riverview | First Ax [@the.boneless, video]

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First Ax [@the.boneless, video]

[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?

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[ The kitchen of Communal Floor Five is where Loki spends the better amount of time when he's in the apartment, preferring to distract himself making Midgardian meals as opposed to bunking with a handful of Avengers. So, when he walks in and finds a new face vlogging their adventures, he waits in the doorway with folded arms until they finish.

Today he wears a hoodie and worn jeans, minus any of the Asgardian accoutrements that seem to ignite Stark's temper upon sight. Just a tall, lean man, with the greenest of eyes, and when he speaks the accent heard is not unlike Ivar's. ]

If you break that, you can steal another from one of the other floors in this building.

[It's the accent that makes Ivar look up first. This man sounds like he could be from home. His sharp eyes take in his manner of dress, the same as some of the others on this floor.]

Good point.

[So he yanks the cord out of the wall and promptly pulls out a knife from his boot, sticking it in the back of the microwave to pry it open. He leans forward on the chair he's in, the tips of his useless feet brushing the ground. His curiosity has been peaked and he wants to figure out how it works.]

Where are you from? [Not what his name is. Ivar is more interested in how people seem to be from different areas and realms he's never even heard of before.]

[ Strolling over to a drawer filled not with knives and forks but random bits, he ferrets inside to find a screwdriver. Back beside the boy, Loki slots the end of the tool into a screw and gives it a twist to show how it works, putting it down on the table for him to use as he pleases. Is he encouraging bad behaviour? No, Loki is helping to stimulate a curious mind! ]

I'm not sure anymore, my mother kicked me out. [ He investigates what's going in the fridge, finding a pot of ice cream that belongs to Stark. That'll do as he grabs a spoon, hopping up on a counter to sit there and plunder his snack. ] Does it count as your home if no one wants you to stay?

[Ivar watches Loki work the tool for a moment before slotting it into the next screw. That'll work a lot faster than the knife. He starts taking off all the screws, setting them down next to the microwave. He does have some hope he'll be able to put this back together once his curiosity is satisfied.]

Thank you.

[He considers the question carefully before answering.]

I think it counts if you're the one who wants to stay. But then I've never cared much of what other people thought.

[Mainly because other people either pitied or underestimated him. Ivar never had much use for those in either category.]

[ A nod at the thanks, an unspoken You're welcome. His gaze rakes over the boy, drawing a silent summary as he tries to understand what prompted that reply. ]

I wouldn't either but, alas, it's hard to ignore a mother like mine. [ Especially when she exiles you via a fiery tornado. Overkill much. ] Thankfully, she's not here, nor do I think she would find this realm. [ Sucking ice cream off his spoon, he kicks his heels idly against the cabinets below. ] Perhaps father might.

What about you, where are you from?

There are some advantages to being an orphan

[The words are said sarcastically, but he jams the screwdriver a little too hard into the microwave's back panel as he pries it open to really be genuine. The wounds of his parents' deaths are still raw. At least his father can rest easier with the king who had executed him currently dead. And he'll finish his revenge whenever he gets back.]

Kattegat. In southern Norway.

[ Keeping it to himself that, technically, he's an orphan too. It's not like Laufey was any sort of real father, anyway.

The way the boy jabs at the microwave has Loki eating slower, giving himself time to think and in his fingers the spoon twirls. Kattegat in Norway. From ... a while ago, if those clothes on the boy are any indication of a rough timeline. Already fuzzy as his inherited memories are, Loki racks his brain for a reference but then that's the problem with his first life; the Old Man was so egotistical he hardly ever bothered to remember the names of mortal settlements.

Maybe it just didn't exist on Earth-616, there's also that. ]

I like Norway, they were always kind to me there. [ Also terrified of him, he'll just leave that out. ] Do you miss it?

Not yet. All I ever wanted was to get out of there and go on raids like everyone else. [No one had ever bothered taking a chance on him until Ragnar had offered to let him sail to England. To say Ivar had jumped at the chance was an understatement.]

My brothers and I had sailed to England when I was brought here. Very inconvenient to plot revenge when you've been taken to a whole other world. [But he'd manage it somehow. First King Ecbert and then Lagertha once he got back to Kattegat. Ivar's fury was something he could hold onto, slow-burning until it would flare up white hot and ready to be used.]

[ 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.

[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.]

[ 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?

[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.]

[ 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.

[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?

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.

[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.

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.

[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.

Edited 2017-03-09 00:37 (UTC)

'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?

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?

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.

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.]

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. ]

[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.]

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. ]

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