DECEMBER 6TH | VIDEO | UN: LOKI

[selfimage]

[ While the jailbreak ends and everyone goes back to their lives as fugitives, three (four, including another one on another important mission) gods have put it upon themselves to have a kidnapping. There's the familiar face of Michel, placed unceremoniously upright on a stump, a paper bag over his head supporting a cheesy looking inked smiley. Loki, stepping back like she's adjusting a camera, waves a hand toward him in a long, lackadaisical motion. Let no one say that Loki didn't have a flair for dramatics. ]

We've got it in the bag, or so the mortals say. Ah—shall we do introductions?

Everyone! I present the leader of the Order of the Chimera himself, Mister Michel, straight from the slammer. With circumstances as they are, we thought it best that he didn't make a further mess of things. On the more unfortunate side, that makes all of us super double traitors, both to the crown and the Order ... [ jazz hands!!! ] To the least, the history books will name us resourceful ones. ... you know, if they don't erase of us entirely. It has to be something about the job description ...

[ She's not alone, both Thor and Ahad stand behind her, the darkly cloaked Thunderer with his arms folded and Ahad fingering a cigarillo. Loki straightens the lapels of her jacket and gives a long glance back at the two of them. ]

He's been kind of enough to answer a few of our questions, but it's been—ah, less than enlightening.

[ Which is when Thor move forward, arms loosening though his gaze remains hard on Michel. Or at least, his paper bag. ]

He speaks of his gods as if in conference with them. If they find the schism between peoples here unnatural then have them present a solution that is not blotting out the sun and throwing the realm under their care into chaos. [ A growl rumbles in the back of his throat as he paces to one side. ] He could not send a message, as he said, unless he were first a messenger. I would meet with these gods, if they live elsewhere than his excuses.

[ And likely demand they guide their people if things are so dire. Or introduce their faces to Mjolnir, at this rate, instead of letting one of a pair of brothers lapse into magic-fueled madness … not that Thor is personally touched by any of this, no. ]

[ Meanwhile, Ahad simply sighs, remaining in his position in the background. There's one further practical consideration, which he means to address. ]

If there are any useful questions from the rest of you, we can attempt to pose them.


NOTE | There's Thor, Ahad and Loki. If you want one specifically, please let us know. Also, feel free to have seen them at the jailbreak! They got in > got Michel > teleported out, but the three of them were there briefly. If you have any questions, please feel free to PM me!! xoxox!

Comments

voice ( un: pavus )

[underthings]

[ He's not sure what any of this actually means or who these people are, but he's going to get to the Important things here. ]

A paper bag. Truly? At least use burlap to afford the man a breath or two. I can't imagine anyone wanting to supply information in such a fashion. [ a beat, then; ] The art could use a little work as well.

[selfimage]

[ everyone's a critic. ]

Who crowned you Captain Handlebar McJudgeyson? Paper's easier to enchant in a pinch. Burlap is burlap, and a tad harder to work with. So scratchy.

We don't want him getting ahead of himself, hm? At least not yet.

[ but she does go over to add some angry eyebrows onto Michel's paper bag. ]

I can put a bow on him.

[underthings]

[ He gives a thoughtful sort of hum. ]

Well, no one, yet. But, if there's a crown, I'd like it to be gold.

[ But, well. Now his interest is piqued. ]

That aside, enchanting, you say? What sort of enchantment is easier on paper but not on cloth? I rather find them to be quite similar.

[selfimage]

One with ink and a neat little flick of the wrist. Fabric is awfully difficult leave your mark on. I considered using jam, it's a resonance thing, but that would've ended up messy.

[ but she's curious that he's curious. he's already abandoned the subject of Michel for the enchantments. ]

[underthings]

[ He doesn't really understand. Armor is difficult to enchant, but small things like blankets or parchment or burlap—as it were—are easy. What sort of mage is this woman? ]

Jam? As in a fruit spread one would put on bread?

[ Maker's balls. Dorian can't help himself and he abruptly laughs. ]

How utterly curious! I can't say I've heard of such a thing. Is this something you do often?

[selfimage]

[ he says it, Loki tips her head and gives a sort of half shrug in affirmation, as if the answer were obvious. she's used stranger, but strawberry jam had been a favorite of hers. ]

Since you've asked so nicely—I'm well versed in the sorcerous properties of condiments. Mustard in the squeezy bottle also proves suitable for a good summoning.

[ is she posing? she might be posing. ]

It more or less depends on what you want certain somethings to do, ah ... but all magic across the multiverse is more or less the same. Just the details differ.

[underthings]

[ He's all but forgotten the purpose of beginning this conversation now. Magical theory and properties > everything else. ]

I should say the details differ quite spectacularly if you're able to summon using mere condiments.

[ He makes a note to research what "squeezy bottle" means later. ]

Not to mention dangerous if you can use anything for a means to summon. [ Then, more to himself, ] Though that begs to question if it would lead to less possessions.

[ There's a brief pause as if this just sinks in now. ]

Wait. What do you mean, "multiverse?"

[selfimage]

[ Loki's there, casual, cool and looking at her nails. ]

The plural of universe, of course. The whole multiple worlds theory isn't actually a theory when you're living it.

[ she's been to several different dimensions on a rousing trip through the outer edges of it, frequenting some horrifying mayfly dimensions. some of those she'd rather put out of her mind entirely. ]

Magic sort of ... [ she trails off, wiggling her fingers. ] resonates.

[norse]

The markings are runes of my sister's work, they prevent him from hearing or speaking out of turn.

[underthings]

Out of turn?

[ Sounds fishy if you ask him. Which no one did, but that's never stopped him before. ]

How peculiar. What are the transgressions to force his silence until one of you deem it necessary?

[norse]

A sharp tongue, too great a deal of magic for any one person, and temper tantrums such as the one that blotted out the sun. That, and his incessant pride.

[ That bag very well may be stopping Thor from punching Michel in his temptingly smug face. ]

[underthings]

[ Well. If that doesn't all sound too familiar. ...Not the sun part, but the other things he can relate to. He tells himself to keep himself in check because he doesn't know the full extent of everything going on here, but he chafes hard at the idea of someone else thinking they can stifle anyone's magic for any reason other than possession. Or, perhaps, megalomania. ]

I see but one thing in that list that may require some some restraint, the rest are negligible. You would stifle someone for too much pride or having too sharp a wit? That borders too closely to tyranny.

[norse]

[ That gains a squint, as though he isn't sure the other man is all there. ]

A sharp wit when used to slander my sister's efforts in his capture and the use of dangerous magic upon a whim are best kept to themselves.

[underthings]

[ Oh, he's here all right. He's wondering the same about this one. It's almost a pity he can't be seen because the eyeroll he gave just now is fantastic. ]

So, what I'm gleaning from your rather sparse recollection is that you're upset he called your sister names and locked him up to soothe your own machismo? I don't understand your purpose, nor your explanation.

[dailydouble]

There's little risk of suffocation. [ There's a pause before he continues. ] Unintentional suffocation, that is.

[ Leaving room for intent, yes. That or they're watching Michel close enough to ensure he can breath, but Ahad would rather let people draw their own conclusions. ]

But please, continue directing your criticism toward the artist. She takes it so well.

[selfimage]

[ >:V JERK ITS A BEAUTIFUL PORTRAIT. ]

[underthings]

So, you do intend to pass your own judgment, then?

[ Not that Dorian is passing judgment on that, either. He's seen a man hang for less than this. These people can do as they wish as this doesn't properly concern him right now. ]

And, I've said my piece. It's crude at best, childish at worst.

[dailydouble]

[ Ahad sighs, because he's a little tired of all the assumptions by now. ] I judge his poor choices that led us to this position, the crude artistry on that bag, that I'm currently caught in this bit of wilderness instead of somewhere comfortable, perhaps with wine and better company, until the situation is resolved...

I could go on?

[underthings]

[ Unable to really stop it from happening, Dorian laughs a little bit because he can so sympathize with that. ]

No need. I certainly understand the need of comfort and good wine. May your efforts for such be expedient, my good man.

[dailydouble]

Expedience is entirely relative. [ He will only go so far for proper behavior and morals are a lost cause, but a quick and convenient end would be a plus. ]

We will likely need to move him, before then.

voice; un: Hawke

[bougy]

And let him have even a bit of light and fresh air? ( she tsks. ) The ironically inept artwork adds a charmingly sinister air, I think. Rather suits this scene. ( her voice is rich with sarcasm; concern seems too expensive but treating Michel this poorly may be just as costly. )

[underthings]

Sinister? [ He scoffs slightly, airily. It's almost like one can hear the eyeroll. ] I believe we have very different ideals on the word, my dear. [ a beat; ] As well as charming.

[bougy]

Sinisterly charming, then--what do you think of that? ( she's been baited to at least challenge his wits to a friendly. this is the kind of battle she really enjoys, where she doesn't have to kill anyone, at least not yet. ) It's ideally trying to make a statement, however ineptly.

[underthings]

[ He makes an unimpressed sort of noise. Sinister and charming don't belong together. –Even if he could claim he's been called that once or twice while in Skyhold. ]

A poor statement, I'd imagine. I've seen noble masks with more personality.

[bougy]

( not seen but maybe heard, she smiles a bit. she'll have to try harder, and that's all right, she's plenty capable of more reprobate wordplay. anyway, she's also thinking of Orlesians, and that ass of a duke; she's quite proud of that one. so much for prospering. )

Fair enough, but don't tell them that! As far as I can tell, they think vulgar displays of wealth--on masks or not--of make them interesting. I don't think their egos could take the blow. Crumpled, like a paper bag! But maybe you know that already, ser. ( someone who is familiar with the wealthy may want to have some kind of title. )