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.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"That isn't necessary," Marie said, before he had a chance to walk far from her desk.

Right. Professional.

"You're welcome to stay if you like, but I don't have him coming in for another two hours. If you'd like to go back to your office, I can call you when he comes in."

Oh ho. "I know," he said calmly. He finished his journey to the chair and then pulled it over to be closer to her desk so he could make use of a corner of it. "My office is across town. I really can't be bothered."

He sat, sprawling comfortably in his chair, and then opened his briefcase to begin extracting some documents. "And you know, we've never introduced ourselves. And I really ought to be acquainted with Tony's secretary. The man is like a brother to me, you know."

Can't be bothered to go back to his own office to do work for two hours. Aristos.

She eyed his use of her desk without permission. No. "Marie Kholme. Of course, I know who you are, Mr. Odinson. If you would like to do some work while you wait for Mr. Stark, I can set you up in a conference room."

"Oh no, this is fine. I wouldn't want to be a bother, and I know those rooms are so often in use." He selected a few papers and then leaned back in chair. He crossed his legs, his foot moving like a cat twitching the tip of its tail. "I hear that you are quite pleasant company."

She arched an eyebrow at him, "I'll let you know when you're a bother, Mr. Odinson."

For a statement that, for all intents and purposes could have been reassuring, it certainly seemed to carry the hint of a threat. As for his comment on how she was pleasant company, she decided he was probably referring to the previous evening, considering he hadn't even known her name. It would be better to ignore him.

And so that was what she set out to do. Fortunately, there was at least a little bit of work left to do.

He didn't look up from his paper. "As you like. Just remember the truism that everything has its price."

Marie was immersed enough in her work mode that for a moment, her eyes cut to him, confused. Then the penny dropped, and she realized he was referring to night before. His price for her punching him.

Does your advice come in fortune cookies?

"As we're both working for the same man," Marie said, returning her attention to her work. "I don't see any reason why you should be a bother."

Except he was obviously staying here just to be a pest. If he thought he was going to rattle her just by sitting there, he sorely overestimated the effect of a two second kiss.

Even if it had been the first kiss she'd had in years. Working to keep a roof over her and Kurt's head and food on the table and some hope of a future for him... Marie hadn't had the time for any of that, not in a long, long time.

"Oh good," he said smoothly. "I'm so glad you don't mind." He flipped the page of his paper. "And it is a pleasure to meet you, Miss Kholme."

She flicked him a brief glance. Oh. She minded. But she wasn't going to cede that to him.

Professional. Remain professional.

"Nice to formally meet you, Mr. Odinson." She flashed him a brief, professional smile. Then she returned to her work.

"Oh, formally?" He set his paper aside and then rose to his feet, leaning over her desk and extending his hand.

Now that was annoying. A flicker of temper appeared in her expression, but Marie sighed quietly and stood. She offered him her hand, intending on keeping the handshake brief and professional.

Oh good. He was getting on her nerves.

And since she'd already decided he was an aristo bore, he decided to play the part as if he was an actor again. He bowed over her hand with a flourish and gave it a kiss before releasing it.

Marie frowned. She would have liked it better if his kiss was disgusting; it wasn't.

She removed her hand from his and frowned, "Was that necessary?"

...ah man, she hadn't meant to say that.

Loki spread his hands. "The strange and annoying ways of foppish and terrible aristocrats. What can one do?"

Her lips twitched up and she couldn't help herself. She really couldn't. After all, if he was going to sit there and take subtle jabs at her, not giving him any reaction would only encourage him.

"You 'foppish and terrible aristocrats' have a funny way of kissing," she said, sitting back down. "You're not very good at it."

Marie then proceeded to ignore him.

He sat back down and picked his paper up. "It isn't as if you've been properly kissed. I'd offer, but I fear for my pretty face." He turned another page. "But after seeing how commoners kiss, you haven't anything at all to brag about."

This was fun. It was tempting. And it was fun. And she shouldn't do it, she shouldn't let her two lives mix, but...

"At least a commoner's kiss can leave a mark."

Alright, Marie told herself, that will be the last time.

"But what worth a kiss, if its only memory is a bruise? Do you hit each other with sticks and call it a hug? No, dear Beatrice, my lips haven't the nerve for that."

Beatrice.

This, she realized, was a deeply inappropriate conversation, and at least half of it was her fault. It had just been... nice... for someone who had seen who she really was to walk through the door. She'd been dreading it, but as long as she didn't let it interfere with her work, he had no power over her. Except, of course, to say that she was the kind of girl who drank in bars and punched men in the face after they had insulted her. That would sure go against her carefully crafted image.

The image that helped support herself and Kurt.

...hell.

Marie took a breath, and found swallowing her retort no less bitter, but easier than she thought it would be. Still, there was no way she could leave that hanging as it was without seeming rude, so, "That's just as well."

He was a bit disappointed that hadn't gotten a more interesting reply, but this was early on in the game, so to speak. "Oh? I suppose if the plot is to be followed, this is the but where you declare you shall always be a merry spinster?"

Marie called on years of experience when it came to shutting down attention she did not wish to receive. She managed, then, not to say That depends on who you see yourself as in this rendition.

She even managed not to look at him. "Real life is not a play, Mr. Odinson," she said, doublechecking her draft. "You can't just cast us all into parts."

A spinster of all things. Though it was true; at 21 most women were married. She was well on her way to spinsterhood. Marie didn't want to spend her life alone. She was a woman of strong passions and she longed for romance. Romance, however, didn't pay the bills. Marrying for money was a route she'd seen many a pretty girl from Lowtown take, and she couldn't blame them, but that was not her way.

Love or nothing. Once, she'd thought she might have had that, but the gentleman in question didn't even know she existed. It was better to concentrate on her work.

So why was Loki Odinson getting under her skin? It showed with unnecessary hand movements, the fact that she'd delayed standing up to file, the certain, set expression of her eyes. Why did he make it so hard to withdraw?

Edited 2013-08-04 14:31 (UTC)

Loki grinned at her.

"All the world's a stage, And all the men and women merely players; They have their exits and their entrances, And one man in his time plays many parts..."

He laughed. "But everyone does that, fair lady. I just have the courtesy of giving your part the name of a classic and witty heroine. 'Just another Aristo idiot' isn't nearly so nice."

Exasperated despite herself, and exasperated that she managed to feel exasperation - really, 'fair lady,' and 'classic and witty heroine,' just where did he think he got off - Marie looked up at him again. She leaned towards him as she spoke, eyes sparking with some of the passion he'd glimpsed the night before when she hit him, when she laughed, the passion she usually kept safely locked away as she worked. "You have no idea what I think of you. If you want to be thought of something different than 'just another aristo idiot,' you should quit trying to play that part. You sit there and interrupt my work day as if you have the right, directing personal comments at my character. Tell me, Mr. Odinson, how should I think of you?"

What part do you wish to have in my story?

Loki looked at her calmly, one eyebrow winging up, then very pointedly touched his jaw. "Oh, you've made your opinion very clear to me before now. I think the more interesting question is what motivation I could have to leave you alone since you've caught my attention so thoroughly."

He settled back in his seat. "Though if you ask me, and you did, I'd say you should think of me as someone with whom you ought to have a nice dinner."

Edited 2013-08-04 19:11 (UTC)

Bwah?

Caught his attention so thoroughly? What on earth was he talking about? Like a cat with a mouse or -- a nice dinner? After she'd punched him in the jaw?

In situations like these, Marie had the unfortunate tendency to say whatever came into her mind first. In this case, it happened to be, "I thought I wasn't your type."

She wished she hadn't said it a moment or two later, when she realized that saying it meant she hadn't forgotten he'd said it, as she should. But her brain was still scrambling to catch all the angles from his first statement, she could hardly be expected to catch all the angles from hers.

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