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[Fólkvangr seemed to come with a real pain in the back, and this was certainly not a banquet hall. Even before she opens her eyes, Frigga knows she is at a beach. She can feel the sand, the heat, smell the salt in the air... and, goodness, when was the last time she'd worn this little in public? Not since she was a child in Vanir and she had taken to the forests in a fit of rebellion, surely.

Sitting up, she sees exactly what she expects save for one thing - a book, curiously bound, with her name on the cover. Well aware of the power of names and books, Frigga pauses to magically assess the book before touching it. She can tell it is a thing of some small power, but the exact nature of that power seems harmless if utterly foreign. Picking up the book, it doesn't take long for her to ascertain that it is a communication device of some sort.

Well. This was no way to make an impression, but since she was in a desert as far as the eye could see and not at all looking forward to a long journey on bare feet, she decides to see if there are any who might render her assistance before taking further steps. Automatically, she falls into very formal language.]

Greetings. It appears that the arrival of strangers to this place is a thing of no little commonality. I wonder if there is any means of transport from this ocean to a more populated place?

[And Aaaction for those inclined to less first-contact type threads!]

[As informative and helpful as her sons are, there are some things a woman wants to do for herself. Finding the proper garments is one of those things. As soon as her sons are willing to part with her, she makes her way into town. She borrowed shoes, cast an illusion over her dress to approximately casual Asgardian walking garb.

...this 'shop' was fascinating. For a woman who had her outfits tailored specifically to her for the past several thousand years, shopping fully made clothes was an unusual experience. A random passerby might see her shake her head and laugh quietly more than once.]

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[Frigga blinks at the phone. It's easy enough to discern it's a piece of technology, and not bespelled as the book Loki has given Thor or even the strange sort of hum of power that the journal exudes. And she thought she'd seen typing. How quaint!]

I am a bit bemused, yes. Where does one wear... this?

[She holds out the leggings. And yes, they happen to be the kind with the fake leather patches. Frigga isn't sure if she's more horrified or amused.]

[Ginia looks at the leggings and chuffs lightly, a small smile forming before she turns to her phone. Years of experience, and good predictive typing on her phone, means Ginia has a response in a few seconds.]

Speaking from experience of my world, leggings are considered casual wear. Often worn in place of pants, though some wear shorts or a skirt over them. Dresses too.

As pants - oh, as trousers. [Casual wear. Really.] Fascinating.

{Frigga decisively puts the leggings back on the rack. She glances at Ginia.] And what realm might that be?

A version of Earth, mortal human portion.

[After meeting people from versions of Earth with magic and all sorts of fantastic things, or various deities, Ginia's learned to be specific.]

['Earth' that was the Midgardian expression for their own realm. It was precocious, in a way, to name your planet as if it was one of the four sources of all living things.]

And have you been here long? I confess I find myself at somewhat of a loss. I'm looking for garments a little more like this. [She gestures to her illusion. It is a simple Asgardian walking dress, without much adornment, but the material and fit are exquisite.] And less of... that.

[Ginia studies Frigga's attire, taking note of the fit and materials. Elegant, well-crafted, quite beautiful.]

I've been here a few months now. I saw some dresses that may be to your liking two racks from here, I'd be happy to show them to you.

That is gracious of you. You have my gratitude.

[Belatedly, Frigga realizes she has not introduced herself. It's somewhat of an odd thought - in Asgard, people simply knew. It's what happened when you had been queen for thousands of years to the point of having your profile impressed in coin.]

I am the Lady Frigga of Asgard.

[She had decided earlier that she would leave aside the title of 'queen' for the duration of her stay here. One can not be queen when one is dead, 'queen' in Frigga's understanding of the word, is very much a verb and one that is connotative reign and care and responsibility, much as 'gardener' is connotative 'gardening.' Still, Billy's evident discomfort with her asking him to refer to her by her name stood as a warning. And after so many years of carrying them, titles were as much a part of her identity as the curl of her hair, the hum of her magic.]

[Frigga of Asgard. There's a name she knows, though more from the mythology ~~and not the comics or movies~~. Wife of Odin, queen of Asgard, foremost among the goddesses. And with Thor and Loki around (though with the two of them as brothers she's picked up they aren't quite the gods she read about in books as a child), well... why not the mother.

Even though she's conversed and gotten along with gods, known or unknown, and conversed with royalty, Ginia feels momentarily cowed. She offers a quick bow of her head, both for respect and as a gentle greeting.]

I'm Ginia. [Solana, but her surname was something she rarely gave out in Luceti. Old habits.] How would you like to be addressed?

[The bow is familiar and appreciated. She gives the mortal woman a gentle smile.]

Lady Frigga would be best, I think. I gather that things are somewhat less formal here, but... [A delicate shrug. But she had excitable sons. But she had been queen for a long time and conversing with such informality with so many strangers was odd to her. But it might take a little time get used to such things.]

[Things are fairly informal in the village and titles really held no meaning in the village, but politeness went a long way too. Lady Frigga then, of course. She nods again then gestures lightly to follow.

Even without someone running the shop, things still found themselves grouped together. On one of the racks was a collection of dresses ranging from different worlds and different styles. Sundresses, cocktail dresses, ball gowns, and everything in between in a variety of colors and materials. Ginia stands aside, giving Frigga plenty of space to browse.]

Edited 2014-08-01 02:08 (UTC)

Oh, this is far more closely aligned to what I am accustomed. [A quiet laugh.] There are so many different things to adjust to, I do not think I am prepared to try Midgardian styles as of yet.

[She glances at Ginia.]

Have you been here long?

Recently arrived, I take it? And I've been here for almost eight months now.

[Ten days away. How quickly time moves and the realization still makes her pause and reflect a little. Every month closer to the month she died in, every month closer to a year of living.]

You get used to things quickly enough.

Hmmm. [She pauses when her hand distinguishes quality material and pulls out a green dress. Simple. Fetching enough. Good. She holds it up between them, gamely inviting opinions with a quirk of her brows.] I certainly hope so. What is it that takes the most adjustment, do you think?

[Ginia nods her approval at the dress.]

The color is very nice, it'll look good on you.

[As for the second question, that takes more thought. Compared to the shifts mentioned in the book, the ones she's experience were fairly tame, more a mild annoyance than anything. The draft was unpleasant all around, though that was hardly a common occurrence with a year between drafts. Being kidnapped by the rogue Malnosso was also dreadful, but that again was rare.]

Not knowing what will happen next. If there will be a draft the next day or if a sudden snowstorm will cover the village. If people you care about will still be here or if they'll be gone. But I suppose life is also unpredictable.

Ah. [That was a good answer. Imagination powered by thousands of years of experience shades her eyes for a moment as Frigga attempts to incorporate that information into her understanding of their position.]

As unpredictable as life is, all living beings seek to establish some control over their own. To be constantly reminded of the limits of one's control would be... unpleasant.

And whether it's through shifts, kidnappings, or drafts, the Malnosso remind us they're the ones really in control.

[Her expression grows more distant, and there is a wry twist to her mouth.]

I doubt they are as in control as they wish. Children and those seeking to attain control require such exercise of power. As it is, they are still seeking to gain knowledge, yes? Their understanding of the nature of this world's power is yet incomplete.

[Spot on. Things may have been going on for much longer than Luceti has been around, but the Malnosso don't seem any closer to finding ways to send people home.]

And we're the lucky people caught up in it.

[Ginia's expression is wry, but it softens lightly. Critical as she is, the place was a nice change from her world and it was good being alive again even if it was on borrowed time.]

That said, things in the village are pretty nice. It's fairly peaceful in the village.

[Frigga tilts her head slightly.]

'Fairly?'

Let me correct that, things are peaceful in the village, but sometimes strong personalities clash. It's not often though.

[Like everything that happened with Loki and Wan Shi Tong.]

Ah. [She sorts through the dresses again.] I suppose we are fortunate it is not more frequent. Placed in a cage, it is rare that a more... accommodating temperament prevails.

It might be because we're in a cage things stay level. Ill-advised causing trouble when you can't go anywhere and everyone would know. But by large the population tends to run even-tempered.

[Ginia pauses before adding on to the message.]

And young. The average population is in its late teens to early 20s.

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