lucetilogs | Post-Event Blues

Entry tags:

Post-Event Blues

Who: Everybody, everybody!
What: The battle is won. Now what?
When: The eleventh, twelfth, and onward
Where: Luceti
Summary: With Zompano dead and the cultists routed, Luceti is restored. Kind of.
Rating: F for Feels

On the eleventh, things were slowly breaking down. Memories of their true lives were breaking through. The village, scarred by the battle with the cultists, began to rebuild itself. Community buildings that had vanished were returned to their rightful places. The battle dome was uncovered from the earth that had covered it. Hundreds and hundreds of fake homes slowly faded away. Paved roads gave way to trees and grass. It was an incredible sight for anyone who was willing to sit aroun and watch it happen.

Things wouldn't be easy for the villagers, though. The memories perpetuated by the last ten days would not be easily removed. The feelings and hatreds it had created would take time to conquer and remove. Perhaps, in a way, that was Zompano's nastiest trick of all. The village itself may heal from his invasion, but it would take far more than a few Shifts to fix the people left behind.

Towards the end of the day, their wings returned. Much like some of the buildings, they seemed to just reappear, as if they had never been gone. Their barcodes became visible again as a singular reminder that they were, ultimately, just the property of another entity who as a whole were not much better than Count Zompano.

By the twelfth, the village looked as though nothing had ever happened. Sure, the contents of buildings might have been messed up or destroyed during the battles, but things were otherwise as they were supposed to be. The night before, people would have had to find their old beds to go sleep in, as they no longer possessed the old ones granted to them in another life.

The village was peaceful.

Modly Note: That wraps up the event. As noted in the prose above, you have the option to play up the after effects of the event more than in other ones. While it won't have the same impact universally, the Shift was constructed in such a way that people may have difficulty shaking off the emotions they developed during the event. In effect, it was a cruel send off to Luceti so they would have to deal with the loathing and hatred that came with the less desirable parts of it. Of course, that means the feelings of familial bonds will also persist for awhile as well. It's up to you, as players, to decide how much or little to play with it!

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Tony grew restless in Pepper's absence. She wasn't there to feed him questions and give him gentle nudges, the things he needed to get his mind in order again. There was still so much that made little to no sense to him, and it seemed like the longer she was gone, the more he realized he didn't know. He didn't begrudge her taking time to take care of herself, of course, but it was rough. Being alone with his thoughts when his thoughts were jumbled like a jigsaw puzzle wasn't much of a comfort at all.

Then a familiar presence phased into existence in the doorway, and Tony was hit with a mixture of feelings he couldn't parse. He knew he should be alarmed, wary, but he wasn't. He was relieved. Company, finally. From an old friend, no less. Loki was looking better - maybe the intervention had really paid off after all.

"About time you came around. I haven't sued anyone in a - week." The time interval assigned was random; he had no idea how long he had been out for. "I'm going stir crazy."

Loki froze. He hadn't expected that, not at all. He didn't know how to react for a moment, part of him howling to take advantage of it, part of him wanting to just leave, and part of him desperately craving for that recognition, that affection, to somehow be real.

Pathetic. So pathetic.

He smiled. He couldn't help it, part reaction to Tony's smile, and part reaction to his own pain at this unexpected situation. "Hello, Tony. Aren't you tired of laying around like a lump yet?"

Not Stark, Tony. His friend. For now. For however long this lasted. None of this should have felt so good to simply say.

He came closer, wondering how long it would take Tony to realize he was dressed strangely, to remember the reality of the situation. But he wouldn't pretend to be that other weak, pathetic, human Loki. That was one lie too many for himself. He drew a book from the air between his hands, moving up to offer it to Tony. "Thought you might like a bit of light reading. I don't know if you saw the other one I left around, but this seemed more your style."

It was something about motorcycles and the internal combustion engines of which mortals were so fond. He'd tucked a red pen in between the pages, even, since he thought Tony would likely share his habit of correcting books when they were silly enough to be wrong.

"Damn straight," he answered breezily. Loki understood all too well how being cooped up could drive him crazy. This was no exception, even if Tony's mind was still catching up to speed. The sight of Loki's magic didn't catch him off guard, though it seemed like an old talent Tony had forgotten. Magic, and superhuman strength that sent him crashing through a window and plummeting downwards.

But that couldn't be right.

His eyebrows twitched as he laid a hand over the cover of the book. "As long as we're not building race cars again. I draw the line at child's play." The memory lent fondness to his voice, despite his protest. But if Loki wanted to build something more complex, Tony was on board with that.

Like a portal home. But that hadn't gone so well, had it? Must explain the ill sort of feeling Tony had in the back of his mind. That terrible ghost of elusive memories.

Loki sat abruptly on the edge of the bed next to Tony. He felt a bit as if the words were daggers, so like his, sliding in between his ribs.

But this was a chance, wasn't it? A short, terribly limited opportunity to see if the course of the world, or a life might change. "Perhaps a different project when you're feeling better," he said, his voice strangely hoarse.

He fell silent for a long moment, his head bowed. Why did he even care? Why did this hurt? What had they done to him?

And yet.

"Just because something is an illusion," he said, almost to himself, "does not make it weak or without power." Illusions were his greatest weapon, his strongest magic. He understood their power... even over him it seemed.

He gave his head a little shake and looked at Tony, one corner of his lips turned up in a crooked smile. "You are as my brother, Tony." This was no different from what he had admitted to Pepper, but more difficult because he had more distance from what he'd been tricked into believing he was. "And for that, I regret what passed between us before."

Edited 2013-08-16 01:13 (UTC)

The words Loki spoke rung a bell, and Tony abruptly remembered a conversation with someone he loved outside the Battle Dome when he was at the end of his lifeline. When he was ready to swear off all of Luceti as a pointless illusion, because when they went home, they forgot. It was all a lie, but that didn't mean it wasn't beautiful. His fist tightened marginally on his bedsheets. He knew it was true, because he remembered a grand lie he believed that placed him in the role of a father of a girl named Marion, and he had wanted it to be real so badly that another enemy had used it to disarm him on the moon.

God, he felt like a mad man. And maybe he was.

But lies. Lies he couldn't decipher on his own, without Pepper walking him through the truth. And more than that, he didn't want to, because there was a terrible realization that struck him when Loki spoke of what passed before.

Loki was his enemy. Loki had tried to subjugate earth. Loki brought the invasion that still brought Tony nightmares. Loki had tried to kill him.

The color drained away from his face. He couldn't do this. Not now. Not when reality and fiction bled together in his mind.

"Are," he articulated slowly, his hand working anxiously over the sheets, "or were?" Because one of those things was wrong, and he had an inkling which it was.

He wished he didn't. But he wouldn't lie to himself.

Loki looked at Tony, saw what he must now remember in the man's eyes. This was one of those rare, strange times Loki felt ancient. It also felt, dizzyingly, like hanging in the abyss over the black hole again. What a thing to say. What a thing to admit, to a mortal.

And yet.

"Are," he said quietly. "I do not misspeak."

Tony rolled the word over in his mind, the tense that made all the difference. He was torn between saying something cruel and sarcastic, because it would be so easy and so justified. Loki saw him as his brother? Oh, that was rich. Just so rich, and he can't do this now.

So instead, he laughed.

And once he started, he couldn't stop himself. There was just something so perfectly poetic about everything that had happened to him, everything he remembered and everything he didn't, and how entirely screwed up he - everything- was. Goddamn Luceti. Goddammit, it's just hysterical.

Loki smiled crookedly, and even laughed himself, a little bit. That wasn't quite the reaction he'd been expecting. At this point, anything unexpected was good. "Blame yourself," he added after a moment. "You were once a horrifyingly cute child."

Then he rose to his feet. Now seemed a decent time to make good his escape.

He could barely quiet himself to stop him. He's so screwed up. He's crazy. The universe is just one, shitty joke and he's the butt of it.

"I need you to do a favor for me."

Ah. Here it came. "Hm?"

But Loki wouldn't get the words of rejection he was expecting. Tony considered it, but decided against it, and felt all the more screwed up for it.

"Don't let Rogue cave in on herself. You can't. This wasn't her fault."

Loki slowly sank down to sit again on the edge of Tony's bed, his smile fading into a look of genuine, pensive worry. "I'm doing my best. She's... I don't know, Tony. I've never seen her in such a state." For a moment he covered his face with his hands.

He wasn't well-practiced at caring about other people, not any more. It was exhausting, and stressful, and he didn't quite understand how to deal with a situation where he couldn't win, couldn't just fix it, or couldn't manipulate the situation.

"I think... she'll be a bit better when I tell her you're up and around and talking. I'll try to get her to come see you." He could assume Tony wouldn't say no to that, not if he was asking about Rogue. "But..."

I'm afraid. For someone else.

He modulated that sentiment. "I'm worried."

Tony didn't know how to address Loki's worry - couldn't address it, and he packed it up as another thing to be dealt with later. Better save it for a time when he didn't feel like he was losing the threads of his sanity. When he wasn't recovering from brain trauma.

"I need to see her." He was still so vague on what had happened. He only knew Rogue was involved, and on that fact alone, he needed to see her.

Loki considered that first, the question of what was best for Rogue. Whatever he might want from Tony, whatever foolish hope he might have, the man was secondary. But, he thought, it would do Rogue good to see Tony awake and mending.

But the urgency of Tony's tone concerned him. He gave the man a piercing look. "Why?"

He shook his head, closing his eyes. "I just do."

Loki frowned. "Rogue is important to me. You know that. And she is not doing as well as I would like. Do you understand why I would want a better answer than that?"

He had little doubt he'd be trying to get Rogue here anyway, but it left him feeling very uncomfortable.

But the thing was, Tony didn't have a better answer to give. His awareness was still a jigsawed mess, and this most recent development wasn't helping anything. He couldn't put into words why; he just knew he needed to.

"I just do," he repeated.

Loki fell silent as he consisted this. "Are you going to hurt her?" he asked.

Recent declaration of filial feelings or no, he would not react well to that.

"Don't be an idiot." Even in his state, Tony knew Rogue would be punishing herself more than enough for - whatever this was.

Loki snorted. "If you sat in my place, you would ask too."

But he nodded. "I'll do what I can. I think it'd help her. And... I shall likely be there at the beginning of your meeting. So that she can touch you."

That might help her too, he thought. Let her give the man a hug. It didn't bother him at the moment, because at least temporarily he and Tony were not entirely at odds.

Touch - the word attaches to his mind like stickler, and he recalled, that's right, Rogue couldn't touch him.

Touch touch touch.

Tony settled back against his pillow. He couldn't say thank you. There was so little he could say. So an "okay" was all Loki got in return.

The lack of a thank you did not go unnoticed. Typical, he thought bitterly. There it is, already.

There was a certain tightness to his expression, at the corners of his eyes and lips, as he silently rose to his feet again. He turned to go without saying anything else.

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Post-Event Blues

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