Shopping (Amora)

[aa_valkyrie]

=NYC= Upper West Side - NYC
From Columbus Circle up to the tip of Central Park at 110th Street, the Upper West Side is an upscale neighborhood, reputed for housing the city's more cultural and artistic workers. Home to such landmarks as Lincoln Center, Columbia University, and Grant's Tomb, as well as more provincial attractions such as the city's largest IMAX screen, the lush neighborhood is one of the nicest in Manhattan.

Amora has apparently arranged herself another credit card. She lookss pleased and more relaxed that usual as she exits a cripplingly expensive boutique store, shopping back over her arm. Judging by her clothes at the moment, she probably still managed to find the most ren faire pieces in the store. She's wearing her unattached sleeves today, shoulders bare, but her hair is braided up, so perhaps she isn't expecting to be on the prowl.

Although she is of an impressive height and dressed in a black leather jacket and boots, paired dark jeans and a t-shirt, Valkyrie nearly blends into the crowd on the Upper West side. Never mind that it is August in New York City. There is something to her that the eye simply wishes to roll over her, looking onto the next person without batting lash for the sword strapped across her back or the fact she is deeply entranced in a back issue of CAPTAIN AMERICA: the comic. A shopping bag caught at the crook of her arm with the name of a used bookstore branded across it. For an Asgardian, the urge lasts for but a moment before she is wholly visible. She is also eating a hot dog.

Amora stops, dead. She mutters something under her breath as she stares at Valkyrie, then double-checks the reactions of people around them to the sword-weilding woman. It's August, and it's summer, so maybe there's a steam vent malfuctioning nearby, because a curl of fog slips around her ankle. Just in case. She waits to see what Valkyrie will do, figuring that someone standing stock still and staring will eventually draw her attention.

People do not seem to not her passing any more than the rest of the New York City crowd, slipping around her with a lack of polite apology. It is as if they don't really notice her at all. Valkyrie seems unaware of any stares, licking her fingers clean before shuffling her load to turn the page of her comic book. Let's not talk about what that is probably doing to the paper. She seems rather content, occasionally glancing up and -- around. Oh, Hello. She does stop, offering Amora a nod of her head, eyes narrowing with little humor.

Amora...nods. Her expression says: what, that's it? She finds her voice. "You are reading a...comic." In case Valkyrie hadn't noticed. Amora will tell her in a nice and patronizing fashion.

"It is a cunning portrait," Valkyrie replies, speaking as if the form of art is decidedly higher than Amora's patronizing tone. Hey there, missy. Still, she folds it and settles it into her bag. "I am sure that the model is altogether flattered by its making." CAP YOU DID ALL THE THINGS.

"If it brings him the admiration of women, he will not know what to do with it," Amora says, with a small, cutting smile. She is losing her earlier wariness, and the fog dissipates.

"I do not think him to be such a man," Valkyrie drawls judgingly, unimpressed with Amora's pithy cutting. If she notes the fogs dissipation, it does not register on her harsh features. "What brings you to this plane, Enchantress? When last I saw it you were elsewhere..."

"Every man is such, if they have the skill. If they lack it, they claim to not want what they cannot get." Amora rolls her shoulder in a graceful shrug. "That question would go better asked of you. Have you made another mistake?"

"I have never made a mistake." There is a hint of danger to Valkyrie's words, eyes dark with seriousness. "I understand that you hinder those of my acquaintance. What games do you play now? Seeking to sell your...I suppose they would regard them as //charms// here?"

Anger flashes over Amora's expression. "I sell nothing," she says, coldly. "Nor offer my loyalty slavishly and unthinkingly." As if the barb's target was hard to guess, she smirks directly at Valkyrie.

The barb's bite is small enough that it goes unseen. Valkyrie laughs in the face of her //slight.// "That is because you have none to offer, Enchantress. You know not what it means to offer your blood and your name."

Amora snorts. She has no need to offer such things. She shrugs again. "Still, we have a realm we must share, do we not?" She offers her hand to shake on a truce, expression growing a little grudgingly pleasanter.

"Do we?" Valkyrie eyes that offered hand, mouth flattening with displeasure. "It is my understanding that you have been seeking my fellows." She does lift her hand if awkwardly.

"I mean no harm to anyone," Amora claims, with downcast eyes, as their hands touch. A subtle suggestion reinforces that, suggesting that Valkyrie should believe it.

"The harm you do not mean can be most ruinous," Valkyrie says grudgingly, offering an awkward shake. Her clasp is painfully tight.

"I will be most careful." Amora's bangles on that wrist settle down around her wrist bone as she suggests a little more. Wouldn't it be nicer to be Amora's friend for a while? "Come. We should walk together, speak of our home."

That does sound nice. "We do not share precisely the same home," Valkyrie notes quietly, easing into the conversation as the conversation settles upon her. Two Valhallas that are not the same.

Amora walks down the sidewalk to the next boutique, and looks at the window display. "Isn't that pretty?" she asks of a flimsy sundress, after a glance at Valkyrie. There is no suggestion as to what Valkyrie might think of it at the moment, as Amora really wants to know. "Not precisely. But we do not precisely fit here."

"No. It seems impractical. It is neither long enough to serve as a tunic nor solid enough to take the place of armor." Valkyrie is not a terrifically innovative shopper. She shrugs, sliding her hands into the pockets of her jeans. "I fit well enough."

Amora looks thoughtful. "Don't you ever enjoy looking attractive? Gaining male attention through skill, not hitting them on the head?" She comes to another window, with bright patterned skirts. She starts layering a little suggestion. Pretty skirts.

Valkyrie frowns, unprettily, and says, "Hitting them on the head /is/ a skill." At the next window, she pauses subtly and looks at the skirts for a moment longer then necessary for observation. Those are kind of pretty.

"But not one the leaves them ready to pleasure you in bed." Amora leans in to deliver this line directly into Valkyrie's ear. She hooks her elbow into Valkyrie's like bffs and drags her into the store. She looks around the clothing inside, pausing for her attention to go to layering on a deep wish to be /girly/. Pink! Ruffles! Short skirts!

"I have no need of a /man/ to pleasure me in bed," Valkyrie drawls flatly, brow raise in a sharp arch against that voice in her ear. "It is 2012, Amora. The progress of women has developed many items to offer just the same joy if not more." Caught by the elbow, she follows Amora into the boutique and stares around with bafflement. Clothes? CLOTHES. That wish-fulness settles hard and takes root, drawing her towards a feminine style that upholds her warrior heritage. Pink leather miniskirts and bra-less silk tops and omg-high heeled sandlal? "How do I look?"

Amora has to work hard to keep a straight face. "Beautiful," she claims. "Perhaps a scarf, to tie it all together?" While Valkyrie shops and tries on, she fingers a few items herself, looking pensive. "More?"

It's hot? It just isn't classy. "It is not cold," Valkyrie answers with a frown. That is the use for a scarf, right?

"A silk scarf," Amora says, then clarifies her earlier remark. She finds one in a garish shade of blue. "/More/ joy?"

Amora must have taste, right? Valkyrie accepts the scarf without comment, icy eyes clouded with FRIENDSHIP. "What joy?"

Amora snorts, and lets the point go. There goes your opportunity to spread some grrl power, Valkyrie! Amora finds a shirt of her own she likes, but otherwise she keeps urging Valkyrie on as she picks out things that fit her new taste. When they're done, she'll direct them to the cash registers.

"Shared joy?" Valkyrie shrugs and amiably tries on the things that Amora suggests, selecting those that are more towards her new taste. These are some ugly things. OH WELL. "It is an escape from the ground of patriarchy at least."

Lest this go too far, Amora culls the very ugliest few pieces before suggesting they make their purchases. Her attention drifts away from Valkyrie's conversation at the patriarchy part. "Sometimes one can use it for one's own ends from within rather than escaping."

Valkyrie have little taste in mortal garb. Her leather and jeans returned, comics at arm and sword at her back, she follows Amora to the register to pay for her purchases. "I think you misinterpret their reach," she scoffs, eying Amora. "Still it is a diversion of pleasure."

Amora laughs. "It has been...fun." She deploys the midgard slang with a quirk of her lips. "But I must be going."

Bags in tow and the heavy hand of Amora's influence lifting, Valkyrie wryly drawls, "I am sure your /toy/ is waiting."

Amora's lips thin, and she sets her hand on Valkyrie's shoulder. "You should try one yourself," she says, giving her a last suggestion for the road. Valkyrie should try out the clothes by being girly in them for a man. Just to see how much fun it is.

"Yes," Valkyrie agrees, focusing on something in the distance. Her pale are clouded with confusion, taking the suggestion as rote. She will see.

Amora gives Valkyrie a mostly-air cheekkiss, and wanders off on her way, with her own purchases and a smug smile.

Bitch. Valkyrie moves on her way, heading back the Avengers playhouse to change into her new gear. Hello boys.


Amora pushes her influence on Valkryie. It...will be interesting.