Chivalry is Dead

[The intruder let out a yell and stumbled back, its arm beginning to burn painfully as it pulled the quill from its flesh. It threw to the ground and let out a growl.] You will come to regret that. [How could it have let Loki talk for so long? A moment to let its guard down and now the consequences burned and spread from the wound.] Your son's life is mine. [A black smoke surrounded the figure. Where once it stood it was no more. What remained were a few drops of blackened blood upon the stone]

Thu, 03 Jan 2013 14:25:22 -0800

[A grin spread on Loki’s bloody mouth as he forced himself up and out of bed, clutching at his sides for the pain in his lung. Good. Blood. He hoped it hurt. Things are starting to come together very quickly, now. Very quickly indeed.]

I hope you enjoyed this little game, svartálfr, because it’s going to come to an end very soon, now.

You’ve trifled with the wrong snake. And you’re about to get the venom.

[Turning from the scene, the Deceiver cupped a hand around his mouth and leaned against the frame of the bed as he called for his husband,]

Balder! Balder, come quickly!

andashingwarrior: Very well, but don’t be too fast to judge the situation, this is all I beg of...

Thu, 03 Jan 2013 14:12:01 -0800

andashingwarrior:

Very well, but don’t be too fast to judge the situation, this is all I beg of you.

[Unwrapping the rug a dagger became visible, crusted - flaked blood on the blade. Fandral held it before Loki so the injured man could see without moving too much. There was no reason for him to worsen his wounds any further.]

Do you know this dagger Loki? Does it belong to someone you know maybe? Or have you seen one like this before… This is what he gave me to deliver but actually he also left something else behind, something that might lead us to Sigmund!

[Reaching out, Loki took the blade in his hands and ran a thumb over the blade. He had seen it before. Somewhere. But the herbs and sedatives in his system had his mind clouded and for the life of him, he could not remember. Perhaps it was the blade that had been put in his back. The blood could have been Sigmund’s though — but even then, it would be a matter of finding to whom the blade belonged, because such decorated weapons were hardly a common find on the belts of petty thieves and ruffians.]

It is familiar to me. But I cannot place a name on it. My memory fails me.
What else have you brought?

Make it quick — I have news for you as well.

Photo

Thu, 03 Jan 2013 13:53:26 -0800

The filth that is your son survives. Not for long though. Each day he grows weak. Hearing your search parties in the distance brings him such hope. I'll admit he has will, something he didn't inherit from you. [A dark skinned hand came to press upon Loki's chest painfully. The fiends other hand pointed the tip of the blade at Loki] Any message you wish me to carve into your son, for be sure before this night is through he will know of your cowardice.

Thu, 03 Jan 2013 13:53:08 -0800

[Jaw setting and breath finally coming in hitched little bursts, Loki forced himself into being all right. He had to — if only to redeem himself in those final moments of the encounter. Think. Think think think.

Just beside the bed, on the nightstand, sat innocently a roll of parchment and a quill sticking out of an inkwell. Perfect. Now he only had to bide some time.]

Tell… Tell him that his father loves him. Tell him that I am sorry and that it is my fault and that…

[Predictable phrases one after the other, and he rattled them off for quite some time as his hand slipped in the darkness beneath the sheets, slithering like a serpent towards the quill. Further and further it got until he felt it in his fingers and with a short, subtle burst of magic, he gifted the ink upon the tip with a useful bit of enchantment.]

Tell him… tell him that when I find his captor, they will not be able to recognize the body.

[Slam. Right into the bicep, the tip of the quill gets buried in fabric and flesh with a wet sort of sound. Bullseye. And even if the intruder strikes back, the ink in their arm will be enough to bring the search to an end.]

andashingwarrior: [Just looking at Loki was painful, his pain obviously visible, his grief written...

Thu, 03 Jan 2013 13:45:06 -0800

andashingwarrior:

[Just looking at Loki was painful, his pain obviously visible, his grief written on his features… but Fandral had to deliver this message, as well as the second the rat had unconsciously left behind for them. Making his way over next to the bed he kept his voice low, not only to not startle Loki but also to make sure any additional ears would not catch what he had to say. One could never be sure enough when dealing with a sorcerer.]

Is Balder nearby? I would like him here for both this ‘present’ as well as some news I got to deliver. Important News.

[He hoped Loki would understand, would see that his face showed a tiny smile at the corners of his mouth. It was hard keeping it together actually, Sigmund was within grasp if they acted now and played the cards correctly and if something set Fandrals mood high it was a successful hunt.]

[Quite honestly, Loki didn’t have the energy to conjure much of a front. His witty tongue and cool demeanor were gone and all he could do was offer the warrior before him a long, pensive look before shaking his head.]

I do not know where Balder has gone. He cannot be far. I assume he has been having discourse with the watch regarding the constant intrusion.

Tell me now and if it kills me, let it kill me. But do not make me wait now that you have thrust the gravity of it upon me. Tell me outright.

[There was s soft knock on the doors but the person asking for permission did not seem to want to wait for it. Slowly but carefully the door was pushed upon and Fandral took a step inside.] Loki I need to talk to you... there was a... visitor... in my chambers. [His face showed clear anger] And he 'asked' me to bring you a ... gift.[The hand that has been behind his back was brought in front of him, a object was wrapped in a simple rag but even covered like this the shape was familiar].

Wed, 02 Jan 2013 16:38:02 -0800

[Loki appeared worse for wear, indeed, naked from the hips up and wrapped with gauze treated in herbal solutions to help the knife wound in his back heal up. He’d managed to prop himself up against the pillows and the headboard of his bed, but only just that, and quite recently, too, for when Fandral entered, he appeared out of breath, holding an arm over his stomach and a hand over his chest to placate his aching and damaged lung.]

I know of… of whom you speak. But… please, weigh with great care that which you are about to display — I haven’t the heart to see such nightmarish things that would bode ill for my son’s health or well being.

[Pausing in his speech here or there with an unhappy cadence, Loki tended to a fresh wound upon his mouth, vertical and smoothly cut, as if with a very sharp blade.]

[The villain pulled the knife away to admire the thin line that accompanied so many other scars.] And see he quiver in his own fear, reacting not to the toils his son must bare. [It spoke more to itself than anyone else as it brought a finger, cold and black, to smear the blood from its place.] I almost find it a pity to make the boy suffer more if this is the reaction I get. A damaged, sniveling cur, too caught in his own to worry for his blood. He will come to hate you, as hey all do.

Wed, 02 Jan 2013 16:34:01 -0800

[With the knife pulled away, Loki was left only with the psychological damage of the feeling of icy blood trickling down his lips and onto his pillow. How pathetic he was — the most powerful sorcerer in all the nine realms, able to crumble kingdoms and unhinge the very order of the cosmos… and yet he was paralyzed with terror when a blade was put against his mouth.

So fragile.]

Y-Y-Y —
Y-You… give me —
Wh-Where is he…

thirdsonofasgard: xpermafrost: thirdsonofasgard: xpermafrost: thirdsonofasgard: He is not. You...

Sat, 29 Dec 2012 12:46:06 -0800

thirdsonofasgard:

xpermafrost:

thirdsonofasgard:

xpermafrost:

thirdsonofasgard:

He is not. You must not give in to those thoughts.

…Find Thor. Ask… ask him for help.

…You are certain you would trust him with this? I ask only because I know the blow ‘tis to your pride, to ask help of anyone you hold in such little esteem.

If you will not ask him for me, I will do it myself.

No, no, I shall ask…you are certain you will be so unable to accompany me?

I will try. But if I fall ill or… worse.. then I expect you to leave me behind.

thirdsonofasgard: xpermafrost: thirdsonofasgard: He is not. You must not give in to those...

Sat, 29 Dec 2012 12:43:32 -0800

thirdsonofasgard:

xpermafrost:

thirdsonofasgard:

He is not. You must not give in to those thoughts.

…Find Thor. Ask… ask him for help.

…You are certain you would trust him with this? I ask only because I know the blow ‘tis to your pride, to ask help of anyone you hold in such little esteem.

If you will not ask him for me, I will do it myself.

thirdsonofasgard: He is not. You must not give in to those thoughts. …Find Thor. Ask…...

Sat, 29 Dec 2012 12:40:19 -0800

thirdsonofasgard:

He is not. You must not give in to those thoughts.

…Find Thor. Ask… ask him for help.

What if Sigmund is already dead?

Sat, 29 Dec 2012 12:37:25 -0800

What if Sigmund is already dead?

[A low laugh escaped its lips at seeing Loki twitch] No words to greet me with silver tongue? No inqueries about your son? None the less I brought you a gift. [The cape fell away as it brought up its hand and the items it carried] The cold grows hard with each passing day. Still, I figured the boy could do without. [Tosses the torn and bloodies shoes on Loki's lap] Be grateful that no toes were left inside. [It pressed the blade harder down on Loki's lips drawing a bit of blood]

Sat, 29 Dec 2012 12:27:35 -0800

It was a profound sense of terror that engulfed Loki as the knife broke skin. No. Nonononono — not again, please, not again. It was smoother than when he tore the twine out and shredded the flesh there. It cut easier — slicing right through as if through butter or cooked meat. His eyes slammed shut, tears dropping quite easily as his whole body quaked. Fight back. Do something. Coward.

But all he could hear was the collective laughter of every smiling face in Asgard. Pointing. Laughing at him. An awl tearing through his mouth. Leather rasping through fresh, gory holes. And then running. Running until he could no longer move — and then tearing. Ripping. Shredding. Pulling. Breathing. Bleeding. Screaming.

He wanted to call out for someone, but he had no one. He wanted to beg the knife away. But he dared not speak.

Sigmund’s shoes — yes, he was conscious of them. But for all the flaws in Loki’s deranged mind, he couldn’t bring himself to care. All that mattered was that knife against his mouth. Cutting his mouth. Scarring it.

This torture was worse than death.

Loki--you will accompany me when I leave, will you not? I cannot do this by myself.

Sat, 29 Dec 2012 12:21:35 -0800

I fear I will only slow the company down.

The healers say the knife grazed a lung.

It was an angry affair. The result of one scheme too many gone...

Sat, 29 Dec 2012 12:17:44 -0800

It was an angry affair. The result of one scheme too many gone sour because of Amora’s annoying pining for Loki’s elder brother. They’d fallen into argument — having only just escaped with their lives and their freedom — in which Loki had, as usual, lost his temper.

“If you could but cut that festering tumor on the side of your heart that yearns for that brutish fool, then perhaps you could be of some remote use beyond a pretty pair of legs and an ample bosom with which to distract the enemy, you brainless harlot!”

It escalated rather quickly. Immensely so, in fact. Words this way and that, and soon (Amora’s) things were being thrown across the chamber to smash and break against walls. And, when things reached their peak — when the both of them were out of breath and beyond reconciliation, Amora said the one thing that she should never, ever say to Loki Laufeyson, god of strife.

“You are jealous that I give my attentions to Thor over you. You’re nothing but a child whining for his elder brother’s prettiest toy.”

And Loki was on her — a blur in the air for all the rage that carried him across the room and up and against Amora. He’d pinned her arms above her head, against the wall, and he hovered so close that she could feel his icy breath against her mouth and cheeks.

“A toy’s a toy is a whore is a toy,” he hissed. “You’re nothing.”

“Whores get paid for what they do, Loki. I do this for pleasure.”

And, that night, Loki had no greater pleasure than ruining his brother’s prettiest toy, again and again, angrily and with all the passion of his hatred for that older man.

Amora didn’t walk straight for three days following and Loki didn’t have a single care to offer her in that respect. Seeing her limp, he would simply laugh to himself and say, “A toy’s a toy is a whore is a toy.”

Agamemnon

Sat, 29 Dec 2012 12:05:13 -0800

The sunrise was slow and painful that morning in Asgard. The color, like blood in water, spreading out into the sky bright red and pink and orange as the spiny horizon bore it out into life. Birds perched in the trees surrounding the hall called Gladsheim, Odin’s golden hall, and it was yet too early for even the cocks to crow in the small farmlands outside the main city.

All was silent. All was deathly, deathly silent. That is, until one of the guards stationed above the main gate to Odin’s hall sounded his lonely horn.

“Bar the gates! The Trickster comes!”

Einherjar took up their arms at the gate and on the ramparts and arrows were knocked to bows, drawn back as far as muscular, powerful arms could bear them. And duly so.

For the Trickster had come, indeed. Gone for three hundred years, thought bound and tied and forever stored away where he could do no harm… now he came not with a flourish of magic and rage. Not with an army of undead or jötnar at his back. No. He came alone. Naked. Wounded.

Gravely so, in fact — his face scarred almost beyond recognition at the profound acidity of the venom that had dripped into his eyes and down his cheeks like tears for the millions he had brought to suffering, reversed for the sake of revenge. His eyes, once green and bright, were now a pale white, glazed over with scar tissue. And his body, once lithe and nimble, was crippled and broken, shriveled and wilted.

And for every soul in Asgard, there came a sword to greet the Serpent to his adoptive home. Save but one.

“Raise the gates! Drop your weapons!”

It was Thor.

Just as it had been Thor to cow his younger brother into submission — to beat him against the rock against which he was tethered with his son’s entrails, it was Thor, and Thor alone who welcomed Loki.

“Welcome home, little brother,” he said, after having run to the collapsed jötun on the front steps of his kingdom. He took his cape from his shoulders and draped it over that crippled, silent, and blinded figure. “Your punishment is ended.”

And Loki never sinned… or spoke, again.

Helen

Sat, 29 Dec 2012 11:39:54 -0800

He’s still small, little arms and little legs, but he’s never still. He leaves often — leaves his little bed in disarray because he knows that I’ll be the one to fix it before he gets back. His palms are scraped, sometimes too badly to sit down and write, because he’s always climbing his way up ramparts and tall yew trees. But he apologizes every time… and promises to do double his work the next day.

He’s a good boy. Like the younger of his fathers. He’s bright-faced and dark haired and more brilliant than I. He’s sly… quick-witted. Ingenious.

He wears browns, mostly. Browns and grays, and you could not pay the child to keep his damn feet covered. He’s always kicking off his boots to go run about in the rain and snow barefoot. He says he likes the cold… that it’s comforting to him… that it feels like home.

He doesn’t have a care in the world, so innocent and free. As if no hardship had ever befallen him.

I miss my son. He was the one part of me that I could truly be proud of. And I can say quite honestly that I admire him above all others.

Persephone

Sat, 29 Dec 2012 11:33:46 -0800

It didn’t make much sense to him — that the Enchantress would put a collar around his neck. In fact, to Loki, it seemed rather counterintuitive. Insulting, almost. Namely because never had to put her spell on him, but she did anyway as if to say outright that she thought him no better than her other victims. No better than Skurge or the mortals she’d ensnared in her trap. He wasn’t important. He wasn’t remarkable or anything to boast about. Just another common fly in her web.

Just another man to sit at her feet and worship her as she sat on her throne of lies and puppet’s strings.

But he knew why she’d done it. It didn’t make sense to him, no. But he knew why. This was to get to Thor. It always was. Because for some reason, Thor always came to his rescue. And where Thor was, Amora was sure to follow.

Demeter

Sat, 29 Dec 2012 11:28:47 -0800

They were in their tweens, awkward, gawky things, the both of them. Neither one with any particular preference for what society would have expected of them — for, who had ever heard of a young lady more concerned with books than finding a husband, or, contrarywise, finding a place of honor amongst the warriorborn, and who had ever heard of a young man more concerned with magic than the sword his father had given him?

Perhaps that was why Loki so desperately vied for Amora’s attention. She was so very, very much like him. She was vindictive and cruel, clever — oh, by all the stars in the heaven, was she clever — and she had such beautiful bright green eyes. Why, they would spend hours together, swimming in their studies. Nary a word would pass between them in those late candlelit nights, all surrounded with stacks of tomes older than their fathers and their fathers before them, save quiet requests for ‘Pass me a candle, this one’s burnt out’, or ‘is there another pillow over there?’

But Loki preferred it that way. He liked the quiet and the dark and having her near.

But Amora favored his elder brother, Thor. As most people did. It seemed when they were not studying together, she would only ever seek Loki out to ask him about Odin’s golden son. Where he was, if he had mentioned her, et cetera.

So Loki never said a thing. He never asked Amora to be on his arm for formal events. He never gave her gifts or dared put his lips against her cheek. He simply watched as she chased after his brother.

Because who would ever want someone like Loki?
Certainly not someone so beautiful and so clever as Amora.

Achilles

Sat, 29 Dec 2012 11:21:17 -0800

Tch. Thor. I’m not at all surprised that you would wish to know.

My mouth is a weakness. People touching it. Metal against my lips. Rough leather.

I still have nightmares.

But you would know all about that. Wouldn’t you.

favourite celebrity meme; Matt Smith 3/4 | photoshoots

Sat, 29 Dec 2012 11:19:14 -0800

favourite celebrity meme; Matt Smith
3/4 | photoshoots