Loki/Darcy Scene One!

[tasedagod]

Upon their arrival to Asgard, Darcy's mind was filled with colorful images of how she assumed the Golden Realm would appear. She had been a persistent nuisance the week prior, badgering Jane with questions the poor girl could not answer, fretting over what to pack and how this race of demigods were going to respond to unconventional Darcy. Jane, with her slender, elegant good looks, would probably blend right in, but Darcy - with her curves and her mouth and her downright inelegant sense of humor - would probably be viewed as more of an oddity than usual.

Even the promise of being a zoo creature on display did not diminish her enthusiasm. Thor had spoken at length of the libraries within the palace, and that was what held her interest even more than catching another glimpse of Lady Sif - who was badass beyond belief; girl power and all that - and the Warriors Three, who had all been perfectly polite during their short stint on Midgard. The one with the pointy little goatee had been perhaps a bit too free with his stares, but Darcy was used to that, along with the way they'd all focused entirely on Jane and shunted her to the background. So totally used to that, too.

Jane had not been amused when Darcy referred to the Asgardians as Masters of the Universe, asking if there were any skull-faced villains skulking about. Perhaps the poor scientist had been sheltered as a child to the extent that she had no idea who He-Man was. Darcy thought it had been rather funny.

The actual trip to Asgard itself wasn't amusing. To say that it felt as if she'd been compressed, torn apart, and then restitched together all in the span of a few seconds might have been somewhat accurate, if her mind hadn't practically imploded during that time. When they appeared in the Observatory, Darcy stumbled briefly but thankfully did not lose her balance, staring around as she fought to pull herself together and take in her surroundings at the same time.

Thor's crushing embrace was expected, but the sight of Asgard's second son as Thor drew away to offer Jane a more intimate greeting was not. Darcy found herself staring at the man she'd only viewed on grainy television footage and internet videos, the one who had looked crazed and fevered as he demanded others kneel before him, asserted his desire to subjugate the entire fucking planet, and then proceeded to give Manhattan a makeover via excessive violence. He had appeared mildly imposing on video, but her viewings had given her little frame of reference and did not prepare her for exactly how tall he was, likely not much shorter than Thor himself, though built very differently.

He looked healthier, like he'd had a good night's sleep and a shower or three, despite sustaining a rather serious injury on that realm she could never remember the name of, but those green eyes still burned with something she couldn't quite place. Intimidated, and angry at her natural reaction, Darcy stubbornly maintained eye contact until Thor's rumbling drew her attention away. They were briskly escorted down the Rainbow Bridge - Darcy valiantly made no Mario Kart jokes - and into the palace, both girls staring around as the alien beauty like gawking tourists.

Darcy lost track of Loki, which was rather dangerous considering he was a crazed murderer and why the hell wasn't he locked up anyway, valiant actions recently be damned, as she was shown to her quarters. Sprawling and airy, they were probably three times the size of her own apartment back home, and she eagerly explored every room, though the small selection of dresses gave her pause. She'd been informed that once she and Jane had been given an hour or two to rest, their presence would be expected in the Throne Room, ostensibly where Odin would either declare Jane fit to marry his son, or stare at both mortals with disgust and order them to leave at once.

Considering he'd already compared Jane to a goat, Darcy had a feeling this audience would not go well. At least there would be festivities afterward in celebration of some deity or another. They'd been promised feasts and dancing and explosions in the sky, which she looked forward to more than meeting some stuffy old king who treated Jane like dirt.

Darcy assumed this meant she was supposed to wash up and put on one of those delicate gowns, and while she eagerly did the first - in a bathroom that was huge and marble and oh my god, the bathtub, the size of an Olympic swimming pool set deep within the floor, called her name so deliciously - she was wary about the latter. Her fingers plucked at the impossibly soft, unfamiliar fabric, and she was struck with how out-of-place she felt in this realm already. Darcy believed she would look positively ludicrous in these gowns, far preferring the skinny jeans, knee-high boots, and casual sweater she'd worn that morning, but let out a sigh as she imagined the look Jane would give her if she didn't play nice.

Clothing was shed, leaving her in her undergarments as she attempted to put on the greenish-gray dress she grabbed first. When she was finished squirming and jumping around, she stared at her reflection in the mirror, uncertain of how she felt about being jammed into a dress that was clearly used to different proportions - though it still fit her perfectly; must have been magic - and pretending she was something she wasn't. Luckily, the skirt was long enough that it completely hid her sneakers, since she had no desire to tiptoe around in slippers like a princess out of a fairy tale. Then she sat on the bed and considered the fact that she didn't know her way around the palace, hoping that someone would show up to escort her.