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entrancelogs2013-06-18 09:26 pm
laevisilaufeyson) wrote in entrancelogs2013-06-18 09:26 pm
Entry tags:
good morning, mr. magpie -- how are we today? [CLOSED]
Who: Loki Laufeyson, Aramis
Where: Gardens
When: Following the shadow event, early morning
Rating: PG-13 to be safe, probably nothing terribly shocking
Summary: When a man strays in the desert, it won't be long before the devil finds him.
The Story: Following the game of doubles, Loki expects all the residents of the mansion are on edge. Even he feels uneasy, the sign of a clever play but not comfortable all the same. Though he appreciates it in principle, appreciates the wit in it, how elegantly it exposed all of them down to their most tender cores, made them weak and exploitable – though he appreciates it he feels a need nonetheless to compensate. To reassert his own power. It wouldn’t have to be difficult or complex. The snap of bone echoes through his head, all across the facets of a fragmented mind so recently laid bare, but the easy option is so often distasteful, now as much as ever.
What would it serve, in the end, to drag them shrieking from the beds and tear them all apart? Little enough purpose, save to expose the callous fury which curls in his belly and stirs from time to time.
The sun won’t calm him; it is entirely too warm, and he entirely too tired of warmth in the first place. Where the monster would sink its teeth in it would find only the burning of human flesh, that improbable heat, still shocking, even now, after it all. Still, he finds his way out to the gardens in the early morning to take in the delicate frosts, and expects himself to be alone.
Expects, is surprised to find that he is not. A curious state of affairs. Not welcome. An affront, in truth, and though he can lay no true claim to this place he feels the man an intruder. Not an unfamiliar face, but not one he knows intimately, nor one, he thinks, he cares to know intimately – and so he leaves the man at his prayer, droll though it is, to wander with quiet steps over the grass. Perhaps when the man is finished, Loki will inquire as to his purpose, but not before. He is no stranger to the concept of respect, and whether or not he feels any is irrelevant. It is expected, and the Liesmith knows how to craft his masks. The ability to slip wholly into one, the shadow of honesty banished, is a faint relief.
Where: Gardens
When: Following the shadow event, early morning
Rating: PG-13 to be safe, probably nothing terribly shocking
Summary: When a man strays in the desert, it won't be long before the devil finds him.
The Story: Following the game of doubles, Loki expects all the residents of the mansion are on edge. Even he feels uneasy, the sign of a clever play but not comfortable all the same. Though he appreciates it in principle, appreciates the wit in it, how elegantly it exposed all of them down to their most tender cores, made them weak and exploitable – though he appreciates it he feels a need nonetheless to compensate. To reassert his own power. It wouldn’t have to be difficult or complex. The snap of bone echoes through his head, all across the facets of a fragmented mind so recently laid bare, but the easy option is so often distasteful, now as much as ever.
What would it serve, in the end, to drag them shrieking from the beds and tear them all apart? Little enough purpose, save to expose the callous fury which curls in his belly and stirs from time to time.
The sun won’t calm him; it is entirely too warm, and he entirely too tired of warmth in the first place. Where the monster would sink its teeth in it would find only the burning of human flesh, that improbable heat, still shocking, even now, after it all. Still, he finds his way out to the gardens in the early morning to take in the delicate frosts, and expects himself to be alone.
Expects, is surprised to find that he is not. A curious state of affairs. Not welcome. An affront, in truth, and though he can lay no true claim to this place he feels the man an intruder. Not an unfamiliar face, but not one he knows intimately, nor one, he thinks, he cares to know intimately – and so he leaves the man at his prayer, droll though it is, to wander with quiet steps over the grass. Perhaps when the man is finished, Loki will inquire as to his purpose, but not before. He is no stranger to the concept of respect, and whether or not he feels any is irrelevant. It is expected, and the Liesmith knows how to craft his masks. The ability to slip wholly into one, the shadow of honesty banished, is a faint relief.
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