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H-hey, has anyone-

[Stiles has to swallow a few times before he can keep talking. His voice is thick, rough, and although he's not crying any more, there are still tear-tracks down his cheeks, red where he's been scrubbing at them.]

Has anyone else been... hallucinating dead people? They're hallucinations, right? They've gotta be...

Ellen? I tried the salt. She didn't- it didn't work.

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[Meja offers him a gentle smile.]

Ja, I think most of us are. They're not quite the spirits of the Dead that I'm used to, but they seem... ghostly enough. Are you all right?

Edited (gah typos) 2013-11-02 10:06 (UTC)

[He smiles back, weak and watery.]

Me? Oh, sure. I'm fine. Except for the dead folks walking around.

[She's seen her own fair share, but there aren't too many deaths that she feels guilty or upset over anymore. Time heals many things. Fortunately, the one death she still feels guilty over... well, so far, so good.]

I wish I could offer you some advice, but nothing I've tried seems to deter them.

[Not that Meja is an expert. Back home, the Dead either stay in their places of resting — Hel and its like — or return as Draugr, who are very different from ghosts.]

If you would like some company, though, I'd be glad to provide it.

[He chuckles, shaky and more than a little abashed.]

I'm kinda... well, I've been crying like a sissy girl. So, if you promise not to emasculate me with a look? Sure, I could use company.

You have my word that I'll do nothing of the kind.

[And she means it. Meja's word is serious business.]

Yeah, sure.

[He dredges up a smile.]

You know where I am already?

I don't believe so. Where would you like to meet?

[Normally she would offer to make him a pot of tea or something, given the access to a kitchen... but of course, it's no normal kitchen.]

Uh... there's a den-slash-comfy area at the end of my hall, don't know if you know it? Or, somewhere closer to you?

[Stiles make decisions good.]

That does sound familiar. [Meja's been all over in the name of snooping.] I shall be there soon. [Then again, with the ways the corridors change, she might take a bit longer than expected. The white rat she's pretty much adopted, Roland, will ride on her shoulder the entire way.]

[Stiles shoves his feet into his shoes, shrugging into his jacket.]

Sure, I'll see you there.

[Meja hasn't seen the point of glamouring her clothes to look differently, and so the garb of a Valkyrie - white cloak and all - is unchanged as she makes her way to where they've agreed to meet. She only loses her way once, when a corridor decides to bend in a different direction.]

[It's a shorer trek for him - even if the corridoor did decide to gain a few doors on the way - so he's already sat with a can of something he's discovered he has a liking to.]

Hey, hi.

[He takes in her outfit, his eyes clearly saying 'wow', but he's smart enough to not point it out.]

Hei hei. [Meja smiles warmly at Stiles, taking a seat opposite him after glancing around and taking her measure of the space. She holds out a hand.] My name is Meja, by the way. I wasn't courteous enough to introduce myself, I don't think.

[He smiles back at her, taking her hand.]

Stiles, nice to meet you.

So... have you gotten any mortality-challenged visitors?

One or two. [She runs a hand through her hair, after releasing his own, and shrugs lightly.] Old comrades who fell in battle. [This is the best-case scenario for Meja. She was dreading far worse. But that may yet come.] It's strange. We don't see many spirits outside of Hel, back home, these days. You gave to go looking for them.

[He blinks. Tilts his head. He's re-running that sentence through his head.]

Outside of Hell? Where are you from?

[Meja knows that look, by now.]

Hel. One L. I come from the Nine Realms. It's perhaps known as Norse mythology, where you're from.

[It had been in her world, too, except a lot of it had turned out to be true.]

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