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epidemiology2017-08-06 06:28 pm
CLOSED.
DATE: Still in the maze for days
WARNINGS: Uh, I'll update if yes, but there will be toilet humor.
SUMMARY: Loki and Dany find a poo ball.
[ it had felt like an eternity since they were afforded some luxury, and while Loki could skirt by without eating or sleeping, he couldn't magic himself up a nice cup of coffee with no coffee beans. (he'd write an essay on "just why magic can't do that," but he's settled on being defiant about the whole thing.) it left the whole thing trying after a few weeks of incarceration and entrapment.
once everyone put their noggins together and started splitting up in search parties, Loki almost jumped at the idea of exploration. at least the scenery will be different—if only slightly! is what he had said when he offered Daenerys his arm and the two were off as if they were the poster children for reckless behavior.
they turn a few corners, and Loki makes a few humorous observations along their route. he assures her no matter which way they go, that it won't be difficult to get back. while his magic may be (frustrating, frustrating) limited in their confines, it wasn't gone. he runs a hand along a wall as they move along a slim corridor that hardly fits the two of them side-by-side.
it's fairly lengthy. ]
Oh, it's a long one. Can we clear it? Ah—questionable ...
[ the jokes have already started. ]
why
Yet however fruitless their search, Loki proves a good companion, amusing her whilst she listens and watches. The corridor they are in now is steadily narrowing, though, enough that she must remove her arm from his. Her shoulder brushes against his arm, and the other, slender though her frame is, bumps into the wall.
It is cool against her skin, half-covered by the HOT MESS EXPRESS shirt he has so generously lent her. ]
Go before me, [ she tells him, the armored one of their party, ] but if it should grow narrower still--
[ She breaks off from speaking all at once, her nose wrinkling. Suddenly, she is reminded of days walking too closely to the middle of the streets in the Free Cities, where horses drop their leavings. The stink of the cities she knows has been largely absent from her memory of late, after the relative sterility of Woodhurst before its epidemic and Leramzen before their arrest. Now, though ...
There is a faint skittering sounding down the stretch, a clicking sound that comes from the shadows. Dany sniffs at the air again suspiciously--before them, in his direction, and then, somewhat more worriedly, in her own--then takes hold of Loki's wrist to stop him, if he has not already stopped walking. ]
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for the most part, he seems still spry and energetic, even after Audentes becomes fatigued. neither the possibilities of dangers they'd run into, nor the monsters seem to deter him. there's an arrogant strut that doubles as divine announcement as they walk through the maze.
despite the possibility of danger he was about to move forward anyway. while he's not Thor, he's still a god. ]
It can't be that bad.
[ he tilts his head at her, still mid-pause. ]
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[ As she had done to beat away Wanda's lizard, not days ago. Yet what comes toward them now is no lizard, Dany is certain. The clicking had been what was most audible, and it puts her in mind of giant mandibles, though she cannot remember when she must have encountered such a sound.
Something else has joined the cacophony now, something soft. It is a gentle murmur, the world's softest caravan. Where are the wheels? she wonders idly, but in moments, she has her answer. Something large and round emerges from the end of the gloom. It is sticky work, stopping once--and then it is shoved toward them with renewed vigor, its stink preceding it like a horrible perfume. ]
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Oh? Maybe I'll rethink my strategy to incorporate your batting arm. [ but his eyes aren't on her, they're on the flat wall in front of them that turns the corner. he can hear it as well as she does, and while he doesn't see much as a threat (not much is, when you're a god), his senses are open. the air around them, the scent, the steady vibrations that compose the song of reality, he knows it all, and he uses it well enough.
there's a pause that is the barest hold of a breath, and then turning the corner is a stinking boulder with an unseen master. Loki gawks, he tries not to, but he does. it rolls toward them with a sick, slapping noise of feces against stone. their only saving grace is that it seems to have grown so large that it hardly fits down the corridor. is that a saving grace? ]
... Ah—[ Loki starts, rethinks this, then adds. ]—shit.
...
Shall we go? Er, let's go.
[ before she can answer he's taking her arm as if they were going for a stroll and turning on their heels in the muck. ]
Don't look back. It'll lose interest if we don't pay attention.
[ it doesn't, and when it begins to speed toward them, Loki speeds up the pace to a run. ]
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She can feel the heat bearing down on their backs, its unseen driver shoving the ball all the harder to compensate for how narrow the corridor is. It trundles toward them, some of the roundness in its sides shaved off and smeared across the walls, rumbling gently as it wobbles ungracefully down the corridor toward them.
An army could not have collectively shat out a heavier thing. A flash of glowing green catches the corner of her eye as she sidesteps a pit in the ground. ]
Your boots! [ she shouts, leaping over a stream of acidic water spouting itself onto the ground. The landing impact sends a sharp spasm of pain through her leg, causing her to nearly let go of him. ] We do not need to run!
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[ they run, and Loki keeps pace with her. it splotches sickly toward them—splat splat splat—gaining traction. he can't pick up his pace without putting more pressure on her injury, so he doesn't. there's a certain level of independence that he doesn't intrude upon her, but it looks like they're either going to both go under, or he'll have to deem this one of those times that he has to violate that personal pact.
so, he violates it.
very gracefully.
the next step they take half a leap, and his arm slings around her hips and pivots her forward with her next step. it almost—almost—would be like he was causing her to trip, but he catches her under the knees and hefts her into his arms. the pace picks up as he kicks through the muck, the soles of his feet beginning to glow as he treads above the wet slop so his feet don't stick. ]
There's magic here! [ he says as he runs. ] It won't allow me to breech the top of the maze. Very annoying. [ the ball gains on them and Loki hisses under his breath. ] Crapcrapcrapcrap ...
We'll have to be cleverer.
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Had they not been about to be overtaken, she might have been amused at how many ways he finds to describe their threat. ]
Once, you'll recall, we walked over waves in Nalawi, [ she reminds him, looking over his shoulder. A large horn protrudes from behind the dung; some beetle, perhaps, and it mislikes their intrusion. Splat, splorch, SPLOOSH as the poop rolls through a water puddle. The queen wrinkles her nose, still slightly breathless as she judges the distance from the top of the dung ball to the barrier above. ] Can the, ah, ball be scaled? Your boots ...
[ Perhaps it's the culmination of all their suffering in this prison, and then the maze, but suddenly, the threat of being crushed by a ball of poop makes her giggle. Has there ever been a fate more vile? ]
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What? By Ymir's frozen testicle—! These are nice boots!
[ but at the moment it looks like there's not going to be much of a choice. between Loki's loss of ability to the maze itself, and the bug threatening to squash them in poo, they're going to have to make some tough choices. ]
Ugh ... [ that sounds suspiciously like he's giving in. ] Time to get down and dirty, I suppose.
[ for the barest of moments they're at a standstill on the wall, and with another push, Loki vaults to balance precariously on the top of the ball with hardly a noise. he stands there, single-legged like a green flamingo, the other bent at the knee as the beetle halts the gross ball of shit as if in contemplation. ]
...
You know, this isn't exactly where I imagined myself with the person I love—[ there was probably going to be more to that, but the beetle begins to push the ball again and Loki lurches forward at a run, trying to keep the pace and you know, not fall one way or the other. ]
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The word does not strike her until the ball renews its pace, until Loki leaps to keep them both atop the prize. It is a precarious balancing act, and at the speed of Loki's heels, softer pieces are being flung behind them and to their sides, a veritable storm of--
Oh, she thinks, her heart feeling queerly lighter.
It is all that Dany can do to hold fast to him, and promise herself that she will find more meaning in it when they are not running away from doom. The beetle, unmoved by their presence, seems to hope they will simply fall and be swallowed up by its pace, and not for the first time since she had been separated from Drogon, Dany wishes that she could breathe a fire all her own.
Loki is a light runner, but that does not remove the sound of squelching entirely. Squelch, squelch. It sticks to him, and with each step, he must fairly leap out if it before he sinks. ]
We must leap around that horn! [ she cries, making a face as a piece of excrement strikes her in the cheek. It will get into my mouth as well, if I let it. Her mind racing, she turns her head as far from Loki's ear as she can, and otherwise weaponless, does all that she can think to do to startle a mindless beast with no reason to obey her:
She lets out a worldless scream--loudly. She screams like a woman with two knives in her back, and another coming for her belly. ]
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luckily he's not at a point where he can afford the luxury of such a distraction.
keeping the traction, even through her painful scream, he only winces. the beetle below them pauses, and Loki leans forward as if they're going to tumble to the ground, but they don't. there's a pause, and Loki breathes, his chest expanding as he keeps his grip on her. the ground looks quite like it's about to come up and smack them in the face. ]
You're very good at giving orders, has anyone told you that?
[ he's still far more calm than anyone else would be.
as he steps backward, he takes advantage of the beetle getting its bearings back. dropping off the edge of the ball, he lands square in the center of the beetle's forehead.
then, he holds his breath, and gives the giant ball of collected excrement a swift kick on the rear, and watches it tumble out of the beetle's grasp, squelching like newly cut wind. skittering frantically without its shield, weapon and home, Loki barely keeps his footing before gracelessly stepping from the beetle's back to the ground, his feet splotched with brown despite the green glow. ]
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Accustomed as she is to airborne jolts by now, Dany does not gasp at their landing atop the beetle so much as she loses some breath at the impact. Her arms hold fast to him as he kicks the ball once, hard and viciously, loosing it to make obscene noises down the passageway. Panicked, the beetle takes off after its charge, and with another leap, they are at last on the ground again.
Before he releases her, she wipes a foul speck of brown from his cheek with her knuckles, the movement tender. She has eaten of horse heart whilst the warm blood ran down her arms and her chin, and bathed a sick man who stank with his own excrement. Alien dung does not faze her, vile though it is. ]
My enemies, [ she answers him belatedly, sweetly, ] though not in words.
[ In fleeing; it goes unsaid. She looks past him to see the beetle vanishing into the distance, dim blue lights glowing off its back. ]
That was well-timed, [ she praises him, turning violet eyes up to his own luminous green. Her gaze is pointed, but unbarbed; there is a smile lurking there. ] Do you know what wasn't?
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the unfortunate gunk on his cheek flicks away with her finger, and there's a curious look that she receives in response. there were times that he acted on his own accord without thinking of his own ambitions, they were rare, but this managed to be one of them. ]
Gross. [ he says mostly to himself, with a flat gaze toward their long-gone friend.
and then she's looking at him funny, and he catches her expression over his shoulder, and looks back at her with a tug of an animated frown, as if he knew that there was something hidden in her words. ]
Hm ... [ he looks faux thoughtful, tapping a finger against his chin.
there's long pause. ] I give up. What wasn't?
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They are neither of them the picture of dignity, she thinks, but it makes no matter. A dainty hand wraps around his finger and tugs to pull it from his chin. ]
Your words, [ she tells him bluntly, feeling queerly light in her breast. Her belly is fluttering with leathern wings, and she will not allow him to flee from her now. ] I could not ask it of you, [ she confesses. ] I asked a thousand questions, but never that. I did not wish to know what love meant to gods. [ What if it had meant something else? She had not wanted to tell either of them. She would not have been able to bear the silence that fell. Her hand slides to his wrist, grappling for some measure of anchor in her storm. ] Yet I thought perhaps, after Woodhurst ... after you did not turn me away ...
[ I am no maid, she reminds herself, but all the same, she feels a pink flush rising in her cheeks. ]
Say it again, [ she bids him at last, her gaze intent upon his. ] Please. Do not disguise it in something so vile.
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if there's discomfort (there is), he doesn't seem to show it (he's gotten good at that). her words hang in the heaviness around them, and as all the sweet sounds from his silver tongue fail him all at once. there are lies, embellishments and rhetoric, all of which he uses when engaging in the most dangerous part of his nature, but they fall flat. the truth, the horrifying truth, even at the moment, tugs in his chest in sweet pain.
the defiance in him tells him to fight, to come up with something else and leave the words that he had hinted at somewhere behind a door and never speak of it again. his nature tells him to leave it behind.
but he had done so much of that lately. ]
...
[ when the words come, he's surprised how easily they fit his mouth. they come like there hadn't been the slightest hint of hesitation. ]
I love you. [ there's some relief that follows, like a gate has open. ] Madly, deeply.
[ there's a tip of his head and a fix of his bright, green eyes. ]
You doubted me.
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Drogo had named her the moon of his life, and though she had known he loved her, he had never said as much. Jorah had professed his love as she'd turned from him, flinging him from her heart and her path. Daario had whispered it often, but his hands had bespoken possession, his eyes a fierce lust, and she had known he would never give her what she wanted of him.
Dany had not meant to love anyone, but she had known she loved Loki the night he led her to the rooftop, where they spoke of Zymandis and the splitting seams of the multiverse. She had felt then that he would leave her, and her heart had ached to think of a farewell that had never transpired. She had not wanted him to go then, and she wants him to leave her even less now.
One day we will all be returned to our worlds, she thinks. One day he may not know me. But louder is the memory of the promise he had made her, to stay with her in her cell. Until you forget, he had told her, his ghost close enough to rob her of her breath.
Madly, deeply. She is grateful that no one can hear how loudly her heart sings, how forcefully it thrums in her ears. ]
I had forgotten, [ she says, her own eyes as bright as his. She had forgotten how it felt. Even beneath the grime she wears, the whole of her face seems to shine. ] I feared--
[ But she does not say more. The ground will fall away from her if she does not go to him, and so her feet are moving of their own volition, uneven in their gait, but direct all the same. She does not care for how they smell, how they look. There is only one place she wishes to be, and she reaches it when she throws her arms around him, rising onto tiptoe. I love you, comes the answer in her kiss, heedless of all else around them. ]
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if they remembered or forgot, the story was still etched in the timeline, unwilling to go softly.
she stumbles through words and he watches with some curiosity. his face is expressive, but relaxed, an eyebrow going up before the next follows. he caught her off guard in a way that she had never let herself be caught, and there's a part of him that settles neatly in the satisfaction. the words came easier than expected, with the same cadence that he uses for all else.
when she grabs him he has to lean down to meet her, letting her express through her mouth what her tongue will not. there's a sort of languid ease to his movements, as if some kind of tension had just released. ]
Don't act entitled now, I just don't spout I love yous like a back-end greeting card company.
[ he just said it again for a good measure. ]