INTRO LOG + SKADI CURSE.

[asgardmods]

FEBRUARY INTRO LOG( FEB 16TH & 17TH ) february 16 ↴ INTRO: NEW WANDERERS' ARRIVAL! Our batch of new Wanderers wake this morning, as all new Wanderers have before, on a plush bed with a mild but lingering sense of recent disorientation. Frigg greets them as per normal, though rather than outright escorting Wanderers to the front doors this time, she and Sigyn allow the Wanderers time and space to leave their bed, meet the pantheon, and even depart the palace at their own pace - but not without a warning. All Wanderers must choose a deity to tether to before dawn the next day, or else one of the gods will choose them. This is of grave importance, as that's precisely how long the magic giving them form is able to last untethered before the Mother's own magic overwhelms it. (Though the gods are more than willing to allow Wanderers to leave, it's worth noting that many a castle servant - natives, born in this land - might see fit to intercede and insist on the choosing of a god before Wanderers step off the Gladsheim Palace grounds.) Stepping outside, you're greeted by an almost bright and sunny day... Undermined thoroughly by a sharp, biting wind that permeates any small gap in your clothing. I bet the gods might give you a sweater, if you ask. It probably won't even look that absurd, depending on which one you ask. A trail of what seems like stringless balloons float at eye level from just outside the palace door, guiding Wanderers down the path to a notice board just outside the palace grounds. On this notice board, Wanderers find a brief handwritten guide to accessing the city map on their cuffs, specifically denoting the little colored house icons ( ⌂ ) to help Wanderers make their way to each god's housing. Also on this board appear to be a variety of job listings, for those who want to get more involved in Asgard as a whole. But let's not get ahead of ourselves, shall we? There's more than enough time for that once you've chosen a god to tether to in the first place. february 17 ↴ GOD CURSE: CHARACTER-BUILDING WITH SKADI. The storm brewing within Skadi is hardly a secret. She was impatient during the gods' supposedly unanimous address, and in the days to follow, Sigyn (with all her desperately good intentions) tried to balm the irritation but only abraded the goddess further still. She attended the Wanderers' arrival purely by the letter of her duty and swept back out the doors as soon as that duty released her, and since then she's been holed up in her temple, her pointy-faced statues positioned just outside as sentinels meant to intimidate mortals away. They dared to tell her that she does nothing. Nothing for the Wanderers, that is. Nothing to help them grow and self-actualize, as if these 'Wanderers' are so much more important than Asgard itself, which weakens by the day as her fellow gods fling their magic about to overprotect the Wanderers, or even to satisfy their whims. The consensus to draw back some of that wasteful protection would have pleased her, if she weren't so thoroughly fixated on the slight that preceded it. They want her to help the Wanderers self-actualize? So be it. There's no better way, truly, than to confront and overcome the ways in which you're flawed. So the morning after arrival day, many Wanderers wake up with a stinging, itching spot somewhere on their body. Maybe their arm, maybe their back, maybe their throat. In that spot, as it turns out, is a set of words in a deep ruddy brown (almost like old blood) under their skin as if tattooed in place. But these aren't just any words - they prey directly into the Wanderer's fears, their regrets, their insecurities, and their mistakes. They're facing down some of the worst things they've ever thought or feared about themselves. The other gods, of course, are eager and willing to try to relieve the poor Wanderers of these cursed marks... but they find that it's not quite so easy. Wanderers who seek a god's removal of the words find that not only do the words remain, but a new set appears: Flees the truth. But that's fine = For most Wanderers, these words disappear on their own in a day or two. A handful of unlucky souls find that their marks linger indefinitely, or seem to disappear but return at truly inopportune occasions down the line. MOD NOTES This is the February intro log and Skadi's curse, our mini-event for this month! Skadi's curse is is entirely opt-in - not all Wanderers are affected - and is detailed more fully in the 'This Month's Events' section of the February Bulletin, and you're welcome to direct any follow-up questions to the Bulletin's mod questions top-level. You've also likely noticed that god jobs are now live! The listings themselves can be found here (same link as within the 'arrival' prompt), with a brief FAQ featured over here.

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Bucky Barnes | MCU

[sinistral]

Job Listings;
The idea of signing up for a job here isn't entirely appealing. Of course it's not unappealing either: it would be nice to have something more useful to do, something more tangible, but Bucky also doesn't trust those in charge of everything. Their words paint a pretty picture of coming together and benefiting the community at large, but in his experience that often comes with hidden agendas. He doubts this is any different, but at the same time doesn't possess nearly enough information to know if it's true, or to sort the strings of truth from lie.

Even so, he's made it a point to check the board several times, partly to see if the information presented there changes at all and partly to see if others are doing the same. The jobs are all well and good, but just as interesting — and potentially more informative — are the people.

Skadi's Curse;
The words that appeared overnight, he thinks, are supposed to trigger something. Shame, perhaps. Anger. Maybe even embarrassment. And it's true that he'd felt all of those and more on seeing the bold lettering. But it also serves to solidify in his mind that these so-called gods have brought him here for one reason: his skills as the Soldier. He'll never be rid of that part of himself, he knows. And if that's what this place wants out of him, it'll be on his own terms.

Or so he tells himself.

Regardless Bucky isn't bothering to hide. Partly because it's annoying to his the prosthetic arm in general; the sliding plates like to snag threads from clothing, meaning wearing a sleeve over it leads to an exercise in patience of removing said threads from between the plates. As such, there's nothing covering the bold Fist of HYDRA curling its way down his forearm. Neither is he hiding the word assassin splashed across one cheek, nor the four Cyrillic words starting at the opposite jawbone and making their way down his throat. He knows what he is, and he'll take the brands with everything he can manage in stoicism.

Of course, by the third or fourth day, he's pretty sick of it.

Wildcard;
Whatever, wherever; hit me up on sometimesamuse or via PM for any plotting but I'm willing to roll with pretty much anything. Action tags or prose; I'll match your preference.

job listings

[tealeafs]

[ If Bucky bothers to go back to the board several times, he might notice that while the crowd of people often changes, there's at least one person who's there for most of the times he keeps checking back on the board. If he listens in to the crowd, he can hear the young woman trying to help some other people out with their job choices - recommending them one thing or another when they seem indecisive.

It's hard to tell if she notices Bucky in particular too or not though. Her gaze crosses his a few times, but it's not until the third or fourth time that she sees him that she finally steps over to him with a small smile. ]

.. Ah, sorry.. But I couldn't help but wonder if you were thinking about something. [ Since he's seemed to have stared at the board and the people near it for such a while already now. ]

[sinistral]

[He has noticed that she's a relatively constant visitor to the board, in that he notices things like patterns and routines. Always had, he thinks, though he's really not too sure. Still there's little sense in dwelling on that; better to turn his attention to the speaker instead, taking in her appearance. Her posture's relaxed enough, he supposes, and the smile friendly. He wonders what she really wants.]

Mostly wondering what they're up to. [He waves a hand in the general direction of the castle, indicative of the gods.] Oh you're all bored, here's something to do? [Could his dry tone get any drier? The answer is no. No, it could not.]

I don't trust it. [Bucky, you don't trust anything. Shut up.] And I want to know what they're really getting out of it.

[At the same time, the jobs are of course worded to seem beneficial to the community as a whole, not just those gods, which is really annoying.]

[tealeafs]

[ It's probably a good thing that Chizuru is used to dealing with people a lot more cynical of things than she is, huh.. Because despite his point of view being seemingly completely opposite of her own, she doesn't bat too much of an eye at it. She just slowly nods, as if she's trying to take it all in and consider it. ]

I don't think they have any reason behind it other than what they're saying.. [ But her voice trails off at the end there, as if to say 'but I can't be sure. ] In the past they have always told us in advance if something was dangerous. I don't think they've ever lied to us before, so I doubt they'd start doing so with something like this.

[sinistral]

A lie by omission is still a lie.

[Which is to say: what are they not being told? Everyone has a right to his or her own secrets of course, but Bucky's had far too much of an organization and its secrets using him for their own purposes. Between that and the difference in power, well.]

Who was it who dealt with that danger, them? Or us? What was the risk involved to both sides?

[She probably did not ask for Mr. Grumpy Grump when she rolled out of bed this morning, but there you go.]

[tealeafs]

I can't speak out of experience, since I didn't go along on any of the dangerous missions..

[ Which probably makes sense, since Chizuru doesn't exactly look like combat material over here. There's not a single part of her looks that screams battle-hardened.

(Mostly since her expertise, rather than with combat, lies exactly in dealing with Mr. Grumpy Grumps.. Maybe he came to the right place after all.) ]

But some of the gods went along with the people who did go. Of course it was maybe easier for them in terms of risk.. [ Since they're gods, after all. Could they even be killed? Chizuru has no idea. ] But it's not as if they make us do everything for them without helping out along the way.

[sinistral]

Interesting that they gave you that option.

[If he doesn't try her patience it'll be a miracle.]

The question still remains: what are they getting out of it? [He can't believe that such apparently powerful beings would put themselves at any great risk when they have others who can be thrust into that proverbial fire.]

[tealeafs]

[ That seems to make her shake her head. ]

I don't know. [ She can't look into the heads of the gods, after all. Nobody can. ] Although.. would it really be that strange to believe they might just genuinely feel bad over the fact that involuntarily got pulled to this place? I was part of what seemed like the first group who showed up here, and the gods seemed really worried about it back then.

[ Granted, Chizuru's view is kind of rose-coloured when it comes to these sort of things. ]

[sinistral]

I don't really believe in the good nature of people.

[Not anymore, anyway. He did once, he thinks; even now, trying to think back on it, it seems impossible.]

First and foremost, people care about themselves. I want to know what they're getting out of it. However involuntary, isn't our presence here an invasion of their home?

[tealeafs]

Well..

[ She pauses. Chizuru always defaults to trying to assume the best that it takes a lot to try and view things from his perspective. It makes her frown in thought as she attempts to do so. ]

Even if it is, it's not as if they can do anything about it, right? [ Although she'd rather just assume they don't mind them being here. ] They can't just send us home.

[sinistral]

Not sure I'd agree fully with either of those statements.

[Not that he's looking to start an argument; if anything, there's something thoughtful in his tone: while he's not convinced as to the intentions of those in this place, he's not pigheadedly ignoring the possibilities. He's just picking them to pieces, first.]

Not arguing it, but not believing it either. Their lives have been disturbed by our arrival as well, haven't they? Maybe not as badly as ours, I'll give them that, but there is a disruption. I don't believe anyone is so good and generous as to not have threads of annoyance about that, at the very least.

[Blah blah inherent goodness of people, something something benefit of the doubt. In other breaking news, Bucky is a paranoid grumpy grump, and rain is still wet.]

Curse

[demonicbeauty]

The words were scrawled across Ariadne's collarbone, which was unfortunate because all of her dresses had necklines that dipped down considerably lower. They formed a ring, like a necklace. Spy. Thief. Demon.

She didn't mind the 'Spy' so much. After all, she was a spy. No point in denying what was quite obviously true.

'Demon' was more complicated. But by the definitions of her world, yes, she was a demonoid. Not a nice term, but she supposed it was accurate.

No. It was 'Thief.' that bothered her. Thieves had bad intentions. She never did.

And it was maybe a bit of overcompensating for the word that brought her out to the medicinal garden early that morning, determined to weed out every...well...weed. To make herself useful. To prove that she wasn't ill-intended. Not toward anyone.

She worked all through the morning with a fervor that left her fingernails filthy and wisps of hair falling out of her braid, framing her face. And it was only once she was satisfied that she'd thoroughly protected her precious strawberry bushes that she happened to look up and notice a passing stranger, also with words on his skin.

A little line formed between her eyes, and before she could stop herself, she uttered it: "Snakes don't have fists."

She hadn't meant to engage anyone. Not with the words on her skin. And certainly not looking the way she did. But it just slipped.

[sinistral]

It took him by surprise, mostly in that there seemed to be some sort of tacit agreement to not talk about the words that appeared on many people's skin. Bucky had, for the most part, brushed off the few inquiries about his own; assassin summed up most of what anyone needed to know. And as far as he was concerned, they didn't need to know even that much.

He told himself that he didn't care.

Still, of everything his skin bore, the one that caught the attention of the green — he blinked; no, his eyes weren't deceiving him, yes, he really was seeing the color correctly — skinned woman wasn't what he'd expected. It made him halt because, well, he hadn't discovered any evidence of their presence here, but his concern over his former employers would never dwindle.

His gaze flickered over her appearance, lingered just long enough on the words to read them before studying her face. "You know of HYDRA?"

[demonicbeauty]

Even after coming clean, Ariadne still hated the way people would look at her in her natural skin. It was almost by reflex, then, that the air around her wavered like heat coming off of pavement and her appearance melted into something far more Human. Pinkish skin. Brown hair. Red lips. This was more socially acceptable. And how she felt more comfortable, especially talking to strangers.

That she hadn't actually meant to speak with him was beside the point.

"I saw a hydra once," she said, standing up and brushing the dirt off of the front of her dress. "A water snake. It lived in a lake, just outside of Shaldani. Someone had cut off its first head, so it had two. No fists, though. It didn't even have arms."

And it had looked very cranky. Although, she supposed, she'd probably be cranky too, if someone chopped her head off. Well, actually, she'd be dead. But a very, very cranky ghost, most likely.

[sinistral]

He didn't hide the surprise at the way she seemed to ripple and shrug into a new skin. Interesting, that; he'd seen photostatic veils that could alter the appearance of a person's face, but this seemed something else entirely He briefly gave a thought to whether it was natural talent or something bestowed by this place before abandoning the question (for the moment at least).

Her explanation helps clear up one point at least. "Oh. An actual hydra, like in mythology." The Greeks? Or maybe the Romans, he couldn't be too sure; Bucky was certain that he'd studied the classics at one point but that, like much of his past, was still a slurry of barely-remembered mush in his brain. The name of the place didn't ring any bells either but that also didn't mean much.

"At least, I assume that's what you mean? They don't actually exist." Did it occur to him that might be rude to say? No. No, it did not.

[demonicbeauty]

For all of his bluntness, Ariadne looked more amused than offended. "I'm not sure you can say that they don't actually exist when I just told you I saw one," she pointed out. And she wondered why the word would be scrawled across his arm if they meant nothing to him. Clearly, they did. At least in a metaphorical sense.

Again, hydras didn't have fists. Or arms.

What a confusing man.

But she was intrigued now. Both for the words and the way he was reacting to it all.

And his hair. He wore it long, rather like an Alastrian. Well, maybe not quite as long as an Alastrian. But still.

She gave him a little curtsy. More of a bounce than anything else. Everything Ariadne did gave one the impression that gravity was just barely holding her down. As if, any moment, she would spread wings and start flitting about like a tiny sparrow or songbird. "Perhaps they only exist in stories in your world because they all died out?"

[sinistral]

"And how do I know that you exist, and aren't just a figment of my imagination?" he countered. He didn't think she was but truly he couldn't be perfectly certain that this entire place wasn't a trick of the mind. Who knew? Maybe he'd finally cracked the rest of the way.

Still, it could be worse.

He blinked at her curtsey, partly because it seemed so odd a gesture in general and partly because of the grace in the movement. Bucky considered himself a pretty good judge of motion and movement because of his awareness of his own body's capabilities but she had a sense of grace that seemed unique, at least in terms of what he'd seen so far in this place. "Old stories. Myths and legends. They all beget symbols, and symbols have power. Doesn't really matter if they were real or not, does it?"

[demonicbeauty]

Ariadne had been accused of a lot of things in her life. Being a figment of someone's imagination was definitely a new one, though. She wasn't sure whether or not to be offended, but since she generally saw the best in people, she decided against it.

At least he wasn't coming at her with a knife.

Sometimes, that happened to Alastrians.

"I don't know," she replied. "I think it matters very much to me that I'm real." A pause. "I can prove it, I think."

[sinistral]

He shrugged. Maybe he'd offended her or maybe not but he wasn't likely to apologize for it anyway. Privately he considered that of the two of them, he was less likely to be real — a side effect, perhaps, of an existence of not existing.

"You can save your proof." What good would it do her to show off anything to him? She didn't owe him her time or her indulgence and he still needed to work through his own thoughts about what made up existence anyway. "Imaginary or not, here you are. And if you only know HYDRA as a creature, then you're better off for it."

[demonicbeauty]

"Well, what else would I know it as?"

Oh, she'd heard his little speech about being better off. But Ariadne never shied away from asking a question. Besides, this strange man had her full attention now. And it wasn't because of any words scratched onto him.

They were all dealing with that game.

No. What intrigued her was the diatribe about real versus not real. She'd seen a lot of strange reactions to being in Asgard, but this was a new one. Part childish and part intellectual.

There was a story in it.

And she was her father's daughter. She loved a good story.

Skadi's Curse,

[secondplacescrow]

Edd, too, is upset. Well, sort of. Is disappointment is another feeling of upset? The sad thing about it was that all the things on his head and hands were once words he would often say about himself. According to Edd's forehead, he's DEAD MAN WALKING, that's poor old Edd's fate, make no doubt about it. Of course, it didn't make it any better that he can read it on his face. Literally.

The writings on his hands - NO DREAM OF SPRING and NO WAKING FROM THIS NIGHTMARE on his right and left hand respectively - are a little more poetic about Edd's apparent fate. Seeing a fellow man miserable by his own words can create a certain brotherhood, and Edd knows a good deal about making brothers. Though more half the words on this man's face Edd can't quite understand - in some cases, literally - and there was one thing about him that bothered Edd so much he had to interrupt the man's dinner in the few restaurants this city can offer.

"I hope you don't mine me asking, but why are you only wearing armor on only that arm?"

Look, if the man's a knight, he's doing it the wrong way. The armor looks off too, like it fitted more like a sleeve than what actual armor was suppose to look like.

[sinistral]

Though he largely prefers to spend time by himself, blending into a crowd and hiding in plain sight is a skill he'd rather not lose, even if he doesn't like to consider from whence that skill came. It takes shape here and now as taking meals about the city now and again, listening to the chatter of others, belonging without actually belonging all without looking like he doesn't belong. A delicate balance perhaps, but another way he tries to keep his skills sharp.

He'll need them again, he knows. He might not know exactly when or exactly how, but he doesn't trust this place at all.

Quite frankly, he's surprised it's taken this long for someone to ask, even considering his self-imposed distance from others. He glances up at the other man, taking what measure he could from appearance — not that it means much. Far too many of them bear words across their skin, and words hardly tell the entire picture.

"It's not armor." And, because he can anticipate what he thinks the next question will be: "It's my arm."

[secondplacescrow]

Edd can't help but look down at the arm. Now that it's not armor, but an actual arm. . . makes him honestly curious. "I seen men with wooden teeth and hands. Metal, for lordly types. Never seen a metal arm. Aren't you some lord, then?"

He noticed the words as well, but if the words on Edd's hands make him depressed, then this lordly man would probably be depressed on being someone's fist.

[sinistral]

The idea of lords has been mentioned before, and hearing it again makes him file it away for later investigation. Seems it's still a regular form of hierarchical organization, in some parts of the world (or, perhaps, in some worlds entirely).

"Just a Soldier." An understatement of course; anyone who doesn't know the significance of the Winter Soldier likely won't recognize the layers of meaning in that statement. But he's not about to abound on his own personal history, and certainly not for a stranger. He's got enough to try to get all of the pieces straight in his own head, even if he felt inclined to share them with another.

[secondplacescrow]

The problem is Edd is that he's not just a master of understatements, he's inclined to go into directions where people aren't just comfortable with or expecting. "I've known plenty of soldiers. Some would rather go back to their hovels and pull out carrots from their gardens, while others get close to other wars to become a knight. Neither would expect to be endangered by pulling carrots, but I seen a brother lose an arm not for swinging a sword."

Whatever Bucky's history with that arm, Edd won't judge. He seen and met worse men than a soldier with a metal arm, even have called them sworn brothers. What's an assassin's sins to Edd when he worked alongside with a steward who stabbed a girl to death just because she refused his favor?