Warrior of Olympus [ Marvel ]

1.7

Hellicarrier

Making their way into the jet, Loki was escorted off towards a prison cell on a lower level, while Ophelia marched alongside Thor to the main room with the rest of the heroes. Her determined yet angry glare did not once falter as she received curious stares. Arriving around a table, the red head who identified herself as Natasha on the jet took a seat opposite a stressed looking man, beside the American man who introduced himself as Steve Rogers, which she remembered as Captain America from one of her many visits to earth with Apollo, thought he died she pondered to herself, although realistically Ophelia couldn't care less about names considering all she wanted to do was bring Loki back to Asgard and return to Olympus.

Thor and Ophelia stood off to the side of the group as a tablet flicked on in the middle of the table, showing Loki inside of a cage as a man with an eyepatch stood beside the control panel on the outside of the glass that separate him from the God.

Nicholas. J. Fury.

Ophelia noted, remembering an acquaintance that they had in common who had mentioned him before. Her hands clenched as she gripped the edge of the table she was holding onto, her mind flooded with memories of this organisation and what they had done to people like her, her people. They were curious, she couldn't blame them for that nor could she blame them for wanting to protect themselves from threats, but her people were not threats. However she recalls they preferred the strategy of shoot first ask questions later when they hunted a group of young demigods who were trying to make their way to camp.

The atmosphere in the room became darker and colder as Ophelia's mood descended, the deeper she fell into her own mind the more she began to unconsciously call on the shadows. A trick that her uncle Hades had began to recently show her how to control after his most recent blessing towards her, one that she had not quite mastered controlling yet.

The other team members began to look around in worry as some of the crew stated to shiver and tighten their arms around themselves, believing this could be Loki's doing.

"What's going on?" Steve questioned, sitting up alert and glancing at the heroes sitting around the table.

Natasha's eyebrows furrowed as she slowly shook her head in confusion shivering slightly at the negative feeling circling the room, "I'm not sure."

Bruce banner began to shift uncomfortably in his seat as he felt the hulk becoming restless causing him to pale slightly as he tried desperately to control him.

As Thor felt the desperate feeling of overwhelming uncomfortableness, he began to realise that this was definitely not his brothers doing. Pointing him towards the only other being that was powerful enough to cause this atmosphere. Turning his head towards the Greek he quickly noticed the deep angry scowl that rested tightly on her beautiful face as well as the cracking on the edge of the table around the iron grip she had upon it, realising his assumptions were in fact correct he took a cautious step towards her.

"Lady Ophelia," he started, holding his hands in a surrending manner like one would towards a wild animal, gaining the attention of every other soul in the room in the process, "are you alright?"

Hearing her name snapped Ophelia out of her dangerously spiralling thoughts, she turned her head towards him her face losing its scowl and becoming dangerously impassive causing the dark feeling around the room to vanish immediately while she unclenches her fists, "my apologies" she spoke sounding anything but apologetic after realising what she was doing.

Good, she thought, I'm not sorry

Natasha raised her eyebrows at the woman in front of her, understanding that it was in fact her that caused the shift in the room before. From the moment she locked eyes on Ophelia she could tell that she was powerful, from the fearful reaction Loki held towards her to the ferocious war paint that decorated her attractive face, enhancing her high aristocratic cheekbones and thick dark eyes lashes, even the way that she walked - with such purpose and power blanketed in dangerously alluring aura giving the impression that if one were to get too close she would strike like a snake waiting for their prey to make the wrong move. Her posture stood straight naturally highlighting the dark armour that clung to her body perfectly, showcasing all of her curves, although Natasha could see that it was not fitted for that purpose, it simply looked as if it was make perfectly for her, it probably was she mused to herself.