lucetilogs | Luceti Valley

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Luceti Valley - The First Log

Who: Everyone
What: The start of a new experiment... or is it?
When: August 2nd - August 6th
Where: Luceti itself
Summary: Luceti has become an idyllic and peaceful 50s-esque village. The first few days are just business as usual, right?
Rating: Varies with thread. Please move explicit stuff to appointments post with appropriate warnings.

August 1st had seemed like an ordinary day in Luceti. But late in the evening, for those night owls who had not turned in yet, they were witness to strange fluctuations in the barrier. Beautiful, really, almost like Luceti had received its own 'Northern Lights', even though it seemed to come from the far east, across the ocean. This ominous light show lasted for all of fifteen minutes before it ceased all together. Skimming the ocean waters, a horde of cultists entered Luceti, cloaked by darkness. Upon reaching the entrance to the tunnels, their leader stepped inside and was followed one by one by his fellow cultists. When the last had entered, the tunnel entrance closed. Across the mountains, the entrance to the tunnels in the village did the same.

Midnight passed without incident, but by three in the morning, the change suddenly came. Minds were altered, forms were changed, and buildings sprang from nowhere.

Much later, on August 2nd, morning settled on a changed village, the new mayor made his way to his mansion with his pair of adorable dobermans at either side of him. The sun shined bright. It was a good day to be a Lucetian.

Note: There will be a stand alone log for the homecoming dance. There will be another log for the second stage of the event.

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"Funny," Marie drawled, stung in spite of herself. "And here I thought I had two legs."

...he was going to get himself jumped as soon as he walked away from here, flashing green like that. It would serve him right.

Betsy made a little choking sound. Marie flashed her a glance, but the other girl was just trying to hold in a laugh. She spared a small smirk in Betsy's direction, even though she couldn't help but mentally catalogue the differences between the two of them. It was true, while Marie was at work she did her utmost to look professional, untouchable. But this was her home turf. She could be herself here. Betsy was beautiful, classically coifed hair and big blue eyes, and Marie allowed that her bust might be a tiny bit larger. But she knew she had nothing to be ashamed about either, with her auburn hair arranged in pinned back curls she was lucky enough to have naturally, her own figure had stopped traffic more than once, and in these pants, no less, and she had been told from a very reliable source that her eyes perfectly matched the color of jade.

'Not his type' her definitely fine ass.

"That desperate for attention, are you?" Loki shook his head. "Rude little thing. Definitely not my type."

Around this time, Rick came in. The hulking carpenter took one look at the situation and was man enough to offer Betsy a way out. He wrapped his arm around her shoulders and after a moment's low conversation, Betsy slipped off the stool.

"I guess I'll have to recover from the disappointment while I'm remembering I have standards," Marie said, as Betsy and Rick walked away.

Well. No reason to stick around here anymore. Maybe she should do Mr. Stark a favor and make sure his lawyer would still be functioning in the next month.

...then again, it was her off hours.

Her conscience twinged at she placated it by saying she might just stay to make sure that whoever it was that jumped him wouldn't leave Loki Odinson too roughed up. But a little beating would do him some good.

She turned to walk away, "Don't walk under any ladders."

Well, now this had become entirely boring. For a moment, Loki contemplated just picking a fight, which would be fun, but decided against it. He wasn't in that bad of a mood. Instead he downed is drink, dropped to one knee, and declaimed (very well, actually, he still had the talent):
But, soft! what light through yonder window breaks?
It is the east, and Juliet is the sun.
Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon,
Who is already sick and pale with grief,
That thou her maid art far more fair than she:
Be not her maid, since she is envious;
Her vestal livery is but sick and green
And none but fools do wear it; cast it off.
It is my lady, O, it is my love!
O, that she knew she were!
She speaks yet she says nothing: what of that?
Her eye discourses; I will answer it.
I am too bold, 'tis not to me she speaks:
Two of the fairest stars in all the heaven,
Having some business, do entreat her eyes
To twinkle in their spheres till they return.
What if her eyes were there, they in her head?
The brightness of her cheek would shame those stars,
As daylight doth a lamp; her eyes in heaven
Would through the airy region stream so bright
That birds would sing and think it were not night.
See, how she leans her cheek upon her hand!
O, that I were a glove upon that hand,
That I might touch that cheek!

...and now the entire bar was staring.

Great.

Marie wanted to melt into the ground and die.

...no. Better idea. She'd just kill him.

Shaking off the frozen stupor that had inflicted her when he sunk to his knee in front of her, Marie hissed, "Get up off the ground, you idiot! What do you think you're doing?"

Mocking her. Obviously. Now that the shock wore off she saw what it really was - stupid aristos. Her temper began a slow burn.

Edited 2013-08-03 04:33 (UTC)

He grinned, utterly unselfconsious, or perhaps even pleased at being the center of attention. "You seemed so eager for a Romeo. Well, I have provided."

Just walk away, Marie. It's not worth your job. He's not worth your trouble.

Marie had a problem: she hardly ever listened to herself when she used that mental tone of voice. And she hated walking away from fights.

He'd come to her turf. He'd bothered her neighbor. And now he was mocking her.

Marie let her posture go slack in a position that the movies told her men found particularly arresting, hips jaunted, bust prominent. "You're right," she purred. "Why don't you stand up so I can give you a kiss for it?"

Loki rose back up to his feet, swaying slightly. "You might need a foot stool."

And that was when Marie Kholme went to punch Loki Odinson right in the jaw.

Edited 2013-08-03 04:45 (UTC)

Loki took the punch, either not caring or too drunk to see it coming. He reeled back against the bar, knocking his empty glass over, then pushed off to go right back toward her.

For a kiss.

Maire was not expecting him to come barreling back at her so quickly. She honestly hadn't thought that far ahead, at all. She'd assumed that once she punched him, he'd take a hint and stay down long enough for her to pop off a sassy line and walk out of the bar.

The last thing she would have imagined that he'd do is actually try to kiss her.

And for a brief moment, it worked. Loki's lips made contact with hers.

Well, he made it a good kiss for the time he had. And prepared himself to protect his groin. That was how these things normally went.

The kiss couldn't have lasted more than a couple of heartbeats. Marie ripped herself away from him, shocked and furious. She didn't care that people were watching, possibly willing to interfere; she didn't care that she might have to work with him in the future. She was absolutely hopping mad. It was an insult on a profoundly personal and threatening level, and everything in her rose up in protest.

"You've got a fat lot of nerve," she spat out, wiping her lips with the back of her hand. If she was thinking clearly, maybe she wouldn't have given him the satisfaction. Maybe she would have been able to act like the kiss meant nothing. Maybe she would have just slapped him, like they did in all the movies. But now Marie was running on instinct, and instinct had her talking until she figured out what she needed to do. "Is that how they punch back in Hightown? Because that explains a lot."

Loki laughed at get angry and the insult. He wasn't a soldier, had never been good at violence, and he had no ego when it came to that. "I've always been more a lover than a fighter."

As far as he was concerned, she should be grateful he'd done that instead of trying to hit her like she had hit him.

His laughter destroyed Marie's chance of achieving a more rational solution. She made a face like she'd tasted something sour and hardly even heard what he said, reaching up to hit him again. It was with an open palm; the slap he deserved.

That, he let her have, and he made it obvious by not even blinking, though the force of the slap turned his head.

He looked back at her and held up his finger. "That was free. If you hit me again, I'll take another kiss as my price."

Marie blinked, because that sounded almost surprisingly decent of him and because hitting him had actually spent the most of her hot anger. Almost, almost she said 'I'd like to see you try it.'

Her sense of humor came to the rescue. Marie laughed, a quick sputtering thing that she quickly tried to block with her hand. It didn't work. Despite her best intentions, a cascade of giggles spilled out. "All the troubles between our people," she managed to get out between laughs, "and you're literally fighting me back with 'love.' It's too good."

Maybe he was really just a jackass after all. It wasn't as if she hadn't grown up with plenty of those. It was possible that he just hadn't seen Betsy's subtle signals. And she had horned in, and rather hostilely, on his obvious slumming, though it seemed he'd been having a good time. Sure, he'd humiliated her and then kissed her of all things, but he 'let' her have that slap, and to be fair, she'd punched him first. And it was impossible for Marie not to see the humor in this, not with all the nonsense she had to deal with every day from the middle and upper classes because of where she worked. In many ways, this had been one of the cleaner fights she'd gotten into with an aristo this week. She could appreciate that.

"Loki Odinson, I'm gonna buy you a drink."

The tension she hadn't been aware of it the bar eased down about ten notches as she flagged Mac down to pay for the broken glass and the kind of drink she favored for Loki.

"Our people," he mused. He had complex feelings on that issue. He rather liked the privileges of being wealthy, but at the same time at one point in his life, he'd been set to throw it all away and never look back. He'd been ready to be disowned. But then...

Well.

He smiled crookedly at her next statement. "If you're planning to throw it in my face, I'll say thank you, but no. But if I'm allowed to actually drink it, you have a deal."

"I wouldn't waste my money on the good stuff just to throw it in your face," Marie assured him. The drink she ordered was likely a kind he'd never heard of before. The particular brand of alcohol it took to make it didn't exist in Hightown. Mac made it in the back. It was, to be frank, the best damn mead that 1950s Lucetiville could come up with. Marie just wished Mac didn't insist on serving it at room temperature.

She certainly didn't plan on staying and talking with Tony Stark's corporate attorney. It would mess too much with her fond hope that Loki wouldn't recognize her in the office. After all, he'd never paid her any particular attention before, and she was well aware that she looked and acted very differently outside of the office. Even her mannerisms were more free here. But she did have to stay to make sure his drink was delivered, so there was probably about the space of a minute where Marie likely would not walk away.

Edited 2013-08-03 18:45 (UTC)

"People will invest quite a bit for the sake of a dramatic statement," he remarked. He turned to lounge against the bar again, loose and relaxed. He gently probed his jaw with one hand. "I do hope you didn't give me a bruise. I have to work tomorrow."

"Should've thought of that before you decided to go slumming," Marie said, amusement still in her tone but entirely unsympathetic. She watched him out of the corner of her eye.

Objectively, and after several glasses of alcohol, she reluctantly admitted that there might be something to what the typist circle said about him after he walked by. It was all in the lines of his body, in the way that he moved.

"I've gone slumming quite a bit," Loki pointed out. "This is only the third time I've gotten hit, and the other two don't count."

Alright, she'd bite. Marie raised an eyebrow. "Why don't the first two count?"

He smiled crookedly. "Because I was looking to get in a fight those times."

"Going on one knee and reciting poetry in the middle of a bar isn't looking for a fight?" Marie shook her head, smiling lightly. "I'd hate to see what you were doin' when you thought you were trying to start a fight."

Luceti Valley - The First Log

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