The Girl With Bad Luck

Strange Places

Persephone had never had that good of luck. All she can remember is being trapped in a dark, and musty-smelling room. For weeks, she had tried picking the lock on the door attempting to escape her prison. But she had failed thus far. The strange man who came every other day to give her food and allow her to do her business outside never spoke. She had never seen his face since every time he entered it was required that she donned a black bag over her head. His rough handling caused bruises to appear on her stomach, arms, and legs. She had no idea why she was here, or what he wanted. Desperately hoping for an escape, she resorted to praying to whatever god there was. She had never been religious that's for sure. How could a God who promised to love and cherish what they had created let the world live as her people had? Better yet how could a God who loved and cared for their people allow things like this to happen to her? She wanted to go home. As she sat miserably in the corner, a ringing started in her ears. Small and weak at first it grew stronger and stronger until she pressed her hands to her ears to mute the noise. A bright light suddenly shined from the corner of her lonely room. Immediately forgetting about the ringing she stands and slowly creeps towards the light. Was this a miracle? Did someone answer her desperate prayers? She hesitantly reaches her hand towards the light. It shines broadly across the corner now, wider and taller than she. As her hand meets the blinding light her fingers disappear. She quickly pulls her hand back scared but intrigued. Looking down she inspects her fingers and notices no burns or wounds. Still unsure, she reaches back through the light again and lets her entire arm go through. Nothing happens. Taking this as a safe sign she cautiously takes a step into the light. And then another, so that now her entire body is engulfed by the light. Then an odd pulling sensation causes her to panic, jerking forward she realizes she is stuck where she stands. But to her horror, she is stuck where she is. The light starts to encircle her, taking away her sight of the darkroom. Her heart beats frantically in her throat and her breathing is rapid. She feels as though she is being lifted into the sky. Then a blinding pain shoots in her midsection. She looks down and sees that her shirt is starting to soak up the blood. She lifts her shirt and her stomach shows a long cut from the rib to where the waistline of her jeans start. What could even have cut her so badly? Laying a hand over her wound, she looks at her new surroundings. Her pain is gone for a mere second as the brightness dims away and reveals a spine-tingling sight. Her eyes go wide from the sight of enormous objects around her. There are table legs that look like they could reach the top of the mountains, chairs that she could climb for an entire hour, and still not reach the top, and the roof seems reachable to only a gigantic god. She stands there pitifully slouched over with a hand holding her bleeding stomach staring up at the towering objects saying to herself, "This is just my luck." Just a second after, she faints.

Thor was taking his time to get to his father's throne room. He knew his father would criticize him for what he had done wrong and diminish his confidence in himself. Sometimes it just made him wish Loki was the elder brother and he could take the burden of being the next heir to the throne. He wanted more to life than boring meetings and diplomatic trips. He was meant to be a warrior, not a king! He craved adventures filled with slaying dragons, discovering new worlds, and meeting new companions. Nevertheless, he made his way to the throne room. Taking the long way he stomped heavily through the library. He looked around at all the towering shelves that held books. He never was one for reading, that was more of Loki's fortake. Yet sometimes the warrior wished he was intelligent and cunning as his brother was. If he possessed these qualities maybe he would be more confident in his future role of king to Asgard. He was abruptly taken out of his thoughts when his shoe squeaked and lost traction on the floor, he quickly sought out a table for support. Righting himself, he looked down as to what had made him almost fall. He searched and found a red puddle. Blood. It had been smeared by his boot but still was no bigger than his palm. He kneeled steadily for a better look and saw minuscule droplets of blood leading away from the pool of blood. His eyes followed the tiny droplets to a sight that made his breath catch in his throat. A tiny woman with another substantial pool of blood forming under her. He silently thanked the Gods that his boot had slipped in the unoccupied pool of blood. She looked to be unconscious, lying on her side with her back facing him. There were no visible wounds on her back, so he figured the wound must be on her front. He reached a hand out to gently scoop her up to examine her. As his fingertips met her body he noticed she was very cool to the touch. That cannot be good, He thought. He wedged his fingers under her delicate body and was amazed by the lightness of her form. He brought her right to his face and closely examined her. He saw her shirt had been soaked through, lightly pinching her shirt between a comparatively massive forefinger and thumb and he lifted the edge of her shirt, seeing the long gash in her abdomen. He rose from his kneeling position and held her close to his chest. Completely forgetting about the meeting with his father, he went to find the only person he could somewhat trust and had a mediocre understanding of medical knowledge.