VOLCANO QUEST!

[story_and_teller]

WHO: Loki & Loki
WHAT: SHENANIGANS.
WHEN: Presently, at the present time, whenever that may be.
WHERE: An island.
NOTES/WARNINGS: Lokis perhaps count as a warning by themselves.


[ The day dawns bright and clear over the docks in Sorcerytown, the thick golden light of dawn glittering on the water. In the distance, the peak of a mountain on a distant island can just barely be seen through the haze of the horizon from where Loki - taller, (slightly) sexier edition - sits, with his legs swinging out over the waters of high tide.

He's waiting. Though hopefully not for long. ]

Comments

[ikols]

[ The slightly shorter (much sexier, excuse you) edition arrives with a flourish of green magic, the teleportation a smooth, seamless mode of travel as she walks out of the light and up the dock. She looks less than thrilled to be here, beautiful as the setting is, and the mountain on the horizon gains a flat glance. ]

Here I am, then. As promised. A willing sacrifice.

[story_and_teller]

[ Have a friendly arm around the shoulder. From your taller (sexier) counterpart. ]

You're not actually a sacrifice. You know that.

[ikols]

[ Super unsexy and he gets a pout for his efforts even though she leans into them. ]

I am to your whims, apparently. So do we have a plan or are we winging it?

[story_and_teller]

[ The sexiest tyvm. Has she not seen his glorious chest hair?

Still, have a squeeze. ]

Mmm, I was thinking a nice morning stroll across the sea, teleport when we get bored of that, find the way in, and then play gawking tourists or petitioners, depending on the mood of the dwarves?

[ikols]

[ It is pretty glorious, tbh. Tapping her fingers under his chin, she tiptoes to peck him on the lips. ]

Honeymooners? You can spin a story about how desperate I am for an extra special wedding gift while I go for a wander browsing their wares ... and elsewhere. Signal that I've found our prize will likely be a lot of screaming.

[story_and_teller]

[ He grins, and offers her his arm. ]

Darling, you're brilliant. ...Is that narcissistic?

[ikols]

Probably. Time for a wardrobe change, I think! We look less like newlyweds and more inbreds.

[ A whoosh of magic sends the illusion of a green gown hanging off Loki's shoulders, vaguely Asgardian with a Manhattan touch. Lava Dwarves may be dwarves but they'll surely appreciate a bangin' figure on any creature (enough to let her go places she otherwise oughtn't in their domain). The boots stay for obvious reasons, as does a certain bracelet.

Her arm slips through his. ]

I'm only doing all of this for you.

[story_and_teller]

Mmm, close enough. I don't think dwarves can really tell, you know? What am I saying, of course you do. The boots are a his-and-hers matching set wedding gift? [ Another grin. ] We're that couple.

[ He can almost hear Verity snorting and hiding a grin at that. ]

Tide's going out. We should too.

[ikols]

I get you, and we are totally That Couple.

[ Time to walk on water! Her dress gets wet, unbothered by the extra weight as they set off. ]

Have you met anyone nice since you've been here?

[ 'Nice' as in been smooching? if that leer of hers is anything to go by. ]

[story_and_teller]

[ Have the BIGGEST OF POUTS. ]

Alas, no.

[ No smooching. His life is a tragedy. ]

[ikols]

[ Oooohhhh. ]

Then you're feeling lonely?

[ Actual concern as she lays her head on his shoulder while they walk. ]

[story_and_teller]

[ Holding her closer, yes. ]

...Dunno. [ Thinking about it takes all of three seconds. ] Yeah.

[ikols]

[ This train is stopping in its tracks right here atop the ocean as she turns to face him, a hand rising to cup his cheek. He's her responsibility, sort of, given that she welcomed his existence into the world. You were never meant to be unhappy, she thinks, although it was never going to be ruled out in his endgame.

Being around first doesn't necessarily make her his elder but she sometimes feels like it. It's one role she doesn't mind claiming. ]

You needn't call me up on egg-liberation quests if you just want company, you know. I'm here for you, lamb, absolutely always. Nothing is more important to me than you.

[story_and_teller]

[ He tips his head into her hand, and smiles at her. ]

Good thing, since nothing is more important to me than you.

[ Aside from Verity, there's really not anyone else he actually gives a damn about right now. It's kind of refreshing; even Loki-of-old cared about other things, in his very own special, spiteful way. ]

Which is why you're the only one I'd invite on this little adventure.

[ikols]

[ Verity isn't technically alive, safely hard-shouldered for now. The scraggly wolf in front of Ikol is her priority in the same selfish, possessive way she tries to avoid feeling about anyone else because it's unhealthy and she knows it. Storyteller gets a free pass, he knows her worst traits all correspond to him for multiple reasons.

Mildly mollified, she hums and sets them off again. ]

I'm the only one who could pull off this adventure with you. Do you have a rough estimate on how many are guarding the egg?

[story_and_teller]

[ One of these days though, they're gonna get Verity's body back. Or get her a new one. Or something. So she can be alive, and drink wine, and laugh with them. But for now, yes. Ikol is, of course, right.

He still holds her closer as they walk across the waves, though. ]

Actively guarding? Eleven. Mommysaurus says it's their 'sacred number'. They do a lot of things in multiples of eleven. And by 'a lot' I mean 'practically everything'.

[ikols]

[ Up goes an eyebrow. ]

Well, at least they're ... inclusive. What sort of reward is she offering?

fecking dw eating my tags

[story_and_teller]

[ This is where his grin gets wicked, and very, very Loki. ]

As much as we can carry from her treasury, and - and I quote here - 'a royal favour.' She's quite desperate at this point; apparently, several parties have tried and failed to retrieve her egg, and it is quite near to hatching.

[ikols]

I like the sound of that favour.

[ And the treasure. Treasure is always good to have in reserve but a royal ear promising to bend their way in the future, that's really something. ]

Try and snatch something from the dwarves if you can. For me.

[ Squeezing his arm. ]

[story_and_teller]

For you, my sweet? Anything.

[ikols]

As expected! Let's teleport over now, this dress is getting all soggy.

[ And let the real show commence! ]

[story_and_teller]

And now-- [ A brief break as he takes them to the island ] --it's sandy.

[ikols]

We should've worn flats.

[ Time for introductions to the lava dwarves as soon as a short hike to their ornate doors is over and done with, and Ikol throws herself into the role of a doting wife with more than a few lascivious winks at the greasy, gross faces peering up at her unblemished bosom in between swooning over ST.

Her hosts seem quite astir when she doles out the same sultry look to eleven of them.

Dark as it is inside the volcanic mountain-home, her sight remains fine and she mentally catalogues the turnings while laughing airily whenever Storyteller needs to look especially commanding. ]

[story_and_teller]

Alas. Maybe next time.

[ Not that there will be a next time, because every time Ikol flutters and sparkles at the dwarves, something shiny vanishes into Storyteller's copious pockets. And they keep moving, ever deeper into what he is sure that their unsuspecting hosts think is a veritable labyrinth of corridors, and Storyteller plays the ever more desperate husband, searching for just the perfect gift, each time his astoundingly attractive 'wife' carelessly rejects another treasure...

They try to hide it, but those pinched, unwashed faces - seriously, is good hygiene anathema here? - grow more and more acquisitive as they move along, to more and more expensive things, absolutely certain that they have a couple of big, fat marks here.

They could be more wrong, but not by much.

In a moment when Ikol is 'distracted' by some dwarven blandishment, he gestures to one of the other dwarves-- ]

--Look. I really, really need something very special, very unique, and very expensive to keep her happy. If your fellows can keep her distracted-- [ ha ] --perhaps you can help me... Surprise her? If it's a surprise, she won't fuss so much, just as long as I can tell her it's very expensive.

[ikols]

[ Why, she is thilled when a plethora of gruff, grabby little men surge around her dress to encourage her away from her husband, giggling like a schoolgirl as she blows Storyteller a kiss. See you shortly, darling. Then it's down, down, down the streets they go, with Loki seemingly (not at all) aimlessly trotting her way toward the source of the mountain's heat. The core, where any rare egg is surely being incubated day and night.

It's only when they try to physically force her legs to 'idly' stroll in another direction that she splits off from the illusion of a twittering, loose-moral toting wife, and under the cover of her shadowthread coat makes her way invisibly down that forbidden atrium. Wheedling through winding hallways (hating the heat) en route through more and more heavily guarded doors, she manages to trick a great number of dwarves into chasing more of her illusory selves off down the corridors, back the way she came, but unfortunately at the last gate a knife must be forced into the necks of two especially burly characters before the lock is picked and in Ikol slips ... to find a large egg wrapped in leathers atop a bed of coals. ]

Ah, bingo.

[ Now she just needs to get back out with it. One of Lorelei's portable portals would be really useful right now. ]