(no subject)

[nine_songs]

Where does a god live?

A small, comfortable room, the Nexus having picked up on it's owner's personality and decorated itself accordingly. Wednesday would never have taken the time or the interest to do so himself. He didn't feel as if he'd be there long enough for such things.

The walls were soft grey-blue, the light ambient and originating from nowhere in particular. The bedspread is old, handmade, and Norse in origin, the pattern intricate and dark. The lamp beside the bed is cheap and resembles hotel room lighting, as does the desk against the wall. The carpet is worn and stained from multitudes of feet having crossed it. A bottle of Jack Daniels bourbon and two glasses are on the desk as well. A raven with glossy black wings stands at the foot of the bed grooming itself, one wing and then the other. Otherwise, the room would be sparse save for the books.

Books, old and older, crumbling and re-bound, were stacked everywhere. Two chairs and a small table held their share, and several were stacked next to the bed. Nexus history, magicka, tomes describing other worlds and their own histories and peoples, fiction, poetry, war tactics--any subject imaginable. Not all were in English, and many were in languages that weren't familiar. There were no notebooks or writing implements, no laptop, nothing to take notes of any sort. The lone inhabitant of the room doesn't forget easily.

Currently, he's sleeping, a book open next to him and the lamp nearby lit, harshly bright against the cool warmth of the rest of the room. In slumber, he doesn't seem a god at all, only a man.

And he snores, but rather quietly.

Comments

[waterfell.livejournal.com]

This is a place that would absolutely call Ami to it, with a sense akin to familiarity from the books. Quietly, she avoids disturbing the sleeping owner while she glances through as much as she can make out of their subject matter. Not all of them are languages known to her, hardly surprising since their collector is Norse. But the ones she finds in Asian languages, or English, are perfectly within her grasp.

Ami looks quite different today because it is Mizuno Ami, de-transformed and no different from any other faceless visitor and with very little to suggest Mercury, but it probably wouldn't be surprising if he knew or guessed how they've met before anyway.

Between the books, the ravens, and then finally another glance at the sleeping man, she finally puts together his identity. "Wednesday?" she asks aloud, as if confirming it.

[slain-allfather.livejournal.com]

He grunts and shifts slightly, turning his head and opening one grey eye--the real one, of course. The raven turns it's head in that unnerving way birds do to look at her, shiny black eyes reflecting the light from the lamp.

"What d'you want?" His voice is heavy with sleep, but no malice. Anyone else might have gotten anger along with the gruffness. He's nude under the sheets, at least from the waist up. Very old scars spot his skin, telling stories.

[waterfell.livejournal.com]

"I didn't know," she answers, but it's not a timid excuse; she states the words confidently enough to be simple explanation. "I was orienting myself to the places in the Nexus and I found myself here." She's been glancing at the books still as she speaks, and finally now looks back at Wednesday - only to look away once more as realization dawns that the sleep she'd interrupted hadn't, perhaps, been simply a chance nap.

[slain-allfather.livejournal.com]

"That I sleep?" He pushes the book away and it hits the floor, an unplanned movement. At least it's not one of the ancient looking ones. This one isn't even ten years old, something on satanic cults. Maybe he thinks they're full of shit. (Most likely).

He sits up, pulling the sheet around his lower extremities, and yawns. He still looks more human than anything else.

"Seems like everyone ends up somewhere they didn't expect around here. Or exactly where they need to be." He raises an eyebrow at this and looks at her. The raven does the same before going back to grooming.

[waterfell.livejournal.com]

She shakes her head. "Not like that. I didn't know you'd be here." Although the books are still clearly commanding more of her attention and interest than they probably would for most people, she hesitates (need to be? does he not mind her intruding then?) before offering, "I shouldn't just barge in like that." A polite out to tell her that he needs rest and to come back later.

[slain-allfather.livejournal.com]

"No, you shouldn't. But you have, and maybe there's a reason." He glances around the room; no one else has ever set foot in here, at least after he arrived. Stops on the bottle of alcohol. Apparently, he's not going to take her out.

"Offer you a drink?" It's the only consumable thing in the room, unless one counts the books as being brain food.

[waterfell.livejournal.com]

She's been taught to mostly stay away from alcohol, not for moral reasons but quite simply to maintain clarity of mind and command of her reflexes and faculties at all times. Not that she hasn't had it once or twice, despite her young age, but she politely declines for now.

A reason? A light dawns and she offers a quick nod, as if the idea has jogged her memory. "I fought," she says. "And I did as you said."

[slain-allfather.livejournal.com]

He closes his eyes.

"You dedicated your battle to me? And happened?"

Everything. Tell him everything. He wants to know.

[slain-allfather.livejournal.com]

(('and *what* happened.' the 'what' ran away, i think. *headdesk*))

[waterfell.livejournal.com]

She starts by describing the battle itself, although she's not so sure that's precisely what he wants to know.

"The shitennou, the Dark Kingdom, command creatures called youma," she explains. "Youma from another world than mine have been causing problems for us." Read: They're nasty things who suddenly answer only to the demon Metalia and which have been aggressive even towards the shitennou and Mercury. And, what she'll never say, she's been humiliated enough at their hands already.

"Some of them attacked. The fight was over quickly. I said I would dedicate my fight to you, and I did."

[slain-allfather.livejournal.com]

He listens, never shifting his focus or opening his eyes. Once she's finished, he opens them. His real eye is distant, and when he speaks his voice is quieter as well, yet it has gained power. She can feel it in the room.

"With each subsequent battle you dedicate to Odin, I will sing a charm for you. It will protect you and keep you safe. As long as your belief is true, as long as you continue to shed blood in Odin's name, the charms will stay strong."

He looks up at her, standing in his room, looking through her.

"What say you, Dark Mercury?"

[waterfell.livejournal.com]

It's not actually an easy answer. Is she willing to help him? For whatever reasons, some self-seeking and some perhaps not, yes. But reverence or service or obedience? No, never. She isn't even free to make that choice, she knows the consequences. Belief? In the sense that 'this is Odin, a god'? Certainly. Worship? Not possible.

"This was just to help you for now," is what she finally says, thoughtfully. "I don't know about the future yet."

[slain-allfather.livejournal.com]

He rises, pulling the sheet off the bed as he does so and wrapping it around his lower extremities. Six foot two, he likely looks down on her, his face wolflike.

"I don't need a pity fuck, girl. It's an exchange, it's how the whole thing works. You don't want it, you don't have to take it, and I'll be damned if I'm going to ask you to give me something because you feel sorry for me."

[waterfell.livejournal.com]

Ami winces faintly at something, but she doesn't seem quite nervous. "I wasn't saying that," she argues sharply.

[slain-allfather.livejournal.com]

His jaw is set, but his eyes soften just a bit.

"It's how it is," he says, quieter. "You are one of mine, if you throw down in battle and dedicate it to me." He knots the sheet and rests his hand on it as if he wears one every day.

A pause. "I may have asked, I don't remember. Do you believe in the old gods, or are is there something else now? Or anything at all? Doesn't matter as much to me, I'm not of your world, but..." But he's curious.

[waterfell.livejournal.com]

"Not many people remember the old gods, but some do," Mercury says. "But humans' worship still seems to depend on territory." Not so much as they did in bygone eras, as people and ideas move more freely now, but it's still roughly accurate.

"However, most people don't really have anything at all." Most people the Japanese girl knows, at least, perform the rituals but give them little meaning.

[slain-allfather.livejournal.com]

"Territory. Things haven't changed much, then." A grim look crosses his face. Everything changes, and so does faith, or lack of.

"That's unfortunate." Pause. "But it's up to the people to believe in something. If they don't, they're condemning themselves to a hell of a lot of grief." Humans. Fucking humans.


((i am so, so, so sorry for lack of updates. but i'm back now, hopefully.))

[im2sexy4mysnark.livejournal.com]

"Hmmm, what have we here." The sweet scent of opium is probably what he notices after the low, playfully seductive voice.

It's probably not best to ponder how, or even why she's there. She's wearing a rather clingy skirt, long boots, and a matching blouse. Her hair's held in place with a vaguely butterfly themed clip.

She's also smoking from an ornate, silver pipe, indigo smoke lazily surrounding her.

[slain-allfather.livejournal.com]

Muffled.

"I'm sleeping. Or I was, until I was rudely awakened by someone smoking some really premium dope." Weary, vaguely annoyed.

He doesn't lift his head, not quite yet. The sheets only cover half his body; his skin shows old scarring. She might be able to read the stories there, in each one.

[im2sexy4mysnark.livejournal.com]

Indeed, she probably can, "Can I help it if I can get my hands on the good stuff?" Altalita lays claim to a chair nearby, adjusting her pencil skirt (now that her mun remembers what the damn thing's called). "Besides, can't a Mistress of Fate pay old Wednesday a random visit?" Her tone is playful.

[slain-allfather.livejournal.com]

"'Old Wednesday', how nice." He chuckles, not really bitter, no. He rises, pulling the bedsheet around himself so that his lower extremities are covered (wouldn't want to show those off, would we?)

"And why might you want to see an old, nearly dead god today, hm?" He rubs his face, tired. Looking human, just human.

[im2sexy4mysnark.livejournal.com]

(Knowing this woman, she wouldn't care nor mind) She stretches and settles into the chair, blowing a ring of smoke above herself, "Simply a visit and nothing more, sweet." Altalita replies, watching him with lazily lidded eyes, "I see you've been keeping yourself busy." She observes, tracing her fingertips over one of the nearby books.

[slain-allfather.livejournal.com]

"Always. This place is..." He lets the thought trail off, makes his way to the desk and pours himself a glass of the dark liquor.

"You want some of this? They don't furnish a wet bar here, apparently," he says sarcastically.

The raven watches her with one black, marble eye.

[im2sexy4mysnark.livejournal.com]

"It's confusing. Busy, lines of fate in every direction, I've noticed." It's been a while since she's had someone to 'talk shop' with so to speak. With Rassilon, it usually turns into one rolling the eyes at the other's responses. His attempts to justify it scientifically, compared to her explaining that is simply how it is in her book.

"If you wish to spare some." Altalita shifts her pipe holding hand a bit to summon a glass from her sleeve, pulling it from the cabinet of her shop once more.

The raven earns a raised eyebrow in response, a sort of unsaid hello, if you will.

[slain-allfather.livejournal.com]

"It's not a place, not really. Only a stop in-between here and there. It amazes me people can live here." He stretches; musculature solid but not particularly impressive.

He pours her a couple of fingers of the dark, amber liquid. When he drinks his own, he swallows half the glass.

"You live here?"

[im2sexy4mysnark.livejournal.com]

Altalita swirls the drink in the glass a little, "Ah, but that's what they sometimes say about roads, and then you have small towns popping up along them, life finding its way there." She murmurs with a small smile, watching him stretch idly, "Even so, people make lives with the hand they're dealt, and if it includes the Nexus." A single shouldered shrug.

She sips a little of the drink and hms, not bad, not bad at all. Then she rests her chin on her hand, twisting her pipe around a little to make the smoke billow dramatically. "As for that, I do and I don't. It's sort of complex to even try to process, let alone explain. Let's just say a 'stop in-between' is a fairly accurate description of how it works for me."

[slain-allfather.livejournal.com]

"I'd like to say it's the same for me, but I have no idea." Not knowing obviously disturbs him. He's the god of knowledge, he knows his own fate. This... this is beyond his knowledge. He knew he would die, he died. Now what? It's a blank for him, as if he were mortal and bound to simple belief.

Which is one of the biggest reasons for all the books scattered and piled about. He is trying to know, or find out how to discover the answers he knows are hidden somewhere.

"I'll find out, though. You can bet your sweet ass on that one."

[im2sexy4mysnark.livejournal.com]

In all honesty, she could understand the reasons he's disturbed. In his position, she likely would be as well. "I get the feeling you will find out. Be sure to let me know how it goes, after all."

"Although I must say there's some curiosity in how it's going so far." She reaches out and runs her hand over one book, having set her glass down to do so. Because, y'know. Setting the pipe down would be rude.

[slain-allfather.livejournal.com]

"The Sanctuary is a power spot, I know that for certain. But I'm not sure if I'll be able to use it, if I'm stuck here. To go backstage." He pauses, realizing his lingo isn't likely to make sense.

"Backstage is the term we all use... used to describe our true reality. The higher plane. Where the True Aspects live. Even the Nexus is nothing compared to it." He once travelled with his son a few hundred miles in the space of fifteen minutes through the backstage.

"But it has it's own dangers. Mortals cannot walk there."

[im2sexy4mysnark.livejournal.com]

"Hmm. 'Backstage' is a name for it I haven't heard before." Altalita murmurs thoughtfully, eyes lidded on thought as she takes another drink. "Using the Sanctuary's power has its own risks, especially since the Nexus tends to have better ideas about how its power should be used."

She shifts in her seat, more lounging in it than before, recrossing her legs, "It's not something I'd risk," Unless it was requested of her to do, which she more implies than outright states.

Altalita wonders if this 'Backstage' would consider her mortal. But then, she's a unique little butterfly who follows different rules than most everyone else.

[slain-allfather.livejournal.com]

"I'm dead. Besides, I've risked everything before. It's what I was made to do." He grins then, and it's true. He is the all-father, the god of knowledge, war, poetry, death. He is also the trickster, and the most thirsty of the Norse gods for knowledge.

"But I am reading, and I am meditating on it, and I will find a way. And if not, well. Can't say I didn't try."

Likely it would find her to be what she is, and nothing more. It is a place for gods and goddesses to walk--and even mortals, if they are careful and are accompanied by such beings. But not for long. Wednesday finds it easier to say they aren't able to attend the party.

[im2sexy4mysnark.livejournal.com]

"And if you're dead, you don't have much to lose, eh?" She grins right back, playful, if nothing else. "Because there's something to be said for giving it a damn good try, hm?"

[slain-allfather.livejournal.com]

"It's what I am. To deviate would be against my nature." Sound grim? Maybe. But then he smirks.

"And it's a hell of a rush if you beat the odds."