frostedire | Open RP

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.

[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.

( 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.

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.

let's start some shit

no subject

@nonstopnarcissist

no subject