World Tree MUSH

  The town of Polyuchyn is a charming little hamlet in the hinterlands of Sokovia. Although the country itself has been through some rough times in recent history, this particular town isn't too bad off. In fact, it's in slightly better shape than a lot of the territories around it, thanks in part to a close-knit community and a little bit of healthy paranoia where the World Tree is concerned.

  Today finds one Anneka Stojespal on the hills overlooking Feathergrass Airbase's runway. There isn't much of anything up here but a commanding view of the area. It's sunny and bright; that hour of late afternoon when all the world is cast in gold. Up on the hill there's a dilapidated picnic table and a few metal folding chairs; an open cooler is plunked on the table, laden with beer, vodka, and a few excellent sandwiches from a local deli.

  Anneka herself isn't sitting on one of the chairs, but instead perched on the corner of the table, one combat booted foot planted on the corner of the bench, the other left to dangle. She's smoking a cigarette, positioned so the breeze neatly blows it away from the table. Her eye is half-closed, and she looks pensive.

  She must have just come from active duty, because she's still wearing her flight suit, gloves, and her helmet's lying on the grass nearby.

    The view from the hilltop is one of the nicer things to see in Polyuchyn, and it's a place a certain Sokovian knows well. The drive to reach it is loaded with switchbacks and small hills to crest; the drive to reach the hilltop is one of the few things she enjoys so much.

    Plus, Aunt Anneka invited her to a picnic up here.

    So it's not a surprise at all when the sing-song snarl of a turbocharged V8 engine up-and-downshifting becomes audible over the sounds of the breeze. It doesn't take long before Rusalka's pride and joy comes into view, the red Ferrari 458 she'd rebuilt from its previous owner's folly cutting a path up the road like a fox chasing its prey.

    The sports car comes to a silent stop a short distance away from Anneka, and the driver's door opens. Rusalka steps out, stretching happily - the road was a fine workout to unwind on. Clad in a Ferrari-branded shirt, denim shorts, and her favorite red t-strap shoes, she makes her way over to the pilot with a wave.

    "Aunt Anneka. You picked a wonderful place for a picnic." Anywhere that has to be reached with a drive like that is a wonderful place, in her book. She settles on one of the picnic benches, looking idly at the cooler to see what kind of -

    "Ooh! Beer." One bottle gets plucked from the cooler, twirled around in her hands absorbing the cold condensation on it. "So what did you want to see me about out here, anyway?" She leans back, tilting her head to send a blue-eyed gaze up to her companion.

  The sound of an engine soon crests the hills. It's a purr, throaty and low, feline, like a panther crouching to spring. Anneka doesn't so much as tilt her head, because she knows the sound of that specific engine. That is the sound of a V8 Ferrari 458. It's a pleasing shade of red, she knows, and it eases up smoothly under a deft hand.

  Only after she's had a chance to take another drag does she glance aside, confirming the identity of both the car and its owner.

  "Sally Petrovna." Her tone is not... cheerful, but content. "Beer," she confirms. "Help yourself. Don't tell your mother. Absolutely do not tell your great-grandmother, but I suppose already she knows."

  Leaning back, she turns, regarding Sally with that one blue eye. "Hmm. Nothing in particular. Lunch. I offered Agent Lor'osa a beer. She may be joining us sooner or later, I think."

    A picnic! Picnics are nice.
    And with the cooler set out it's not long before a grey 2003 Ford Windstar comes puttering along the road by the hills, rolling to a stop not too far off. And once it does come to a stop, the driver's side door opens. Not expecting any trouble from... You know... Going on a picnic and all, Morrigan emerges in her usual Warlock robes, not bothering to wear her leather armor underneath them. Mary Contrary is perched on her shoulder as per usual, and the pair make their way towards the ancient table, metal folding chairs, and the duo already present.
    "Hellllooooooo~. How are you two this fine day, hm?" Morrigan chimes chipperly. "I was told there'd be beer."
    She was, in fact, told there would be beer.

    Cheerful isn't something Rusalka would immediately come to to characterize Anneka. Content is, however, and the Sokovian heiress recognizes that the pilot is at least pleased with what amounts to a nice, late-spring day in Polyuchyn. The snow season is long gone, and it's fine weather for shorts.

    At 'help yourself' the girl grins with an unhidden glee, that turns to a tongue stuck out when Anneka mentions her mother. "I'm nineteen you know. It's perfectly alright for me to have one," she adds, finally twisting the top off and taking a pull from the bottle. "But only one, as I am driving back. I need to break in new tires, anyways."

    Agent Lor'osa? "She is the...ah, what was the word? Warlock, yes. The one that is helping with the spooky side of Valentina Maximova's ghost?" What strange words the World Tree has made commonplace. Rusalka crosses her ankles and stretches out, ear twitching momentarily at the sound of a certain van's engine.

    It's not one that anyone in town owns, a foreign made vehicle - which is curious enough on its own to get her head to swivel back towards the path up here. It's just in time to see the Windstar come to a halt and its driver alight looking for all the world like a sorceror of some sort.

    "Warlock," she says to herself.

    And her partner Mary is there as well. The little Shinki gets Rusalka's attention; the technology behind it is intriguing to the engineer side of her while the adorableness calls to the fact she's a teenaged girl still.

    "There is indeed. A pleasure to meet you," she adds with a bemused smirk, "Special Agent Parton." The smirk turns into a laugh and a wave of the hand. She knows about code names and people who need to pass as others all too well.

  That engine also sounds familiar. The battered Ford Windstar comes rolling up to the gathering, door popping open, Warlock disembarking. Anneka lifts a hand and flicks it in mock salute. Her half-grin only twists one side of her face. "I am not bleeding, and I have not been set on fire, so it is a good day, today."

  She reaches into the cooler for a beer of her own, cracking the seal and tipping it back. "Never said it wasn't," the pilot proclaims, cheerfully. "I just said don't tell your mother. Or very especially your great-grandmother."

  Nope. Just nope. She does squint at Rusalka. "Just one," she agrees.

  "That is one thing that does not make any sense to me. Valentina Maximova was only a cadet. Why would anyone kill her? She was not involved in drugs, or gangs, or anything, was she?" The pilot frowns. "I do not understand."

    Warlock. Definitely a Warlock, not a Sorcerer. Those are two very different classes of magic, and calling Morrigan a Sorcerer might insult her!
    But Morrigan doesn't get called a Sorcerer, so she moves right on and settles into one of the available chairs, plucking a beer for herself from the cooler and popping it open, while Mary waves in greeting, hopping off the Warlock's shoulder and onto the table to sit on the edge.
    "Hah haaaaaahhh... The whole Dolly Parton thing was kind of one of my better codenames." Morrigan chuckles, taking a slow sip from the bottle as she settles in.
    "You have come up with worse." Mary Contrary chirrups helpfully. ... Earning her a gentle poke to the midsection.
    But then her lips purse.
    "Maybe she saw something she wasn't supposed to. That's always a sure way to get someone killed."

    Anneka describes what makes up a good day and Rusalka can't help but nod. "I suppose that is the most important of things, so. It is a good day for us both."

    Telling Irja Grigorievna or her great-grandmother is way off the table. "Absolutely I will not tell. I do not look forward to the kind of lecture that might entail." Or worse, the keys to her favorite car temporarily suspended.

    Morrigan settles in one of the chairs, and Rusalka twists around to reach the sandwiches in the cooler, offering one to the Warlock and pilot. Mary settles in on the tabletop, and Rusalka smirks as the Shinki chimes in.

    "I admit I do not listen to country music," she explains. "But secret identities...such things I am familiar with. Secret missions, that sort of thing." Spy stories, in other words; some of which various members of the family have gone on. She doesn't even twitch at Anneka, knowing the pilot's background and true relationship to the Stojespal family.

    That's a secret that never gets broken.

    "That is one of the possibilities. I spoke with some of my cousins; Valentina Maximova did not even have a boyfriend. She was dedicated to her career in the Air Force, and was looking forward to graduate to it. Nobody knew of anyone who had the slightest complaint about her."

    At least, nobody she'd tracked down yet. She takes a pull from her own beer, hiccuping once.

  "I was thinking maybe that." Shifting, Anneka pulls herself a little further upright. Every movement is slow, stiff; a small price to pay for not having half her ribs staved in. As it happens, Bell hits like a truck. "The million-dollar question is, what did she see?"

  "Oh," she adds to Rusalka, "and Agent Philip Coulson did not assign me any extra paperwork. That is also a good day." She sure does love her paperwork, after all. Who wouldn't love and adore the most ridiculous government bureaucracy at its absolute finest? Just make sure those TPS reports have their cover sheets. In triplicate.

  At Rusalka's mention of not telling, Anneka grumbles. "No." Not even any specific context. Just... no. She doesn't even want to imagine what that bloodbath would look like.

  "I do not listen to country music either." The offered sandwich is plucked from Rusalka's hand and unwrapped with record efficiency. Chomp. Only after several bites are down does Anneka pause to answer. "Really? She wasn't seeing anyone? In the academy? Hell. That is unexpected." She frowns, taking another pull of beer. The cigarette has long since been relegated to an emergency ashtray, which is really just a cut-in-half old beer can, and it smolders gently. "Well, so much for any logical leads."

  Leaning back, she closes her eye, sighing. "All right... I will see if I can ask Agent Philip Coulson for advice. I do not think he can help too much. This is out of our jurisdiction, technically. He can maybe do that much, though, if I ask him." Another third or so of the sandwich is demolished. "Secret missions, code names... I do not like to be familiar with these things, but I am." She shrugs, gesturing to indicate her flightsuit. It comes with the whole agency territory.

    Morrigan accepts the offered sandwich and takes her time in unwrapping it, spending a moment in further thought.
    "So no boyfriend huh? Even in an academy." Yeah even she sounds surprised by that tidbit. "Girl must have been super focused on her learning. Can't say I envy her."
    A bite and a few slow chews later, she swallows and makes a face.
    It's not at the sandwich; the sandwich is good.
    "Oh paperwork, joy. At least you didn't have any extra."
    Morrigan is not a fan.
    "I'm still pretty new to the agency and the whole spy world, but it's a lot more paperwork drudgery than I expected. I was gearing up to go on like high speed chases and busting down doors and junk." She muses before pausing. "I got to kill a kelpie, at least so I guess there's that." But that was more off duty stuff and kind of a digression.
    "Anyway, I think our best bet is to talk to the ghost again." She did not just say that. Except she did because as a Warlock believing in ghosts is kind of her Thing. "Maybe we'll learn more that way."

    What did she see is the important question, definitely. "Mm," Rusalka replies with a contemplative expression. What was it that the others said when her ghost had last appeared, at the Howl? A learning machine...searching for any information on those had turned up little. Nothing but the kinds of toys used to teach children, at least.

    "Nothing that she told anyone," Rusalka adds with a shrug. "Perhaps a secret tryst? Such a thing..." Well, while it might appeal to the romance novelist, and it might fit the bill for someone with power and position, the Sokovian doesn't see the point of secret liasons. Too many secrets to keep track of already.

    She gets her own sandwich, carefully unwrapping it and refolding the paper with the sandwich on her lap before setting it aside and taking a bite. "Paperwork or homework, both are noxious requirements." She doesn't mind the latter so much, even if most of it is boringly easy, but the former is one reason she's not followed Anneka into SHIELD.

    There's enough secrets in her life to keep without adding more anyway.

    And then she coughs on a mis-swallowed bite when Morrigan did just say that. It takes a moment to clear her throat, which immediately gets a drink from the beer bottle next to her. "Kyah. Talk again...the last time was bad enough." Shudder. "The ghost stories have been on the rise again; that enough is plenty. I could not see or hear her, but..." Her hands knead the air as if to try to hold on to something.

    "It was enough just feeling the...atmosphere," she decides. But then there's an errant thought, that Agent Lor'osa is right. Not a thought she wanted to hear...

  "Can't say the same in my academy days," Anneka mumbles around sandwich. "Good for her, I suppose. Pity it ended the way it did. With determination like that I think maybe she would have made a fine pilot. You may envy her now, Lor'osa," she adds, eyeing the Warlock sidelong, "but she is dead. I do not think anyone would envy Valentina Maximova, now."

  The pilot heaves a tired sigh and shrugs. "It is out of SHIELD's jurisdiction, but I would like to see this thing through. Clearly there was not much of an investigation. From what I understand, it is a cold case, and no body was even found." She shakes her head in clear what a shame disappointment. "A tryst? Maybe. It does not make much sense from what we are led to believe about her character, though. If all of that is true." A nebulous gesture, 'that' being the whole issue of Valentina's schooling.

  A sidelong glance is cast at Rusalka as she gracefully chokes on her sandwich, but the driver recovers before Anneka has to do anything drastic. Her attention swivels back to Morrigan.

  She squints.

  "They only do that on TV," she observes. As to the ghosts, she only shrugs. "That is fine at all, but it will be you doing the talking. I cannot see her. Probably it is better that way." Anneka Stojespal has enough nightmares to keep. I got to kill a kelpie, at least, so I guess there's that. The one-eyed pilot stares blandly.

  ...Yep, World Tree.

  "...I am never going to get used to this place."

    Yep. Morrigan said that. She went there. 'Talk to the ghost again' is the best solution the Warlock has.
    Of course, as a Warlock, this would naturally seem like a perfectly viable option.
    When Rusalka nearly chokes, Mary floats on up behind her and gives her a tiny pat-pat on the back.
    Morrigan, however, sits back in her chair and sips at her beer.
    "I'm learning that real fast about this secret agent life, yep."
    Hey at least she got to kill a kelpie.
    "Anyway, between myself and Kamoya, I'm sure we can get enough of a lead to go off of that it might not be such a cold case anymore when we're done." She says with a shrug before flashing a fang-toothed grin.
    "I've had plenty of time to get used to it. My world is so deeply entrenched into the Tree that it's little more than a melting pot that got melted down and dipped in a bigger melting pot. And I've lived long enough to sorrttttt of get used to things."
    Pause.
    "Don't ask how old I am."
    That is a valid request from a half-elf. She may look in her twenties, but hah hah hah chances are she's way older than that.

    Can't say the same? Oh ho. Rusalka's smile turns malevolently cat-like, and she turns to face the one-eyed pilot. She's never seen a picture of the redhead in earlier days, but she can imagine Anneka's looks in those years and well...she'd have been a beauty, indeed. Even the Sokovian girl can be a little jealous of such a thing. Someday she'll have to dig into the pilot's past...

    Anneka makes the point that Valentina is no longer among the living, and Rusalka nods softly. "Tak, yes. That is the most important thing to remember." The idea of a tryst is unlikely, but she thought it should at least be considered...in this case, considered and rejected.

    Mary's pat on the back helps her swallow, and she turns to give the Shinki a smile. It's downright adorable, and she extends a finger to pat her hair. "Dyakuyu tobi, Mary." Thank you.

    "I cannot see her either, or hear her." Shrug. "It is up to you, it seems," she adds to the green-eyed woman. And then Morrigan brings up the strangeness of the World Tree, and there's a slow nod. "It is not as if my homeland is without its own stories of such things." Khoro's howl is one of them, after all. "But to learn they are true, in many places...it is a bit surprising."

    Don't ask? Rusalka nods at that; before turning her attention to Lor'osa's diminutive companion. "Now, what are you, little one?" One hand levels at the edge of the table for Mary to climb on. It's a change to a more pleasant topic, and one she'd love to hear about, and fills some conversation in as the three women continue their picnic.

  "Everyone does, sooner or later." Learning about how the secret agent life isn't what it's cracked up to be, that is to say. "You get used to it. Eventually. You never like it, but you get used to it."

  Anneka tips her beer back and eyes Morrigan from the side. Leads are bound to be problematic once the pilot starts running out of information. She doesn't always know the main branches of this family all too well. There's only so much she can dig up on a family that isn't her own.

  Sighing, she shakes her head. "I am hoping maybe you or Lian Kamoya can see something, the next time we go somewhere that was important to Valentina Maximova. It is beyond me, but if she can give us more information, if she can tell us who this 'Zhenya,' this Yevgenia, is..." The woman gestures helplessly. "I am flying blind."

  Anneka lets herself ease back until she's sprawled over the edge of the table, looking up at the sky, heaving a contented sigh. "This is a very nice place. Wake me up if anything happens. I have been in the pilot's chair for ten hours." That blue eye slides closed.

  She's out in seconds flat, but thankfully, does not appear to snore.