( open. )

[wolfchild]

CHARACTERS: the artist formerly known as arya and you
DATE: spanning several days
WARNINGS: will edit if needed
SUMMARY: arrival shenanigans aka indoor plumbing is the single greatest thing you guys

[ with the purple hood pulled over her shaved head and clad in her new black trousers with the white and purple piping along the sides, her feet encased in tall, good boots, the new girl looks like she belongs. zokla is her name, for being the word to come to mind after discounting the others. she did not know what to expect to risk cat as she might otherwise have done; she could no longer be beth since her vision was returned. she wasn't sure if the kindly man would have insisted on "no one" or if that here too would not serve.

it's a good word, she decides. fierce. the girl turns it over on her tongue. zo-kla. it has a sound like a pause, then a sharp strike. much like the creature it means. it will make a good name.

the bedrooms had been dull, each one identical to the last. at least, those she could open. she tried to pick one of the locked doors, but without the proper tools gave it up for lost. there is plenty more to see, however, and zokla's steps soon speed up until she is dashing through halls and rooms trying to see it all.

she is outside, studying the strange animals stabled with a curious eye and wishing she could mount a horse and ride out, but zokla has never touched a horse much less mounted one so she pushes aside the memory of wind through her hair and the ground falling away ( that memory belongs to another girl, and anyway she has nowhere to ride to — )

or she cranes her neck at one of the suits of armor, distracted by it, as if she might catch glimpse of the person that must be inside before stepping closer to knock on the metal and being greeted by the hollow sound, and when it sets off on its patrol, she follows behind, often getting it to divert from its path to show her where to find this place or that one until she has memorized the paths herself —

or she is piling a dish high come mealtimes, grabbing a little of everything and then some more because zokla would know the hollow ache of going to bed hungry and would cheer that those days are now past —

or she is in the kitchen standing on tiptoes before the faucet, laughing in delight at the splash of water on her fingers the temperature of which she can change, now hotter, now colder, with a simple twist of the knobs and from which she can drink deep, the water clean and sweet —

or she stumbles across the greenhouses and spends a day up to her elbows in loose, dark earth, learning which plants are safe and which will raise an unsightly purple rash on her skin, which are good to eat, good for injury, good for aches, and which will render you ill almost to death ( or kill you outright ) — when she's not chasing after a wide-leafed bush with pale red flowers that likes to get up and walk away on rope-like roots —

or she comes into the forge when it looks empty and passes a hand over the tools, picking one or two off the wall ( those that she can lift ) and thinks she might have known someone once who would have lived here happily —

or she makes her way through the dungeons to come upon the strange sight of a thousand, thousand mirrors stretching so far up and so far away she cannot see those furthest and spends hours among the reflections as if she might make sense of them. ( as if one of them might show her a wall made of ice at the end of the world. ) ]

(( note: feel free to use any of the suggested locations or use another! if you'd like a personalized starter, pm me or comment to this post! ))

Comments

[selfimage]

[ there's a curious thing about Loki that makes it difficult to tell just how much he cares about something, just by looking at him. he's trained his expression, but that doesn't mean that he doesn't look skeevy, it's just whatever's under the skeevy that's hard to pin. ]

That's a broad question. Save the world is the most likely answer—or, rather, all worlds.

[ he tilts his head at her, watching curiously. ]

An unfortunate trip, or a fortunate one, depending on how you look at it.

[wolfchild]

It sounds like a mummer's farce.

[ a girl who is no one and snake eyes off to save the world.

she considers the claim, though. tries to fit it into what little she knows. she bites her lip, remembers herself, and stops. as a reminder, the action hidden in the folds of her rags, she digs her nails into the palm of her hand until she is sure she will leave crescent mark indentations in her skin. ]

Who are you? [ she asks even as she knows it's not the right question. she can't think of what that might be right now, though. everything is all too strange. ]

[selfimage]

I won't disagree.

[ as if that wraps up that—it doesn't make it less what it is.

it sounds unbelievable, he knows. there were weeks he tried to deconstruct ALASTAIR, break it into bits and expose the belly underneath. he never found it, and instead when he entered the bowels of what made the organization tick he was struck from his feet.

the doubt was something he could understands, and it's only his muddled experiences that make him think different. ]

Me? [ he says as if there were other people with them. there's a flair of his dark nailed fingers. ] Loki of Asgard. Well met, er ...

[wolfchild]

[ no one. i'm no one. ]

You can call me whatever you want. I don't care.

[ but what she claims is not what is true. that truth is unknowingly reflected in the register.

she tosses the silver baby bracelet at his feet. ]

This is a trick. I'm not playing.

[selfimage]

[ young, she's young. the motion and the statement coupled together, the bracelet tumbling to the floor.

Loki watches with vague amusement. ]

Buttfart—got it. [ never trust him with anything, please. ] You may want to keep that, even if you insist on staying off the board. It has its uses.

[wolfchild]

[ buttfart. wow.

it's not easy to tell if her glare is due to the choice of name or the strange answer. ]

What board?

[selfimage]

[ whichever it is, he seems satisfied with it. ]

You said that you won't be playing the game. Usually where there's a game, there's a board, even a made-up one. You need a place to play, after all.

[ he's played a lot of games, both of his own making and the makings of others. he wonders if he'll ever not play, but he doubts it. there's always a bigger game, always a bigger prize.

it never really goes away. ]

[wolfchild]

[ annoyed now, she almost huffs. ]

And how's a stupid bracelet going to help? Can I sell it for a way back?

[selfimage]

There's nothing to sell here, not like that. The currency that the multiverse trades in are time and deed.

[ she huffs, and he lets an exaggerated breath out through his nose. he holds dark nailed fingers to his wrist, and pushed up the heavy sleeve of his jacket. there's a bracelet around his wrist with a round jewel, catching the shadow as others would catch the light.

with a thought it comes to life, displaying what looks to be a holographic map in an array of images and words. there's a little blinking light on the map (which seems to be around the corner, from the looks of their coordinates). ]

Tah-dah!

[wolfchild]

[ she starts in surprise. a suspicious frown supplants the glare. she stretches her walking stick out to touch the nearest marking. her hand follows it. her fingers, like the stick, slip through the map as if passing through sunlight.

sorcery. an answer she already had. this is the result of magic. she starts to bite her lip, but this time she catches herself. she lets go, and pinches the back of her hand as reminder. ]

The bracelet does all this?

[ she flicks the images with her stick again. none dissipates. ]

What does this lead to?

[selfimage]

Shall we find out? I've got a knife in case it's nefarious.

[ there's ease in his body language when he says that. while there's a few knives on him, that isn't the most dangerous thing about him. he's either reckless (and willing to walk into danger) or confident enough that it's enough for him to brush off.

with a dark nailed finger, he points around the corner. ]

[wolfchild]

If it's nefarious, you can go first. [ she waves him on for good measure.

she isn't scared. she isn't stupid, either. he can go first and go on ahead. if it is an ambush, she'll have time to run. ]

[selfimage]

If the lady insists.

[ unfazed, he heads down the corridor with his magitek as a guide. behind him, the obnoxious flare of his coat glides from side to side, announcing his presence like a loudspeaker. he assumes she'll follow, but if she takes this opportunity to run, he knows that she won't go far. (he has a feeling that she's got to know that by now, too.)

pressing his back against the corner nearest their destination, he peeks around it as if they may be ambushed.

there's nothing except the walls, and a chirp from the magitek. ]

[wolfchild]

[ flatly, ] I'm not a lady.

[ to run she needs somewhere to run to. frustrating though loki is, he is the first person she sees. she lets him go on what she imagines a safe distance ahead, then steps after him silent as a shadow. as she follows, she racks her brain for mention of asgard, but there is none. it must be secret if braavosi purple hasn't reached it to speak of it.

when he slows, she does too. she grips her stick in case she must crack it against whatever is around the corner. or loki. in braavos, the noblemen all dressed in dark colors. the bravos dressed brightly and the tyroshi made even the most flamboyant bravo look drab in comparison. loki wears emerald green and gold, has the weaselly look of a thief, and could swear he refuses to speak plainly just to goad her. she's all but positive, though, he's no commoner.

in a different life, her father's ward had always been smiling like he knew more than everyone else did, too.

her fingers itch to take back her bracelet as if it might give her more answers. she pokes him in the back with her stick instead. ]

Are you going or not?

[selfimage]

[ while Loki is most certainly not a commoner, he makes it hard to pin exactly what he's trying to pull off. he'd jabber something off about aesthetic, or about the cultural context of the horns. as for what he exactly was, well, that was still up in the air, even to him. saying god only went so far.

there's a swat at the stick as she pokes him, a fruitless, dismissive gesture. ]

It's called sneaking. [ he says it hotly, leaning his shoulders on the wall and glancing over at her. ] You'll have to maintain your patience somehow.

[ as if he didn't know completely what was around the corner. watching the flashing points on the map, Loki slinks silently around the corner with light feet, making no sound. while there's nothing there, a little animation begins to emerge on his jewelcomm. ]

...

Ah.

[wolfchild]

[ she knows what sneaking is. she also knows it's done for a reason. ]

You're not telling me anything!

[ she has half a mind to jab the stick into the backs of his knees. would have tried it, but for the creature.

an animal, though unlike any she has ever seen. unnatural colors, a sphere topping its tail. it blinks at them dumbly. ]

What is that?

[selfimage]

[ she's scolding him and he's cleaning his ear with his pinky finger, balancing the arm that has the jewelcomm in the other hand. ]

A MagiMon. [ with a tilt of his head, he examines it. then, because he didn't clarify: ] A game that's on the jewelcomm, it allows you to collect these creatures in any of the worlds we visit. They're not real, of course, but people like to collect them all the same.

It's fun.

[wolfchild]

[ a game. she looks from him to the little creature, still waiting. something about its appearance looks stranger to her eyes. nor does it move or try to get closer or further or…anything like a real animal. a game, he said like she is meant to be impressed. ]

I don't care for games.

[ losing her temper, she marched up to him. she snatches her bracelet back. ]

This thing asked for a name. Why?

[selfimage]

[ it's held loosely in his fingers, and he doesn't stop her when she grabs it back. when she claims her bracelet back, his eyes go to the curious hologram-like creature wafting in front of them. ]

So you can communicate with the rest of the team. You need a display name.

[ a pause. ]

Can I suggest buttfart?

[wolfchild]

[ he can suggest whatever he wants. she's about to suggest he go fuck himself. but he is also answering her again — sort of — so she swallows the insults cramming her throat. ]

Can everyone see it?

[selfimage]

That's the point, yes.

[ he's eying her suspiciously, like she may poke him again. maybe with her words instead of a stick, but he doesn't seem like the type to be anything but pleased by whatever reaction he elicits. ]

[wolfchild]

[ she picked right, then. the kindly man can't be displeased. she finds she cannot shake the suspiciousness, though. a warning that she is rarely that lucky. she does not poke him again, but she keeps her stick firmly in hand. ]

What else can everyone see?

[selfimage]

Whatever thoughts that you'd have put out there for your teammates to respond.

[ there's a suspended shrug, and the buckles on his obnoxious jacket jingle. it's amazing that he's managed to sneak through anything with them attached to him. ]

[wolfchild]

[ that is less than reassuring. her hand goes to her temple. ]

I haven't put anything out.

[ she thinks. she hopes. her thoughts are terrible and unkind and full of things she can never speak. ]

Are you supposed to be my teammate too?

[selfimage]

[ that would be unfortunate if it were psychic, luckily he has a spell for that one. ]

For now, yes. I've been here a while. Amid the violence and the poor choices, Audentes does a fairly all right job looking after one another.