sad alcohol panda (
deemed) wrote in
epidemiology2017-04-03 07:15 pm
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Entry tags:
[closed] the water's sweet
CHARACTERS: Odinson and MCU Loki; hit me up if you want your character there too??
DATE: March 6th/7th, once the infected are almost all rounded up.
WARNINGS: alcohol, maybe some bad language
SUMMARY: Odinson got some Asgardian booze. He's celebrating by drinking it and feeling sorry for himself.
He hadn't intended to drink this much.
(There were a lot of things he hadn't intended, he thinks darkly, taking another swig from the flask.)
The number of civilians needing help has dropped to a trickle, teams of Audentes are combing the streets for the remaining infected who need the cure; for the first time since arriving in the middle of the pandemic, Odinson has the chance to sit and consider the situation. The arrival of a barrel of mead (presumably) from home had seemed like the logical accompaniment and reward for his hard work over the past weeks here.
He's alone in the park, sitting on a bench overlooking a small pond. His body aches, an indicator of how little thought he's paid for his well-being. He had underestimated how strong the infected were, had worked with very few breaks, hadn't been cautious about teeth and nails cutting at his skin. But the mead soothes that pain nicely.
It does not soothe his restlessness about the second hammer.
He had seen it with his own eyes, stood close enough to take it if he had tried and felt the power resting within her, screaming for her Thor. He grimaces to think that she's now hopelessly out of his reach. (That's the story of his life now, isn't it?)
The sun descends to the horizon while he sits and drinks and thinks (and mopes). Would this Mjolnir accept him? Would he be worthy of her? Does he want to be worthy again? Does the universe need that? The other Audentes he's met here are capable enough without him, aren't they? How is he to make a proper impression as a son of Asgard if he cannot manage to speak with his own brother?
There are no answers, only more mead.
DATE: March 6th/7th, once the infected are almost all rounded up.
WARNINGS: alcohol, maybe some bad language
SUMMARY: Odinson got some Asgardian booze. He's celebrating by drinking it and feeling sorry for himself.
He hadn't intended to drink this much.
(There were a lot of things he hadn't intended, he thinks darkly, taking another swig from the flask.)
The number of civilians needing help has dropped to a trickle, teams of Audentes are combing the streets for the remaining infected who need the cure; for the first time since arriving in the middle of the pandemic, Odinson has the chance to sit and consider the situation. The arrival of a barrel of mead (presumably) from home had seemed like the logical accompaniment and reward for his hard work over the past weeks here.
He's alone in the park, sitting on a bench overlooking a small pond. His body aches, an indicator of how little thought he's paid for his well-being. He had underestimated how strong the infected were, had worked with very few breaks, hadn't been cautious about teeth and nails cutting at his skin. But the mead soothes that pain nicely.
It does not soothe his restlessness about the second hammer.
He had seen it with his own eyes, stood close enough to take it if he had tried and felt the power resting within her, screaming for her Thor. He grimaces to think that she's now hopelessly out of his reach. (That's the story of his life now, isn't it?)
The sun descends to the horizon while he sits and drinks and thinks (and mopes). Would this Mjolnir accept him? Would he be worthy of her? Does he want to be worthy again? Does the universe need that? The other Audentes he's met here are capable enough without him, aren't they? How is he to make a proper impression as a son of Asgard if he cannot manage to speak with his own brother?
There are no answers, only more mead.
no subject
And then he sees a hunched figure up ahead, the sinking sun blinding him for a moment, and Loki thinks, no. And he thinks surely not. And he thinks it couldn't be. And as he shields his eyes, not stopping or slowing his pace, he sees that his thoughts were, at once, both right and wrong.
There sits Thor, because who else could it be? Thor, but not the one he knows, so close and yet so utterly different. This is, perhaps, the Thor who would call himself brother to the other Loki. Or it is, perhaps, a Thor unrelated to either of them.
Still, Thor is Thor and Loki feels anticipation and dread curl together at the pit of his stomach. Over and over again, his mind turns potential ways of greeting the other man--but the familiar scent that wafts through the area as he approaches chases all other thoughts away. "Is that Asgardian mead?" he asks, too startled to hide his surprise. "I did not think this place capable of procuring such drink."
no subject
"I am not in the-" He turns, beginning to say as much to his companion, when he sees just who it is speaking to him. Loki- except. It cannot be Loki, for he knows his brother better than he knows almost any other creature alive. For a moment he just stares.
Then- he laughs a hollow laugh, raising his flask. "This mead must be more potent than I thought. I cannot even recreate my own brother in my stupor." He looks back to what he assumes is a product of his weariness and the alcohol. "Well? Don't stand around. Take a seat."
What a perfect punishment his mind has thought up for his drunkenness; having to spend time with his treacherous brother.
no subject
"Will you be sharing your drink?" he then asks, one eyebrow arching sharply. "Really, Thor. How much have you had?" Thor's not known for being a lightweight, after all, and this is clearly not the weak Midgardian swill they pass off as drink.
no subject
"Odinson is my name, and I have drunk not yet half a barrel." Be proud of him, okay. He feels he could have drunk it all by now if he wasn't taking time to stop and feel sorry for himself.
no subject
No longer Thor. Another by that name. And not at all, it sounds, like what Loki and Loki are to one another. What does that mean? How is it that Thor is no longer Thor?
"Th-- Odinson," he corrects himself, "Tell me your tale. How you came to be here. What it is that troubles you. And how it is you've lost your name." Perhaps it's cruel to take advantage of Thor's inebriation. Perhaps it's just being wise.
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"As you well know, another wields Mjolnir. There is little point keeping the name without the hammer." His shoulders sag as he admits it.
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Another wields Mjolnir? Loki doesn't quite mange to school the surprise from his features. "Odin has always been capable of swinging the silly thing around," he points out, "And that never bothered you before."
Unless. Unless what Odinson means is...
"Can you not wield the hammer anymore?" He'd seen it happen once before, but couldn't imagine any Thor to allow it to happen so again. Perhaps this Thor, this Odinson, never had the experience that Loki watched his own Thor go through.
no subject
"Once she allowed it, yet now Mjolnir would permit you to wield her before our damned father." His voice is bitter, hard. Odin is a great and wise king, but is inability to let go of the old ways of doing anything has made his a barrier more often than a help in recent years.
(And yet Thor is yet Odin's son and claims his name. Shares his heritage and weaknesses. Inherits the legacy of Asgard's dealings with Earth. The deeds which Asgard has done for Earth, are they truly so worthy? What good has come that Earth could not have achieved on its own? Are the gods needed? Was Gorr truly right? He cannot decide.)
He drinks again.
no subject
Loki finds his head swimming, his fingers clenching into the soft fabric of his slacks before he remembers himself and takes the time to slowly release his grip. While he'd always known their worlds and lives to not be at all the same, he hadn't realized how very much so his home and Loki's were different.
Odin unworthy of Mjolnir. Thor damning him. Thor unworthy of Mjolnir. A different--Thor?
"You're quite bitter," he says as lightly as he can manage. "What is it Odin has done to incur the wrath of the mighty Thor himself? Of the Odinson, who still bears his name?"
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The smile lingers as he thinks of this- thinks of how these things had endeared him to Loki in their youth. He had not always appreciated Loki's knack for getting them into trouble, but Loki's quick thinking had (often) gotten them out of it again. Then, sighing, he looks away again.
"Perhaps I am doomed to war with my family and myself until the worlds end."
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That point, at least, he doubts Thor will argue.
"You're awfully maudlin today," Loki then sighs, reaching over to help himself to Thor's drink. "Is it the mead affecting you?"
no subject
Odinson, when he was worthy, had never been one for deep introspection. He had fears, just like any other god, but he tried not to dwell on them. Even after losing Mjolnir he used mead to avoid confronting his self-loathing. He's heard of human philosophies that involve externalising one's self to question and better understand internal issues, but this is ridiculous. (It must be the mead?)
"It is not the mead."
no subject
Taking a sip, then another, Loki lets the silence between them drag on. He wonders when Thor will realize he isn't the Loki he knows--the excuse of an alcohol-induced hallucination will only last so long.
He's uncertain as to whether or not he wants Thor to know.
"I'm still waiting, you realize. For you to speak of that which has today driven you to drink."
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Would punching a mead-induced hallucination be at all satisfying? It might be worth the attempt.
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Loki's eyes are a sharp, glittering green, not quite as bright as his counterpart's.
"Why?"
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Because Gorr had been right and all the gods' attempts to intervene in mortal affairs had been nothing but vainglory, and useless vainglory at that. Because it would have been better for them to have never been at all. Because in realising this, he had lost Mjolnir.
All he had done, all he had wanted to be- it had all been in vain.
He stands, his face dark and thunderous, and takes back the flask and drains it. The sun has set. "Because I am not the god I thought I was." Without a thought to the illusion of his brother, he stalks away into the night.
no subject
Oh, honestly. It's just like Thor, really, to leave like that. To say so much and, yet, absolutely nothing at all.
Loki heaves a sigh as he rolls his eyes, getting to his feet. It seems...a conversation needs to be had. Time to seek out Loki.