First Ax [@the.boneless, video]

[ragnarsson]

[It's clear whoever is using this device is unused to it. The picture shifts around for a few minutes, and Ivar's face furrowed in concentration is seen several times before he finally realizes that it's on. He's sixteen, has blue eyes, and oddly enough, blue sclera as well. There's also an ax tucked at his side. He points the phone he's using outward, showing that he's in the kitchen, seated on a chair. His voice, when he speaks, has a vaguely European accent.] I have figured out what these do.

[He shows in turn the fridge, the sink, and the stove. The last one had caused a few burnt fingers, but hey, he'll survive.] But I still have no idea what this does. [He turns the device to the microwave. He's been playing around with the buttons, and while he's been able to turn it on, he hasn't yet realized food is supposed to go inside of it.] Anyone care to enlighten me?

Comments

[ikols]

[ Sounds like a young Thor, wow. ]

Some part of you wanted to come, though. Yes? It's one more big adventure, albeit a little more light-hearted than gaining revenge.

[ragnarsson]

[Not his favorite god, but he definitely ranks up there. Ivar opens the back panel, observing the insides. He has absolutely no clue what he's looking at. Well, time to poke and prod around.]

At least I'll have a good story to tell when I get back. Though I doubt any of the poets will believe enough of it to speak of it later.

[He yanks out some wires a little too far and they snap. Were those necessary for the microwave to run properly? Whoops.]

[ikols]

[ A god hands you a screwdriver to build or break something, then accepts no responsibility for either outcome: sounds like a good movie summary to him. Loki pulls a face as the microwave is gutted, amused but unhelpful. That's the boy's mess to deal with. ]

Poets have no right to disbelieve anything. They go nowhere and do nothing, their life is spent chronicling others in poor rhymes. [ He tilts his head. ] Whose name will they give it their best shot at singing?

[ragnarsson]

[Well, in all honesty, this outcome of taking something apart and not being able to put it back together was likely to happen whether Loki had helped him or not. Well, he's got the wires out, now comes all the various pieces. He's still not entirely sure how they all fit together to make it work. It's just too advanced.

Giving up for the moment, he looks up at Loki.]

Ivar Ragnarsson. Ivar The Boneless to some.

[History will record him as being one of the most famous Vikings, both for his intelligence and his cruelty. But that's all in the future. Right now, he's still just a teen hellbent on getting revenge for his father and mother.]

[ikols]

[ Kattegat struck no chord, too tiny a place, but that names of notable warriors was evidently worth storing in the annals of his memory. Loki puts down his ice cream and leans forward on the kitchen counter, hands gripping the edge and a smile dancing on his lips. ]

I've heard of you! Your father was the great warrior Ragnar Lothbrok, he died in a pit of snakes. I'm sorry for mentioning that, it simply sent ripples throughout the realms. Thor loved him. [ And the disabilty, that makes sense now too. ] Ah, this is ... so strange for me, but I'm pleased to meet you.

[ Even if Ivar has slain an innocent microwave. ]

Ivar, your name is known to my people.

[ragnarsson]

[Knowing of Ragnar was no surprise. The man had been the most famous Viking of all. Ivar practically preens when Loki mentions him. He's always been sure that his name would be known by all. He was going to be a great Viking warrior despite what everyone else thought]

It is? [He takes a closer look at Loki. He'd mentioned Thor and "his people." Clearly, there was more to this man than what he appeared to be.] Who are you?

[ikols]

Moon King and Wanderer, [ reeling off his titles, he hops down and walks around the table's far end with a coy smile in place, ] Silvertongue, Son of Secrets ...

[ A laugh bubbles up as he holds his hands behind his back, prim and proper except for the mischievous twinkle in his eyes. Now for the more pointed names that might help, the dead giveaways. ]

Lie-smith. Shapeshifter. Trickster.

[ragnarsson]

[It snaps into place for Ivar with suddenness. He knows the old tales well, especially so with Floki's teachings rattling around inside. He breathes out the name reverently and with respect.]

Loki. You're a god.

[ikols]

I am, and you're a mortal, and we both sleep two beds away from each other at night. What a wild ride life is.

[ It's been so long since he didn't have to explain what he was. Ordinarily, mortals rationalise his godhood away into the status of an alien, which isn't accurate at all. Ivar is refreshingly precise, unmuddled by science. ]

Have you met none of the other Aesir? Thor's usually quite chatty with Midgardians.

[ragnarsson]

[It's amazing that his life should have come to this. Yet here he is, sitting in the middle of a kitchen in a strange land, talking with a god like it's the most natural thing in the world.]

Only the All-Father. He came personally to tell me and my brothers that our father was dead. We're descended from his bloodline.

[ikols]

'Only'. I hope seeing my father was a comfort, he has a way with words. [ Sometimes, when it counts.

He takes the seat next to Ivar, folding a leg and chinning a hand on the table. ]

I wonder, does that make us related? On a distant technicality, of course. Would you like that?

[ragnarsson]

Not much of one, but that had more to do with the circumstances than his presence. [Losing his father has hurt worse than anything Ivar had ever known.]

Your father? [From what he's always been told, Odin and Loki were blood brothers. Still, the poets couldn't be expected to get everything right.] Guess the stories got the lineage wrong.

[Loki's question makes his eyes light up and a smile come to his face.] Who wouldn't want to be related to a god?

[ikols]

Poets can be the worst, I'd trust only half of the gossip you hear in songs. Odin adopted me when I was very young, back in Jotunheim. I was a little smaller than Thor at the time.

[ He shares in Ivar's grin, arching a brow. ]

Let's say we're distant cousins, hm? Extended family, you and I.

[ragnarsson]

Good. We can look out for each other here.

[That's what family did, wasn't it? And let's face it, someone needs to put a leash on Ivar to keep him from putting an ax through someone that he shouldn't. Usually that task falls to his brothers, but they aren't here right now.]

[ikols]

I'd like that. [ Considering Asgard has disowned Loki, as of late. The idea of having someone of his own is a comfort he didn't know he was missing until now.

He shrugs, gesturing between them. ]

Is there anything you want to know about the gods? I have nothing but time on my hands if you want to be nosy.

[ Curiosity is a trait that Loki will always encourage. ]

[ragnarsson]

[He leaned forward in anticipation. Oh, this promised to be good. A god himself telling him stories. His brothers would have never believed this.]

Tell me about Tyr.

[His favorite god. Of course he'd go for the one that had a disability like he did.]

[ikols]

He's a general and no friend of mine. We've kept our distance over the ages.

[ No grand tales of Tyr from Loki, unfortunately. ]

[ragnarsson]

Tell me then about Asgard. I'm sure you've got a few stories there the poets never recorded.

[Don't disappoint him now. He wants a good tale.]

[ikols]

A few years ago it was rebuilt on the soil of Midgard. Ah, it floated above it a little, in truth, but sometimes men would visit and climb the ladders that the gods threw down. Then they would feast together.

[ Wild times in Broxton. ]

When it was destroyed, it was rebuilt again but this time back amongst the stars where it belonged, and those who had befriended mortals felt their loss keenly. I remained on Midgard, at length.

[ragnarsson]

[Stories are the stuff of life for Vikings. It's how their entire culture has been passed down. Ivar is no exception. His mother would tell him tales as a child to get him to sleep when the pain in his legs was too great. Floki had told him all about the gods, teaching him of their most famous deeds. But this is something new, a story nobody back home even knows.]

Why did it keep having to be rebuilt? Who destroyed it?

[ikols]

Men of Midgard. Stark was there, at the very least we can say he tried to help a little despite his innate idiocy. I hated him back then, was very different in those days. [ He sends Ivar a wink, the sound of the story far more fantastical than the reality of living it and exploding into a million pieces. ] I was an old man.

[ His hand leaves his chin, black nails rapping on the table where his gaze falls thoughtfully. ]

Sometimes, I still think I am.

[ragnarsson]

[Indeed, the story does sound interesting, far more than the reality of it would have. He wonders at the details that Loki is leaving out.]

Well, you are really old.

[Never let it be said Ivar sugarcoated things.]

[ikols]

[ Snorting, he points at Ivar. ]

You're very rude. Odin would sit on your head and turn it into flatbread! Splat! He's not even that big but he'd do it.

[ragnarsson]

I'm not rude. I'm honest!

[Like there's a difference between the two of them when he's a smart-mouthed teenager.]

What're you going to do, trickster? Turn me into a dog?

[ikols]

I turned Thor into a frog once, so you better show me some respect!

[ Sniffing snootily for show, he sticks his nose in the air and pulls a face. ]

At least ten offerings a day! No, twelve!