the head | the hand (
headandhand) wrote in
dualislogs2019-11-16 05:12 pm
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Entry tags:
- !event,
- destiny: drifter,
- detroit: become human: hank anderson,
- doom patrol: crazy jane,
- ff10: tidus,
- ff10: yuna,
- ff7: sephiroth,
- ff7: vincent valentine,
- ff7: zack fair,
- ff8: nida nomura,
- ff8: rinoa heartilly,
- ff8: seifer almasy,
- ff8: squall leonhart,
- kingdom hearts: naminé,
- marvel comics: david alleyne,
- marvel comics: michael morbius,
- mcu: loki odinson,
- mcu: wanda maximoff,
- oc: nick rivenna,
- rvb: south dakota,
- the gifted: lorna dane,
- warhammer 40k: mira nero,
- xmcu: charles xavier,
- xmcu: domino,
- xmcu: erik lehnsherr
oh, we dance in misery
WHO: Open to all Dualizens!
WHAT: the Plague Memorial Masked Ball
WHERE: the Mayor's Mansion (central Dualis)
WHEN: the evening of November 16
WARNINGS: Visuals/discussion of disease and death in the setting. Anything else, please use appropriate warnings!
At 8 p.m. sharp, the lights inside and around the Mayor's Mansion turn up, and the doors are opened to the crowds that begin to trickle inside. All entrances are manned by Iterations, and all party-goers are scanned for both proper attire (formal and masked, mandatory) and weapons (absolutely forbidden) before being allowed entry.
Once inside, attendees are greeted to a spectacle of warmth and light and lavish decorations, all themed in white accented with gold and violet. Venture into the ballroom, and you'll see intricately carved ice sculptures in various representations of death, all laden with garlands of marigolds and violet chrysanthemums. At one end of the room, a rotating cast of musicians plays soft music in differing arrangements of strings and piano. Long tables at the other end of the ballroom are piled high with punch fountains and platters of delicious party foods, and a few bar stations serve beverages of the more adult variety to those of age.
Outside the main ballroom are seven smaller rooms, for more intimate conversations and quiet recovery from the main gala (or just skulking like a brooding weirdo, if that's your thing). Six of the rooms are decorated in monochrome blue, purple, green, orange, white, or violet, and the seventh room is pitch black with red accents.
Throughout the night, the mayor herself winds in and out of the crowds, shadowed by a pair of bodyguards. She is all smiles, greeting people with a friendly handshake and effusive words of thanks for attending the ball, but she never stays in one place long enough for a true conversation. This is a celebration of life and a remembrance of the dead, after all - not the time or place for talks of business or politics.
Enjoy yourselves tonight, everyone! And remember - death eventually comes for everyone.
WHAT: the Plague Memorial Masked Ball
WHERE: the Mayor's Mansion (central Dualis)
WHEN: the evening of November 16
WARNINGS: Visuals/discussion of disease and death in the setting. Anything else, please use appropriate warnings!
At 8 p.m. sharp, the lights inside and around the Mayor's Mansion turn up, and the doors are opened to the crowds that begin to trickle inside. All entrances are manned by Iterations, and all party-goers are scanned for both proper attire (formal and masked, mandatory) and weapons (absolutely forbidden) before being allowed entry.
Once inside, attendees are greeted to a spectacle of warmth and light and lavish decorations, all themed in white accented with gold and violet. Venture into the ballroom, and you'll see intricately carved ice sculptures in various representations of death, all laden with garlands of marigolds and violet chrysanthemums. At one end of the room, a rotating cast of musicians plays soft music in differing arrangements of strings and piano. Long tables at the other end of the ballroom are piled high with punch fountains and platters of delicious party foods, and a few bar stations serve beverages of the more adult variety to those of age.
Outside the main ballroom are seven smaller rooms, for more intimate conversations and quiet recovery from the main gala (or just skulking like a brooding weirdo, if that's your thing). Six of the rooms are decorated in monochrome blue, purple, green, orange, white, or violet, and the seventh room is pitch black with red accents.
Throughout the night, the mayor herself winds in and out of the crowds, shadowed by a pair of bodyguards. She is all smiles, greeting people with a friendly handshake and effusive words of thanks for attending the ball, but she never stays in one place long enough for a true conversation. This is a celebration of life and a remembrance of the dead, after all - not the time or place for talks of business or politics.
Enjoy yourselves tonight, everyone! And remember - death eventually comes for everyone.
no subject
His eyes linger on the familiar carving towering above them before he turns to give Hank more attention. "You, however, look rather...official. Is that required of law enforcement or are you on duty at this little gathering?"
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"You seem pretty interested in that one."
But he doesn't demand an explanation. Just mentions it the look. Because, hell, Loki's such an aesthete he could just be impressed with the quality.
no subject
At Hanks indication, he looks back to the looming sculpture of his sister. Hank isn't wrong, of course. Loki does, after all, have an eye for art, but that isn't what's caught his attention with this piece. "Indeed. These are all incarnations of Death." He motions around at the other sculptures in the room.
"This is one with which I'm intimately familiar," while his words are flippant, his tone carries a weight that suggests an intimacy rivaling his actual death. "Behold, Hela, Odinsdotter and Goddess of Death." He looks back to Hank. "My sister."
no subject
Hank looks up at her, and in the shallowest parts of his mind he does think Damn, she's nice looking, as far as ice sculptures go. The stronger part, though, realizes a great number of reasons he wouldn't be fond to see her. After all, he's gonna be hanging out with her soon.
There's probably a fuck of a lot more to it than that.
"Sounds like heavier sibling bullshit than most people deal with," he says apologetically, and puts a gentle hand on his shoulder. Forgoing a heavey pat for an attempt at being understanding. But then he awkardly withdraws it not out of much discomfort, but more out of the worry he'll rumple the fucking cape or something. How do you properly console a man in a fucking cape? He's not trained in this shit.
no subject
He could relate. After his life had fallen apart, romance had 'taken a back burner' as mortals would say.
Normally, one doesn't attempt to comfort a man in a cape. Typically, that man is far too confident, or at least compensating, for such trivialities. He looks down, though, briefly, a bittersweet smile flickering across his face before looking back up at the sculpture.
"My family has never been simple, but then again what family is...that's founded on lies?" He's quiet for a moment before that smile turns rueful, if a little self-deprecating. "Please, forgive my gravitas. My mother always said I had a flair for the dramatic." Which is fitting, he supposes, for the god of stories.
no subject
"No, I didn't expect a normal ass conversation when I came by. I figured that Gods in general got their own version of drama. Hell, sometimes even I do." Hank has more than he lets on. And he's still a squishy mortal man of humble needs. He can lament and groan about creation's fuckin' goddamn ills with the best of them.
"Family drama is shit. Just a while back... there was this memory thing. People remembered other people's memories. I might have told you about it, I can't remember- ironically. But uh... There were a few that leaked out of my head. I didn't want anyone to see 'em because they reminded me of something I lost." At least they weren't all bad. "This place is kind of fucked for that... You know, if you wanna get the hell away from her big head, we can head to one of the other rooms. Get her out of the way until the tips of her horns melt off and she looks like a reindeer or something."
He's so utterly helpful.
no subject
'Family drama' Hank had called it, and he supposed it as accurate enough. That drama had caused no end of suffering, for all of them, mostly at his hand, whether aided or no. What had first started as an advantageous suggestion had quickly turned into something Loki actually enjoyed, as well, solving puzzles, using his abilities to get the better of foes, and he had even begun to consider Hank a friend in all this.
He was the prince of lies, the humans had named him as much, but maybe...it was time for honesty. He swallowed and turned toward Hank, forcing a smile. "I think I'd like that, though...we should talk." No only did he want to confess, in a way, but the others here, from his world, they...it was only a matter of time before they told it first, and they would not be kind, nor would anyone blame them. It had been their world, after all.
no subject
"Yeah, what do you wanna talk about?"
He's ready to shut him down if it's about the Heart. They can't speak of it here, and he's already heard about the force of the manhunt after the members. He doesn't actually suspect that it could be something personal; maybe just distractions from that statue of his sister there conveniently to haunt him.
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Once he was joined, he made a flourish with his hand and the air around them shimmered slightly, like the heat off of pavement, wavering just at the edge of their vision.
"A ward against listening ears," he muttered by way of explanation. Their voices sounded closer in the enchantment, more intimate. "In the spirit of this partnership, I...believe I should honest with you." He folded his hands and let a moment pass before beginning. "I...am not the hero of my story." There was a weight to his words, as though it was a difficult thing to admit.
no subject
Isn't there a saying that everyone's the hero of their own story? Alright, maybe they're not every moment. Maybe they're the villain of someone else's. If they're super fucking lucky, they're a side-character that gets saved. A beloved set-piece that would be unacceptably tragic if removed. Not a love-interest or parent made to be fridged.
But he realizes how serious this is, that it's not what he was expecting, and despite the accidentally flippant intro he spreads his hands.
"I'm all ears."
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He's wondering for a hard moment what Loki did to trick him, because this sounds like it's about to become a confession of personal slight. At first, anyway. Before he starts talking about his family.
"Yeah. Just by reputation. Not of the Jotuns and I didn't know Heimdall's name."
Odin is obvious. Frigga he did recall, but he misremembered her name as 'Helga' it's been so goddamn long since he learned any mythology. He won't admit that out loud. Fake ass scenarios aren't what matters in this conversation.
"Guessing you'll have to give me a pretty good explanation. Sorry about that." He reaches out like he's trying to find that barrier that shimmered the air, but abandons that idea quickly.
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He leans against the nearest wall and crosses his arms.
"So your brother was an idiot who didn't pay attention and is the one to get your dad's inheritance. And he's considering you irresponsible and 'like your mother' or something like that. That the mortal-version short of it?"
But he's mentioning Jotun a lot. They must have something more to do with it than generic villains, and something a lot worse. "I'm still with ya. Keep going."
no subject
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Loki's clone was blue.
Rather than voice any growing ideas, he decides to let Loki tell the tale at his own pace. He could be very wrong, accidentally insult him somehow. But he thinks he's catching on.
"Take it the old man wasn't happy about that."
no subject
He clenches his fists and takes a long breath. "No wonder Thor had always been his favorite. Better an idiot than a Jotun on the throne." He shakes his head again and smiles, finally looking over to Hank again. "I've grown a bit since then, but then? Then I did what I had to do to assure Thor never returned when father slipped into the Odinsleep, that I could prove myself just as worthy to sit that throne in Father's stead. And so, in my great arrogance, I sent my father's security golem, the Destroyer to stop him by any means necessary and formulated a plan to lure Laufey to Asgard, assassinate him, and destroy Jotunheim, and all notion of my history, once and for all."
no subject
Until things started to change. But that's the thing? Connor may have been the first android he grew attached to. But he wasn't a fucking exception to the rule. Hank's entire perspective had changed.
"So you were a Jotun and he knew you could fuckin' be decent and he just let his people go on thinking they were evil? Like fuckin' drilled it into your head too?" Yeah, yeah there was more to the story, and he doesn't really... well he's always known Loki has apocalyptic leanings, that's kind of his fucking point. But there's a significant issue there.
"I mean, you probably shouldn't go get some fuckin' giant destroyer golems or anything when you're mad. Not as a first option anyway, like, way fuckin' down on the list. But yeah, you had every right to be mad. You got dicked over pretty hard there. You found out what you were and it'd be like... I don't know. Finding out you were being loved despite being fucking existing. Sorta sucks everything good out of all your experiences."
no subject
"I deigned to become the monster my own people believed me to be, or so I perceived, to...give truth to the fiction my father had fed me my entire life: that I was born to be a king." He looked to Hank, then, his expression carefully controlled, though there was a faint shine to his eyes. He was putting on a strong front, but he was remorseful. "I have committed heinous crimes, because of madness and...betrayal...and misguided desire. Do you still trust me?"
no subject
"I've always known you were a god of the apocalypse and a little bit of a turd, Loki. That's kind of what all your legends say." Even he's significantly behind on his mythological reading, and even if he wasn't it'd probably be about as reliable as social media propoganda clickbait. The words, the desire here, is real.
"Yeah, I trust you."
But he doesn't want to make Loki think he's making this decision blindly, so he raises his hand. "Most of the people I've seen go to jail for their mistakes have deserved second chances, alright? Even I went through a whole phase of being a shitty, useless asshole. I needed someone to give me a second chance. If that's what you want me to do, I'll do that."
Yeah, problems on a cosmic scale and scepters and frost giants are hard for a human to wrap their mind around. But Hank feels the need to give people chances to his very bones. Even this guy with his giant big ass horns, and he puts his hands on his shoulders to get a better look into those shining eyes. "I promise, alright? I can do that."
no subject
He hands on his shoulders are oddly comforting, a connection he rarely receives with amical motivation, and something he desperately craves to spite outward appearance. If he were one to wear his heart upon his sleeve, he might verbally express his gratitude to the man, but instead, a mischievous glint touches his eyes as he smiles wryly.
"One wonders, would you so readily trust me if you knew I faked my own death to escape my rightful imprisonment, suppressed my father's memories, sent him to live in a nursing home on Earth, and took his place for four years, singing my own praises as a fallen hero of Asgard? I even helped pen a place to celebrate my fallen son's selfless sacrifice." He has the presence of mind to look down at the end, though, something like bashfulness in his expression. "It was all in fun, really, at least on my end."
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"...Well my impression of your father isn't great at the moment, so I sorta cared more about you like... fuckin' summoning the golem and stuff. I mean. Surpressing his memories is pretty shitty too, please don't do it here... unless innocent lives depened on it. I'm not gonna be morally self-righteous about this, sometimes it works and sometimes it doesn't. You're a fuckin' Viking god. I'm sure someone probably could tell you were faking it. But uh..." He motions between them, then.
"Are you escalating because you don't want me to give you that second chance? Like I might change my mind and take it back or you're worried you're just gonna let me down anyway? Or do you want me to deck you? Or are you just trying to get it all out?"
It's tripping him up. Plus he already couldn't understand what was going on. What the fuck, Odin in a nursing home how? What? He gets it, he heard it right, but sometimes you hear things like 'the sky turned a color between red and putrid' and you don't even know how to absorb or imagine that influx of information.
He focuses on the core of it.
"Look, I think you can do a lot of good. And from the moment I met you I thought you were gonna be a diabolical god of the apocalypse but you're honestly just pretty good company. You're giving me all these details about shit you did but like.. I was already imagining giant dragons and fire and brimstone and shit. My brain was already there, man. Right from the name 'Loki'." Hank jostles him lightly. "Plus I'm not gonna let a god provoke a fight outa me, I'm not drunk enough and you could kick my fat ass."
That last part's a joke, he hopes he knows.
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"To be fair, I did cause Ragnarok, but that was my my brother's behest." He breathes a sigh. "And I certainly could, but where would the fun be in that?" If so many were so willing to forgive him, to actually accept him, maybe he could try himself.
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"I think the worse thing I did was give up for a long time. Almost gave up altogether. Not that it's that grand of an admission but, the guy you're talking to now would have told you to fuck off and leave him alone a year ago. Just fuckin'... drive people away, let myself turn useless.
"Until I had someone care what happened to me. No reason to. Went against everything he was made of. But he did. So I'm with you, but please don't give me a huge fuck up. I think you're grossly underestimating what kinda hope you can give people."
There are so many people here that Loki can save from horrible, nightmarish deaths just with a simple trick or two. Some deception. Some illusion? Things come together. Hank can try to figure things out and lay a loose groundwork, but Loki? He can actually save someone in trouble if things escalate.
He won't be specific here, even with Loki's silent protection. But he does hope he understands how big a difference he can make. He can possibly save someone whose entire universe hinges on their existance. Fuck, he can maybe even help save this whole fucking city, if they play their cards right.
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"Well, for what it's worth, Hank, I'm glad you didn't give up. You're a good man, and you have much to give. I...will do my best."
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