lucetilogs | variety is the spice of life

variety is the spice of life

Who: Everyone who wants to be here!
What: Total Recall 2014
When: The first week of the event, roughly April 9th-16th, give or take a few days depending on your character's timeline.
Where: All over Luceti, presumably
Summary: Chaos! Madness! Unreasonable happenings! You know the drill. Alternatively: characters wake up and sigh because god, not this again.
Rating: Varied. Anything frisky goes to appointments as per usual, chums.

Due to the size and variation of this event, it's probably best to have several logs for it to avoid one getting overcrowded and broken. Feel free to have your characters post their own entries, of course, if you'd prefer- you're more than welcome! This is for people who like to consolidate. Another log ought to be posted around the 16th for round 2.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[Nothing. Of course he reaches for Loki and finds only empty air. As ever, a treacherous dark part of him whispers, you are not permitted to touch him unless he wishes it so. But he need not even touch you to make you writhe. That is the truth of power and weakness, Iofast.

Slowly, he pushes up from the tree, meaning to leave this time in truth, more worn-down than a day of sprinting in circles around the village might have made him. Loki always did win their battles, in the end.]

And because I have not died, I will not for shame speak of wounds. Because I have not suffered as brave Loki has suffered, I am clearly the happiest man alive.

[There can be no remaining fight, he thinks, with his lie of a surrender spelled out so plainly, and he turns to go, back toward the village. Loki will hold his returned strike in reserve, and this ugly errand has taken long enough. Now he needs light, and sound, and people.

Oh, mercies, he needs anyone else.]

Whoever you are, you play his part too well. Good morning to you.

[Loki laughs at that, because it's just so ridiculous, too ridiculous by far, but he catches his breath with a strange hitching sound. He is good at this. He's always been good at hurting people with words far sharper than daggers.

But why was it like this? He remembers how he and Iofast were, so far in the past. A past now dead and forever out of reach.

He's not really aware of moving, but he's still as silent as always, as fast. One moment at the tree, the next up behind Iofast, his hand reaching out to catch at the man's--friend? enemy? he no longer knows-- sleeve.

His voice is quiet and strange to his own ears.]

Don't you know me at all? Ever have I been the greatest coward in all nine realms.

[And already he curses himself for speaking, for moving, for not just taking his victory and resting upon it. Why?]

[Only wary hurt keeps the hope from Iofast's gaze when he looks back, and even then it struggles toward that promised opening, a tiring fish still fighting the net. But he stills, if nothing else, though he does not smile, does not make as if he recognizes that slim chance to reach his once-companion. He's already been tempted into range of a blow too many times in this round.]

You must be, to try now to keep the company of a man who has betrayed you so deeply. [Is he trying to joke? If he is, it's pathetic, but he can't even say for himself any more what he means. He had never even expected to see Loki alive again, but here he is, hale and full of nothing but hatred for him.] Have you no pride at all, old friend?

[Has he no pride? It's a good question, the one he should ask himself. And Loki is a coward; he believes in strategic retreat. Suddenly, that seems a good idea.

His brows draw together for a moment and there is something in his eyes, some sorrow or pain or even regret, then his fingers loosen on Iofast's sleeve, and he lets his hand fall away. He takes a slow, careful step back.]

A point well-made. [He fights to regain that hard shell of distance that he allowed to foolishly slip for a moment. His next words sound more like teasing than an insult, however.] You must be a fool indeed to waste your time speaking to a shade.

[This was a mistake. What did he think would come of it?]

When have I been anything but? [There's a cadence that he catches the hook of to answer, and he is almost afraid to think too long on it, lest it disappear.] Iofast, who carries club rather than blade or hammer or spear. Iofast the over-clever, the loud, who makes merry from beginning to end in every quest.

[He is a bard's son, if nothing else. And he knows that there are endless sides to a story, and holds the gift to present the one that fits best the circumstance. And if it is only a fool who the shade will gentle for? A fool he will be, for the moment.]

You cannot be Loki, surely, if you think me anything else.

[He's left feeling caught almost off guard, that Iofast has not continued on his way, or gone on the attack. And he can't help but laugh, sounding rather surprised.]

Perhaps the particular ghost has been too long out of the company of fools.

[He takes another step back. More space will perhaps lend more certainty.] Though surely, I heard you were given a club because the armsmaster was sore afraid you'd cut yourself otherwise.

[Though he almost hates himself for it, Iofast's shoulders sink slightly in relief when Loki laughs like that. It might still be another artifice, another lure, but some intuition tells him otherwise. He knows when he is being hunted, and this cadence of theirs is something else, something far older.

He gives a wary smile in return, ruffling the prickling sweat of raised tempers off of his scalp.]

Is that the tale that has won out? Fine luck. There was a rival one once, that woman-hearted Iofast would of course faint at the sight of an open wound.

I don't think that one survived Saldis joining in the fun of adventuring.

[Loki remembers the stories told about him as well, his lack of honor and cowardice.]

Or Juti's leg.

[He gives a rueful lift of his eyebrows with that one, because if there ever was a wound to make one weak at the sight of it, it was that one.

But through that, too, they had remained together. It seems even longer ago now than it was.]

. . . is it you, truly?

Hah, or that. Either when it happened or the quest that followed. [He remembers that. He remembers. He wishes he didn't, sometimes. It would be so much easier if he didn't.]

[For a moment he almost mocks the question, but then makes a small gesture with his hands, as if to say do I not look as myself? But then:] It would be far easier for you, were I not. And it is still true that the criminal Loki bled out his last on the blasted soil of Svartalfheim.

[He looks away for a moment.] Perhaps someone will write a nice song about it. The sort that always made me want to vomit. [But it matters. It matters that he had protected Thor, almost at the cost of his life. He had avenged mother. And yet.]

Edited 2014-04-21 04:18 (UTC)

[He states it with such ugly, cold finality, and Iofast finds that the smile he manages in response is rueful and faint, a pallid thing.]

It will be a long time before even I can sing of it, regardless. [To at least have the air between them no longer so charged is a relief, but it's still tense, and he still feels worn-thin from that first long struggle. Iofast scrubs a hand over his face, giving a soft noise, overwhelmed and off-balance.] I think this calls for a drink. Will you join me?

I somehow doubt it would be a welcome song.

[He hesitates, unsure what he wants to do in this situation. The smart thing would surely be to walk away. But wasn't the point of dying that he could in a way be reborn? In Asgard he had a fiction to maintain. Here, he can try to begin anew.

And Billy, Rogue, Ikki, and others have worked so hard to convince him that other people were not a weakness of which he needed to rid himself. At least not here.]

All right.

[After another hesitation, he offers, oddly tentative:] I've some mead at my house.

Mead from Loki's stores?

[Now that is a familiar story indeed - one that has a thousand endings, in every shade from regret to celebration, but a central tale itself that never disappoints. Jack's expression gains a little more substance, and he nods, fixing his weapon firmly to his belt.]

Now there is an invitation that any fool would be ashamed to decline.

[This is a bad idea. A very, very bad idea. For a multitude of reasons. But had he not earned this with his near death? Has he not made amends in his own way? Why should he not reclaim friends as a ghost?

Because history will only repeat itself.

But he's never been good at talking himself out of doing what he wants, just rationalizing it later.]

Come along, then.

[And he turns down the path, toward the house he calls his. Will Rogue be there? Likely not. She hasn't been herself recently, and that has been surprisingly difficult for him. Not that he will ever speak on that topic. He must simply weather it.]

It isn't far to walk.

[Iofast falls into step alongside him, brow quirked, the entire strange circumstance slowly falling into place. With affairs settled down to a reasonably safe smolder, he can speak on other things, perhaps. Less volatile things.]

A house and stores of drink already? How long have you been in this place?

A year and a half. [He smiles crookedly.] You are lagging quite far behind in that regard, the lot of you.

A year and-? [Iofast's expression screws up into one of incredulity, and he lists closer without meaning to.] How?

[Loki notes the narrowing of that distance with a flick of his gaze, but doesn't move otherwise. Iofast isn't a threat, at least not like that. No, he's a threat because he's something of Asgard that Loki's been reminded he doesn't really hate. It threatens to unravel a lot of the foundation that's kept him going since he found out the shattering truth.]

I know not. Only that a year and a half ago, I woke here. [He snorts.] Surrounded by mortals. Many of whom didn't like me overmuch, though I've taken care of myself well for all that.

[For now, he decides to not go into the part where he's actually arrived twice, going back to Asgard between the two times.] It is better than Hel, I suppose. But more boring.

Edited 2014-04-22 05:21 (UTC)

Boring? [He gives a sceptical, bemused huff to hear the familiar complaint.] It must be Loki's agile mind makes it so. Are the mortals here not lively enough for your tastes?

The mortals are hypocritical, in love with themselves, and determinately boring. [He snorts.] They'd get along so well with the court in Asgard.

Save for the part where they are mortal, you mean.

[Loki laughs.]

Yes, save for that.

[And he bumps Iofast's shoulder lightly with his. It's too natural, this good humor and comradeship.]

The next time anyone accuses me of disliking mortals, I shall recount to them the tales I heard of how Odin greeted Thor's woman.

[Iofast gives a laugh that is half groan, rolling his face toward the sky.]

It is a entirely different creature, though! He has a father's protectiveness. Whereas you- [And here that bump is returned, light and glancing.] I think you could appreciate any creature capable of holding your interest.

Hah. I think more he has his plans and had already decided who he should like to see Thor wed and is disappointed my brother has proven so stubborn.

[Loki laughs, offering Iofast a smile, but then quickly loos away as he realizes he does it, the smile becoming far more wry.]

You may have the right of it. 'tis am unusual quality indeed.

[Juti and Iofast once held his interest between the two of them, in a way. But that is a door long since closed, and he has stayed alone since leaving Asgard. There is no one he trusts the way he once trusted his friends.

And that trust was ruined anyway.]

I've a few mortals I found that are good at chess. It passes the time. And the occasional dance.

[He did love dancing, always, even in Asgard.]

[The way Loki smiles at him makes Iofast's stomach pull a little half-flip, a needlessly acrobatic manoeuvre that sends his own answering grin wobbling foolishly. There has always been that flickering warmth between them, that gravity, and each brush and unguarded look only conjures memories of something brighter and warmer and so vivid it feels like only days ago.]

Only chess and dancing? No wonder you are given to such poor spirits.

[He gestures down the lane, in the direction he's been told that Loki's house lies.]

Let us see what a little mead does for your interest.

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