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Characters: The Witch of the Candy House
Open? Yep
Where: Two Faced Forest
When: RH4 [or really, any other day if you wanna backdate]
What: In the Forest is a candy house, and a cranky old witch who wants these dang heroes to get the hell off her lawn!

Deep in the Two Faced Forest, next to a lake of impossible clarity sits a small candy house. Walls made of gingerbread, decorated with hard candy that magically stays unmelted in the sun, it's picturesque and inviting. Care to knock on the door? Or just have a nibble of the gingerbread? Either way, take great care. The witch is not known for her good nature...

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"Then go and kill him and get off my lawn," the witch dismissed, turning to hobble back toward her house.

And now, Thor has definitely heard enough. "That will be done as well, hag," he promised, "But first, we will deal with you."

And now, he allows Mjolnir to leave his hand again, to go flying at the witch's head.

There's an almost distracted motion as the witch waves her walking stick, a wall of force rising up to knock back Mjolnir as if it were nothing.

"You really are nothing but trouble, you hero types. Do you ever do any good, or do you just attack whatever hits your fancy?" The witch didn't even bother turning around as she continued to walk. "Such rubbish... you're all doomed to fail if this is how you act..."

"The goblin has already been dealt with," she murmurs, to Thor.

Her eyes go wide as the witch's power eclipses Mjolnir. Sense outweighs fury and she stays her hand, looking to Thor for some sort of directive.

He's half-turning to Sif to reply -- because he threw Mjolnir at an old woman and as unfair as it may be, he's fair certain that this is a battle that's over -- when he hears the strange sound of Mjolnir being knocked back. He turns back and nearly gets the hammer in the face himself, catching it just in time.

"What--" He exchanges a glance with Sif, wide-eyed as well. That was... most unexpected. But now he'll be damned if he'll let her go with that much power, so he spins the hammer again, eyes darkening. "Stay where you are, hag." And again, the sky begins to crackle.

The witch ignored him, continuing to walk, muttering to herself as she went.

She almost warns him against it, in spite of her prior desire to kill the witch. But a soldier's training overrides other instincts. She takes out her blade, the gesture more symbolic than anything else. If the lightning doesn't work, a sword will hardly do them any sort of good.

He smiles at her, anyway; it's good to know she's with him again, that she will defend him even when outmatched. He missed her greatly while he was on Earth. Both times.

When the hammer has enough momentum, he again raises it to the sky, relishing the feeling of the lightning coursing through Mjolnir, through him. What could possibly stand in his way? What could defend against this? No simple witchcraft! He hurls his arm forward, with the hammer, flinging a massive force of lighting at her.

The old hag gestures again, levitating to the side as a force of her own bends the lightning upwards to that it returns to the sky.

"Not to bright, are you?" The witch snorted, shaking her head.

What?

Sif gapes, openly. Half holds out an arm towards Thor, with the aim to stop him if he charges. She is no coward, but there is no sense charging a foe that can kill them easily when said foe is not seeking a battle.

“The whole time,” she says, finding her voice. “Could you have put an end to the thorns the entire time?”

"Do I look like a damned fool who'd risk going up against the forces of Chaos to save the likes of this kingdom?" the witch retorted with a snort. "There is no magic from within this realm that can win that battle. Only those from without can hope to affect it. That's where you idiots come in, eh? Or does that grand high windbag and his pet mage not tell you that when you arrive?"

"I think you will understand that I hesitate to take anything the King says at face value."

She stands in front of Thor -- a barrier, as experience has taught her well enough that when his power is depleted, it is rarely replaced by common sense.　A change, from their earlier roles.

"Are the thorns a threat to you as well, then?"

It is well enough that Sif holds him off: when the lightning was diverted, he let out a roar, and would likely have charged the witch outright had not Sif's arm stayed him. Now, he holds back, but bristles and glares over Sif's shoulder.

But-- a king listens, a king considers. A king reins in his anger when needed. He takes a deep breath, then puts a hand on Sif's shoulder to belay her intervention.

The witch snorts with amusement. "Hardly. The battle between Order and Chaos will never be so simply ended. When this Kingdom falls, I'll simply move to another as I have many a time before."

Many a time before. Those words would have urged Sif to attack, had they not just been witness to how fruitless that endeavor would be. Still, she stands her ground.

“You have said your magic is of no use against the threats born from here. Thus, I am not asking for your help. But do you wish to move on – would you prefer to remain in this world?”

"The world is far wider than this petty kingdom, girl. Even your eyes should know that."

Edited (Having an end quote helps.) 2012-06-27 03:26 (UTC)

"How many kingdoms can one world hold?"

Asgard held Asgard, and the Aesir within. It was one kingdom, one people -- that seemed the most sensible way to run a world, to her. One needed only look at Midgard to see where fractured rulers led a people.

"As many as half the amount of people within it."

"Yet all will be gone, if the thorns are not stopped, is that not so?" Thor chimes in, brow creasing. "This is what I was told when I arrived."

"As was I."

Is the witch speaking in riddles? Sif hates riddles. She wishes, abstractly, that Loki were with them. He is much better at talking to people she would rather behead.

"Only if these thorns are able to cross water, climb into the sky and burrow into the Earth. It's only this kingdom that fear them. The others care not."

"What?" Again, he bristles. "Do the people know this? The king? That there is safety to be found outside this place?"

She is furious, and not at the witch. Again, her anger is directed back at the king.

All this time – villages swallowed whole by the thorns, when amnesty might be found beyond borders.

"Why flee your home for another when you can call others to do the dirty work for you?" came the flippant reply. "Those with short lives protect their homes, stay stubborn for them and will stand before them as the wave crashes down over them and sends them off to their graves."

“And those with long lives have no interest abiding by the petty patience of mortals.”

It is not the best side of her, and one that has been tempered during her stay here. But it is the most maddening trait of humanity – planning for the next ten years instead of the next hundred.

She turns to Thor.

“If they would be safer elsewhere, should we not simply move them elsewhere?”