Thor went flying backwards through the doors of the tavern and landed at his brother's feet. He grinned up at Loki, his one good eye filled with joy even if he had just been kicked out of the watering hole, and he was covered in blood ( not all his, and definitely not all red ).
"You're late, brother."
The now king of Asgard had been left a little too long to drink away his grief, and yes, perhaps to drink in celebration and maybe even to quell the nerves he felt at having the throne. Even if the throne was on a ship filled with his people who were now all realm-less.
Wherever this backwards planet was though, they had no idea he was king. To them he was just another drunkard and troublemaker. But that may have had to do with his voicing his opinion of the music.
"I am done with this place, time for the next pub!" Surely this planet had more than one source of alcohol. It seemed like all there was to do here was drink.
There are several other sources of alcohol, and Loki has looked through a few of them, seeking his brother. This one is apparently the winner, or it was until Thor tired of it. From the sounds of the angry shouts coming from inside, this establishment may not be finished with Thor.
"We're doing play dead, then." Heaving a sigh, Loki takes his brother's arm and hefts him up and across his shoulders with a grunt of effort. "Play dead," he tells him firmly, just as a few beings burst out of the door. He spots a few colors of blood that match the blood adorning Thor's fists. "Ah, yes, well, as you see, that last hit has certainly killed him entirely, I'll take it from here," he says as he starts walking, in the hope that the inebriated idiots will take him at his word and leave them alone.
Thor really wanted to argue the point with his brother, that he could just walk off on his own two feet, but at the same time as soon as he heard the sounds of his enemies coming find him, he went limp.
While 'play dead' wasn't quite as much fun as 'get help', he did at least appreciate his brother's good timing. And the fact that Loki would even go back to this rouse after all these years. Until recently Thor was sure that Loki would have just left him to continue to fight his own way out. He tried to sneak a peek to see if they were being followed, but it was hard when it wasn't his good eye facing outwards.
Loki's luck is in their favor, Thor's opponents look more confused than angry as Loki carries off the dead body of the guy they'd been fighting with. With a flicker of his fingers, Loki conjures the image of a flame to their right, as a distraction, and when they all look at it, he sends a phantom of Loki and Thor walking away in a different direction.
In the end, they all go back inside and Loki breathes a sigh of relief, but he still waits until they've gone around a corner and down a few winding streets before he sets Thor on his feet again. "Do I even want to know what that was about?"
"I was... getting to know the locals. Exploring their culture." Accidentally using a word that apparently meant something else entirely different on this planet. "Who knew 'orange' was blasphemy? It's the last word I would have expected to start a fight with."
Thor might have just admitted to sparking the brawl, but he still didn't consider himself in the wrong. Nor did he consider he had truly had enough to drink. "Come, I still walk in a straight line. Clearly we need to find another place to drink. Preferably one that's not so against colours."
"How do I know you're still walking in a straight line? I carried you here." But watching Thor be kicked out of another drinking spot would be amusing. Given his tendency to start the fights, it's almost inevitable. And this way, he'll be close by if anything actually concerning happens.
Loki sighs and waves a vague hand at the street. "Very well, pick one and I'll follow. But I'm not quaffing ale, and if you get into trouble, I'm not going to help. I'm going to stand back and laugh."
"You shouldn't question your king when he's telling you he can walk in a straight line." Thor sniffed as though severely put out, and as if he were channeling his brother. Loki wasn't the only one that could get offended by assumptions.
Thor got to his feet, and may have swayed a little, but he would put it down to having just been carried. Not the alcohol. "What will you do other than sit and watch if you do not drink, brother? You must drink something. I was hoping we'd be able to have some fun. Not just you enjoying my misfortunes." He walked towards a sign that he assumed must belong to another watering hole before he glanced back. "You won't help me? At all?"
"I'm not questioning my king, I'm questioning my overconfident older brother," he points out, arms folded, pointedly standing straight and not swaying.
This is familiar, uncomfortably familiar. It's too much like the way things had been, once upon a time, back before...well, everything. With all that had come between them, Thor is still able to find this connection.
"...I'll drink, but I'm not matching you drink for drink. Not again." Now that that's been established, he catches up to Thor and tugs him in a different direction, to the bar he'd been in before. It's still calm there, at least thus far. Probably not for much longer.
[When you've lived long enough, and managed to do something which garners enough attention, people tend to tell stories about you. In a way, all of these stories are true and untrue. Many claim that the greedy Collector has hoarded so extensive a Collection that it spans across entire planets. Others insist that he keeps all manner of creatures and relics, to preserve them from an oncoming cataclysm and, should this scenario wipe out all other life-forms, he would relinquish full possession of his assets to the beasts and humanoids he'd gathered. As it has been stated, both are true and untrue.
After his Museum on Knowhere had gone kablooey, Taneleer Tivan has tinkered with the Godhead's budget and means of generating more funds. (This has generally entailed nurturing business relations with other planets, selling some remaining artifacts to insure that the workers wouldn't have to take pay-cuts, and developing realty and tourist venues.) The Collector, with an expression austere, leads this latest guest into one of his many experimental suites. For a goodly sum, one could spend the night in one of the many exhibit rooms replicating chambers from other, notable locales throughout the galaxy. One such room contained a painstakingly crafted recreation of an Ancient Egyptian pharaoh's room (very popular among aliens who'd missed this favorite vacation spot from its heyday). Another has an homage to the Sovereign High Priestess' gilded bedchambers.
This particular set-up may or may not strike a chord with this former prince and former king (depending on whether or not it has been suitably constructed). All browny-brass with smoky, Celtic symbols licking up walls and dark, wooden furniture alike. There's a massive bed with clean sheets. Behind this bed, there's even something of a balcony with white stone columns and a view overlooking a flickering, holographic powerpoint presentation of various paintings (all rendering scenery from all Nine Realms).
The small, plastic plaque by the door insists that this is an Asgardian bedroom.
Entering with his right arm extended, Taneleer introduces his latest asset to their new cage,] It seems only appropriate to allow the Nine Realms' former king use of the Tivan Collection's Asgardian lodging, so carefully constructed from stories one hears of your grand palace and their legendary accomodations.
[After his unfortunate departure from the Bifrost and subsequent arrival on Knowhere, Loki had moved through several different mindsets very quickly, shockingly similar to the five stages of grief: disbelief that he'd arrived anywhere livable; anger in every direction but particularly against the man who stolidly refused him assistance; bargaining his services for that assistance to no avail; a brief period of depression when he realized the inevitable; and now finally acceptance, if a subdued kind of acceptance.
The plaque is what has attracted Loki's attention and he stares at it for a long time before walking past it, through the door and into his new environment. For that is what this will be, is it not? A familiar replica, intended to make its native species feel at home? There's a little bloom of smugness in knowing he is not, in fact, a true native to this environment but a transplant, but the feeling is brief and unsatisfying. For all intents and purposes, this is as accurate as any environment would be.
He examines it with the critical eye of an expert, nodding in grudging approval.]
The stories you have heard speak truly. I myself have spoken to guests in rooms similar to this. Thank you for your hospitality. [At least it will be a more comfortable prison than his cell on Asgard, that white fishbowl.] And will we speak again tomorrow?
[Oh, excellent. The Asgardian approves of his new Asgardian environment. Having taken in a very wide berth of critters, Taneleer recognizes these stages Loki's going through. Sucking-up, failing epically, getting frustrated, losing more epically, and accepting their situation. Seeing that Loki most definitely has entered that last phase, the Collector recognizes all too well that this can't be some tactic to butter him up.
Ah, ah, ah! The Collector just can't help but ball his hands into fists and shake them. It's kind of a reflex. Not even the scientists of Knowhere figured exactly why this is a thing that happens.] Look out the balcony, for a moment--[And...you're in for a treat, Loki.
A portrait of a Midgardian night skyline folds itself up into a paper airplane and...oh...oh! It flies away!] So splendid, the capabilities of PowerPoint 2013. [Where is the sarcasm in his voice?
No, seriously. The way this old dude sounds, it seems like he sincerely considers this to be one of the apexes of human achievement.
In its place, there now remains a tasteful landscape painting of some bluey, hoary Jotunheim peaks.] Beautiful.
[And, now: there's a question, right? Ah, yes, right. Waving it off, maybe a little too casually,] If I have time, there's some things I should like to speak with you about. But there is one more thing that I must demonstrate to you--[This billions year old dude practically shuffles off to a very curvy, very dark bedside table, retrieves something from its surface, heads back to this guest, and, with very little warning, snaps very silvery, minimalistic bracelet over this Asgardian's wrist.] This is customary for guests. You hit the button, [He points, to a small, raised circle,] and you may ask for room service. Food or inquiries. If you left these quarters, this will allow you into exhibits that may be closed during normal operating hours. If you head into a restricted area, you will receive a warning. If you disobey the warning and continue crossing a forbidden threshold, you will sound an alarm.
[Loki watches with a blank expression as the image flies away, and his eyes move from the view to the Collector and back again. Not for the first time, it occurs to him that his captor, or keeper (or whatever title might be appropriate) is very likely not entirely sane. By anyone's standards. Neither is Loki, not at this point, perhaps not ever, but the Collector puts his modest insanity to shame.]
Ingenious. Certainly more diverting than the real thing. [Where else could one watch the wastes of Jotunheim disappear into a star-shaped hole, only to be replaced by the ranging forests of Alfheim? With luck, there are Asgardian vintages in this place to assist him in finding entertainment in sitting and watching, guessing which realm will appear next and how it will disappear.
The view actually distracts him long enough to keep him from noticing he's about to be accosted by jewelry, and it's quick thinking indeed to push back the automatic response of reaching for a knife. He's had an eventful few years, let alone the last few hours, no one could blame him for feeling jumpy.]
Convenient. And so much easier to find a guest, should you wish to speak with one while they are out touring your exhibits.
Very, [Taneleer Tivan insists, in a normal tone because cuffing people up and monitoring their movements is so what normal people do, right? It's very obvious, looking at the way that his eyes practically gleam and his attentions are so wholly absorbed by this bracelet, that the Collector is very proud of this pressie he's lent to Loki. It's almost tasteful looking, this dark and silvery cuff. A design of his own making.
Since he cannont Collect his Museum's guests, this is about the closest that he can do to contain them.] I simply must tell you what should happen to you, if you dare stay a minute in a restricted area. Most of my guests are required to sign waivers before checking-in, informing them of such a thing--but you aren't a paying customer. I have simply welcomed you into my abode, [he strokes the bracelet, so tenderly, as one does their lover or a pet, and his tone grows all the more intimate and dulcet.] If you remain too long in a restricted area, this piece will run a fair amount of electricity through your body. Not enough to kill you (I've researched and adapted this piece to suit Asgardian usage), but it will subdue you. And you would have to wait until my Chief of Security, his team, or I release you. We are all, unfortunately, very busy this night and it might take some time for us to reach you. It would be such a shame if you were too badly damaged before my Brother's forces came to pick you up.
[Yes, for a shackle it is quite attractive, sleek, somehow dangerous-looking. It only adds to the sense of possession Loki has already resigned himself to, and the way the Collector admires the way it looks on his wrist makes him uncomfortably certain it might stay there for a long time.
Commendably, his breathing stays steady throughout the Collector's delighted explanation of what horrors will be visited upon him if he tries to cross his host, or indeed do anything against his wishes.]
Considerate of you, Collector, to so tailor your devices to your guests. Your attention to detail is unparalleled. [The question remains as to whether or not Loki will be testing it, but he absolutely believes that he will be left in agony for hours if he oversteps in his testing.
So he'll simply need to find another way to test it besides lingering in the restricted areas. He has ideas already, but he isn't fool enough to try with Taneleer still present. He'll wait an hour at least.]
I must thank you again for your generosity in accepting me under your roof. [Because he'd heard that, and it's best to stay on the Collector's good side and err on the side of thanking him once too often.] But I take it I am allowed to explore, within those confines? Your Collection draws my curiosity already.
[Good job keeping that breathing at a normalish pace, Loki. There have been many larger, more intimidating creatures in your position that have lacked this same constitution.
Taneleer basks in this gratitude, preening just a little. All day, he consorts with miners, an attendant, and numerous specimens in his Collection? He pays them, tends to them. Do they ever really thank him? No. One more loving tap of that bracelet and, then, Taneleer lets go, looking to this other man.] You are free to educate yourself, Loki of Asgard. So long as you remain out of the restricted areas. Under your bed there are several volumes of guidebooks to my Collection and what is contained therein. These guides were chosen especially for Asgardian interests.
[And, just to demonstrate, Taneleer heads over to this dark wooded bed, rustles underneath, pulls out some junk, and tosses roughly ten books onto this Celtic-looking comforter. They're all pretty thick, these individual volumes. Some focus on nice, local bars to have a good drink. Others emphasize weapons collections, littered throughout these facilities.] Is there anything in particular that you're looking for in my Collection? So long as it isn't the hangar, I'd be happy to point you in the direction of something related to that interest.
[That preening doesn't go unnoticed. The almost-fawning gratitude is being appreciated, as Loki had hoped it would be. Slowly but surely, this impression of Taneleer Tivan is growing. He may never learn enough to find the ways to sidestep or outwit him, but he may not need to. All he needs to do is survive this man, and then his brother. There is quite a lot Loki is willing to do to survive.
The cordially interested smile stays in place as guide books to drinking, armor, and weapons appear. The temptation to say "the Aether" seizes him strongly, but Loki has not yet reached the point of reckless sarcasm. Instead, he picks up one of the books and glances through it, almost successfully hiding his surprise at this evidence of the sheer breadth of the Collection.]
In fact my own interests lie in the magical realm. Illusion, defense and battle, shape-shifting, other magical arts. I have not furthered my education in that area for a very long time. If you permit it, I would be loath to let this opportunity to explore pass me by. [A little self-deprecating smile.] I have rarely been absorbed only in Asgardian interests.
[Well. He is momentarily too distracted to recall keeping you at an arm's distance and under close surveillance, Loki. There is something blocking his view, preventing him from seeing you snake and squirm your way into a favorable position.
What is that, in his way...ah, yes, the size of his ego. It happens a little more often than is desirable. Taneleer Tivan is about as old as most people guessed and even moreso (by millions of years), it's gotten kind of hard for him to keep things like this straight. Ooh, and getting him off topic with fascinating bits of his Collection really isn't helping his case. But that last mention of shapeshifting draws a very curious eye from Taneleer Tivan, a glance turned into a stare that, rather abruptly with a clap of his hands, transforms into the least graceful transition ever.] Yes. Well. I have been expanding my Collection and made recent purchases that should interest you. From a region in one of your people's so-called Nine Realms, on the planet Terra. Some artifacts from the mystical Kamar-Taj, a place that I've been growing much more interested in. As of recently.
A beautiful statue almost resembling a Makulan. Fascinating restraints. A brazier--that I have yet to identify the purpose of. But none of this has successfully satisfied my appetite for examining the realm further. [Namely to locate an artifact, of course. An object of legend that is said to control the flow of time.]
[It hadn't been Loki's original intent, but getting the Collector sidetracked talking about his collection will serve Loki's purposes neatly as he tries to find the best way to get what he wants. But he hadn't missed that stare (who could?) and can't help but wonder what he'd said to prompt it. Shape-shifting? Is that of particular interest?]
Terra. [He repeats the name with no recognition, which of the Nine Realms might he mean? After a moment to think about the word, Loki's face clears.] Oh. Yes. My people call it Midgard. I am somewhat familiar with it, though my wish to grow more familiar had been...lessened, until now. I don't know this Kamar-Taj you mention, I should like to see these, these Terran artifacts. And hear the story of their acquisition, if you would indulge me, but of course I should hate to keep you from anything important.
[He has his reasons, Loki, but he is the Collector and, as his moniker suggests, he will keep this to himself. As grabby as this odd little introduction has been (keep your mind out of the gutter), for this next demonstration, Taneleer holds up his own wrist, directly mirroring the arm of Loki's bearing that new piece of jewelry. His other hand wraps around this wrist, fingers poised and ready to gesture as they will.] There are some pressing matters that want my attention this night, Loki of Asgard. But, if you tap on that bracelet four times, in the same spot, [Taneleer proceeds to do so, with his own hands,] wherever you are in the Museum, a pre-programmed hologram of myself will be able to guide you and share such things with you.
You may try it here, if it would interest you to test such a thing out.
Two of you, in the same place? Could anyone stand the excitement? [So of course Loki immediately tests it out, tapping the bracelet as demonstrated. The hologram springs to life, glowing and translucent but otherwise identical, offers one of Taneleer's signature elaborate bows, and immediately begins speaking about the Asgardian living space in which it finds itself.]
Ingenious. And once again, you are so considerate to your guests when you cannot accompany them personally. [Loki eyes the bracelet, taps it once and twice, and looks quietly satisfied when the hologram pauses. It's possible he feels greatly satisfied to bring it to a halt, but he's careful to mask that as simply being pleased at knowing how it works.] I believe I have everything I need.
[Besides freedom and an army to reclaim Asgard, but it's been hours by now. Thor is almost certainly dead and Asgard either in ruins or bowing to its new queen. All that really remains is his own survival. Familiar territory.]
[There's a rather sizeable difference between Taneleer and this hologram, which, perhaps, wants some noting. His image, much like the rest of his likenesses in promotional pictures and the like, is all-smiles. This hologram lights up in more ways than one, positively effusing, moving his hands too actively and speaking in a tone reserved for kindergarten teachers.
It had taken quite a few drinks and many weeks for Taneleer Tivan to tolerate recording any of this and copying it all onto a machine that could, say, hypothetically, survive the collapse of a neighboring star.
Taneleer's expression fades a little, as he watches that ghost of his at work. The actual flesh and bone man just barely perceives Loki's honeyed words and almost takes no notice, until his own spectre echoes these same words.] Loki of Asgard has informed us that he has everything he needs. That's your cue to trot off to your other appointments, sir! [Taneleer blinks twice, contemplating, for a moment, about tweaking this AI to make it less obnoxious; and then, recalling his guest, he turns to Loki and, slowly, lowers his head into a simpler bow.] Yes, I'll be off. Do...watch yourself, former Prince and former King.
[Without lifting his head, the man known as the Collector pivots on the balls of his feet, turning himself about, and, then, steps out of the room. Loki is now alone, save for this ghastly, grinning djinn summoned from his new bauble.]
[And Loki rids himself of the homunculus as soon as he possibly can. Watch himself, hmm? Well, while his mind might still be spinning plans and potential avenues of escape, that's become habit by now. He knows he's well and truly kept.
Former Prince rankles, however. Former King, yes, that he must accept as truth, but if Taneleer wishes to consider him a former prince, then former "prince" he will be.
The change in shape comes smoothly, considering it is a shape Loki has not worn in centuries. The armor is altered only enough to accommodate the new shape of the body, the hair is somewhat longer, but it is still unmistakably Loki. Loki as a woman, a Princess of Asgard. That's for your "former prince," she thinks as she walks out of the Asgardian bedroom exhibit. She summons the faux-Collector again and holds up a finger in warning.]
Take me to the Kamar-Taj exhibit, and no unnecessary prattle.
[It doesn't work, of course, but Loki does her best to ignore the unnecessary prattle as she follows the directions to see these Midgardian artifacts. She will walk the museum's halls until rest seems as though it might be a possibility.]
[As this creature that the Museum's guests summon from these bracelets acts as such an inaccurate copy of the illustrious Mr. Taneleer Tivan, let's, instead, call this odd beast by another name. From this point onwards, let us refer to Loki's current companion as Mr. Hologrameleer Tivan. Or Holly, for short.
Holly's all smiles, doing his best to oblige the guest and avoid saying anything unnecessary. Oh, no, he's only sharing the most fascinating stories and most relevant histories that have been programmed into him.] ...the name 'Kamar-Taj' comes from the Arabic قمر تاج meaning "moon crown". Local legends say that it is the birthplace of a great sorcerer, the first of a long succession of great magic-users who carry the same title of "Ancient One". (Mr. Taneleer had a very good laugh, when he'd heard about that! He's run into so many revered 'ancients' and 'deities' in his absurdly long lifetime, but they never fail to bring something of a smile to his face.)
Anyway, so says the legends, this Ancient One and a friend discovered a source of magic; they had a spat over how to use it, and you probably already know where this one goes without me having to say it (oh, but I'm going to have to--it's the only way I've been programmed). One thing led to another, the Ancient One's dear friend mind-controlled everyone in a local village into his thrall, and, then, they say that the first Ancient One wound up poofing off their dear old friend into another dimension.
That's certainly one way to break up a friendship, [The other being laughs at his nonjoke, his sightless eyes nestling so comfortably between eyebags. In what feels like very little time to a hologram (admittedly without any perceptions of time programmed into his systems), they come across the first Kamar-Tajan artifact.
This has Holly terribly excited and clapping, like a sugar-high child coming across a purple pony.] Ooh! We've come across the first asset in the Kamar-Tajan exhibit--the fabulous Bands of Cyttorak! [They don't look especially fabulous; they look rusted, like dried, metallic centipede segments that have been separated and, then, glued together on a bit of metallic string.]
( From here ) It's funny you should ask that...I'd seen a reference to an enormous wolf in a history book. Partly, I wanted to see if I could do it, but after I did it, I could never find that book again.
[She sets her chin on her hand, looking pensive, introspective, even a little sad.]
Now I know that reference had been an overlooked reference to my sister that hadn't been erased with the rest.
Huh. So daddy dearest liked sweeping up the past? Nothing like a good old fashioned cover up. That explains a lot about your family, now that I think about it. I mean- he kicked Thor to earth to put him in time out. He obviously lied to you about a bunch of shit. And now this.
[She sighs, and for once that looks like genuine sorrow as she shakes her head.]
He used my sister to build up his realm and to cement his position as ruler of the Nine Realms, then locked her away because he'd decided he'd conquered enough new lands. Not just locked her away, taken her even from memory. Such a shame. A waste. I wish I'd known her.
Edited (stick with the icon i pick dw cl) 2019-05-04 21:19 (UTC)
...I'm just going to- [ He pours Loki another glass because that? That's heavy shit. That's fucked up on more levels than he can consider, making a weapon out of a kid and then putting them on a shelf. Even he knows that's shit parenting. ] There you go.
[Absently, she sweeps up the refilled glass in long fingers currently adorned with pointed nails painted a green so dark it's nearly black.]
It should have made me angry. There really wasn't time. Two minutes after he told us about her, he died. And then she appeared immediately and tried to kill us, and then, well. Sakaar.
[With an elegant but somehow very illustrative wave of her free hand.]
Isn't that just the way? You get a big drama bomb and then no time to process it. I should pour you a double.
[ He doesn't, not yet. He'll wait until she's done with her current drink before pouring more for her, or himself. Trying to keep pace with an Asgardian isn't all that wise but- it's been a day. ]
The Grandmaster. Do you uh, wanna talk about that?
[The liquor on Midgard isn't as potent as Asgard's offerings, but she does appreciate the smoothness of its burn. Taking another drink, she sits back with her eyes closed, then slits one open again to dart a look at him.]
Do you want to hear about that?
[That might be a surprise. Bruce had been willing to do just about anything to avoid hearing about it.]
Sometimes it helps to have someone to talk to that has zero investment. [ For him, in the worst and weirdest parts of his life, that was Rhodey. Even if the Investment became a little more than Zero as they aged. ]
I'm not going to say I know exactly what it might've been like but it does ring a touch familiar.
A world of hedonism and violence? Perhaps it wouldn't be so far distant from your past.
[She is going to knock that drink back first, though, straight down even though this is meant to be a liquor too fine for that. She needs it. Sakaar had been...well, it had been about survival.]
I crashed into a pile of garbage on that planet. Scavengers found me, but I managed to convince them I already knew the Grandmaster and eating me would be a mistake, so they brought me to him in hopes of a reward. As soon as I was inside his palace, I sent an illusion with them and got lost in the crowd, but they still told him about me. He took an interest.
[It's all delivered in a particular careful tone, neutral, without Loki's usual dramatic flare.]
I was easier to find than I'd expected to be. New people don't arrive on Sakaar often. Even if I'd changed my form like this, I think he would have found me. He's...the Grandmaster is far cannier than he seems.
You found the biggest shark in the pond and swam how it wanted to try and avoid the teeth. Doesn't always work.
[ Been there, done that- he'd know. Usually the bite's delayed and all the more vicious for it, blood and guts in the water leaving you hallowed out and wondering if it's worth it the next time the shark starts to smile. He tops off her glass again without comment, shaking his head. ]
[She sweeps up the recharged glass, but doesn't drink just yet, studies it instead as if some answers might lie within.]
There was a time—I don't know how much time, time passes strangely on Sakaar—but there was a time when I think I might have been happy there. How did Thor put it? "Chaotic and lawless." He thought I'd do very well there. He might have been right, if I'd found it before my tenure as king of Asgard.
[Never mind that she'd never been king by name, and they'd followed Odin's decrees. They'd still followed them, no matter how strange they'd become, and she'd done what she could to rebuild the realm, to bring peace to Asgard. At the expense of peace in other realms, yes, but how many realms did she need? Not nine.]
Cal hadn't started the day intending to come out to the gorge, but something in the Force tugged at the edges of his awareness until he found himself putting down the task he'd been working at and dutifully trudging back out to nearly the same spot where he'd crash-landed on Koboh in the first place. The unforgiving heat of the afternoon sun makes him deeply miss the shaded twists and turns of the basalt forest where he thought he'd be spending the day's hottest hours, and he has to stop every few minutes either to slap at some bug or another trying to land on him, or to tug at the tank top to stop it from sticking to his skin.
He allows himself some uncharitable grumbling about all of it to an endlessly patient BD-1, right up until he finds himself at the edge of a brand new crater that he's fairly sure wasn't there the last time he passed through here. Right. Trusting in the Force, and all that.
BD whoops out a series of beeps that confirm his suspicions, and with a newfound humility he picks his way down the crumbling rock, because he's just not good at leaving well enough alone anymore. Some days being such a nosy bastard almost feels like making up for lost time, considering the half decade he'd spent on Bracca keeping his head as far down as possible—other days though, it feels like just a different form of running away from his issues.
Best not to think about any of that. Besides, is that... a guy? Cal should definitely stop to consider the last strange man he found and woke up on Koboh, and whether or not this is a good idea considering how that turned out, but instead he simply exchanges a befuddled look with BD-1 and calls out: "Hey, are you alive down there?" You know, better to make sure before he starts touching everything to try and find a memory that will explain the situation. That would probably be awkward.
It has really been an unfairly crowded few days. Few weeks, in fact. Or years.
Never let it be said that Loki outstays his welcome, unless that's the whole point, but when the Grandmaster had decided he and the Scrapper ought to compete to find the Hulk first, with an entertaining death hanging in the balance, it had been clear it was time to move on. Yes, the Scrapper—the Valkyrie—had put a few dents into that idea, and Loki's idiot brother hadn't helped. Trying to turn Thor and Banner in for the reward hadn't been personal. They would have found a way to escape again. Probably. Either way, Loki would have been gone, with a lovely nest egg to ensure he could truly disappear.
Except Thor had, incredibly, anticipated Loki's treachery this time, and left him twitching under an obedience disc. It had felt like hours before Loki had been able to focus well enough to draw the controller back to him with magic, and then out of spite he'd stolen the Valkyrie's ship instead. It didn't matter that he'd avoided the Devil's Anus and used a different portal. It had ripped the fragile craft to shreds and tumbled Loki through space once more—
—and then he's spat out. Somewhere else.
Before Loki has time to take in much more than the sky, the oddity beyond the sky, and the expanse of spiky-looking mountains rising rapidly around him, he impacts with the ground and nothing matters for a little while. Very slowly, his mind returns as he heals. The first thing that occurs is that the Hulk had somehow followed him to exact further revenge using his favorite method, but he cannot hear that telltale roar. This place is surprisingly peaceful, in fact, now that the dust has settled. The sun feels warm on his face, he hears the hum of insects—and a voice.
"Alive, yes," he calls back, voice roughened from the dust, probably the injuries. Can he sit up yet? Yes, if he goes carefully. Sitting up means being able to look around and locate the speaker, and offer what he hopes is a reassuring, harmless smile. "Good morning. Or...afternoon?"
When Loki looks like he's struggling to sit, moving gingerly, Cal can't override his instinct to step closer and cast a concerned eye up and down the man to see if there's any obvious trauma that needs immediate attention, like rips or blaster holes in his strange outfit or blood and bruises anywhere visible. The situation is weird, granted, and the guy's casual attitude considering the circumstances is also a little strange... but if someone needs help than they need help. (Never mind that he's already been lectured about his hero complex by Greez twice in the last few days, that's neither here nor there.)
Surely the Force would warn him if this were dangerous. The thing with Dagan was... different. Or something. The fallen Jedi was just as connected to the Force as Cal is, not that Cal knows for sure that Loki isn't in his own way. Listen... "Definitely afternoon," he agrees, tone light and breezy even though he's still trying to judge how hurt Loki may or may not be, before figuring the quickest way to judge will be offering the god a hand to help him stand up if he needs it. "I haven't seen you around before." Wow, now he's even talking like a local. Feels weird, but he's been so much of a busybody on Koboh for the last few weeks that he's fairly sure he knows every face and almost every name of all the prospectors in the area. Loki definitely does not look like one of the raiders or the recently arrived Imps, either. "Did you just, uh..." he steals a glance around the crater that they're standing in, which notably doesn't contain any intact starship or escape pod. "Land?"
Normally he tries not to pry. Force knows his life has been saved more than once by strangers not questioning him too much, but the situation is too bizarre to keep all his curiosity at bay until he can poke around with psychometry, like a cheater. He shakes his head to get himself back on track and follows up with: "Are you alright? My buddy's got stims if you're hurt." He tilts his head deliberately to one side to make room for BD-1 to pop up over his shoulder and beep out an affirmative about the offer.
Loki does accept the hand up. Why not? It's a friendly gesture, and until he's gotten the lay of this new land, he isn't about to turn away any of those. Besides, he's still quite stiff and it's helpful to have someone pull, or rather to yank surprisingly strongly. Once he's achieved standing on two legs, he stretches his back with a little groan.
"Ah—yes," he says, looking up at the sky, brushing idly at his dust-caked shoulders and arms. It makes almost no difference. The blue leather has held up, sort of, but it will never be quite the same. "I seem to have just recently dropped in, as it were. Thank you for your help. Might I ask where I have ended up?"
But before the question gets an answer, a little robot appears and chirps at him, and the Allspeak actually works on it. Loki can understand what it's saying. Which means it's actually alive in some way, and isn't that interesting? "I have certainly fared better. What is a stim, exactly?" And what manner of mechanical creature will provide it to him? Loki peers at it, curious about what in that array of circuits and wires has granted it sentience.
Okay, Cal definitely has to figure out what happened to this guy, because those are two questions that he wouldn't expect out of a person who is where they are supposed to be. He did, in fact, learn his lesson from Dagan though and decides not to pile too much on the man just yet. Give him a second to breathe, or something.
So for now, he just finds himself grinning as BD-1 visibly preens under Loki's curious gaze. "Bacta and stimulants. For combat healing." A beat. It's definitely not something most people carry around, but Cal and Normal had a not-so-amicable split about a decade ago, so he barely remembers to hurriedly tack on: "It can get pretty dicey out here." Nailed it! Now it's not suspicious at all. BD-1 clambers up onto Cal's shoulder fully, as though to take back the spotlight and save his awkward human, primly dipping his little head so Loki can see the stim canister as he pops it out for Cal to catch out of the air reflexively. BD-1 more helpfully rattles off a list of the chemical components of the neon green stimulant to make up for Cal's vague answer, because the droid always operates on the assumption that he'll be understood.
Cal offers the little canister in an open palm, in case Loki is interested. He doesn't look too hurt now, but that doesn't necessarily mean anything. Maybe he's got an insane pain tolerance. Either way, Cal gestures around them, above their dusty little crater. "Well, right now you're in Dredger Gorge." He doesn't imagine that's particularly helpful. "On Koboh, if that's what you mean." Cal has crash landed in enough mystery locales (don't tell Greez) that he figures it doesn't hurt to specify. "Did you mean to land here?" It's not exactly a hot tourist destination planet, after all, and Loki does not appear prepared for prospecting (no offence and/or you're welcome, Loki.)
Well done, Cal, you haven't drawn Loki's attention at all with "combat healing." So, this place is beset by war, is it? He glances around again, but apart from the rickety machinery briskly falling to pieces around the edges of his crater, the peaceful insect buzzes and distant bird calls continue. Even if there is enough battle on Koboh—wherever that is—to require carrying such things, it doesn't seem to be an immediate problem in Dredger Gorge.
"Dredger Gorge? What an unromantic name." Neatly avoiding the question of whether he'd meant to land here, Loki peers at the green and glowing vial. It's a rather unsettling shade that reminds him more of his newly-discovered older sister than of his own favored colors. But he doubts Hela would have anything to do with something healing-related. She probably thinks healing is for cowards. Either don't get injured or die, give your all, that would be Hela's way.
"Well, I have no idea what bacta is, but I could use a stimulant. Thank you," he says specifically to BD-1, and before either of them can react, Loki has neatly picked up the vial, popped the top open, and swallowed down the contents. He makes a face and coughs, and looks at it with distaste. "That's disgusting. I hope it's effective. ...my stomach feels warm, does that mean it's working?"
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
let's start some shit
"You're late, brother."
The now king of Asgard had been left a little too long to drink away his grief, and yes, perhaps to drink in celebration and maybe even to quell the nerves he felt at having the throne. Even if the throne was on a ship filled with his people who were now all realm-less.
Wherever this backwards planet was though, they had no idea he was king. To them he was just another drunkard and troublemaker. But that may have had to do with his voicing his opinion of the music.
"I am done with this place, time for the next pub!" Surely this planet had more than one source of alcohol. It seemed like all there was to do here was drink.
@god why
"We're doing play dead, then." Heaving a sigh, Loki takes his brother's arm and hefts him up and across his shoulders with a grunt of effort. "Play dead," he tells him firmly, just as a few beings burst out of the door. He spots a few colors of blood that match the blood adorning Thor's fists. "Ah, yes, well, as you see, that last hit has certainly killed him entirely, I'll take it from here," he says as he starts walking, in the hope that the inebriated idiots will take him at his word and leave them alone.
because.god.net
While 'play dead' wasn't quite as much fun as 'get help', he did at least appreciate his brother's good timing. And the fact that Loki would even go back to this rouse after all these years. Until recently Thor was sure that Loki would have just left him to continue to fight his own way out. He tried to sneak a peek to see if they were being followed, but it was hard when it wasn't his good eye facing outwards.
no subject
In the end, they all go back inside and Loki breathes a sigh of relief, but he still waits until they've gone around a corner and down a few winding streets before he sets Thor on his feet again. "Do I even want to know what that was about?"
no subject
Thor might have just admitted to sparking the brawl, but he still didn't consider himself in the wrong. Nor did he consider he had truly had enough to drink. "Come, I still walk in a straight line. Clearly we need to find another place to drink. Preferably one that's not so against colours."
no subject
Loki sighs and waves a vague hand at the street. "Very well, pick one and I'll follow. But I'm not quaffing ale, and if you get into trouble, I'm not going to help. I'm going to stand back and laugh."
no subject
Thor got to his feet, and may have swayed a little, but he would put it down to having just been carried. Not the alcohol. "What will you do other than sit and watch if you do not drink, brother? You must drink something. I was hoping we'd be able to have some fun. Not just you enjoying my misfortunes." He walked towards a sign that he assumed must belong to another watering hole before he glanced back. "You won't help me? At all?"
no subject
This is familiar, uncomfortably familiar. It's too much like the way things had been, once upon a time, back before...well, everything. With all that had come between them, Thor is still able to find this connection.
"...I'll drink, but I'm not matching you drink for drink. Not again." Now that that's been established, he catches up to Thor and tugs him in a different direction, to the bar he'd been in before. It's still calm there, at least thus far. Probably not for much longer.
no subject
After his Museum on Knowhere had gone kablooey, Taneleer Tivan has tinkered with the Godhead's budget and means of generating more funds. (This has generally entailed nurturing business relations with other planets, selling some remaining artifacts to insure that the workers wouldn't have to take pay-cuts, and developing realty and tourist venues.) The Collector, with an expression austere, leads this latest guest into one of his many experimental suites. For a goodly sum, one could spend the night in one of the many exhibit rooms replicating chambers from other, notable locales throughout the galaxy. One such room contained a painstakingly crafted recreation of an Ancient Egyptian pharaoh's room (very popular among aliens who'd missed this favorite vacation spot from its heyday). Another has an homage to the Sovereign High Priestess' gilded bedchambers.
This particular set-up may or may not strike a chord with this former prince and former king (depending on whether or not it has been suitably constructed). All browny-brass with smoky, Celtic symbols licking up walls and dark, wooden furniture alike. There's a massive bed with clean sheets. Behind this bed, there's even something of a balcony with white stone columns and a view overlooking a flickering, holographic powerpoint presentation of various paintings (all rendering scenery from all Nine Realms).
The small, plastic plaque by the door insists that this is an Asgardian bedroom.
Entering with his right arm extended, Taneleer introduces his latest asset to their new cage,] It seems only appropriate to allow the Nine Realms' former king use of the Tivan Collection's Asgardian lodging, so carefully constructed from stories one hears of your grand palace and their legendary accomodations.
no subject
The plaque is what has attracted Loki's attention and he stares at it for a long time before walking past it, through the door and into his new environment. For that is what this will be, is it not? A familiar replica, intended to make its native species feel at home? There's a little bloom of smugness in knowing he is not, in fact, a true native to this environment but a transplant, but the feeling is brief and unsatisfying. For all intents and purposes, this is as accurate as any environment would be.
He examines it with the critical eye of an expert, nodding in grudging approval.]
The stories you have heard speak truly. I myself have spoken to guests in rooms similar to this. Thank you for your hospitality. [At least it will be a more comfortable prison than his cell on Asgard, that white fishbowl.] And will we speak again tomorrow?
no subject
Ah, ah, ah! The Collector just can't help but ball his hands into fists and shake them. It's kind of a reflex. Not even the scientists of Knowhere figured exactly why this is a thing that happens.] Look out the balcony, for a moment--[And...you're in for a treat, Loki.
A portrait of a Midgardian night skyline folds itself up into a paper airplane and...oh...oh! It flies away!] So splendid, the capabilities of PowerPoint 2013. [Where is the sarcasm in his voice?
No, seriously. The way this old dude sounds, it seems like he sincerely considers this to be one of the apexes of human achievement.
In its place, there now remains a tasteful landscape painting of some bluey, hoary Jotunheim peaks.] Beautiful.
[And, now: there's a question, right? Ah, yes, right. Waving it off, maybe a little too casually,] If I have time, there's some things I should like to speak with you about. But there is one more thing that I must demonstrate to you--[This billions year old dude practically shuffles off to a very curvy, very dark bedside table, retrieves something from its surface, heads back to this guest, and, with very little warning, snaps very silvery, minimalistic bracelet over this Asgardian's wrist.] This is customary for guests. You hit the button, [He points, to a small, raised circle,] and you may ask for room service. Food or inquiries. If you left these quarters, this will allow you into exhibits that may be closed during normal operating hours. If you head into a restricted area, you will receive a warning. If you disobey the warning and continue crossing a forbidden threshold, you will sound an alarm.
no subject
Ingenious. Certainly more diverting than the real thing. [Where else could one watch the wastes of Jotunheim disappear into a star-shaped hole, only to be replaced by the ranging forests of Alfheim? With luck, there are Asgardian vintages in this place to assist him in finding entertainment in sitting and watching, guessing which realm will appear next and how it will disappear.
The view actually distracts him long enough to keep him from noticing he's about to be accosted by jewelry, and it's quick thinking indeed to push back the automatic response of reaching for a knife. He's had an eventful few years, let alone the last few hours, no one could blame him for feeling jumpy.]
Convenient. And so much easier to find a guest, should you wish to speak with one while they are out touring your exhibits.
that icon tho, lovely choice
Since he cannont Collect his Museum's guests, this is about the closest that he can do to contain them.] I simply must tell you what should happen to you, if you dare stay a minute in a restricted area. Most of my guests are required to sign waivers before checking-in, informing them of such a thing--but you aren't a paying customer. I have simply welcomed you into my abode, [he strokes the bracelet, so tenderly, as one does their lover or a pet, and his tone grows all the more intimate and dulcet.] If you remain too long in a restricted area, this piece will run a fair amount of electricity through your body. Not enough to kill you (I've researched and adapted this piece to suit Asgardian usage), but it will subdue you. And you would have to wait until my Chief of Security, his team, or I release you. We are all, unfortunately, very busy this night and it might take some time for us to reach you. It would be such a shame if you were too badly damaged before my Brother's forces came to pick you up.
it was the best decision
Commendably, his breathing stays steady throughout the Collector's delighted explanation of what horrors will be visited upon him if he tries to cross his host, or indeed do anything against his wishes.]
Considerate of you, Collector, to so tailor your devices to your guests. Your attention to detail is unparalleled. [The question remains as to whether or not Loki will be testing it, but he absolutely believes that he will be left in agony for hours if he oversteps in his testing.
So he'll simply need to find another way to test it besides lingering in the restricted areas. He has ideas already, but he isn't fool enough to try with Taneleer still present. He'll wait an hour at least.]
I must thank you again for your generosity in accepting me under your roof. [Because he'd heard that, and it's best to stay on the Collector's good side and err on the side of thanking him once too often.] But I take it I am allowed to explore, within those confines? Your Collection draws my curiosity already.
no subject
Taneleer basks in this gratitude, preening just a little. All day, he consorts with miners, an attendant, and numerous specimens in his Collection? He pays them, tends to them. Do they ever really thank him? No. One more loving tap of that bracelet and, then, Taneleer lets go, looking to this other man.] You are free to educate yourself, Loki of Asgard. So long as you remain out of the restricted areas. Under your bed there are several volumes of guidebooks to my Collection and what is contained therein. These guides were chosen especially for Asgardian interests.
[And, just to demonstrate, Taneleer heads over to this dark wooded bed, rustles underneath, pulls out some junk, and tosses roughly ten books onto this Celtic-looking comforter. They're all pretty thick, these individual volumes. Some focus on nice, local bars to have a good drink. Others emphasize weapons collections, littered throughout these facilities.] Is there anything in particular that you're looking for in my Collection? So long as it isn't the hangar, I'd be happy to point you in the direction of something related to that interest.
no subject
The cordially interested smile stays in place as guide books to drinking, armor, and weapons appear. The temptation to say "the Aether" seizes him strongly, but Loki has not yet reached the point of reckless sarcasm. Instead, he picks up one of the books and glances through it, almost successfully hiding his surprise at this evidence of the sheer breadth of the Collection.]
In fact my own interests lie in the magical realm. Illusion, defense and battle, shape-shifting, other magical arts. I have not furthered my education in that area for a very long time. If you permit it, I would be loath to let this opportunity to explore pass me by. [A little self-deprecating smile.] I have rarely been absorbed only in Asgardian interests.
no subject
What is that, in his way...ah, yes, the size of his ego. It happens a little more often than is desirable. Taneleer Tivan is about as old as most people guessed and even moreso (by millions of years), it's gotten kind of hard for him to keep things like this straight. Ooh, and getting him off topic with fascinating bits of his Collection really isn't helping his case. But that last mention of shapeshifting draws a very curious eye from Taneleer Tivan, a glance turned into a stare that, rather abruptly with a clap of his hands, transforms into the least graceful transition ever.] Yes. Well. I have been expanding my Collection and made recent purchases that should interest you. From a region in one of your people's so-called Nine Realms, on the planet Terra. Some artifacts from the mystical Kamar-Taj, a place that I've been growing much more interested in. As of recently.
A beautiful statue almost resembling a Makulan. Fascinating restraints. A brazier--that I have yet to identify the purpose of. But none of this has successfully satisfied my appetite for examining the realm further. [Namely to locate an artifact, of course. An object of legend that is said to control the flow of time.]
no subject
Terra. [He repeats the name with no recognition, which of the Nine Realms might he mean? After a moment to think about the word, Loki's face clears.] Oh. Yes. My people call it Midgard. I am somewhat familiar with it, though my wish to grow more familiar had been...lessened, until now. I don't know this Kamar-Taj you mention, I should like to see these, these Terran artifacts. And hear the story of their acquisition, if you would indulge me, but of course I should hate to keep you from anything important.
no subject
You may try it here, if it would interest you to test such a thing out.
no subject
Ingenious. And once again, you are so considerate to your guests when you cannot accompany them personally. [Loki eyes the bracelet, taps it once and twice, and looks quietly satisfied when the hologram pauses. It's possible he feels greatly satisfied to bring it to a halt, but he's careful to mask that as simply being pleased at knowing how it works.] I believe I have everything I need.
[Besides freedom and an army to reclaim Asgard, but it's been hours by now. Thor is almost certainly dead and Asgard either in ruins or bowing to its new queen. All that really remains is his own survival. Familiar territory.]
no subject
It had taken quite a few drinks and many weeks for Taneleer Tivan to tolerate recording any of this and copying it all onto a machine that could, say, hypothetically, survive the collapse of a neighboring star.
Taneleer's expression fades a little, as he watches that ghost of his at work. The actual flesh and bone man just barely perceives Loki's honeyed words and almost takes no notice, until his own spectre echoes these same words.] Loki of Asgard has informed us that he has everything he needs. That's your cue to trot off to your other appointments, sir! [Taneleer blinks twice, contemplating, for a moment, about tweaking this AI to make it less obnoxious; and then, recalling his guest, he turns to Loki and, slowly, lowers his head into a simpler bow.] Yes, I'll be off. Do...watch yourself, former Prince and former King.
[Without lifting his head, the man known as the Collector pivots on the balls of his feet, turning himself about, and, then, steps out of the room. Loki is now alone, save for this ghastly, grinning djinn summoned from his new bauble.]
no subject
Former Prince rankles, however. Former King, yes, that he must accept as truth, but if Taneleer wishes to consider him a former prince, then former "prince" he will be.
The change in shape comes smoothly, considering it is a shape Loki has not worn in centuries. The armor is altered only enough to accommodate the new shape of the body, the hair is somewhat longer, but it is still unmistakably Loki. Loki as a woman, a Princess of Asgard. That's for your "former prince," she thinks as she walks out of the Asgardian bedroom exhibit. She summons the faux-Collector again and holds up a finger in warning.]
Take me to the Kamar-Taj exhibit, and no unnecessary prattle.
[It doesn't work, of course, but Loki does her best to ignore the unnecessary prattle as she follows the directions to see these Midgardian artifacts. She will walk the museum's halls until rest seems as though it might be a possibility.]
no subject
Holly's all smiles, doing his best to oblige the guest and avoid saying anything unnecessary. Oh, no, he's only sharing the most fascinating stories and most relevant histories that have been programmed into him.] ...the name 'Kamar-Taj' comes from the Arabic قمر تاج meaning "moon crown". Local legends say that it is the birthplace of a great sorcerer, the first of a long succession of great magic-users who carry the same title of "Ancient One". (Mr. Taneleer had a very good laugh, when he'd heard about that! He's run into so many revered 'ancients' and 'deities' in his absurdly long lifetime, but they never fail to bring something of a smile to his face.)
Anyway, so says the legends, this Ancient One and a friend discovered a source of magic; they had a spat over how to use it, and you probably already know where this one goes without me having to say it (oh, but I'm going to have to--it's the only way I've been programmed). One thing led to another, the Ancient One's dear friend mind-controlled everyone in a local village into his thrall, and, then, they say that the first Ancient One wound up poofing off their dear old friend into another dimension.
That's certainly one way to break up a friendship, [The other being laughs at his nonjoke, his sightless eyes nestling so comfortably between eyebags. In what feels like very little time to a hologram (admittedly without any perceptions of time programmed into his systems), they come across the first Kamar-Tajan artifact.
This has Holly terribly excited and clapping, like a sugar-high child coming across a purple pony.] Ooh! We've come across the first asset in the Kamar-Tajan exhibit--the fabulous Bands of Cyttorak! [They don't look especially fabulous; they look rusted, like dried, metallic centipede segments that have been separated and, then, glued together on a bit of metallic string.]
@nonstopnarcissist
It's funny you should ask that...I'd seen a reference to an enormous wolf in a history book. Partly, I wanted to see if I could do it, but after I did it, I could never find that book again.
[She sets her chin on her hand, looking pensive, introspective, even a little sad.]
Now I know that reference had been an overlooked reference to my sister that hadn't been erased with the rest.
(1000000 years later with starbucks)
[ A beat ]
I'm never complaining about my father again.
steals starbucks
[She sighs, and for once that looks like genuine sorrow as she shakes her head.]
He used my sister to build up his realm and to cement his position as ruler of the Nine Realms, then locked her away because he'd decided he'd conquered enough new lands. Not just locked her away, taken her even from memory. Such a shame. A waste. I wish I'd known her.
no subject
A secret older sibling? That's intense.
no subject
[Absently, she sweeps up the refilled glass in long fingers currently adorned with pointed nails painted a green so dark it's nearly black.]
It should have made me angry. There really wasn't time. Two minutes after he told us about her, he died. And then she appeared immediately and tried to kill us, and then, well. Sakaar.
[With an elegant but somehow very illustrative wave of her free hand.]
no subject
[ He doesn't, not yet. He'll wait until she's done with her current drink before pouring more for her, or himself. Trying to keep pace with an Asgardian isn't all that wise but- it's been a day. ]
The Grandmaster. Do you uh, wanna talk about that?
no subject
[The liquor on Midgard isn't as potent as Asgard's offerings, but she does appreciate the smoothness of its burn. Taking another drink, she sits back with her eyes closed, then slits one open again to dart a look at him.]
Do you want to hear about that?
[That might be a surprise. Bruce had been willing to do just about anything to avoid hearing about it.]
no subject
I'm not going to say I know exactly what it might've been like but it does ring a touch familiar.
no subject
[She is going to knock that drink back first, though, straight down even though this is meant to be a liquor too fine for that. She needs it. Sakaar had been...well, it had been about survival.]
I crashed into a pile of garbage on that planet. Scavengers found me, but I managed to convince them I already knew the Grandmaster and eating me would be a mistake, so they brought me to him in hopes of a reward. As soon as I was inside his palace, I sent an illusion with them and got lost in the crowd, but they still told him about me. He took an interest.
[It's all delivered in a particular careful tone, neutral, without Loki's usual dramatic flare.]
I was easier to find than I'd expected to be. New people don't arrive on Sakaar often. Even if I'd changed my form like this, I think he would have found me. He's...the Grandmaster is far cannier than he seems.
no subject
[ Been there, done that- he'd know. Usually the bite's delayed and all the more vicious for it, blood and guts in the water leaving you hallowed out and wondering if it's worth it the next time the shark starts to smile. He tops off her glass again without comment, shaking his head. ]
no subject
[She sweeps up the recharged glass, but doesn't drink just yet, studies it instead as if some answers might lie within.]
There was a time—I don't know how much time, time passes strangely on Sakaar—but there was a time when I think I might have been happy there. How did Thor put it? "Chaotic and lawless." He thought I'd do very well there. He might have been right, if I'd found it before my tenure as king of Asgard.
[Never mind that she'd never been king by name, and they'd followed Odin's decrees. They'd still followed them, no matter how strange they'd become, and she'd done what she could to rebuild the realm, to bring peace to Asgard. At the expense of peace in other realms, yes, but how many realms did she need? Not nine.]
no subject
He allows himself some uncharitable grumbling about all of it to an endlessly patient BD-1, right up until he finds himself at the edge of a brand new crater that he's fairly sure wasn't there the last time he passed through here. Right. Trusting in the Force, and all that.
BD whoops out a series of beeps that confirm his suspicions, and with a newfound humility he picks his way down the crumbling rock, because he's just not good at leaving well enough alone anymore. Some days being such a nosy bastard almost feels like making up for lost time, considering the half decade he'd spent on Bracca keeping his head as far down as possible—other days though, it feels like just a different form of running away from his issues.
Best not to think about any of that. Besides, is that... a guy? Cal should definitely stop to consider the last strange man he found and woke up on Koboh, and whether or not this is a good idea considering how that turned out, but instead he simply exchanges a befuddled look with BD-1 and calls out: "Hey, are you alive down there?" You know, better to make sure before he starts touching everything to try and find a memory that will explain the situation. That would probably be awkward.
no subject
Never let it be said that Loki outstays his welcome, unless that's the whole point, but when the Grandmaster had decided he and the Scrapper ought to compete to find the Hulk first, with an entertaining death hanging in the balance, it had been clear it was time to move on. Yes, the Scrapper—the Valkyrie—had put a few dents into that idea, and Loki's idiot brother hadn't helped. Trying to turn Thor and Banner in for the reward hadn't been personal. They would have found a way to escape again. Probably. Either way, Loki would have been gone, with a lovely nest egg to ensure he could truly disappear.
Except Thor had, incredibly, anticipated Loki's treachery this time, and left him twitching under an obedience disc. It had felt like hours before Loki had been able to focus well enough to draw the controller back to him with magic, and then out of spite he'd stolen the Valkyrie's ship instead. It didn't matter that he'd avoided the Devil's Anus and used a different portal. It had ripped the fragile craft to shreds and tumbled Loki through space once more—
—and then he's spat out. Somewhere else.
Before Loki has time to take in much more than the sky, the oddity beyond the sky, and the expanse of spiky-looking mountains rising rapidly around him, he impacts with the ground and nothing matters for a little while. Very slowly, his mind returns as he heals. The first thing that occurs is that the Hulk had somehow followed him to exact further revenge using his favorite method, but he cannot hear that telltale roar. This place is surprisingly peaceful, in fact, now that the dust has settled. The sun feels warm on his face, he hears the hum of insects—and a voice.
"Alive, yes," he calls back, voice roughened from the dust, probably the injuries. Can he sit up yet? Yes, if he goes carefully. Sitting up means being able to look around and locate the speaker, and offer what he hopes is a reassuring, harmless smile. "Good morning. Or...afternoon?"
no subject
Surely the Force would warn him if this were dangerous. The thing with Dagan was... different. Or something. The fallen Jedi was just as connected to the Force as Cal is, not that Cal knows for sure that Loki isn't in his own way. Listen... "Definitely afternoon," he agrees, tone light and breezy even though he's still trying to judge how hurt Loki may or may not be, before figuring the quickest way to judge will be offering the god a hand to help him stand up if he needs it. "I haven't seen you around before." Wow, now he's even talking like a local. Feels weird, but he's been so much of a busybody on Koboh for the last few weeks that he's fairly sure he knows every face and almost every name of all the prospectors in the area. Loki definitely does not look like one of the raiders or the recently arrived Imps, either. "Did you just, uh..." he steals a glance around the crater that they're standing in, which notably doesn't contain any intact starship or escape pod. "Land?"
Normally he tries not to pry. Force knows his life has been saved more than once by strangers not questioning him too much, but the situation is too bizarre to keep all his curiosity at bay until he can poke around with psychometry, like a cheater. He shakes his head to get himself back on track and follows up with: "Are you alright? My buddy's got stims if you're hurt." He tilts his head deliberately to one side to make room for BD-1 to pop up over his shoulder and beep out an affirmative about the offer.
no subject
"Ah—yes," he says, looking up at the sky, brushing idly at his dust-caked shoulders and arms. It makes almost no difference. The blue leather has held up, sort of, but it will never be quite the same. "I seem to have just recently dropped in, as it were. Thank you for your help. Might I ask where I have ended up?"
But before the question gets an answer, a little robot appears and chirps at him, and the Allspeak actually works on it. Loki can understand what it's saying. Which means it's actually alive in some way, and isn't that interesting? "I have certainly fared better. What is a stim, exactly?" And what manner of mechanical creature will provide it to him? Loki peers at it, curious about what in that array of circuits and wires has granted it sentience.
no subject
So for now, he just finds himself grinning as BD-1 visibly preens under Loki's curious gaze. "Bacta and stimulants. For combat healing." A beat. It's definitely not something most people carry around, but Cal and Normal had a not-so-amicable split about a decade ago, so he barely remembers to hurriedly tack on: "It can get pretty dicey out here." Nailed it! Now it's not suspicious at all. BD-1 clambers up onto Cal's shoulder fully, as though to take back the spotlight and save his awkward human, primly dipping his little head so Loki can see the stim canister as he pops it out for Cal to catch out of the air reflexively. BD-1 more helpfully rattles off a list of the chemical components of the neon green stimulant to make up for Cal's vague answer, because the droid always operates on the assumption that he'll be understood.
Cal offers the little canister in an open palm, in case Loki is interested. He doesn't look too hurt now, but that doesn't necessarily mean anything. Maybe he's got an insane pain tolerance. Either way, Cal gestures around them, above their dusty little crater. "Well, right now you're in Dredger Gorge." He doesn't imagine that's particularly helpful. "On Koboh, if that's what you mean." Cal has crash landed in enough mystery locales (don't tell Greez) that he figures it doesn't hurt to specify. "Did you mean to land here?" It's not exactly a hot tourist destination planet, after all, and Loki does not appear prepared for prospecting (no offence and/or you're welcome, Loki.)
no subject
"Dredger Gorge? What an unromantic name." Neatly avoiding the question of whether he'd meant to land here, Loki peers at the green and glowing vial. It's a rather unsettling shade that reminds him more of his newly-discovered older sister than of his own favored colors. But he doubts Hela would have anything to do with something healing-related. She probably thinks healing is for cowards. Either don't get injured or die, give your all, that would be Hela's way.
"Well, I have no idea what bacta is, but I could use a stimulant. Thank you," he says specifically to BD-1, and before either of them can react, Loki has neatly picked up the vial, popped the top open, and swallowed down the contents. He makes a face and coughs, and looks at it with distaste. "That's disgusting. I hope it's effective. ...my stomach feels warm, does that mean it's working?"