Namor & Alani | Touch the Trident (Not Like That)

[xp_loa]

(backdated) Alani finds Namor in the boathouse and asks to touch his trident. Not like that.



It had been a very good day all things considered, and Alani was in high spirits after her visit with Meggan. But then, of course, there was the point that brought her to the boathouse. She’d never thought to infringe on Namor’s space before, though she was well aware where he had taken up his residency on land, and really when she thought about it, now was the best time! On the walk over she'd realized that the power she’d woken up with could help him, help him help them even.

Finally at the door, she paused to center herself, calming breath in then out, and brought up her boot to kick the door as a form of knock. Once, twice. And like a boulder rolling back down on Sisyphus, the universe provided. There was no time to put her carefully thought out explanation to use, instead the moment the King of Atlantis entered her vision words came out. “Namor, let me touch your trident.”

A beat passed.

One might think that Namor would simply open the door, more naked than usual given his typical uniform, but this reveal was accompanied by a blue-white swirl of energy that bent the universe in what might have been a heat haze as it faded away. He was, of course, only wearing a pair of too short shorts with a towel draped over one shoulder. It was the energy that was weird and new. The universe was not completely on its side.

Namor, eyes narrowed in skepticism, gave her a concern once over before touching a hand to his chest. "Child, what has happened to you? We will bring the full wrath of Elysium down upon whoever has stolen your rites."

Then, also, "You are a child."

After the initial startle, an upbeat smile already started to form before his words sunk in and Alani grimaced, shoulders drawing in as if to make herself smaller. She rubbed at her wrists idly, following a perfect ring that had spanned across but was nowhere to be seen now. If there was something in the universe that excited at the dip in her demeanor, she was unaware, but the person in the mansion frantically waiting for a response to a communication they'd sent off that morning was relieved to find an affirmation in their inbox. She pushed forward then, clearing her throat loudly, pulling herself back up to her full height, raising her chin, and of course, keeping a smile on her face. “As exciting as that would be, Namor, I think we should focus on what I've gained."

Then, of course, came the confusion. Twice he'd referred to her as a child, but what did he mean by — oh. Oh. She couldn't help it. A peal of laughter slipped out. "Oh, Namor, no, not like that. Clarification: Lost my power, stole someone else's. I know things now if I touch things, or people, but, let's not get into the latter. So," she motioned at the doorknob, trying to get him to open it. "My thought was, I touch the trident, get the info beamed into my brain, and then we have that for the future!" Chipper, bright, and excited for the possibility to help him. She refused to let something as trivial as her theft put a damper on that.

His eyes trailed from the doorknob to her hand, clearly following the explanation, but the crinkle of his expression spoke of a certain level of doubt. "The Trident of Neptune is a sacred prize won through a series of rituals. We cannot simply..." Namor paused, then, and perhaps the universe was giving Alani the win because he merely nodded.

A blue disc of energy formed crackled to life in the man's right hand. He sighed at this, momentarily exposed, "I have also lost and gained things." A simple flex sent the energy straight toward Alani. It danced, spark-like, around the woman before expanding into a ring at her feet. It wasn't over, however, because the same ring now danced upward — taking Alani with it.

"We will ensure that you only touch what is required."

Part of her hadn’t actually expected him to agree, so when he did, a hesitant excitement won over. Only to be thrown off when she was not standing where she’d previously been and — oh? Was it supposed to work like that? How fun! “So that’s how you did it!” It made sense, and while Alani had only ever seen Illyana teleport, it was entirely different than she'd expected. Not terrible, just unexpected. The urge to ask follow up questions on the use of it, how it felt, did he notice any changes or a caloric loss?, everything rushing through her brain were compartmentalized and carefully put away into the ‘ask later’ box in favor of her own task.

“Thank you, though worry not when I first manifested, I became very good at not touching things!” The statement practically sparkled as it left her mouth, steamrolling past what it might have said about her past.

And she did not look around like a nosy Nelly, no sir, she waited patiently for Namor’s lead on the Trident, hesitant to push. “I keep saying it but honestly, thank you, I’m hopeful that this will help.” The hint of nerves were back, colored by her need to be useful as she flashed a smile.

They reappeared in what was, presumably, the back of the boathouse. A lovely porch looked out at the water. The rest, however, was in shambles. Furniture in pieces. What had been in storage was now tossed haphazardly over the expanse, and water damage hinted that some of it had been in the lake. Everything except the weapon in question. It stood in a place of honor, untouched, amidst the mess.

Namor, still atypically sober for himself, gazed at her dead-eyed. "We have lost so much else. What is everything?"

"So that's what you meant by 'fish,'" Alani sighed. But there was no reason to chide him, she couldn't imagine what he was actually going through and her empathy could only get her so far. Still, she scrubbed her hands over her face and prepared to give it her all. "It won't be everything. We're gonna fix this. I'm just gonna get some information first."

But she didn't move towards it, couldn't stomach the thought that she might snatch something she wasn't actually sure he wanted to offer. Deep breaths, she rubbed at her wrists again. "I promise you're not gonna lose anything, okay? And if you don't want me to touch the Trident, I wouldn't. It's yours." She half-reached out to pat his shoulder but stopped short.

"What do you say?"

The narrow glare she received was equal parts "let me have my pity party here" matched with a healthy dose of "get on with it," but what Namor actually responded with was, "We understand your demands. Carry on."

Why couldn't she have gotten some power that would have made it acceptable to bite with the stupid lizard part of her brain? Instead, she nodded sagely and stared at the weapon. "Alright." In. Out. She could do this. It was just an ancient piece of a civilization, what was the worst that could happen? Alani wrapped her fingers around the Trident with little fanfare, eyes closing as she tried to concentrate — it felt like getting an entire research article torn offline and uploaded directly into her brain, but with feelings and the power and the glory.

How had she ended up on the floor? She looked at Namor with only a touch of uncertainty. "Did I die?"

Namor, who was now sitting with a vibrant blue cocktail in hand, raised an eyebrow at her. "It is flattering to know that I would be in your version of the afterlife, Administrare. Am I your psychopomp?" He twirled his glass and took a sip before continuing, "Now. Tell me what was worth all of these dramatics."

"Sure, I guess," she mumbled as she sat up, slow, checking herself along the way. With no damage she hopped to her feet, staring at the pillow before making a beeline for the drink he'd apparently set out for her. "Not enough feathers, actually, and no flowers. So I take back my death statement, but if this is booze you can stay my psychopomp until someone better comes along." Realizing she would have to describe everything that had been put into her head, Alani stared at the blue drink then Namor. "Let's get more of this and I will."

"No one respects an indecisive ruler." He was, however, moving to pour another glass, somehow keeping rather intense eye contact. "Continue."

"Great news, I don't think I'll ever be a ruler of anything." Laying her head on her own shoulder to orient the thoughts and feelings, she blinked slowly back at him. “I saw,” she grimaced at the dull slurry of anger and confusion that sat at the top, needling her brain before continuing, “well, I think I just saw Atlantis as it was, ya know days of ruling at the kings side, coronations, tons of that, quests, some battles. I saw you.” There, she stopped, brows furrowing as that seemed to have the biggest emotional imprint, and instinct had her setting the glass down before - “Oh,” right, she didn’t do that anymore. “Sorry, uh, I saw you, the night before your own coronation. Did you know this thing could make earthquakes?”

Namor paused mid-cocktail shake as if captured in slow motion. His shit-eating "I am going to offer a quip" expression died as she continued on, slowly melting into harsh angles and the dramatic lighting reserved for secrets best not shared openly.

"We are," is what he offered. "You mean to say that you saw the Rites of..." There was a pause here as he attempted to clarify, starting with a few sounds before settling dejectedly on "Neptune." He shook his head. "My apologies. We did not choose how to learn English. The trident is the power of the ocean, not some Atalu cult nonsense."

"Yes, I believe so..." She allowed herself to trail off as the word sat in her head, it seemed slightly wrong, like a partial misstep for the tradition she'd found repeated in her mind, but with no better option and no actual understanding of the language it would have to work. "That makes sense, I'll admit I don't think I've ever seen your trident in action." Alani hoped he didn't take that as a barb, she didn't have the energy for that.

Finally reaching back for the drink, she tapped her fingers on the glass. "I wouldn't lie to you, Namor."

"How unfortunate you did not," he followed in the same serious tone as his earlier explanation. "You have seen sacred rites and now have to die."

A choked sound somewhere between confusion and a snort, before the liquid that had been in her mouth was spat onto the floor. Of all the responses that cycled through her head, the one she hadn't even thought to entertain was a laugh, still trying to decipher he was serious. But she couldn't stop herself, the next moment tears slipped free as she laughed. What the fuck? "Sorry, sorry, I'm useless as a warrior, I gave you the perfect opening to kill me."

His stare lasted just one fraughtful moment before it collapsed completely under the sheer weight of trying to keep up the tension against Alani's laugh. Namor himself even folded into a chuckle. "I saw that in one of your movies," he conceded, swirling his own blue concoction, as if Alani represented all media in this modern era, "And always wanted to try the line. Still, you have seen something no mortal has witnessed in thousands of years. We are now bonded by these shared memories."

"Oh, good." Well, actually, she was a bit unsure, but it seemed good, so she flashed a smile, easier again as she let the stress that had momentarily flooded through her system out. "'s a good line, and your delivery was, well, I think if I didn't have an overwhelming feeling that everything's gonna be okay, I probably woulda cried. Uh, sorry about your floor." She didn't sound sorry, but she did stare at the booze and mix with a bit of longing before cocking her head at Namor. "Are you doing... okay? Or, I mean, did that help you? At all?" There was a beat when she thought to offer to let him be her psychopomp if he wanted. No, that seemed too soon.

Too soon for the underworld, indeed.

"We are content." It wasn't really an answer, but the sudden stiffness of Namor's shoulders at her words indicated that he wasn't being all that forthright. He took a drink of his own, sighing into the glass. "The engineers will solve this. This is why we have them. I will have my wings, and birthright, returned to me, just as you will have your inscriptions back." There was an implied 'or else' at the end there that hung heavy in the air.

"As for your odd, new trick: unless you can scry the location of Atlantis, it has no practical use for my plans."

"Don’t think I can do that — but I can throw stuff in the lake for you if you want,” Alani offered, entirely too cheerful for the words coming out of her mouth. Hmm, but she hadn’t tried to scry things…. but it didn’t feel like something she could do. Her brows had knit together again, worry resting though she refused to acknowledge it. “Maybe… if we set a map down in front of me I could… find a spot? That feels right? Is that a thing?” The final question was more to herself than anything.

"Is it," he countered flatly, "We will have words with Lady Sefton if there was a force hiding here who could have solved Our Problems that easily years ago. She will be made to regret the day she chose to waste the time of the crown." Namor's eyes left Alani's then, drifting off to picture grand and poignant retribution and other acts that he would describe with Deliberate Capital Emphasis.

"Oh," it was drawn out, suspiciously calm as she instead focused on not trying to ponder what Namor meant by his promise to make Amanda regret wasting his time. It was hilariously something she herself had tried to avoid as best she could. "I doubt she'd've done that on purpose," she finally offered with a sip of her leftover drink. "Anyway, we're gonna find it." A firm statement as she watched him. "Oooh, I know, let's tell each other secrets, I'll start."

"Secrets," he scoffed. Any agitation that the king might have had in the moment was swept away with another contemplative swirl of his drink, mood happily latching onto more intriguing distractions. "Secrets are for gossip-mongers and fools. Lies are where true skill lies buried."

Alani blinked owlishly at the royal for a moment, contemplating what he'd said before motioning that this game was just as interesting to her. Finishing the glass off, she carefully set it down before sitting a little straighter, eyes steady as she looked into his. "I love it here, New York is the place I've always wanted to be, and I think it's where my energy should be focused right now while we work to establish eXcalibur's understanding." Maybe it was eerie, the way her tone had returned to an upbeat cheerfulness, eyes bright with a smile as she waited for him to respond.

His own smile was a thing of edges and barbs. "We are extremely fortunate to have brought forward into this modern age of sparkling innovation. It is increasingly important day by day to stay neutral to ensure mutant safety."

That garnered a raised brow and a rolling of eyes, before Alani leaned back, sigh soft as she thought. "I made the right choice, we did the right thing. It's getting easier every day to make these exciting decisions." These words were slower, strung together with care as she tilted her head at him, expectantly.

"How wise. Our policing of other dimensions never moves past only ensuring our own survival."

She wrinkled her nose in a frown, struck with the urge to stick her tongue out which was quickly ignored. "You know I love your militant talk. If only there was more things for you to ominously tell me about."

He raised an eyebrow. Challenge accepted. "We are the rightfully crowned King of Atlantis, Ruler of the Seven Seas."

Alani looked properly reprimanded, or she would have, if she wasn't still smiling ever so slightly. "You're right, you're right, I didn't mean that in a disrespectful way, honest. Unless you were actually offering to tell me more about Atlantis?" Her brow finally raised in a mirror of his, less powerful but an eagerness to learn more adding a sparkle. Metaphorically, of course.

Namor's own expression darkened. The game was apparently over. He leaned closely to her, interlacing his fingers as the weighty gravitas of bargaining fell over what had been more playful. "A new game, then. Three questions about Atlantis and only for you. Begin."

Oh no. She hadn't planned this far ahead. This was too much responsibility, there was too much in her head for this, or not enough to take full scope into mind when made such an offer. "How did you steer the city, or did you make a migratory pattern with magic and technology?"

This got a single, raised eyebrow, but, a promise, even the smallest one, was something to be delivered upon. "The Royal Trade Commission and Navigators would plot our course based upon the ripest targets. They ar..." and Namor had to self correct more out of reflex, "Were the ones with markings much like your.."

Another pause. Awkward. "The Trident's ability to move the sea meant that no obstacle stood in the way of our route."

Again he'd brought up her markings, though she lacked them now, and something in her mind said this was important, to remember this for the future. And if the universe was very kind to her she would. But unfortunately this was going to have to be something she fully set into the lap of the gods as she realized how much she could not handle her liquor, and in fact, there was something in the mansion she had the nagging suspicion she'd forgotten about, like cold needles on the back of her neck. Standing abruptly, she smiled apologetically. "Cuz, we're gonna continue this in the future, because I- I think I'm needed elsewhere." Whoops, ominous. A wink to cover that up as she made her exit.

Left suddenly very alone and bewildered, Namor gave the royal equivalent of a shrug, stood, and fished around behind the bar for the only thing in this conversation that made usual sense.

He took a swig. And, considering, one more for good measure.