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.

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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.

There's the occasional book. But no battles to be fought, no lands to explore, no quests to do, none of that old nonsense we liked so much as young fools. [He laughs, his smile taking on a wicked edge for a moment.] And I don't think anyone here could keep up with what else might captivate my attention.

[Hey look! The house is right there! It's super convenient! Let's add some mead into the equation because nothing could possibly go wrong with that.]

Mead certainly sets me dancing, at the least. [Hah, his interest. He'd better keep a firm rein on that. Temptation is strong, but he's not in the mood to be rebuffed by his old friend.]

[At the house, he opens the front door with a touch and waves Iofast inside with an exaggerated bow.]

[No battles, no quests, no discovery? None of the things that make Loki's eyelids dip in the way that speaks of a thousand unspeakable things? Oh, that is a tragedy. And though Iofast has not forgotten what a short time ago Loki was spitting poison at him, circling him like a wolf hunting the best tendon to tear out, his relaxation and his smile are intoxicating all on their own. He can accept them as transient things, the grappling and blows that come before reconciliation, albeit in a different form.

This, he tells himself. This is Loki, talk of diversions and teasing gestures, and he meets the bow with a mimed curtsey of his own before sweeping inside.]

You truly have not explored beyond this little village, in all of your boredom?

What, this little spit-speck in the forest? Please. Within my first week here.

[He follows Iofast in, closing the door behind him.]

Make yourself comfortable. I shall fetch the mead.

[He disappears into the kitchen. The casks are stored in a tiny cellar he has dug below the kitchen floor.]

[Iofast hangs his weapon at the door, then takes a moment to wander, making himself comfortable in his own way. He is a creature of curiosity, ultimately, and he wants to know what a home of Loki's looks like with a year and a half of wear on it. But soon enough he's lounging back on the couch, working off his tall boots one at a time. He does not, after all, anticipate that he will be going anywhere else any time soon.]

[Loki fetches a mug of mead for each of them, and does a bit of magic to fortify it. By the time he's back out of the kitchen, Iofast has his boots off and is lounging on the couch.

Loki will now pretend that this does not make his mouth go rather dry.

He walks over and casually offers one of the mugs to his former comrade, suddenly keenly aware of the fact that he is still wearing his own boots, and coat. And even more keenly aware of how bizarrely awkward he feels. How has this reduced him to barely more than a stripling, and in his own house? Ridiculous.]

Not quite up to the standards of your home, but 'tis better than nothing at all. I've fortified it sufficiently, at the least.

Tch. When the standards of Loki mismatch the standards of the halls of Asgard, 'tis usually for the better.

[That Loki is still completely attired does not escape Iofast, either, and he pauses on his way toward a sip, furrowing a brow in smiling curiosity as he rests the mug down on the buckle of his belt. The entire circumstance is strange enough, Loki going so far as to serve, even, but Iofast would think that he might unwind a little within his own home.]

Would you rather we take our refreshments outside?

We shall see in this case. I've grown desperate enough I'm considering taking up beekeeping and making my own from scratch.

[Loki finds the idea of unwinding in truth (rather than a constructed artifice of insolent relaxation) around someone else so difficult to grasp as to be impossible.]

Nay, you've made yourself comfortable. I'd be a poor host to make you move so soon.

[He sets his own cup down in the air, where it obediently hangs, and at least takes off his coat. He sees it neatly hung up, and that serves as a way to divert his attention from Iofast for a few seconds. He neatly hangs the coat up, then returns to his former position to pluck the cup from the air. This has the mixed advantage and disadvantage of putting him very close to Iofast again, his right leg only a few inches from Iofast's.]

I've some food about if you're hungry. [Traditional offer, that, and safe.]

[Loki does never leave one wanting for pleasant little tricks, and Iofast watches his cup with a pleasant appreciation as he drinks, humming in clearly audible appreciation. Not Asgard's finest vintage, but still very drinkable.

He nearly snorts a mouthful, though, with the offer of food, looking up with a grin.]

What a glutton I would be, to have a companion returned to me in such a way and lose no time in ordering him about fetching me bread and mead!

[Still lounging on the arm of the couch, he beckons Loki down with a wave of his hand, poise every bit as relaxed as Loki's is not.]

Your hospitality is very fine, and I thank you. But please, come and sit with me.

[He snorts.]

Perhaps the villain Loki wishes to try his hand at being a decent host, at least in his own poor house. That might be his next hobby.

Hah. And now Iofast will be the host and invite me onto my own furniture.

[Well, why should he shrink, from a seat on his own couch? This is ridiculous. Though the next question is, of course, where to sit. Relative position is a subtle but powerful statement.

And this is also ridiculous. He's tired. He's already had one argument with Iofast, and he liked it so much better when things were companionable. He could at least pretend something was all right, for a little while. Until the questions start again, and the anger, and the demand for justification, and the argument over events irrevocably in the past that were never driven by anything but confused, raw pain. That expectation alone leaves him tense as a bowstring; there was never a point where he felt he owed Asgard an explanation, since Asgard is what did this all to him.

And has he not paid his price in blood now? Enough of this.

Loki sits, not as close as his incredibly unhelpful and distracting thoughts would like, but still a little too close to be strictly polite. And he assumes his normal sprawl, which fools most into thinking him entirely relaxed. He has perhaps forgotten that Iofast knows him far too well to fall for that practiced nonsense. Or perhaps he just hopes that time and distance have dulled those memories.]

I do not often have guests to my house.

Edited 2014-04-24 21:55 (UTC)

[Fool or not, Iofast's memory is indeed better than that - more than good enough to remember that Loki, in his catlike way, will compose himself into an attitude of haughty indolence regardless of what is happening between his ears. It's heartening to see, the same way he's been finding everything heartening that resembles the Loki he remembers from their youth and not the vindictive, sharp-toothed thing that had found him on the path outside.

He'd always been unable to resist hope, in the end. Even to his own detriment.

Now he gives a bemused snort, reaching out with a stockinged foot and plucking against the rear seam of Loki's boot, as if his Achilles' tendon were a particularly thick string to be plucked by his toe.]

Unsurprising. I find the beekeeping and brewing more likely, all told. [His diction shifts to something slightly more graceful, more polished, timbre shifting to a halfway decent approximation of his host's voice.] Bees, after all, are at least mortal creatures that provide something of use in exchange for the tedium of tending them.

Incorrigible beast. If you wish to mock me then you need not partake in the fruits of that tedium. [But there's a decided fondness to his tone when he says that. He reaches over to poke Iofast on the knee.] And what have my boots done to offend you with their presence?

[No. No he is not going to suggest that Iofast remove them if they offend him so much. No. He will bite his tongue. He takes a sip of his mead instead, trying to figure out what in the name of Hel he actually wants right now. And in a long-term sense, because his heart has ideas about the short-term that he's doing his best to ignore.

It's too easy to fall into these patterns. Far too easy.]

variety is the spice of life

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