(no subject)

[beathach]

Who: two nerds and you
Broadcast: fleetwide
Action: Marsiva
When: now!

[ The audio comes on sharply, but everything is still dark as two people discuss their situation.]

Is that the camera? Can you get it to work?

I - think so? Here, push this --

I am pushing it, Hank. I thought you knew about these from that show you keep watching. Space Trek?

It's Star Trek and that isn't exactly - you know, the same thing as this.

Right. . . . Wait, I think I see something on the side.

[ And the video flickers on, the red light glowing softly. It focuses on two men. One in a wheelchair and the other right next to him, peering curiously at the camera before they step back satisfied. ]

Well, that’s over and done with. Hello to anyone who might be out there. My name is Charles Xavier and this is Hank McCoy. Apparently we’ve been kidnapped again, by an unknown force again for some mysterious reason.

[muttered:] Again. [and louder] So if anyone would be kind enough to explain exactly what's going on, we'd appreciate it. You have our thanks in advance.

But do keep it pertinent.

Comments

[beathach]

[he tilts his head]

That's - huh. That's really fascinating. [mythology was only ever an idle interest, but he sounds no less genuinely interested] So that means you're people have been to Earth - er, our realm, then? If you ended up being worshiped.

[complicatedliar]

Yes, we once frequented Midgard and had it under our protection.

[beathach]

But not anymore? [he pauses, winces a little, then waves a hand] Nevermind, sorry, I tend to ask before - anyway.

[change the topic, Hank]

How do you know Charles, if I may ask?

[complicatedliar]

The king, in his infinite wisdom [So much withering contempt packed into a few words.] decided that you ought to fend for yourselves.

There was a place, before here, that I found myself in. I met a version of him. [He smiles, showing his teeth.] We didn't get on.

[beathach]

. . . ah. [well that. Sort of makes sense, he thinks. He isn't sure]

Another place? [he was finding that surprisingly common here] Er. That's a shame. I'm sorry? I - don't think this is the Charles you know, at least?

[complicatedliar]

A village, named Luceti.

No, it is not that Charles. Lucky for him.

[beathach]

["lucky for him". His expression doesn't change, but he stands up a little straighter, out of his usual slump]

I'm afraid it doesn't sound familiar. But I'm only familiar with a few - other places anyway. [a future project, maybe, once he was done with all the others he'd already gathered]

But - mm, lucky for him. I hope you'll - keep that in mind. Should you two talk again.

[complicatedliar]

I wouldn't expect it to.

I shan't be seeking him out for conversation. I consider the inside of my mind entirely private.

[beathach]

[aha. That would explain it]

Well, that would be because they are. [he says it lightly] He - [and he tilts his head, indicating his Charles] - isn't prone to looking uninvited.

[complicatedliar]

What a change from his other self. [Like Hel he's going to be tempting fate.]

How would you know?

that should have been "it is" wow self don't rp at ass-thirty in the morning

[beathach]

Because I know him. [he sounds so certain] And if you ask him not to, he won't.

[complicatedliar]

One shouldn't have to ask.

[beathach]

I'm not saying you do. But you don't seem like the type of person to take the word of one man over whatever it is you experienced, either. That's why I suggested asking, too.

[complicatedliar]

I've already informed him of the terms. There shall be peace, for now.

[beathach]

. . . alright, good.

Peace is good.

[complicatedliar]

[And if Charles gets telepathic at him, he's getting cut. Easy peasy.]

If boring.

[beathach]

[Loki no]

It's not boring at all.

[complicatedliar]

To each his own.

[beathach]

I - of course.

[this isn't an argument he's going to start]

May I ask your name?

[complicatedliar]

Loki, son of Frigga.

Lately of Asgard.

[beathach]

[ah. Well. That makes . . . sense.

He keeps that to himself, though]

It's nice to meet you, Loki.

[complicatedliar]

And you are?

[beathach]

Hank McCoy.

[it sounds so much less impressive]

[complicatedliar]

[There is absolutely nothing impressive about Midgard, Hank. It's not your fault. Poor dear.]

I shall remember.

[Not a compliment. He never forgets anything. Unless it suits him.]