[center][h2]Tarene; Reformed SThor[/h2][/center]


Tarene felt oddly ... [i]naked[/i] without Mjolnir by her side. It was as if a huge chunk of her was exposed, a massive piece of armour ripped away. She hadn't counted how many hours ... days ... whatevers ... however long it had been since she'd lost Thor's magical hammer. She couldn't bring herself to hold out her hand and command it fly back to her, a fear rooted inside her that the hammer would no longer listen, no longer work for her. She'd need to return to Stark towers and lift it up herself before her nerves would settle.

She'd changed her mind about her surrender halfway through her arrest and easily overpowered the SHIELD agents she'd willingly submitted to only moments before. As Loki and Stark were taken away she'd fled and with no tech or paper trail to leave behind, SHIELD quickly lost track of her. After the first few hours of running she began to feel guilty. Loki was a coward who'd fled punishments and escaped prisons, she was no different, and yet ... on this planet he was the good guy ... So she just kept running, hoping her thoughts couldn't catch up with her but they inevitably always did. 

Dwight was losing his mind, sick with worry but no one could give him any answers, no one knew where Tarene had took off to and she didn't dare go to him because SHIELD would find her there. SHIELD had questioned him but it was clear that although he was on her side and helping her out, she'd acted on her own and left him completely in the lurch. He couldn't tell SHIELD anything new, and SHIELD didn't give him any info either.  

Running got dreadfully lonely dreadfully fast. Although she'd spent months, years even, wandering on her own when she'd first come to Midgard ... that had been quite some time ago and she'd grown fond of her small routines and familiarities. Her neighbours, though they thought she was a bit mad, were pleasant and she liked to chat with them in the halls whenever they crossed her path. She saw Dwight regularly and had even made friends with some of his friends. Now she hadn't seen her apartment nor any familiar faces and she'd missed those things immensely. 

She eventually made her way back to New York city ... the only familiar place she knew, but didn't hand herself in ... SHIELD would catch up with her eventually and she had no energy left to run. She was thin, not skinny-thin, but certainly thinner than before, and filthy. If Thor, or Sif or even Loki of all people, saw her, they'd be ashamed to call her Asgardian. Her clothes were ruined and her hair a mess and she was visibly exhausted. She could still bench-press a cement truck, but if she were to fight Stark again, he'd probably stand a greater chance at giving her a bit of a beating than before, not that he'd utterly defeat her, even without Mjolnir she was a formidable foe. 
Now ... She was a shell of her former self. 

She peered up at Stark tower and debated going up to seize Mjolnir once more, she knew it would still be there ... Instead she took a detour to the museum. She'd pay Dwight a visit and commit one last crime before she truly changed her ways. 
Dwight was ecstatic to see her ... but not so pleased to find her swarmed by security, alarms blazing, museum visitors fleeing ... SHe'd smashed through the glass that protected a precious ancient sword, none other than the Sif's sword, and was now weilding said-sword.  
[b]"Good to see you again, friend"[/b] she said, though between his horror, anger, and overwhelming joy, Dwight was speechless. He just about managed to warn the security to stand down.
[b]"You had me worried sick, where were you? You look frightful what happened? Wheres your hammer? Did you kill Loki?"[/b]
[b]"I'll answer in great depth another time ... Loki is not the enemy, I see that now, Mjolnir is ...resting for now. I need to borrow this. I will pay you back I promise."[/b]
Dwight didn't bother explain that 1. The ancient sword was a priceless artefact and 2. if she had money, there was no way she could afford it anyway. There was no point arguing with her on that. 
[b]"Where are you going this time? Good grief I can't keep up. Take this!"[/b] he said, pressing a cell phone into her hand, of course she had no idea how to use it.
[b]"What does this do?"[/b]
[b]"It's a cell phone, you can contact me with it when you go off on adventures. Ask someone to teach you to use it, but for goodness sake, when you figure it out, USE IT!"[/b]
Tarene smiled, she was a shadow, but part of her seemed to be her usual vibrant larger than life self for just a split second.
[b]"I shall."[/b]

She assumed Stark would be lurking in his tower now ... she could properly apologise, figure out how to help out ... she could do right by the world this time. Firstly, she stopped back at her apartment, the locks had been changed, but the door was flimsy. She washed, ate, and changed and already felt a great deal better. Her brief exile had given her time to clear her head and this was her fresh start. Again... It would go better than the other time. Tarene was herself this time, and she knew deep down it was her job to do good, even if that meant fighting for the same team as Loki, she still wasn't entirely sure how pure his motives were, and didn't dare trust him with a guppy much less something more significant. Perhaps in time he'd earn her trust, but that would take a very very long time. Right now, her first goal was to find out who was in charge, there seemed to be lots of "leaders" but who was in charge of everything? Who was the "Odin" or "Thor" of Midgard? Tarene wasn't a leader, she was a warrior, without someone to issue command, she was at a loss regarding what to do. 

Refreshed and dressed in civillian clothing for a change, she stepped out of her apartment and decided to take a break before beginning her new mission. She indulged in her FAVOURITE beverage in all of Midgard, a decaf Mocha-latte at the cafe on the corner past 5th street. Sif's sword was tucked away in her backpack, it half stuck-out but no one seemed to notice really, she could have been one of those actors from the local theatre lugging around a prop, or a LARP enthusiast or cosplayer, no one cared. It was sheathed in its scabbard, its true deadly sharpness hidden away so no one had to know she was armed with a real weapon. She debated her next move, returning to Stark Tower ... seeking out someone from SHIELD ... finding someone else to run with ... each had their own advantages and disadvantages.