walk up to the club like...well this isn't the club is it?

[bornagoddess]

Another job well done, if Sif said so herself. This had been a hard one, considering what it uncovered within her; however, Lorelei was back in her cell where she belonged, and all was well for the moment. Sif was relieved that Midgard was once again safe from misguided Asgardians, and that she could now be alone with her own thoughts - or proceed with the attempt to wipe Lorelei's words from her mind. They kept playing back, however, over and over again.

It was frustrating, to say the least. Sif began walking faster through the doors and hallways of the palace, fully intent on dropping a word of recent developments in the barracks and then ending up in her quarters, where she would draw hot bath and try to wash it all away.

Instead, upon pushing open the door to the barracks, she found herself...elsewhere. Stopping, Sif looked around, took a few steps back without fully closing the door, then opened it widely again. These were not the barracks in Asgard. This was nowhere she had ever been and, she was sure, nowhere Heimdall might send her to as a prank. Firstly because he absolutely wasn't the pranking type, and secondly because she would have felt it.

If Loki wasn't dead Sif might even suspect one of his tricks, illusions, special bloody portals - whatever he was experimenting with at the moment. He liked his tricks, some more harmful than others. And once in a blue moon, depending on their seriousness, Sif wasn't all too bothered by them. But that wasn't it either, was it?

Armed with her shield in front of her, and pulling loose her sword with a wrist movement, Sif clicked so it would stretch and began walking, leaving the door behind. It was unfortunate, however, because once she looked back at it it was gone. "This is ridiculous!" She protested, making her way slowly down the richly decorated hallway. "Hello? I demand to know what is happening here!" She called out, a warning more than a demand. Because things would start to break if she did not get her answers.

because of the colossal vitality of his illusion

[likepalegold]

There's a strange sort of energy behind him, at Gatsby's back as if heralding his exit from one world into the next. It's as if he stepped over the threshold and found himself in a new world, only he doesn't quite recall how he got here, only that he's clasping a wand in his hand, wearing a fine suit (the finest that money can buy, old sport, the very finest of them all) and his tie bears the distinguished hint of his alma mater.

Supposing he can call it that. It's hardly as if he can call Hogwarts his alma mater when, really, after the war, he'd been invited to study there, being so far from home and possessing the right blood for it, but not the right age. Still, war had displaced them and made immigrants of them all and so Gatsby feels safe calling himself a man of Hogwarts.

And what better place than Hogwarts in the 1920's, resplendent with its fineries, looking every bit the dazzling wonder that he remembers.

(Does he? Does he remember this? Surely this can't be, surely there is another world and another war and another life, but Gatsby has told himself a grand story since his earliest childhood days and despite twists and turns, they have a tendency to stick)

He shakes the self-doubt as he strides forward, towards that gleaming past. "Alohomora," he speaks the incantation, striding through the open door and into the grand hall, decorated with the finest ornamentation of the times. Perhaps Gatsby will stay a while, this time, and turn this visit into something else.

Yes, perhaps he'll start again. Perhaps this is the next chapter in his story.