dualislogs | oh, we dance in misery

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.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Hank grunts a response, frowning at the words, though he can't be sure how exactly Loki's life went. Fuckin' religious shit was always ninety percent off the rails.

"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.

If their captors were capable of extracting their memories as a form of punishment, it served to reason they could be shared with other people, likely as a means of keeping them reeling and unable to see whatever it was they were actually up to. It explained where these sculptures had come from as well, likely from all their memories, not only his.

'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.

Each of those damn rooms is an eyesore, a wash of hateful and blaring color that annoys like a screaming fight on a street corner. The effect is harsh and distracting, but Hank takes Loki to the purple one since that one is, honestly, the most forgiving out of them all.

"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.

Loki would have preferred the green room, but only has a joke. As it stood, the purple room was unoccupied, which was preferable. He moved to one of the cushioned sofas, moving the cape aside with practiced ease and patted the seat next to him. This was a sitting matter, after all.

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.

"You could have fooled me."

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."

"Fooling people is, after all, what I do. Your ancestors noticed and made me the god of it." He smiles, self-deprecating, but takes a steadying breath before looking back down at his hands. "I don't know how familiar you are with the old tales, but some of the names I use may sound familiar to you. Do you know of Odin Allfather? His wife, Frigga? Heimdall the All-Seer? The Jotuns?"

"Okay."

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.

Edited 2019-12-01 08:24 (UTC)

He shakes his head, hands folded before him. "It's of little consequence, really." Whether or not Hank knew who the players were in his mythology mattered little in the long run, after all. "I am a few years Thor's junior, the God of Thunder, if you're unfamiliar. I was born the years the Frost Giants invaded Midgard." He looks over to Hank and smiles, rueful. "That's what we call Earth, your planet." And then he looks away again working at his palm with his thumb. "We were raised on stories of the glory of Asgard, Protectors of the Nine Realms, yours included. We were made to believe we were peacekeepers, safeguarding the empire for the good of all, and protecting them all from the rise of monstrous invaders like the Jotun. We were told of the glorious battle Odin Allfather raged against the raiders of Earth, that he chased them back to their frozen world, stripped them of their greatest artifact, put them in their place. All Asgardian children knew the story, came to fear the bloodlust of the frost giants, something like boogeymen. It was said their touch caused frostbite, and that they could freeze the very water in the air, forge weapons of death from nothing. Just...truly monstrous people, the Jotun." He scoffs at that. "I've never been one to follow blindly, unlike my brother, who was ever the dutiful, obedient son. There are ways, after all, to shield one's passage from the All-Seer, if they know a trick or two, and so I explored, and I...seethed. You see, I was never the prince Father wanted for his kingdom. A trickster? A sorcerer? Heavens no. A Warrior was the most fitting king for Asgard, and yet, as children, he always fed us the charming lie, 'you are both born to be kings' as though there'd ever been a choice in the line of succession. Mark me, I love my brother, but I hated him for it. So much so that I, in my...admitted arrogance, saw fit to secret away to the frozen wasteland of the Jotun to invite a few of them to see Odin's great vault on the night of my brother's feast announcing his ascension to the throne. Honestly, at that point, I would have given anything to stave off that moron ruling our kingdom, at least for a while, and it was completely innocent. I knew my father's guardians would make quick work of them, and who would care? They were only frost giants, after all." He breathed a sigh.

A lot pours out of Loki at once. Like water on a stove boiling over, and then dropped altogether when the pot turned out too hot to handle. It all just flows forth, and Hank listens without interrupting. He does have questions, yeah. But he realizes, yeah, the technicalities don't matter. It's the heart of the story.

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."

Edited 2019-12-03 08:07 (UTC)

"Slightly. You see, I vastly underestimated Thor's desire for Father's approval." He scoffs, then, shaking his head. "Long story short, well at least this first bit, in a rage, he collected all his friends, myself included, to storm Jotunheim and demand those responsible for the intrusion pay for their arrogance. King Laufey of the Frost Giants was most benevolent to allow us to leave with our tales collectively tucked between our legs, but a thrown insult sent my brother into a rage. In the ensuing battle, we learned several things about the Giants. Namely, the legends about their touch and their glacialkinesis were true, and I learned their touch does not harm me. A shock, to be sure, and my first doubt."

Despite having to reacquaint himself with the names, he follows along. He's putting it together bit by bit. Odin stole something from the angry glacier giants. Then raised a kid that he put less stock in than his other more combative son. Said kid realizes that he's truly the odd man out.

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."

"Not at all. Thor was stripped of his power and exiled to Midgard. I confront Father about his lies, and he insisted it was because he never wanted me to think myself different. Looking back-" he rolls his shoulder in a shrug. "Perhaps he had a point, but what could he have expected when he allowed his people to believe the frost giants were evil? How could he not expect me to...to hate myself when I learned I was one of them, surrounded in his vault by all his stolen goods, just one more spoil of war."

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."

Suddenly he realizes Odin and his people pulled some fucking bullshit even he wouldn't at his worst. Hank went through a phase where he hated androids. He abhored everything to do with them. That they were made to replace people to do menial jobs. That they were programmed to say things to make people like them, to manipulate by rote. They were the vapid projection of humanity's wants-

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."

"I would have destroyed my birth home if Thor hadn't stopped me." There was a regret there, and pain from a wound that still hadn't healed. "When father awoke, I thought he'd be proud of all I'd accomplished, but I was wrong, and rightly so, but then? It was merely one more betrayal. I fell, fled, and was found by another. I was imprisoned, my desires twisted, I was given a scepter with which to bind others to my cause, which bound me without my knowledge, and I was sent to Earth to reclaim a lost relic for a tyrant, and in exchange I was to rule it, save it from itself, and from the idiotic 'protector' that was my brother." He shook his head.

"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?"

Edited 2019-12-12 16:08 (UTC)

Again, while he tries to follow along, his main takeaways is someone took advantage of his rejection; practically cult leader style. A "tyrant" probably in the most literal term, as far as he can guess, but there's always a cult of obedience and personality and promise in those types.

"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."

Such easy acceptance is difficult for Loki to stomach and he files away that understanding in Hank's eyes away for later evaluation, when he's alone and can ponder how simply Hank had accepted his confession. Perhaps it was simple, because rather than blaming others, Loki took responsibility for his actions regardless of motivation. He wonders, though, how Hank will react once he finishes his story.

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."

Hank hesitats, wrinkling up his brow.

"...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.

Shaking the idea that one was born a monster was difficult. The wound dug by a father who had lied to you, deceived you, built up your expectations for yourself only to dash them to pieces was long to heal, especially when one has lived a millennia. More than anything, Loki was incredulous Hank still trusted him. After all this betrayal, no one should.

"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.

It's strange, having a god upset you for a very human fallacy. A bias that he let creep into his son in the form of self-hatred.

"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.

He did, at least he was beginning to. His people, for all he'd deceived them, had rejoiced at his return with their salvation, without lives or expectation. He'd simply...arrived to save them, and he'd felt more loved in that moment than he had any time he'd tricked them into adoring him.

"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."

He doesn't know how true it is, but it's nice to hear anyway. A bastard like him with a big soft heart; when he fails himself, he feels like he's failing everyone, and it turns into a shitty escalating cycle.

"Well, uh... You gonna be alright? Looks like you relived a lot in your head there." None of that admission looked easy.

"...And fuckin' seriously? You put Odin in a nursing home? Holy shit. What even happened with that?"

After a brief pause, Loki smiles and claps the man on the shoulder. "I'm always alright, Hank. Don't fret over me."

And that smile turns into a slightly proud smirk as he looks down slightly, nodding. "He shook it off and decided to stay in self-imposed exile. It seems he was through with his regency, forced or no. His...strength had been failing for some time, you see, and...he said he heard mother, calling him home." His tone turned wistful toward the last and he have a brief shake of his head. "It all turned out as he planned, I suppose."

"I fuckin' hope there's something after..." He mutters. "Not like this place. Something better."

Though perhaps that's not the best subject to bring up with someone who is dead. But Hank says it anyway. Should he admit his own? Or was this- Fuck it. He might as well say something.

"I uh... I lost my little boy three years ago. He was just six." He adds that in, because he knows he looks older than he is. Though that's the depression weighing on him, the burden of self precieved failure.

"Way smaller than I was at his age, but he had my uh-" He forces a smile and motions to the gap in his front teeth, "-that."

He looks down at his overly shined shoes. "God I know I fuckin' say that but I'd do anything to have him back. Even in a place like this." He wants to be with his boy, almost more than anything. Almost. He's been trying damn hard to make a new life with someone, but if he could have that too? God he hates that Dualis gave him that fucking hope. No one needed that.

Loki listens to this story that his clearly difficult for Hank to tell, and finds himself, albeit idly, wondering what this child of Hank's was like. He'd never, in his brief (for a Jotun) life entertained the thought of having children of his own. He was still barely more than a child himself, by the definitions of his people, and now, after everything, it seemed a moot topic to even broach, but Hank was not a young man, and it shouldn't come as a surprise to learn he had a son, and yet here he was, surprised and curious.

A slight smile, sympathetic but charmed, touched his lips and he reached out, patting Hank on the shoulder. "You will meet again, Hank, be sure of that." For himself, Loki was beginning to think perhaps this was his punishment, his hair shirt for all the wrong he'd done, but Hank deserved better. "Tell me about him."

Hank had so badly wanted to be with him again. If it weren't for having been presented with some hope in the world, through Connor, through seeing that androids and the humanity reflected in them could still be good, he probably would still want to. Because for three years? Cole was the last good thing he knew.

Grief is insidious. Hank had given his whole life to help others find justice in their grief. To find safety in their lives. But when Cole was gone? He found himself alone, and the more he realized his sadness inconvenienced others, the more he found it difficult to find faith in those others. It took someone aggressively caring about those around them, and someone caring about him, to pull him out of that.

Under the surface though, it's still there. Roiling and lingering.

"About this tall." He makes a motion around Cole's height. "Smiled a lot. Actually thought clowns were funny 'cause he was a little freak." He chuckles at that, grinning at some distant fucked up memory that he can't quite recall. Might have been an outdoor birthday party. Might have been a fair. It did end with a balloon animal that needed replacing after its head popped. "He liked to draw. Liked sports. He drew me pictures. Had a lot of action figures but I think he was more into hands on stuff. Kept leaving them out for the dog to chew up. Always had to tell him to put things away."

That's probably enough, because his chest hurts and he looks like he's borderline about to stumble over the words.

oh, we dance in misery

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)