Round 7
ROUND 7 IS NOW CLOSED.
Welcome to norsekink!
Keep up the awesome, folks.
Update (Jan 15th): There will be a new rules post going up later today or tomorrow (link TBA), please check it out as soon as you can!
Attention: Spoiler policy is in place. For more information, go here(Please check this out again, as many shows are coming back from their winter ( Read more... )
Welcome to norsekink!
Keep up the awesome, folks.
Update (Jan 15th): There will be a new rules post going up later today or tomorrow (link TBA), please check it out as soon as you can!
Attention: Spoiler policy is in place. For more information, go here(Please check this out again, as many shows are coming back from their winter ( Read more... )
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Even with his vessel falling apart, his brother is just as beautiful as Gabriel remembers. He shines out from the battered meat suit, Grace and Power, like the most wondrous butterfly breaking out of a weather beaten cocoon. Any other angel, except perhaps Micheal and Raphael, would find themselves humbled by it. They would take knee and prostrate themselves crying in supplication to the light.
But none of them walked with Father. It's sad that so few of his siblings know, but that's faith for you, so when they look at Lucifer they don't see that the light isn't greatness. It is Sin. Hubris, Lucifer's greatest flaw, wrapped around the older angel as a shining breastplate of denial, and it makes Gabriel want to puke. He wonders what happened to the big brother that taught him to fly, that walked with him through the garden and said these are all Father's creatures, to be cherished and protected. Will you do that, little brother? Will you help me?
So what makes humanity so different from the lion and the lamb and the dolphin? Broken and flawed? Maybe, but weren't they all? Only God was perfect. Gabriel held back a snort of derision as he crept toward Lucifer's back, grace nervously pulling at the concealing threads of magic that have become more familiar to him than his old, winged form.
"Brother," Lucifer says with a sigh, but there is no real regret in it. His brother is just going through the motions as he looks over Gabriel's double. "Don't make me do this."
His double, one who is more a brother to Gabriel than Lucifer or Micheal ever were -At this point Gabriel doesn't need a reason to shank Heaven's General, apocalypse or no apocalypse.- gives Lucifer a pitying smirk. "No one makes us do anything." And the copy flips the short blade in his hands, squaring his shoulders and playing the determined puppy to the hilt. Gabriel couldn't have done it better.
"I know you think you're doing the right thing, Gabriel." Lucifer continues as Gabriel raises his own blade far higher than necessary, because when it all comes down to it nothing sells the act better than dramatics. "But I know where your heart truly lies."
And Lucifer spins around, completely ignoring the Gabriel in front of him, and catches real Gabriel's hand in a move that is made fluid by countless years -thousands upon thousands- of drills and practice. They are soldiers, and Gabriel winces with shock and true disbelief as his brother twists his arm around and stabs him in the chest. Even though they were fighting, despite all the death he has witnessed, a part of Gabriel still believed that Lucifer, his big brother, would spare him. Walk away. Dump the irritating little brother in a time out, like Micheal had done to Lucifer himself all those years ago.
"Here."
There's a silvery sword piercing his heart, the very center of his grace, and Gabriel suddenly feels a crushing weight that he had happily ignored for the past two thousand or so odd years. Over Lucifer's shoulder, his double shares with him a look of surprise -even he hadn't expected such familial brutality- before a sad understanding fills his eyes.
Lucifer watches, smug, as Gabriel sags in place. The sword in his chest is the only thing keeping him balanced. The Messenger forces himself to focus past the pain and his flaring grace that longs to push the offending weapon out and begin healing the damage. "Amateur hocus pocus. Don't forget, you learned all your tricks from me, little brother." He jerks the blade out, and Gabriel falls back, straining to suck in a breath.
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Lucifer may have laid the foundations, but Gabriel hadn't stopped there. Gabriel had never stopped learning, never stopped improving himself, because as he was fond of teaching humans there is always someone better.
The look on Lucifer's face as Gabriel's sword pierces his back is something sweet. Lucifer's mouth opens wide, yet no scream emerges, until finally he gasps out, "How?"
Gabriel gets up, still woozy, and backs away from his dying brother while dabbing at his own still bleeding chest. The fake blade clatters to the ground as Lucifer turns his head to the double. Slowly, Gabriel's image melts away and the figure holding the angel-killer is tall, taller than Gabriel, with dark hair and piercing green eyes. When he vindictively jerks Gabriel's blade from Lucifer's body he does it such a way that the edge cuts through bone and lung, nearly tearing the Morningstar in two.
With a flash that chars the room, the Light Bringer's soul vanishes into the ether. It's ironic, Gabriel muses. Fire giant with propensity for ice killed by ice giant with propensity for fire.
He still feels a little shaky. The fake he'd used on Lucifer had been much more than a few cans of diet orange slice -had to be, to fool an angel- and he doesn't think he'll be back to his renegade ways for a few days, yet. The trickster carefully cleans Gabriel's blade with conjured flame, burning the blood and viscera from the weapon, and flips it around to offer it handle first to the archangel. Gabriel holds up his hands as if in surrender. He tries to swallow back some throw up and shakes his head. "Nah. That thing can kill me. You keep it."
Loki -because that's who it is, the real, original- Loki blinks at him. He nods, slowly, and slim artist's fingers curl around the blade as though it was the most precious of objects. It is a symbol of trust, the strongest gesture Gabriel can give, and if Gabriel owes anyone that trust it is the being standing before him. They know what it is like to have brothers that constantly outshine you, to be relegated to the shadows, to do the dirty work. It is how they met, oh-so-long-ago, on those battlefields of ice.
Loki slips the angel killer into the folds of his robes and comes up beside Gabriel to help support him. Gabriel would have flown out, but his wings can only give a weak tremble and with a twisting step Loki takes them onto the branches of Yggdrasil.
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"Pagan."
The pagan god smirks and nods. He's wearing an odd mix of leather, metal, and silk for the current age but it is obviously what he's comfortable in. Dark hair falls around his chin, and in an abstract way Castiel recognizes that there is something about the small god that is strangely appealing. The fallen angel considers what weapons are available to him before deciding that in his current condition if the creature wishes to kill him it would be pathetically simple.
Instead, the pagan sketches a short bow and smiles. "I am Loki Odinson, your brother wanted me to ask how you feel about 'witness protection'."
"My brother?" It appears he won't be dying today. Castiel is surprised. He isn't sure whether it is a pleasant one or not.
"I believe you call him Gabriel."
Castiel has to think about that. Gabriel went missing, and has been presumed dead, for so long. Presumed captured and destroyed by the agents of the Adversary. Instead, he had been hiding out on earth posing as... well, as the being patiently waiting for Castiel's answer. "The apocalypse?" He asks, because he has to know before he makes a choice. He doesn't know how much help he will be without his angel powers, but he is a soldier, and fighting and intrigue are all he knows. He can't run and hide. It isn't his nature. Even if all he can do is stand in the way to buy Sam and Dean time to think, it is what he will do.
Loki crosses his arms and something oddly soft touches his expression. "Taken care of. You don't give your brother near enough credit. None of you do." The last is whispered, but Castiel knows every last word rings true. He cannot hear Heaven, but he can still feel the earth, dimly, and all the sickness that has been growing for the last few years is slowly dissipating.
Lucifer is dead. Micheal didn't do it. They wouldn't still be standing here if he had.
"The Winchesters-?"
"Alive."
"Okay." Because he wants to talk to his brother, maybe the only one that will talk to him, and he wants to know why his vessel is leaking wetness all over his face. Loki touches his shoulder briefly, a healing warmth goes through him to kindle a spark of grace that somehow, someway, has managed to cling to him through it all and Castiel shudders. Loki moves over to a closet and begins taking out Castiel's -Jimmy's- clothing and laying it out.
"First," Loki comments as Castiel struggles into his clothing, "I want to test a theory. You are the angel-" The godling waves his hand to cut off any self-depreciating comments Castiel's spite might cause him to make. "Of Thursday, correct?" Castiel nods. "Then we need to make a pit stop in New Mexico. My brother has recently made an ass of himself, which opens up the most intriguing opportunity. Truly. I know it won't get you your angel magicks back, but it will make you more than formidable."
Castiel gets the impression that Loki thinks of angels in a similar vein to how Dean thinks of them. Dicks. Possibly stupid dicks, too. Somehow the idea soothes him, and as Castiel puts his arm through his coat sleeve and curiously follows Loki through a hole in space-time, he thinks things just might work out.
Whatever Loki and Gabriel expect him to do with the big hammer he retrieves from a human outpost, he has no idea.
End.
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The thing, the thing was... "Dolphins." Loki muttered as he lifted his bottle and watched the lights dance in the colored glass. "Dolphins is what I'm talking about. He's like a bloody dolphin. Everyone's like, oh, he's so cute with his bottle-nose, and look! He just fucked up that shark! How clever! Right for the gills! It's 'cause he squeaks. And he swims around battling those... those... beach balls around. They don't see. They don't know. I know...."
Loki tipped his head back and downed the rest of the bottle. Across from him, surrounded by his own small sea of empty beer cans and vodka bottles, Castiel blinked confusedly. Loki thought he was rather cute like that. Like a puppy, maybe a cocker spaniel, but definitely not a dolphin. "Are we still talking about your brother?"
"No!" Loki hissed, snapping his fingers and causing the freezer to swing open as a case of Smirnoff to fly out. He wedged the cap under a bit of decorative plate armor and popped it off, grimacing at the horrid flavor of the beer before quickly chugging the rest. That was the thing about Midgardian Ale. It all tasted like horse piss -and don't ask, because yes Loki had tasted horse piss before and didn't want to discuss the matter- but what it lacked in flavor it made up for in sheer toxicity. Mead may be great with dinner, but one had to drink gallons upon gallons of the stuff before you could work up a proper buzz.
What were they talking about again? Oh, yes... "That, that buffoon is NOT my brother." He opened another bottle. "He's like... like... a dolphin, following the great ship that is me, but everyone is too busy looking at his wavy hair and gorilla arms to notice who's carrying their fat asses through the storm."
"I think you may be taking that simile a little too far, bro." Gabriel offered from where he was having his feet massaged by a red headed woman in a string bikini. He reached behind his head and grabbed a cupcake from the snack shelf.
"You!" Loki pointed with the hand holding his drink, expression pinched. "You, are a squirrel. One of those funny little ones with the built in capes. I always liked those."
Castiel snort-giggled and fell over, hugging a dark blue bottle to his stomach. Loki grinned. At least someone appreciated his insight. He turned back to Gabriel, who was licking the cream filling from his fingers, and squinted. Why would the angel make a duplicate of himself? And how did he manage it without the slightest bit of magical bleed off...
Oh.
OH.
Loki blinked and took in all the dead soldiers around him. "This was a, a really good plan, Cas. My fingers are all tingly."
"You two are going to have wicked hangovers in the morning." Gabriel smirked, snapping his fingers and summoning cordial candies from the firmament. Loki snorted. He could do that if he wanted to, but it always felt a little like cheating...
"Asgardians don't get hangovers."
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Loki sniffed. He just had to rub it in. Well. If their positions were reversed -and they had been, once- he would be doing the same. "I'm fairly certain Jotun don't get them, either. Or maybe they don't drink? No... that can't be right... there's no such thing as a warrior society without alcohol..."
Gabriel coughed and pointed to Cas, who was staring interestedly at his fingers. Which were glowing. It was a good thing the store owner was happily knocked out in the storage closet.
"...I stand corrected. Which also goes to prove your family is just as screwed up as mine."
"I thought they weren't your family? Lying baby nappers and all that?"
Loki threw his bottle at the man, but not before charming it to glitter on impact. Gabriel gagged as the air filled with sparkles. He motioned to banish the stuff, but Loki cackled and countered him, causing the shiny flecks to gravitate like a small solar system of particulates around a Gabriel sun. Fire giants. Heh.
His victory didn't last long. The angel snapped his fingers, the sound covering the whispered magic words, and the lumps of floating glitter merged and transformed into a two-layer cake, complete with whipped topping.
"I'm just glad it's all over." Gabriel sighed, good mood impossible to shake as he savored his sweets and summoned some schnapps. "The mess with my family. The drama with yours. I told you! Faking death solves everything. Finally, we can sit back and be the lazy assholes we've always wanted to be, and not a zombie in sight!"
"Draugr?" Loki questioned, because those could be a bitch, and the word seemed to rouse Castiel from his drunken trance.
"Dean mentioned zombies when Zachariah cast him into the future." The poor dear was trying to focus, but this was their third -third time's the charm- liquor store of the night and the both of them were more than a bit impaired. Gabriel had eased off, claiming that as much as he hated it someone had to be responsible and as funny as it would be no little brother was going to fly into the sun on his watch. No matter how pretty it looked.
Gabriel fidgeted. "Well, when I went to peek ahead, you know, see how goes..." Loki set his drink down and pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes. More than one group could see the future, the Norns being the most famous, but only angels were stupid enough to go there. The problem was there were so many possible futures, without proper preparation and precautions one could get lost, or stuck in one of those self-fulfilling prophecy time loop thingies and become their own grandpa or some such... "There were a lot that looked like Lucy had staged his own world wide showing of 28 Days later. It was creepy, and not-fun, but I figure since he's... gone... that won't be happening. Haven't seen any Croats yet."
Castiel had his eyebrows pinched together. "I... don't understand that reference."
"You're not the only one, Cassikins." Loki raised his hand, much like a student in a classroom. "Gabriel! Am I to... to understand that there is a potential Nifa, Nife, Niflheim incursion of, of Midgard?"
Gabriel shrugged as if to say, how the fuck am I supposed to know the plans of my deceased psychotic brother? Loki bobbed his head in concession, but even though the general had been taken out of the equation his lieutenants could still be about. Except... except Lillith had died freeing him, and Crowley was confirmed to be happy where he was, the skank was shanked, and the whore... "The Whore?"
"Dean staked her." Castiel supplied helpfully while frowning a mysterious stain on his coat into non-existence.
"Ah."
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There wasn't much Loki liked, but then again there wasn't a whole lot he hated, either. Loki tended to feel rather luke-warm about most things, and status quo was something that could use shaking up but not something he felt the need to crusade and change. But Midgard was his home-away-from-home, the place he'd snuck off too when not-father was being a bigger douche -Gabriel's words, not his- than usual. He had fought on her shores and defended her fields. He'd walked among her people and partaken of her bounty.
Midgard was where Gabriel was. Castiel, too, and if he tried not to not think about it Thor seemed to be making her his new base of operations.
"Shall we hunt out the source of this plague, then, and teach the progenitor a lesson in humility?" As he spoke, slightly slurred speech or no, he smirked. It was infectious.
End Part One.
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"...Sammy?"
"Dean?" Sam Winchester asked, voice muffled from his pillow.
"I think I just got a drunk text from Cas."
"What?!"
"Check it. 'I feel like God wrote up a contract of my life, and I just signed off without reading the fine print. At this point, it's go big or go home.'"
"Oh. Shit. Call Bobby."
"On it."
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Castiel squinted at the main R&D branch of Niveus Pharmaceuticals which, to his eyes, was lit up like Vegas what with all the anti-angel warding sunk into it. Once they had known what to look for, spotting the den of devilry from space was easy as one of Dean's beloved slices of pie. It was like the Great Wall of Weird Shit. "Devious demons are devious."
"Nice alliteration." Loki complimented while checking his skirt. He had shifted into the form of a young girl at Gabriel's suggestion and, being at home in whatever age/gender he chose, Loki found the whole idea extremely amusing. After all, when in Midgard... He manifested a black mask and slipped it over his eyes.
"Now, Lo', you remember the plan?" Gabriel asked while handing Castiel a carton of cigarettes to 'complete the ensemble'.
Loki fluffed his new violet hair with a sniff. "If I wasn't drunk I'd be insulted!" He then checked his knives, manipulating them with a dexterity that would leave any mortal at his current level of inebriation a bloody mess. Loki, however, was raised in Asgard where fighting while impaired was an Olympic Sport. "Go in, fuck the wards with the blood of our enemies, then burn it to the ground. Correct?"
Gabriel beamed. A cherry blow-pop knocked against his teeth as waggled his fingers in a 'get going' motion. Loki whirled around, wobbled for a moment as the repercussions of condensing all the alcohol he'd consumed into a smaller body made themselves known, and headed for the doors. He only almost tripped.
Loki gestured imperiously, and the doors to the highly secured facility flew open on a peppermint smelling wind. Loki felt his cute little mouth stretch into a trickster's grin, teeth sharp, as the security guards' eyes became puddles of foul smelling tar. The two men stood and raised their hands as if pushing an invisible wall. The scent of power and brimstone filled the lobby. The small pagan stumbled a little as a wave of psychic energy slammed into him, but he shook it off with a bloody mindedness only equaled by rabid squirrel in June.
So far as the demons knew, only one species was capable of such effortless magic manipulation. Then again, if the hell-borne had inherited anything from their deceased creator it was pride. They didn't see the need to learn of anything else that went bump in the night, or what bumped back. "How is she in here? Angels can't-"
"I'm no angel." Loki leapt the distance and swung his new bladed staff, giggling as it cut through the fleshy shell to ignite the demon inside.
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"Brother!" Thor exclaimed, floating up to the roof of the building covered in green flames. At first Tony had thought the color was caused by burning, and most likely toxic, chemicals but after JARVIS scanned the surrounding air he nixed that idea. Comparative analysis had, however, revealed odd similarities between the fire, the energy blasts the girl was throwing around like Mardi Gras beads, and Thor's hammer shaped security blanket. "We thought you taken by the Void, stop this and we can return to Asgard. The healers can-"
"SHUT UP, THOR!" The purple garbed girl screamed, and suddenly instead of a highly destructive magical girl stood a tall, dark, tasty looking drink of water wielding a scepter of Goldshluager. She -he- was still wearing the skirt, though, and it left Tony wondering how sure Thor was of his brother's... brother-y ness. The guy had a very nice pair of toned legs that went forever, and the now emerald shirt and skirt combo brought out the deliciously drunken man's eyes. Tony was grateful for the change, partly because he appreciated all sexes, races, and genders, and partly because it had been damned awkward firing repulsor blasts at a ten year old. "I DO WHAT I WANT!!!"
Loki, as their Norse Mythology consultant informed them over the communicators, made a cutting motion with the cinnamon spiced drink which somehow caused a spike of energy that sent Hawkeye's trio of arrows back at the archer. From JARVIS's continual scans, it looked as if the crazed god was using the gold flakes floating in the red liquid as an energy focus.
Tony was suddenly thankful for his armor, because he was starting to reconsider his magic is stupid stance. The look on Pepper's face when he insisted to classify his wine cabinet as an armory... and damn but no man should be that flexible. Tony sucked in an impressed breath as Loki twisted and flipped to avoid a thrown hammer, shield, and what might have been a hand grenade. Though Tony wasn't sure where that last had come from.
A rumble of thunder and the accompanying crackle of lightning dragged Iron Man back to the fight at hand. "Loki! Please, there are no warriors here, simply scholars and healers! Whatever grievance you have take it up with me. The Midgardians are no threat to you. This, this is madness!"
Tony winced as a new figure walked out onto the roof from the building. The trench coat whirled dramatically around the arrivals legs as he took one last drag from a cigarette and flicked it to the flames. His growl cut through the sounds of battle, and the actions that followed warmed what passed for Tony's heart. The Iron Man was incredibly, incredibly glad that everything was being recorded, for posterity's sake if nothing else.
"No." Blue eyed and scruffy bit out as he began a purposeful march that turned to a run at Thor's hovering position. "This. Is. SPARTA!"
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