Hathaway. (
futurologists) wrote in
epidemiology2017-11-10 06:00 pm
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Entry tags:
- ! event log,
- 9s (nier automata),
- ahad (the inheritance trilogy),
- akira kurusu (persona),
- asher millstone (htgawm),
- ban (the seven deadly sins),
- clark kent (dceu),
- connor walsh (htgawm),
- daenerys targaryen (asoiaf),
- fiona (borderlands),
- giorno giovanna (jjba),
- giovanni (dogs: bullets & carnage),
- goro akechi (persona),
- hayame (jinba),
- jon lane kent (dc comics),
- jude mathis (tales of xillia),
- keith (voltron),
- loki (marvel comics),
- lucina (fire emblem: awakening),
- odinson (marvel comics),
- peter parker (the amazing spider-man),
- rhys (borderlands),
- sieglinde sullivan (black butler),
- wylan van eck (grishaverse)
EVENT ★ SEASON FINALE
ZYMANDIS CASTLE ![]() The castle -- no, the entire world, small as it is -- is too peaceful. It isn't the atmosphere one would associate with a villain's lair, even with it looking as sinister as it does. Crumbling chunks of earth float in the air, threatening to hit anyone who isn't paying attention to where they're going. It is quiet around them, like the castle is entirely without life. Cassie, Cherenkov, Crowley, Dagny, and Uruz stand beside Audentes, proud that their sister team has come so far. Each of them have offered words of encouragement, even the cats... in their own special way. Cassie is short and sweet: “Give 'em hell.”The group pushes forward. The moment they do, a loud, brassy sound blares throughout the castle grounds. The world comes alive again. Enemies begin to scale down the castle walls, pop out of windows, and burst through the doors, which slam shut behind them. A dragon circles above, raining fire down upon its enemies. A small squad of goblins brandish swords. Some enemies look human but pale, frenzied, hungry; they're out of control. Others resemble Qorral bandits. The enemies call back to their past missions in some way. A way of letting them know Zymandis had been one step ahead every time. ALASTAIR was simply the cleaning crew, picking up the mess they left in their wake. Halfway through the battle, a small, pale creature with inhumanly large eyes manages to make his way through the crowd (mostly) unscathed, waving a white flag he seems to have fashioned himself out of his own clothes, judging by the large hole in his shirt. He looks too thin and too tired. He falls to his knees. “Please, o Holy Liberators!” he exclaims, kissing the ground near their feet slavishly. “It does not want to be here anymore. It wants to go home. It has information the Liberators must want. It will give it to them.” ALASTAIR strikes a deal with the creature, who reveals his true name to be Edgar, although Arbatel -- the Leader -- refers to all of his servants as nothing but 'it'. Edgar draws a childlike map to a mine entrance not far, and explains that the mine itself connects directly to Arbatel's laboratory. “It has-- I... have cleaned it many times. Master was captivated by the mines. Master had men in the mines day and night.” His voice drops to a whisper. “The Liberators need be careful. The mines claim many lives. Master does not care if they are dangerous.” With that, the group has a new plan. Some of the other teams stay back to distract the rest of the fighters, but Audentes and Kittypaw continue on. After all, Audentes is their little sibling team. Even though Audentes has been a full-fledged team for two years now -- time certainly flies! -- they've still got to look out for them. It's time to head to the mines. THE MINES ![]() The trek to the mines is a hard one. The group has to be careful to avoid lava geysers and giant, seemingly bottomless chasms, as well as panicked, violent animals. By the time they finally make it to the mines, there's a good chance their legs are aching, but there's no time to rest. Dagny has brought along a few potions she brewed herself that will help dull the ache, however. Inside the mines, no one has to worry about lava geysers. However, vision is obscured, and there's a feeling of gloom hanging over the area. After all, the mine did claim many lives. Some might even pass some bones, if they're unlucky. Arbatel isn't interested in sending corpse clean-up crews. The danger of the mines becomes apparent when Audentes and Kittypaw meet their first challenge. The twists and turns of the labyrinthine mines begin to break up the group. With the teams separated, Audentes will find themselves feeling... angry. Perhaps vengeful. As if there were spirits influencing them. They will begin to turn on whoever they're with, deciding now is the time to air their grievances. (This can affect all characters in a thread or just one.) Only once characters are aware they're being controlled will they be able to resist, and only once they are able to strongly resist will they be able to break the spirits' hold on them. But be careful: if you stick around too long afterwards, the spirit might try to take vengeance on you. Audentes and Kittypaw finally manage to meet back up when the paths converge once again, but their luck does not last for long. Cassie leads the group fearlessly ahead, but is forced to stop when a shadowy figure crawls in the darkness. And another one... and another one. The large beetles and spiders who live in the mine have come out of hiding, surrounding the team from all angles. Their bites are venomous, and they spit acid that burns to the touch. Their skin is hard, like metal, and nearly impossible to pierce. It's no wonder so many miners lost their lives down here with these monsters preying on them. The numbers are too overwhelming and the creatures too strong. The group has no choice. They have to run if they want any chance to get to Arbatel and the TIMELINE.exe. The creatures follow in fast pursuit, hungry for their next meal now that Arbatel is no longer sending miners to their dooms. The more they run, the more apparent it becomes that escape is futile. It seems there is only one option left: become these monsters' food. At least, that's how it seems; the group stops, barely fighting off their attackers, and Cassie says, “Go, now!” She reaches into her pocket and shouts, “Hey! Over here!” as she runs in the opposite direction, diverting the creatures' attention long enough for the team to get a head start. She takes her hand out of her pocket and raises it, holding an explosive. “Eat rainbows and die!” Flamboyant as ever, her explosion causes a beautiful, swirling rainbow effect, knocking Audentes over. When they regain their bearings, the area where Cassie and the monsters stood is caved in. Cherenkov, Crowley, Dagny, and Uruz are quiet for the rest of the walk. The group finally comes across an area of the mine that is significantly more sculpted than the rest, hollowed out around a large, glowing crystal. Around the crystal is a catwalk, with a ladder leading up to it. On the catwalk are tables containing various arcane items, blueprints for inventions, computer parts, and other strange materials. This is certainly Arbatel's lab. Now it's time to find the man himself. FINDING ARBATEL ![]() The castle is full of oddities: a bookshelf full of books in languages no one has ever heard of, paintings with colors no one has seen before. It's worth it to inspect everything. In fact, one inspection in particular is particularly lucky -- one removal of a book from a bookshelf causes a wall to slide back, revealing a set of stairs that ascend upwards. Hey, all secret lairs need a secret door. Start up the stairs, and a woman in gold and white armor appears at the top. She waves her hand and the wall quickly slides back into place, blocking the staircase again. Except, unfortunately, for the two who happened to be in front: Jon and Loki are now trapped on the other side of the wall with the mysterious woman. No matter how many books are removed, shuffled, or shoved back into the shelves, the wall won't open again. The team will have to find another way to get through. Meanwhile, Jon and Loki are left alone to confront the woman, who introduces herself as Hagith. She is Theodor Arbatel's younger daughter and, unlike her long-dead sister Ophiel, completely loyal to Zymandis. Enhanced with cybernetic bones and organs, she is gifted in magic and is a dangerous foe even for Jon. While they're engaged in battle, an older man appears from a door just beyond the landing. Loki, sure this is the man they've been looking for all this time, wields his sword of truth at the ready... As for the rest of the team, poking through the rest of the castle will eventually find a small passage behind a painting -- it's six feet up and roughly the size of a ventilation shaft, so the only way to get up there is teamwork, and the only way to get through is by crawling, one by one, through the pitch black labyrinth. The passageway conveniently ends right on the other side of the wall, where -- luckily for the claustrophobic on the team -- there is a lever that will make the wall slide back again, revealing the hidden stairs. It's just in time, too: a wounded Jon stands over the dead knight, her windpipe crushed, watching as Loki needles a distinguished-looking man with Gram, the sword of truth. It's a disquieting scene, but it's necessary: the man is Arbatel, the Leader of Zymandis, and he owes ALASTAIR some answers. ![]() “This blade is doused in Dragon’s Blood,” Loki says as he turns the sword in Arbatel’s wound; “it forces someone to tell the truth. It always hurts.” Arbatel gazes at his daughter’s body as he answers all questions posed to him, both from Loki and from those shouted from the expedition: His true name is Theodor Arbatel, and that has always been the truth. He comes from a world that he has long since forgotten, his lifetime lengthened to thousands of years by personal experimentation with a sort of proto-magitek. The longer he lived, the more chaos he saw in Zymandis’s attempts at solving the Cataclysm; it would be better, in his eyes, if the entire multiverse were purged and purified, allowed to start anew, instead of simply bandaging an already sick and chaotic thing. And when he updated the TIMELINE.exe machine, its new calculations only proved what he thought: the universe would start again if ushered to a total collapse. As the rest of Zymandis followed his machine’s update, he rose through its ranks to become the Leader; those who didn’t believe in the truth were executed or run out of Zymandis until a faction that would become ALASTAIR stole an earlier version of his creation and fled. Including, he notes with distaste, his daughter Ophiel. His quest to end this tainted universe and usher in a new, better universe had millions -- possibly even billions -- of casualties, he estimates. He recalls all the miners he remorselessly sent to their deaths in the pursuit of the temporal crystal in his laboratory. Arbatel has studied such crystals for centuries; there are many types, he explains, but only one of this particular kind. It is the only one capable of undoing all of Zymandis's work. His life's work. He would send ten times as many miners to die if it meant protecting that crystal. He would have killed his own daughters. As Arbatel’s confession continues, he becomes more and more affected by the blade of Gram, as to suffer this blade is to suffer the truths one has denied. The way he has twisted his own nihilism into being the only truth, refusing to look for other alternatives, ignoring the pleas of his elder daughter. As Loki told him, the truth hurts. And in this case, the truth has killed Theodor Arbatel. He falls to the ground, lifeless. With this bloody business done, there's a few minutes to rest and patch any lingering wounds. The rest of the expedition begins to filter in at this point, missing a few of their number and looking a little rough around the edges. From the ex-Zymandis agents' wristwatches, the Ophiel AI speaks: the TIMELINE.exe is in the next room. TEMPORAL STORM ![]() Behind the door, now unguarded, is the Mechanical Room -- a gigantic warehouse stuffed with cables and gigantic computers and hundreds of CRT monitors. The room is warm and there's a constant whirring of machinery, ever present but quiet enough that it can fade into the background like white noise. Upon entering the room, recruits will be greeted by the monitors all flashing threatening messages in unison: GET OUT and INTRUDERS and ALERT, among others. Outside the door, Arbatel and Hagith's jewelcomms beep frantically: the TIMELINE.exe is asking for assistance that will never come. Thankfully, the corrupted TIMELINE.exe machine has no actually effective means of defense, so ALASTAIR is free to do what must be done: upload TIM's new update, the ver. 1.0.03 file. Installing the update is a simple task, but will require every ALASTAIR recruit's participation: extend one's jewelcomm toward the TIMELINE.exe, and the magitek will do the rest. The interfacing is ephemeral and beautiful, strands of visible code streaming through the air like beams of sunlight. It only takes a moment, and once it's done, the TIMELINE.exe's screen go dark. And then, a second later: Hello World ( ´ ▽ ` )ノ It's a success: Zymandis's machine has been overwritten by TIM. Without a leader or their destruction-focused TIMELINE.exe, Zymandis is dead. But before there can be much excitement, TIM uses his new monitors to explain that there is still the matter of the impending destruction of this world and its universe, owing to the temporal crystal deep in the mine under the castle. The temporal crystal must be destroyed. The energy it saps simply to sustain its own existence keeps the universe fractured; when all of the research conducted by both ALASTAIR and Zymandis scientists is combined, TIM is able to hypothesize that shattering the crystal and releasing the energy into the universe will cause a surge large enough to charge a merging. After the Cataclysm, each universe continued to split into thousands of fractured universes, all nearly identical save for small differences. The energy meant to sustain one universe was now split across thousands, ebbing and flowing and never quite enough. The merging, however, would combine each of those identical universes into one... allowing them to run on full energy. In short: destroying the crystal should merge the fractured universes, allowing them to sustain themselves without ALASTAIR intervention. The solution is simple, but will require a lot of elbow grease: using materials found throughout Arbatel’s lab, create a positronic bomb and detonate the temporal crystal. The resulting explosion, as Arbatel said, will be the opposite of destruction. Once the bomb is all set, it’s probably a smart thing to head topside before its detonation. Don’t worry about leaving TIM behind -- his consciousness in this machine is linked with the machine in Oska, so he won’t be harmed. The same is not exactly true for the rest of the expedition. When the bomb goes off, there’s a blinding blue flash and a deafening silence. The world -- the universe -- no, the fabric of reality shakes and trembles; the sky swirls; the ground churns. It only lasts a handful of seconds, but the turmoil seems like an endless epoch. And then everything clears; the ravaged, once-crumbling world is still and silent. Though the platforms of earth still sail peacefully through the air, there is no more lava and no more shaking. The destruction of this universe has been halted. More than that, though, the instability of the multiverse has been halted. Instead of a sprawling, infinite multiverse filled with infinite timelines, the minutely different universes have been merged. This may result in some nausea or confusion as the expedition’s own minutely alternate realities meld with their own, though there won’t be any identity crises or conflicting memories. You’re still you. But more importantly, this means the multiversal energy crisis is over. ALASTAIR can use its rift machines without needing to conserve precious energy. You can go home, if you’d like... but you might want to head to Oska first. LATER... ![]() An older ALASTAIR member, a man with dark hair and a prim demeanor, stands up to give a speech. “For thousands of years, we have endeavored to right the wrong caused by the Cataclysm. Tonight, we have finally achieved that goal. ALASTAIR's purpose was solely to maintain order as best we could, even in the face of impossible odds. Now, that is no longer necessary. This is a beginning of a new and better multiverse... but it is an ending, too. I suppose it is time to disband ALASTAIR, once and for all.” The crowd murmurs. It's all a blur of words, but the general gist can be picked up. Should they really disband ALASTAIR? Could they? There isn't anything left for them to do, after all. We could all go home to our families. “This is not a loss. This is a win. I vote that today be ALASTAIR's last official day of operation. Those who agree with me, raise your hands.” A large majority of the crowd raises their hands. “The matter is settled, then. Tonight, we celebrate. Tomorrow... tomorrow, we go home.” He sits and resumes speaking to those sitting beside him, and it seems the discussion is over... until a red-headed girl barges in through the double doors, eyes wild. To say she looks frazzled is to put it kindly. “You guys have to hear this. The merging? It worked. No more energy being drained. But the universes, they're... having trouble adjusting, I guess. Look.” She projects her magitek onto the wall, showing clips of protests, fires, war. In one world, two queens vie for the same crown. In another, dinosaurs seem to roam the earth again. “We've gotta do something, right?” The room quiets. For a moment, it seems no one is going to answer her. Finally, a woman answers. “We've done all we can. It's time to stop interfering with other worlds. I'm returning home.” Others grumble in agreement. A select few disagree. The girl scowls. “Oh, please.” She gestures to Audentes. “You just saved the freakin' multiverse. And it's all gonna turn to crap if we don't fix it. So...” She smiles sheepishly. “What do you say? Partners?” OOC NOTES And that wraps it up for Season 1 of Futurology! The action portion of the log will last roughly five IC hours. If you have any questions about this log, please direct them to the dossier. We know it's a long one, so don't be shy! For those of you who will be staying with us on to Season 2, will be releasing a calendar on what to expect for the next two months sometime in late November. For those of you who are heading off at the conclusion of Season 1 or those who have dropped already, thank you for participating in our game! Futurology is what it is because of every single one of you. NOTE: HMD and AC will be posted on schedule (18 November and 1 December, respectively), so don't forget! Participation is mandatory if you would like to remain in the game. |
Loki | Open
[ if it's one thing that Loki is good at, it's running.
there's not much time to mourn losses as they break into smaller groups, pursued by insects and arachnids that are too large to crush beneath a boot. unbeknownst to many, in his aggravation he's been using himself as a target, a swirl of self-depreciating thoughts clouding him in an all-too familiar bitter fury. it's the easiest way to be, and the memories of slights both imagined and real come bubbling to the surface, rearing their ugly faces and reminding him of his own anger.
it feels good; it feels terrible.
with his invisible jacket he disappears and reappears, calling out to the multi-legged beasts as he passes. before long, he's talked himself into a corner. he puts a hand on the wall and his face cracks into a wicked grin that doesn't reach his eyes. ]
Damn.
ii. temporal crystal aka meltdown
[ when the rush leaves his body it just feels hollow. all of the anger that had been built up since his rebirth suddenly feels very real; he had been able to juggle it, move it and manipulate it in such a way that he could rationalize it as something else. now he's sitting at the center of a dying multiverse, playing the wicked hero in a story that is coming to an end. the sword of truth had been a fitting end to Arbatel, killed not by any blade but the accumulated horrors of what he had done. it feels less like justice and more like a necessity. with the hunt over and the ending now within sight, there's a discomfort that he doesn't want to face.
freedom had won, and that's what mattered.
there will be more stories to write, more games to play and a hundred of beginnings laid out before him. he reminds himself that King Loki is still out there, planning his own wicked dance as he entices Asgard toward an unfortunate fate. Loki still had his own demons to reconcile. instead of helping, he's watching the team gather what materials to build the bomb that will destroy the temporal crystal.
he raises his StarkPhone and snaps a picture. ]
iii. etc.
Any other ideas? Want a starter? Go ahead and hit me up by messaging this journal or hitting me up on
hadal. xoxox
Closed to Ahad.
there's blood on the floor, blood on the sword, and a mess of a man who had plagued the multiverse for so long dead at his feet. he hesitates, suddenly feels as if he isn't ready, the wash of adrenaline mixed with self-depreciating fury softening his hard corners. there's still a dim glow to his eyes, green on brighter green, framed with dark lashes.
it's time to go, but he doesn't move, not yet. ]
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It's not really a moment for words, but Ahad dredges up a few from somewhere. Moments always break, eventually. ]
I was asked, quite recently, about regret.
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he looks at him. ]
Ah?
[ it's a sound of acknowledgement, and a break from his own little world. ]
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Loki isn't the only one feeling conflicted. Akechi, back in his ALASTAIR uniform now that the danger of combat has passed, notices someone hanging back to take a picture, and...well. It's not hard to guess why. He should just ignore him, no sense getting to know anyone else when it seems like the job he was kept around for is about to end, right?
...He can't let it go that easily. So, since he's far from an engineer, he finds himself walking over to someone else who isn't working on the bomb.]
If I'm interpreting things correctly, destroying this crystal will accomplish what ALASTAIR has said is their long-term goal, right?
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Loki lowers the phone at the sound of company, tipping his head to the side. Akechi gets a once-over that Loki is accustomed to give new recruits. discreetly, he tucks his phone away, dark nails retreating back into his pockets. ]
Simply put. [ bright green eyes fix on him, still glowing dimly from the interrogation. ] The instability should reverse, the rebirth post-cataclysm will never happen, we won't be subjected to the whims of a narcissistic doom-mongering control freak and ... well, that's all folks.
[ there's a smile that doesn't reach his eyes. ]
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I suppose some sort of celebration will be in order, then.
[But he can tell that smile doesn't reach Loki's eyes.]
Are you going to miss it?
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Spoilers for December
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ii
But she's finished there, with the physical wounds at least, and there are a few people amongst the teams that she wants to see, even if it's just to make sure they're alive. Whether they're alright or not... well. That will have to come once she figures out if she herself is. And once she finds them, setting out to bustle through the crumbling castle depths.
At the sight of a motion in the corner of her eye, though, Sieglinde turns to look-
And her wide-eyed blur of motion is captured forever in Loki's photo.]
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since Arbatel's death, he's felt a little hollow. everything is ending, and he may just have to return to the place that he wasn't ready to return to. perhaps he's running, but he doesn't care. ]
That had the potential to be a good photo.
[ he says with a flair of his voice, but not his usual cadence. ]
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[It's Loki. One of the people she had hoped to ascertain most. But even Sieglinde, thanks to her two years of socializing in the Outside World, has more tact than just to launch into such a topic. Especially, perhaps, with a certain god of tricks and mischief. ... maybe most gods in general.
She freezes for a moment, then awkwardly looks about, trying to figure out where the edge of the photo would be based on how he had held the phone, his distance... but had he been "zooming", or-?]
Should I back up, or pose... ?
[What was that thing so many people did? She looks down at her hand, thinking before she hesitantly holds up her gloved, bloodstained fingers in a "v" shape.]
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it's a wildcard!
It's the same shade of red and S crest that Jon wears. ]
How are you doing?
[ Clark can spare respect for a dead enemy, and a little regret that his last moments were as painful as they were. Although, from the looks of things, Arbatel had brought it down on himself. Who knows what he would have done if he'd still been alive, or who he'd have killed to keep going. . . sacrificing even his own daughters.
This is the only just choice there was.
(There are a lot of reasons he can't be the one to ever do it, and one very painful reason that he's decided he won't. But the choice wasn't in his hands, and if it had been, someone else would have done what he refused to. It's still justice.) ]
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Loki knows what a get-up like that means: it's not the cowl of Spider-Man, nor the patriotic colors that adorn the gaudy costume of Captain America, but there is a red cape. once upon a time, Thor had worn a red cape, back when he (and his hammer) deemed himself worthy. if he didn't see the similarities between Clark and Jon before, he most certainly can see them now. it's not worth mentioning yet.
with a look at him there's a faint jolt, like he's not certain what Clark is asking at first before he shakes it off. ]
Considering that the place that we all live is not going to be forced into an early rebirth? Fairly all right; kinda so-so.
[ he says with a sort of casual cadence. ]
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[ Clark nods. It should feel like a weight has been lifted. For the others, it might be.
He's thinking of another body. Zod, on the station, with the red glow of his eyes fading away as he went cold. That fate was inevitable too. ]
What's going to happen to the body?
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ii
[except, maybe, a complete change of heart. but without the Metaverse, without the ability to steal away someone's distorted desires. . . well. there was no point dwelling on that now]
[quietly, Akira hopes Ophiel can finally rest in peace, now that there isn't anyone out there to corrupt her memory]
[Akira is no engineer, so he isn't much help when it comes to building that bomb. he does offer his assistance to those who know what they're doing, though. and he's pretty good with his hands-- crafting was one of his specialties, after all. it's while he's working on some piece or another of said bomb (under the supervision of someone else who, uh, knows how to construct the thing) that he sees Loki lift his phone to snap a photo]
[his eyes snap up. he blinks once, twice]
Gonna try taking a selfie, too?
[I MEAN. WHY NOT??]
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Try?
[ the oh, Akira seems to be implied as Loki tucks the phone away into the recesses of his needlessly complicated jacket. ] There's a Midgardian quote about that—from some moving film, perhaps? No matter. [ it's Star Wars but he doesn't say. ]
This is a photogenic opportunity. The real question is ... are you not going to take advantage?
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ii
Shouldn't you wait until we're done to start taking pictures, Loki-san?
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the StarkPhone disappears into his pockets (somewhere, there's quite a few of those), and he gives Urahara an innocent whistle.
it's not the end, but it feels like it. ]
The photos leading to the moment of commemoration is just as important as the photos that capture it, wouldn't you say?
[ i.e. he's not gonna delete that picture. ]
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i because why not
[ whether Loki hears his voice echo in the small tunnels in the mines, or in his head, or perhaps in stereo, it doesn't matter — the most important thing for Stiles is that he reaches him, one way or another.
he had seen Loki one minute, lost him the next, heard his voice the one after that until it was drowned underneath the sounds of the chaos and fighting. he'd tried to follow — maybe Scott had some idea with the whole thing about there being strength in numbers, or in this case, death in being alone, he supposed — but as ever, Loki went wherever Loki pleased.
knowing that he's a god doesn't make Stiles any less concerned. ]
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there's a laugh that vibrates in his chest as he presses himself up back against a wall, watching with wide-eyed amusement as the insect clamored and crawled over one another to reach him. he had instigated this—perhaps he deserves it—there was a lot that he deserved, wasn't there? ]
Are you going to eat me? I'll tell you now that I am salty.
[ he can make that joke, he's gonna get eaten. ]
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iii. wildcards u
Daenerys Targaryen's hair is half-bound into plaits, but she stands in a gray gown, her bodice studded with seed pearls: a gift from her own world. She looks a wild sort of queen, her dainty feet bared to the chilly night. Her hands run gently down the scarlet ridges of the dragon who stands beside her, fingers following the sharp dives and divets of the spine to which she'd clung so tightly as she'd flown. I could go home, she knows. She could leave on the morrow, and return to the Dothraki Sea. She could find the Skahazadhan and follow its waters back to Meereen, where her people await her. She could see Hizdahr put to the question for his poison, her city restored to peace, slavers burned.
She could see her children freed. I should never have chained them in the dark. A dragon is no slave. The smoke from Drogon's nostrils warms her bared skin, nearly searing it where it kisses her flesh.
All that she has wished awaits her, and she need only cross a rift to do it. Having long grown adept to the use of the Magitek, she sends Loki a message without so much as glancing at her ring: I am on the roof. He will know which one she means. Find me, if you would. ]
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that's why endings are always bittersweet. in a crumbling world he had been a hero, and he hopes to the gods that gods pray to that no one remembers it. the experience had left him unfulfilled and moody, pondering the state of the multiverse and his own eventual return to Asgard. he was an exile, but they always took him back. if he was to return, he would lay his own terms.
his arrival is silent and without his usual flair. just above her he crouches on the edge of the castle's precipice, perched there like a curious animal. the soles of his boots are glowing a bright green, the prints behind him beginning to fade. where she's dressed up, he's dressed down, simple in a green hoodie and a pair of jeans. there's an artful tousle to his hair, touched by the cool breeze. ]
You beckoned me.
[ and he can guess what for.
a cheek rests on an open-fingered palm, surrounded in dark nails. ]
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wildcard
Lacking them, there's ... Loki. Loki who made him feel at peace with being here. Who helped him understand he could both be a leader and not be one. He could be what he wanted to be.
But he feels ... bad for it right now. Keith knows that he's caught in the trap between what people need him to be (and do) and what he wants to do. They're separate. And he can't really say that he wants to avoid what's needed for a good reason. He can help here, but Voltron—]
Can we go somewhere and talk? [Somewhere high, preferably. Somewhere he can see the sky overhead and think about all of this. The idea of being ... honest with how he feels makes his skin crawl a little. But he doesn't think he can make this decision without help.]
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when Keith approaches Loki's in the kitchen with a cup of coffee. a majority of those that felt they wanted to return to their home worlds had left, and the kitchen felt particularly empty, even when it was no more empty than normal. Loki puts the coffee to his lips when Keith comes with his request, looking at him with dark brows lifting over the rim of his cup. it's answer enough, at least for Keith, because Loki takes his cup and they head off to the higher points of the castle.
"roof" is an understatement. with his Seven League boots its only a hop, skip and a jump to one of the highest points of the castle. he finds a place to lean with his coffee, still hot, between his dark nailed fingers. ]
So, what would you like to talk about?
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wildcard!
A surprising announcement, isn't it?
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games came and games went, but as far as Loki went, he didn't take victory quite as gracefully as one would expect with his love of winning. it leaves a sour taste in his mouth, one that gets in his head and drowns out everything else. it makes it difficult to come back.
there's a moment where he gives Wylan a discerning look. ]
Well—this was the goal, wasn't it?
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