Hel stands with her eyes closed in the middle of the bustling crowd. The words of the people around her, once foreign and unfamiliar, begin to make sense the more she listens. Languages have always come easy to her, along with glamour β abilities that help her blend in more easily wherever her travels take her, as one with a divine charge to protect the Tesseract.
But the Tesseract is not here. Something else is, however, and after a moment, she slowly makes her way through the crowd, inching closer to the stage. Up there, a human is showing off some sort of flying vessel of his creation. She frowns, wondering if it's dwarven-made, and how in the Realms could that have happened without the Tesseract. Or at least she wonders up until an explosion sends the car falling back to the stage. Very anticlimactic.
"Stark Gravitic Reversion Technology," she repeats under her breath after the inventor, her eyes trailing up to the letters on the stage. Stark Industries. Well, that must be the man'sβ
A boy knocks her a step back as he hurries past. He apologizes, but he's so harmless and scrawny that she can't believe he'd done it with any malice, and so she waves him off. She turns back to the stage to see what else might be next and why her instincts had led her here, only to lock gazes with a blue-eyed man in some sort of uniform.
Suddenly she can't breathe. She knows someone with those eyes, but he couldn't possibly be here. She'd left him for dead that night she'd fled with the Tesseract.
at the expo, 1943
But the Tesseract is not here. Something else is, however, and after a moment, she slowly makes her way through the crowd, inching closer to the stage. Up there, a human is showing off some sort of flying vessel of his creation. She frowns, wondering if it's dwarven-made, and how in the Realms could that have happened without the Tesseract. Or at least she wonders up until an explosion sends the car falling back to the stage. Very anticlimactic.
"Stark Gravitic Reversion Technology," she repeats under her breath after the inventor, her eyes trailing up to the letters on the stage. Stark Industries. Well, that must be the man'sβ
A boy knocks her a step back as he hurries past. He apologizes, but he's so harmless and scrawny that she can't believe he'd done it with any malice, and so she waves him off. She turns back to the stage to see what else might be next and why her instincts had led her here, only to lock gazes with a blue-eyed man in some sort of uniform.
Suddenly she can't breathe. She knows someone with those eyes, but he couldn't possibly be here. She'd left him for dead that night she'd fled with the Tesseract.