A Not-So Fantastic Visit
Further adventures with the Defenders had been reasonably minor and her siblings (and Ohu for that matter) had largely not bothered her in some time.  She'd gotten some small pleasures by venturing out and playing small tricks on mortals by tricking them with illusions or minor magics, but that was the extent of her excitement.

To put it bluntly, she was bored.  And perhaps, though she would never admit it to anyone, more than a little bit lonely.  On some small level, she envied the companionship her siblings shared, though she thought little of their lifestyle choices, her brother in particular.

Fortunately, there was one with whom she could spend time with.  One who's company she would even enjoy.  She did have her needs, after all, even if she was not as obvious as Ardis or Halbjorn  (consorting with that arrogant fire-haired mortal!  The thought of it!).

Vincent Amorason, offspring of her one-time teacher, and rather attractive, for one who was only half-Asgardian.  Yes.  Now was indeed the time to pursue a further... liason.

Traveling across the country to th Baxter Building in New York was a simple enough spell for her.  In one moment, she vanished from the Defenders' headuqarters in California and in the next she had reappeared in the living room of the Fantastic Four's portion of the Baxter Building.



"An impressive display of teleportation," a voice said.  "Though I would hope this is not part of an attack."

Asleif turned, finding herself facing a dark-haired girl.  No, not a girl.  She could sense no thoughts, no life from her.  Some sort of golem or clockwork contrivance then.  Quite obvious, in hindsight.  Vincent could and most certainly would have created servants for himself.  "Hardly," she said.  "I art here to see Vincent.  Fetch him for me."

The golem continued to stare at her, its gaze less unnatural than she would have expected.  "I have sent a message to his laboratory," the thing said.  "He should arrive soon."

Asleif nodded, but said nothing. One did not thank a candle for lighting, or a knife for cutting, after all.