RNG Said 6... So I say you can pick because...yeah.starkingenuitySeptember 9 2012, 22:38:24 UTC
It's too cold for him here, but Tony clenches his teeth and grins and bears it. Literally. He's never been one to show weakness when he can smile and pretend everything is just fine so why should any of that change now?
He's not sure how long he's been here or when the last time he had something to drink was. That's the worst of it. He'd like some pizza, sure, and, you know, his freedom and all, but really? He'd like some alcohol.
Being an addict, even a functioning one, has it's disadvantages.
Tony lifts his head when he hears footsteps and puts on his very best smirk when a flash of green and gold one into view. "So I take it you really missed me, huh?"
[Can't picture Loki doing the "cutesy wutesy" routine? ha. That's all right. I'll can work with this pet thing, just add a twist to it.]
Loki is watching Stark from afar, watching him shiver and get paler and paler with the need to relieve his thirst and hunger. He has never kept a human pet before and, quite frankly, he is not sure that he can show enough care for it to survive. Still, Stark had always been entertaining, if infuriating, and Loki had been so very bored ruling over the great waste of Jötunheim, waiting for his army to gather. Stealing the human from Midgard had been laughingly easy, right under the Avengers' noses. Stark was clever, and strong enough, but without the suit and with no back-up, Loki knows he can easily overpower him.
He steps closer and grins back his shark grin, the one that displays far too many teeth to be anything but terrifying. “Perhaps I did, yes.” He gives the man a slow once-over. He knows he has to provide heat or Stark will perish soon enough, but he is in no hurry. “Did you?”
His shoulder muscles twitch but that's not anticipation, sorry. That's simply coldness. It doesn't stop him from smiling and, in fact, maybe it allows him to continue his silly game of careless defiance. It's as if he's inviting Loki's cruelty as a way to stop on top.
Very likely, that's exactly what he is doing.
"Pssh, yeah, absolutely," Tony says, moving a step closer too so that he maintains an equality cut short by the length of chain he's allowed. But let's not think on that. "I was just saying to myself, annoyingly warm in my own bed, how much I really miss that crazy kook with the Charlie's Angels' haircut."
Loki has no idea what a 'kook' is, nor indeed does he know anyone called Charlie. He has vague notions of what angels are, from the books he read about Midgardian religions, but he doesn't really see how they could relate to him. So he misses most of the insult, which is perhaps for the best. 'Crazy' though, he understands, and the derisive tone shows well-enough what Stark intent is.
He prowls closer, standing just out of reach, towering above Stark's shivering body. “Do you think that if you annoy me enough, I will kill you faster?” he asks casually, as if the matter were of no great importance. His eyes are glinting with mischief and anticipatory delight. “Don't be foolish, Stark.”
"I thought we could bond," is Tony's remark and he leans in just a little closer. His calf muscles absolutely protest, but it's hardly as if he cares. He doesn't. If he dies, he dies, but he has a feeling he's not here to die. He's here to make Loki look good, to prove to someone or something that he's still got what it takes. Maybe he intends to barter with -- in which case, ha, tough luck, Fury won't care. Maybe he just wants to dangle some bait in front of his brother.
But it's not like their friends. Tony Stark doesn't have them, not really, just a well intentioned entourage and a bunch of crazies he fights with.
"Paint each other's toes, watch Sex in the City, talk about boys?"
Loki watches Stark intently, watches the way his skin is turning blue, a pale, deadly mimic from the Jötnars' own complexions, watches how he suppresses the fear under an unhealthy layer of sarcasm, determined not to give Loki anything. He decides to try and see whether he can catch him by surprise.
“Perhaps,” he allows. “I must say, of all Midgardians, I disliked you least.” Back-handed compliments are the only compliments Loki ever gives, though this one is especially vicious.
The Man of Iron talks in riddles, somewhat on purpose, Loki knows, so he grins easily and fights back. “I think not. I was thinking more along the lines of drinking Odhrærir, seeking Hajlmthrimull's favors and challenging the Dokkalfar, truly.” He raises a challenging eyebrow.
"W-Wow! I'm r-r-really touched!" It's getting harder to keep control on himself. His limbs ache and shiver and they're starting to go numb. Numb is a big problem but Tony smiles through it. "I haven't challenged the Dokkalfar in months." He has no idea what that is, but his pronunciation is perfect.
He does speak entirely too many languages, most of which on the upper end of conversational and quite a few fluently. He bats long eyelashes up at Loki but they're sluggish and he wonders if this is what it feels like to feel your corneas freeze.
It's not 'cool' no matter how the pun might make you believe.
"I could p-probably go for some Odhrærir too." Or water. Water that isn't ice. That'd be great.
"Don't be," Loki hisses back, dismissively. He does grin at Stark's reply, for he knows the man has no idea of what he is talking about, but loses none of his cheek, still. "And sing me epic tales in verse?" Loki mocks. "I think not."
He considers Stark for a few seconds, taking in the stutter, the ask-like colour his face is assuming and, with the help of an invisible tendril of magic, the dangerous slowing of his pulse. Now, that just won't do. He reaches out, letting his fingers brush against Stark, above the luminous circle in his chest, and summons heat. It pours from his fingers into Stark's deprived body quickly, warming him up from head to toe. It is a temporary remedy, but one that will prevent the man from freezing to death too quickly, at least.
It's so startling, the warmth, that Tony lets his head fall back and moans a pleasant, disjointed sigh. It's not what he wants. It seems so very pathetic, truly, to give in this way. There's just little choice when fingers that can been, literally, dying to the cold feel alive again.
He wriggles them. And nose toes. Dark eyes lift, the circles beneath them darker still.
"Wow, I had no idea you guys came in Saint Bernard flavor. Got any hot chocolate in the barrel too?"
There is power, Loki finds, and pleasure as well, in feeding life back into a mortal body, in mending the damage caused by frost, restoring blood flow and normal temperature. It is a startling revelation, clearly unexpected. His magic rattles against the energy glowing in Stark's chest and he has to withdraw all-too-soon, vowing to return for a more thorough study.
“Did you just call me a dog, Anthony Stark?” Loki asks, his voice ominous but his eyes playful, making the chains that bind Tony to the wall disappear with one flick of the wrist. “Perhaps I should have left you freeze to death.” He gives Stark a somewhat half-hearted glare, contemptuous but not angry, gesturing for him to follow. “Come. This is no place for you stay.”
Falling until his knees seem to reaize that they can indeed lock in place again, Tony's fingers linger on the wall before he straightens. He ought to ache, but he doesn't. If anything, he feels better than he had on arrival.
It's curiosity that sees Stark following Loki like the dog he'd called him, a faint upturned grin to his face. "It's just Tony," he says in response, keeping behind the larger man.
“I shall call you whatever I like,” Loki replies breezily, making sure that Stark is following, leading him through the maze of his frozen castle.
They pass before a line of Frost Giant soldiers who bow in front Loki but snort at Tony, none too pleased to see a Midgardian here. Still, the new king already has a reputation for being strange and unstable, and none of them dares commenting upon this quaint acquisition of a human pet. Loki nods curtly to them, his expression imperious and regal, stepping into his apartments.
“Fetch appropriate clothing for him,” he orders his servants, watching as they scurry away hurriedly, their red eyes wide with curiosity and dread. The doors close behind them with an ominous noise and Loki grins, slowly. “Oh, yes, I forgot. Welcome to Jötunheimr, Man of Iron." He sits down, smug. "We hope you will enjoy your stay."
"I use to summer here. Man, it's changed," Tony jokes, if only to cover the way he had jumped at the closing of the doors. It was safer in his cell. Safer tied up. Sure, it hurt more, but at least he knew his place and his options. This seems like a tease and he really doesn't like that at all.
Still, he plays up the house guest roll and takes a turn around the room, remarking on this piece of ice or that block of ice or this formation of ice...
"You need new decorators."
He is at least pleased to be given something warm to wear until they actually put it on him. Tony's face falls. It smells as if, until recently, it had been alive.
Loki gets comfortable in the throne-like armchair, legs spread wider than is strictly decent in a show of over-confidence, watching Stark putter about with keen eyes. "I cannot imagine why anyone in their right minds would come here on vacations," he replies lazily, snorting as Stark makes a show of looking around, blandly commenting about the sparse furniture in the room.
“I do not care for decoration,” Loki states contemptuously. Truth is, he does. But the Jotnar would not care for a King interested in such trifles. He cannot help but laugh at the face Stark makes when the servants return and dress him in traditional Jotun clothing, mountain-bear skin and furs. “Most fitting.”
As truly disgusting as it is to wear a dead animal like this, blood on it's fur, the robe is warm. Tony will just have to bathe in antifungal and bacterial sanitizer when he gets home. And he will get home. Tony's a fighter.
He comes back over to where Loki is, sitting on that ridiculous throne with that ridiculous stance of his and manages not to roll his eyes.
"I'm going to do an entire room of the Tower in this fur. You know, so I'll always remember our time together and how much fun we're having."
Reply
He's not sure how long he's been here or when the last time he had something to drink was. That's the worst of it. He'd like some pizza, sure, and, you know, his freedom and all, but really? He'd like some alcohol.
Being an addict, even a functioning one, has it's disadvantages.
Tony lifts his head when he hears footsteps and puts on his very best smirk when a flash of green and gold one into view. "So I take it you really missed me, huh?"
Reply
Loki is watching Stark from afar, watching him shiver and get paler and paler with the need to relieve his thirst and hunger. He has never kept a human pet before and, quite frankly, he is not sure that he can show enough care for it to survive. Still, Stark had always been entertaining, if infuriating, and Loki had been so very bored ruling over the great waste of Jötunheim, waiting for his army to gather. Stealing the human from Midgard had been laughingly easy, right under the Avengers' noses. Stark was clever, and strong enough, but without the suit and with no back-up, Loki knows he can easily overpower him.
He steps closer and grins back his shark grin, the one that displays far too many teeth to be anything but terrifying. “Perhaps I did, yes.” He gives the man a slow once-over. He knows he has to provide heat or Stark will perish soon enough, but he is in no hurry. “Did you?”
Reply
His shoulder muscles twitch but that's not anticipation, sorry. That's simply coldness. It doesn't stop him from smiling and, in fact, maybe it allows him to continue his silly game of careless defiance. It's as if he's inviting Loki's cruelty as a way to stop on top.
Very likely, that's exactly what he is doing.
"Pssh, yeah, absolutely," Tony says, moving a step closer too so that he maintains an equality cut short by the length of chain he's allowed. But let's not think on that. "I was just saying to myself, annoyingly warm in my own bed, how much I really miss that crazy kook with the Charlie's Angels' haircut."
Reply
He prowls closer, standing just out of reach, towering above Stark's shivering body. “Do you think that if you annoy me enough, I will kill you faster?” he asks casually, as if the matter were of no great importance. His eyes are glinting with mischief and anticipatory delight. “Don't be foolish, Stark.”
Reply
But it's not like their friends. Tony Stark doesn't have them, not really, just a well intentioned entourage and a bunch of crazies he fights with.
"Paint each other's toes, watch Sex in the City, talk about boys?"
Reply
“Perhaps,” he allows. “I must say, of all Midgardians, I disliked you least.” Back-handed compliments are the only compliments Loki ever gives, though this one is especially vicious.
The Man of Iron talks in riddles, somewhat on purpose, Loki knows, so he grins easily and fights back. “I think not. I was thinking more along the lines of drinking Odhrærir, seeking Hajlmthrimull's favors and challenging the Dokkalfar, truly.” He raises a challenging eyebrow.
Reply
He does speak entirely too many languages, most of which on the upper end of conversational and quite a few fluently. He bats long eyelashes up at Loki but they're sluggish and he wonders if this is what it feels like to feel your corneas freeze.
It's not 'cool' no matter how the pun might make you believe.
"I could p-probably go for some Odhrærir too." Or water. Water that isn't ice. That'd be great.
Reply
He considers Stark for a few seconds, taking in the stutter, the ask-like colour his face is assuming and, with the help of an invisible tendril of magic, the dangerous slowing of his pulse. Now, that just won't do. He reaches out, letting his fingers brush against Stark, above the luminous circle in his chest, and summons heat. It pours from his fingers into Stark's deprived body quickly, warming him up from head to toe. It is a temporary remedy, but one that will prevent the man from freezing to death too quickly, at least.
Reply
He wriggles them. And nose toes. Dark eyes lift, the circles beneath them darker still.
"Wow, I had no idea you guys came in Saint Bernard flavor. Got any hot chocolate in the barrel too?"
Reply
“Did you just call me a dog, Anthony Stark?” Loki asks, his voice ominous but his eyes playful, making the chains that bind Tony to the wall disappear with one flick of the wrist. “Perhaps I should have left you freeze to death.” He gives Stark a somewhat half-hearted glare, contemptuous but not angry, gesturing for him to follow. “Come. This is no place for you stay.”
Reply
It's curiosity that sees Stark following Loki like the dog he'd called him, a faint upturned grin to his face. "It's just Tony," he says in response, keeping behind the larger man.
It's easier to protect himself that way.
Reply
They pass before a line of Frost Giant soldiers who bow in front Loki but snort at Tony, none too pleased to see a Midgardian here. Still, the new king already has a reputation for being strange and unstable, and none of them dares commenting upon this quaint acquisition of a human pet. Loki nods curtly to them, his expression imperious and regal, stepping into his apartments.
“Fetch appropriate clothing for him,” he orders his servants, watching as they scurry away hurriedly, their red eyes wide with curiosity and dread. The doors close behind them with an ominous noise and Loki grins, slowly. “Oh, yes, I forgot. Welcome to Jötunheimr, Man of Iron." He sits down, smug. "We hope you will enjoy your stay."
Reply
Still, he plays up the house guest roll and takes a turn around the room, remarking on this piece of ice or that block of ice or this formation of ice...
"You need new decorators."
He is at least pleased to be given something warm to wear until they actually put it on him. Tony's face falls. It smells as if, until recently, it had been alive.
Reply
“I do not care for decoration,” Loki states contemptuously. Truth is, he does. But the Jotnar would not care for a King interested in such trifles. He cannot help but laugh at the face Stark makes when the servants return and dress him in traditional Jotun clothing, mountain-bear skin and furs. “Most fitting.”
Reply
He comes back over to where Loki is, sitting on that ridiculous throne with that ridiculous stance of his and manages not to roll his eyes.
"I'm going to do an entire room of the Tower in this fur. You know, so I'll always remember our time together and how much fun we're having."
Reply
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