The color violet

'The perfect pair'

At the top of the stairs, Hela finds herself in a homey living room that contrasts with her minimalist sensibilities. The impracticality of the space revolts her—bright colors, excessive furniture, carpet floors, and numerous decorations. The vibrant hues assault her eyes, and the cluttered furniture obstructs her path. On Asgard, she is accustomed to a more refined aesthetic—gentle colors, high ceilings, and only the necessary furniture.

She knows that Midgard is known for their impractical tendencies, but this is just irritating. Hela explores the home. She walks around and notices various photos of Agatha and a man, presumably Ralph. In the pictures, Ralph has short brunette hair and a simple mustache, dressed in a clean suit. Agatha, on the other hand, wears a long floral dress with shoulder-length hair. Despite the potential fakeness of the photos, Hela can't deny that Agatha looks pretty. She quickly dismisses the thought, continuing her exploration.

Entering various rooms, Hela explores the bathroom, the kitchen, the closets, and the bedrooms. There are two bedrooms, one pristine and untouched, while the other on the far right is filled with runes, texts, scrolls, and an unexpected occupant—a small white and brown rabbit in a cage. She assumes that it's Agatha's room. Tilting her head, Hela observes the rabbit twitching its nose in response. The walls in this room have a deep purple hue with dark wood trim. The room is very different from the rest of the house. The bed, though queen-sized, seems small to Hela's eyes, possibly because of her taller stature. She leaves the room, closing the door behind her. As she faces the door, she turns around and is met with Agatha standing in front of her, one eyebrow raised, and head slightly tilted. Hela almost has a heart attack, clenching her heart and squirming slightly at the unexpected encounter.

"Snooping around, I see. If you wanted to see my bedroom, you could have asked," Agatha smirks. Hela rolls her eyes, unimpressed by the playful banter of witches.

"Already saw it. Anyways, could you magic up some new clothes for me? I don't want to stay in my burned armor." Hela walks past Agatha, and turns to face her, putting some space between them.

"Hmm, I could, but what's the magic word?" Agatha taps her lips with her finger, feigning deep thought.

"What magic word? I don't know any Latin." Hela crosses her arms.

Agatha stares at her incredulously. "Latin... no, what? Please, the word is please, for the gods' sakes-" Agatha frowns and pinches her nose bridge. With a flick of her wrist and whispers of Latin, fresh clothes and toiletries materialize in the guest room. "Once you get all cleaned up, meet me downstairs in the living room." Before Hela can respond, Agatha vanishes with purple smoke in her wake. Hela sighs, already growing tired of the witch.

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After spending what felt like an eternity figuring out how to use the shower, and almost falling numerous times, Hela emerges clean and ready to face the peculiar circumstances of her new surroundings. She opts for a black fitted t-shirt and dark green yoga pants, a departure from her usual armor.

Examining the markings etched into her skin from the mysterious spell... or deal, she doesn't really know. Hela finds them odd but not entirely off-putting. Dressed and ready, she descends the stairs, with the banisters help, enters the living room. Agatha is seated on the couch, engrossed in a book, with a cup of tea on the coffee table in front of her. Another cup of tea waits on the opposite side of the couch—presumably for Hela.

Taking a hesitant seat next to Agatha, Hela waits in silence. Unsure of what to say, she leans her head back against the couch and closes her eyes. Resting, not sleeping, she's too alert to sleep. The quietude is broken when Agatha clears her throat, prompting Hela to reluctantly open her eyes and sit up properly. Agatha sets down her book and shifts on the couch to face Hela completely.