks on the subject, but all the same with the power turned back on through the runes so to speak and with us able to affix just a little bit of the power of this world into a potion, I was wondering what some of you might have thought was the difference.

Oh, and Ahab, I am expecting great things out of you. Just so you know. Don't think I'm sitting idle over at the shop all the time.

[Normally when a person connects to Asgard's network, they greet villagers with a view of their face. However, this particular new Traveller is busy showing the city…snow. In particular, the fresh snow and frost that graced the city just two days prior to his arrival. Lots of snow, because this particular new Traveller just tried to fly and promptly fell into the snow instead. There's a frustrated sound from Jack Frost as he stands up, bracelet turning to face the snow again. Good thing nobody saw that. He's not really thinking about whether anyone can hear or see him though. The whole "being seen and believed in" thing? Still sort of hit and miss with this guy, and he's working under the assumption that most people still can't. However he's very much visible to anyone looking. They'll see a white-haired boy covered in snow and walking through the city like it's no big deal. Oh yeah, and without shoes. He's still not showing his face to the bracelet for the network to see, but he's soon speaking up to talk his way through the situation.]

Uh huh. So the fate of all existence rests within my hands. Thaaat sounds kind of familiar. [Speaking of hands, one of his hands soon appears as he bends down while walking, scooping up some snow to form a snowball.]

What I want to know is who beat me to it. [That snowball starts getting tossed up and down.] Because this? This isn't my work. [The snowball stops getting tossed and he brings it up, presumably, to his mouth to try and work some magic on it. No such luck though. He immediately stops in his path, giving the snowball a curious look.

Okay, well, how about we make it snow? …no luck? What about fros--okay, no luck there either.]

You gotta be kidding me. I mean I get it, I have a new power. [In fact, he's going to test the strength of his new power, using his mind to create snowballs without his hand and allow them to float and hover around him.] …which is kind of cool, I guess. I get that supposedly old powers won't work, but how am I supposed to be a Guardian if I can't even make the snow come?

[Aw well…even if he can't make new snow, there's no sense wasting the snowball that's in his hand. So what's Jack going to do? He's going to take a look around…and that snowball's suddenly getting launched…who knows where. If another traveller's nearby, it might just hit them. Totally on accident. Really. Oh come on, he's still working under the assumption that most people can't see him. Someone missed the memo that when they say everything's been stripped, they mean everything. So assuming that there's no harm done here, he'll just start to walk off with his telekinetically-created snowballs drifting behind him like baby ducks following their mother.]

[ It starts with a clumsy jumble of movement, a man -- familiar to some, maybe, though he looks bemused enough to be a newcomer -- brow furrowed, attempting to figure out his bracelet. A little exasperated, certainly intrigued, he is poking at the screen and trying not to wrinkle his new map. ]

--manner of communicator, charmed jewelry is hardly a new concept-- ah.

[ He makes eye contact with the screen, now. If he looks a little completely lost, that's only fair; the man is overwhelmed by computers from the nineties. ] This is-- broadcasting, I believe? I'd hoped to study Norse mythology and deities to a more thorough extent, but this is not precisely what I'd had in mind. All the same, being here is, is... quite something.

Whatever manner of magic is responsible for my... arrival, I seem to to know terribly little about it. That is-- should anyone be able to provide more thorough information than what was given by the- the woman, it would be very much appreciated. I've heard mention of a library?

[ Anyone within the Odin district is free to find him making his way through the streets; he is very curious, somewhat wary, and a little bit lost. ]

[First there is a face. There is a trimmed mustache, and squinting brown eyes. Then the face tilts back and turns into Tony Stark, cracked out of his armor and in the clothes he had been wearing underneath. He looks off-screen.] Not bad. [Referring to the bracelet.] Almost as good as mine.

Wish I could say this is the weirdest thing that's ever happened to me. [This isn't even the first time he's been kidnapped.] I've been shuffling things around and trying to calculate the numeric value for bullshit. But then we have this little ditty: "The laughter and tears of all travelers will become strength both for you and the greater good." So basically group therapy-slash-bongo drum circles every Tuesdays and Thursdays, pot brownies optional?

Okay. Granted it's been a while since I leafed through Prose Edda. I don't remember it being this--[A quick, circular motion with his wrist.]--well-adjusted. It's more like human sacrifices, eye-gouging, and 'in the beginning, the gods made the earth and heaven out of history's first murder victim.' [He stops for a beat. One might even speculate that he's pausing for breath, because spoiler tag: Tony still needs to breathe through his chatting.] So basically a 'we're walking on corpses, whoa-oh' kind of thing.

This is Viking mythology as told by guidance counselors. And I met Thor like three days ago. You think you know someone, and then you find out they came out of a Care Bears movie. And then you judge them.

But it looks like everyone else is buckling in for the long haul, so here's a few things I'm going to need.


[TEXT]

Soldering station
Approx. 500 liters of coffee
Welding gear
Computer

[After having experimented with the bracelet for what was probably an hour, Stiles thinks he's got things pretty much unlocked. That is, after the initial panic attack he'd had upon first arriving, but that was embarrassing and we're not talking about that. At least things are home were sort of fixed, and Scott was here, and so were Derek and Jackson but they were facts of life at this point and thus unavoidable. Allison... that'd be the interesting part. Anyways.

So here we have a fairly normal-looking Stiles, for those who know him at least: pacing around his room, wiggling his fingers and cracking his knuckles and scrubbing his hands through his short hair. It's like he's forgotten that he's recording for the network, except he totally hasn't and he makes that clear when he stops pacing and sort of... vibrates in front of the feed instead.]

So. Asgard. Cool. I guess it's good timing with the movies coming out? The only question is which origin story they're sticking to. [An awkward smile, because that was lame. He does want to find out more about the gods, but that comes later. He'd read something about a library on the network.] I'm, uh Stiles? Stiles Stilinski. California, America, planet Earth since I think... that... varies................

[His hand shakes as it rubs down from his hair to the back of his neck and then the side to scratch beneath his ear. Whether it's from excitement or nervousness or both only he knows, but he's definitely got too much energy right now. It feels like there's another panic attack lurking beneath the surface, but he can keep calm long enough to finish this up. Hopefully.]

I'm geeking out about the multiple world things. Parallel universes maybe? There've got to be at least a hundred different versions of Earth out there, right? I'd like to hear about them. We've got werewolves and other... things...... back home for me. If you're from, like, Waterworld or something that'd be cool! Sucky for you, but cool. Would you have gills? Or like... any zombie apocalypse people in the house?

[Okay stopping there because his talking is getting faster and faster and it leaves less time to breathe and not breathing is bad because that leads to panic attacks and passing out and he just got here, he doesn't want to die before he can at least explore this place he's been kidnapped to and god he's been kidnapped by Norse gods what the hell is his life actually?]

[filtered] scott, allison, derek, jackson

Team meeting? Pack huddle? Please? [He leans in closer, hands disappearing out of the bottom frame like he's leaning against a table and stares seriously at the screen.] Yes that means you too, Derek.