VIDEO; UN:ODINSON

[deemed]

So we are to fight. [Odinson is freshly bathed, his hair tied back in a knot. There's a new light in his eyes at the promise of this. Killing robots is a task well-suited to him. This he can do.]

Being newly-come to this group, I know few of you, and few of you know me. I would know the skills and knowledge of those I will fight alongside. Or die alongside, if this enemy is truly so formidable. [The half-smile that follows indicates he doesn't quite believe that's a possibility.]

Myself, I am Odinson, of Asgardia, God of Thunder. [There's the slightest hesitation there, for anyone who'll notice such a thing. Something unsaid.] I have fought across the nine realms of my universe, and will fight here with hammer or blade or my fists until the enemy is routed or I am slain. If any wish to spar or learn to fight in the days before we are summoned to Oska, you have only to call on me.

Likewise, any tacticians or those with knowledge of Oska or the enemy, share your knowledge. We ought have some plan before we are shipped back. [Is that sarcasm???]

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[mistruths]

How often do you speak with Loki, really.

[deemed]

More often than you.

[mistruths]

[ There's a brief pause, and then he shrugs. ]

It's likely.

[deemed]

[It's like talking to a cat. An impossible, cryptic cat.

So let's change the subject.] Your brother and I would get on better, I think.

[mistruths]

[ TRUST ME HE THOUGHT OF THAT ]

Do you think he'll come? That would be a sight.

[deemed]

Aye. Thor always is.

[He can't quite keep the bitterness out of his voice. That Thor would be worthy.]

[mistruths]

Though you do not count yourself alongside him. Tell me, Odinson... Do you not tire of being mired in your own self-pity?

[deemed]

[Hotly] What would you know- you who have never been worthy?

[mistruths]

How many of your friends have been worthy, then? Is it only those who can lift that silly hammer whose thoughts and opinions you value? This whole concept of worth you use to justify yourself is worthless.

[deemed]

[Odinson looks as though he might explode from rage-]

What right have we to the power and longevity we hold so lightly? What do we do with it? Across the worlds mortals pray to us with desperation, hoping for our aid and believing that we are better than we are! And how do we repay them?

With squabbles amongst ourselves, and self-interest! We turn a blind eye to their pain and suffering, telling ourselves that we cannot help them!

But not I! Not the Odinson! I will be worthy of them!
[There's the faintest distant roll of thunder.]

[mistruths]

[ Briefly, he purses his lips, and then tilts his head slightly as he asks: ]

What would make you worthy? Odin cares so little for the mortals that I cannot see Mjolnir caring whether you do right by them are not. The mortals fight and die amongst themselves in droves, and that never stopped you from being worthy before. So... Would you consider yourself worthy, acceptable, if you were able to help? Even if you might never again wield Mjolnir?

[deemed]

[Loki asks the same questions that Odinson has asked of himself: what would make him worthy? Helping all humankind? All mortals? How much would be enough?

And what if he never wielded Mjolnir again? Would that be a worthwhile life?

But he has no answers and that makes him angrier still. He growls-] Ask me again when you have spared a thought for any besides yourself, lie-smith.

[mistruths]

I am not the one whose self-worth lies in the opinion of a hunk of rock and leather.

[ Liar. ]

[deemed]

Where does it lie, then? Or have you none at all.

[He has no right to say these things to Loki, he knows. This is not his brother. He does not know him. But he's on edge, and this is an easy edge.]

[mistruths]

[ This time, Loki doesn't answer at all, instead choosing to dip his head in a toothy smile. Thor is spoiling for a fight and, normally, he might just be goaded into one. Right now, though, they're separated by video communications and it's unusually easy to--not. Especially when his refusal to engage just seems to rile Thor up. ]

[deemed]

No worth, of course. [He scoffs as though he had expected such as answer, but that is not a smile Odinson wants to see. To him it speaks of nothing but mischief and danger... nothing that reassures him of Loki's intentions.]

[mistruths]

Tell me, Odinson. Do you love your brother?

[ He keeps his tone light and conversationally curious, one slim hand coming up to tap his fingertips against his lips. ]

[deemed]

[His eyes widen in surprise at the unexpected question, and though he begins to form words (either protestation or answer, it's not clear) nothing comes out.

Then he narrows his eyes.] What manner of question is that?

[mistruths]

A simple one, I would think. It requires but a single word as answer: yes, or no. Come, Odinson. Surely you know what your answer is.