kore_logs | ❆ So you're feeling tied up to a sense of control

Entry tags:

❆ So you're feeling tied up to a sense of control

Who: Meja and you.
When: Day 151, afternoon.
Where: Somewhere between the library and the hydroponics lab.
What: Wary of growing complacent, Meja is back to experimenting with magic to see if she can't make any breakthroughs.
Warning: n/a

The hallways are, for the most part, just as quiet as usual.

Except for the occasional bit of sound, near the library, which sometimes coincides with a flicker in the overhead lighting. A sharp crack, almost like a tiny lightning bolt.

In the hydroponics lab, the plants have had as much tending as they need, today, as far as Meja is concerned, and so she's onto another project for the afternoon and, maybe, the evening. Until the building gets tired of her and unseats her experimentation, at least, but for now the thing is still going strong.

She's cross-legged against a wall, a collection of loose ceiling tiles on the ground in front of her. With one of her throwing daggers, she's notching certain runes into them and, when they look right, places her hand on them and presses them to the wall. That's when the noise occurs, with an occasional bright flash, though each one varies.

The Valkyrie's expression is thoughtful and concentrated. Walking up to her almost unnoticed would probably be fairly easy. Easier than normal, certainly.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Since Thor's arrival, the occupation of his own quarters for any reason but absolute necessity has seemed unwise to Loki. Equally unwise would be to grow complacent, and so he explores, wanders shifting hallways in an attempt to make some sense of them, find some weak point. Often unfamiliar paths lead him to familiar places, and now is no different, save in the sight that greets him.

For a time he pads silently about at a distance, gaze keen and focused, other senses reaching out and teasing at the edges of her work. Interesting. Very interesting. And she knew him.

"I have not encountered a mortal with as much talent for magic in centuries," he says finally, voice mild, carefully pitched as to be as unthreatening as his posture where he stands, still some distance away, hands folded in front of him.

"May I ask what you mean to accomplish? Perhaps I could be of some assistance." And gauge the depth of her knowledge and power in the process. It is always wise to know those who might consider one an enemy.

Meja glances up from her carving of a new ceiling tile. She doesn't have Roland with her, today, on account of the magic she's using being far too volatile. He isn't as deft and clever as Muninn, and discharges from these particular runes might possibly kill him.

Besides, in her room he can chew on her sheets. She's sure he'd like that much better than sitting in a hallway for many hours in a row.

"You might not for a while, then, as I am not mortal," Meja notes, with a cautious smile as she studies him a moment. She's still not entirely sure what to make of him. Another Loki. Is he simply another version of the creature that killed her family, or something else entirely?

Then she glances back to her rune.

"I'm trying to gauge the strength of the... 'field' that holds us. These are runes that I've seen in dwarven architecture. Used, as I recall, to break rock apart, and to break old magic of their own."

Or the magic of the next king over. Dwarves were strange, territorial creatures.

Garrett's quivering nose picks up the scent immediately. Some of the areas and people in this place smelled faintly of magic. This, though, is much stronger. There's someone actively using it. He follows his nose all the way from his room, turning down the twisting corridors until he sees Meja.

The fox bounces forward a few steps, nearly tackling Meja in his excitement. He sounds triumphant. "Aha! I knew I smelled magic!"

Meja laughs quietly, grinning as she blows out some fragments on the rune she's currently working on. It's really a lucky thing that the place is in bad shape; she has plenty of fodder for her experiments.

She hasn't, yet, taken to marking the walls directly. Though perhaps in time, she won't feel so bad about it. Strange, to feel the need to be polite when one is kidnapped. But Meja's manners have been well-ingrained into her.

"You certainly did. Hei hei, Garrett. How are you?"

"Better than most. Not as good as some. And forever bored." It's a roundabout answer that doesn't really answer anything. He plops down next to her, squinting at the tile in her hand and giving an audible sniff.

"What magic does that marking possess?"

Well, he's in one piece, at least, looking decently fed, and Meja is thankful for that. Boredom is an unfortunate side effect of being trapped in one place for a long time, even if it's a place that does change.

"This one?" She glances down at it. "This is Kenaz. Beacon. It adds power to runic magic."

A raw, useful sort of power, when you wanted to do something really big and stupid. Like what Meja was currently attempting.

"Runic is runes, yes?" It's always a refreshing feeling when he finds a topic he can actually understand around here. "Lotsa folks back home use 'em. Skinwalkers do too, but we got our hides, so we do not need 'em as much."

"That's right. These are marks of power passed down by the Aesir to other Realms." Meja grins, delighted to find that they have a bridge of familiarity between them. "What do you use them for? If you don't mind my asking."

"That extra little bit of help." He ticks off all the uses the Clan has on his pawtips. "Good luck, keepin' the evil eye away, saving food from goin' to rot. Stuff like that."

She listens, nodding. Most of her own personal uses for magic have been in tight spots, or for large tasks.

"That makes sense. I suppose they must be used for that at home, too. By the elves and dwarves." Meja chuckles wryly. "Once you stop needing to eat and sleep, sometimes you forget all of the... daily rituals."

It's easy to forget Meja's no ordinary human, but a Valkyrie, until she off-handedly mentions things like not eating or sleeping. "Hope you did not stop eating like that. Food is too good to give up, even if ya do not need it." So proclaims the wisdom of a growing teenage boy.

He speaks wistfully of his home. "On the Front, magic gets measured in set amounts, sorta like grain or gold. It is why Skinwalkers use our hides and Rath ink-mark themselves up. We cannot get even that small bit of magic without 'em."

Measurable magic. Now there's a new concept. Meja's familiar with certain crafts, such as weapons, which cost more depending on the runes etched into them. But to have magic as a whole measured out as a commodity...

She chuckles again at his food comment.

"No, I still eat sometimes," she assures him, amused. "When something looks good. I can never pass up a piece of really good bread, no matter how much I try. But I don't here, because I don't want to take up any resources that someone else could use. I know the food supply is constant, but if that should change..."

The Valkyrie shrugs. Think for the best, plan for the worst; that's her motto.

"I understand. Food is always one thing Skinwalkers gotta watch out for. We eat a lot more than most folk." That magic energy powering their hides only covers so much. The rest has to be compensated by plenty of food and rest. "You are a good person, to consider others before yourself."

He grins as he goes on. "Me, I have been eating all I can. Food that never runs out makes this place bearable." It's obvious yet, but he's put on a few much-needed pounds since he's been here.

"Good," Meja notes, with an approving grin. "That is a point in this place's favor, so far. Have you found anything unfamiliar that you enjoyed?"

She's poked her nose into the cafeteria a few times, mostly for water, and has often made a note of the strange variety of foodstuffs that the place is stocked with.

"Buncha stuff. There's a lotta sugar-type stuff I have never seen before, like these sweet biscuits. There is this fruit all spiky on the outside and sweet 'n sour on the inside. Never seen anything like it before!" All in all, Skinwalkers live a simple life. Something as exotic as pineapples have never been seen anywhere on the Western Front before. Garrett is lucky he's not had the misfortune to run into anything worse in the kitchen than a few funky-flavored meats and vegetables.

She mulls that over. Sweet biscuits? Ah! There must have been cookies in the cafeteria at some point. "Is it a little frustrating that you can't find anything a second time? I'm afraid I'm a terrible baker, or I'd offer to try and find the ingredients for cookies."

No need to start a fire in the kitchen and potentially ruin some perfectly good ingredients. She's glad to see him putting on a few pounds; he'd been very thin when she'd first seen him.

"We are on the same horse. Most of what I know how to make involves squirrel meat. Not the stuff one serves to friends, unless one is trying to lose friends." He gives Meja a playful nudge with his shoulder. He rather likes having the Valkyrie around and without being in a state of constipation.

Meja laughs quietly. It's good to see Garrett cracking jokes, as well.

"When I was living by myself and had to make do, the best thing I could make was this fish stew my mother taught me. Messing it up was difficult. It wasn't the greatest thing in the world, but it was something to eat."

She doesn't often talk about her mortal years, especially those before Ragnarök, but she's feeling relaxed. And just a bit hopeful, as she sees what she can and cannot do with magic in this place.

Garrett notes this rare glimpse of life that Meja has provided him. He often speaks of home, but she doesn't do the same. He supposes it has something to do with how old her mindset is.

"You must show me some time. Maybe this place will show up with fish if we ask really hard."

Though he thinks they would probably be evil, psychotic fish with sharp teeth and laser eyes from the logic this place seems to operate on.

"I sometimes see filets in the freezer." Meja pauses. "It's risky since you can't see what kind of fish it was before, but you never know."

She herself has very little problem taste-testing for anyone, since it's harder to bother a Valkyrie than most mortal creatures. And she can heal up any damage that's done, even if it might take a while.

"We'll make a day of it, yeah? Cooking, I mean."

Garrett gives her a happy smile, one that lights him up from the top of his oversized ears all the way down to the tip of his tail.

"It is a bargain." He sticks out a forepaw for her to shake, the way he's seen other Clan members do after striking a good deal.

It's good to see that smile on him. Sometimes he looks a little too dour, even for this place. Meja grins back and clasps his hand — gently, though to another being it's firm enough. Controlling your new-found great strength is one of the first things you relearn as a Valkyrie. Her life had prepared her for it, owing to her massive strength from her family runes, but it had still been an adjustment. Now, she barely thinks about it.

"All right," she agrees. "You'll be a stew maker yet."

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

❆ So you're feeling tied up to a sense of control

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject