ataraxionlogs | [ O T A ] Nothing good could come from this . . .

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[ O T A ] Nothing good could come from this . . .

CHARACTERS: Loki and EVERYONE ELSE IN THIS SPACE BAR
LOCATION: Library, wherever that is? Herp.
WARNINGS: ... Uh... Loki? Possibly triggering crap depending on what level of a-holery takes place.
SUMMARY: Books are Loki's friends. Unfortunately, nothing else is. So there will probably be some violence, and lying, and exposing of lies, and trickery, and horrid things and a really angry fellowship lmf- what is this.
NOTES: **Mod note for future reference: All books are like usb-drive sized devices that pop up into the pages of a "book".

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He needed to think. He needed a plan. He was stuck here, which put a significant dent in his prior plans to say the least. It made him uncomfortable. He lacked control. Thor was here. At least marginally convenient, but then what? Then what? He couldn't travel to another realm and shake it up or escape in a pinch. There was only this place. Only this place. He needed to be more careful. The Tesseract is gone. The scepter is gone. The influence is gone but the residue remains.

Earth wasn't the goal. What would he truly want the mortals for? They were weak, they were lesser beings in every single way. Play things. Pawns. The same went for here and the lies already woven. He was biding time to learn what he could before the true colors shone through. Few knew his name, his real name. Four had seen his face and associate it with Lucas. Many others know only his number and that given name. One, he knew that she knew he was lying. Two... had slight threat. Even still, Aragorn wasn't a match for Loki. That sword or not. Perhaps it was pride, but he was fairly certain.

For scrambling factors, he'll adapt another, and then it could be passed off that he's just innocently jerking chains and his threat level will slide under the radar until appropriate. Given the circumstances, a lie to keep an identity safe when you're in an unknown place is not too strange. He could work with that excuse if necessary.

His thoughts lead him to the library, the library lead him through rows and rows. Fiction, fiction, more useless fiction. The science was lacking and painfully so but he consumed all he could find. Pulling book after book out of the shelves until a decent size of them had accumulated and there he was. A neat and tidy pile, you could find him here immersed. Flipping page after page as if advanced molecular physics was a casual read. To him, honestly, it was.

Oh, and that Libby thing.

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Frodo stilled, turning his head slowly as the stranger spoke up. His senses were truly sharp then, or perhaps for all his attempts at sneaking he was easily detectable. A darker part knew the real reason.

With one book in the crook of his arm, the hobbit glanced over with a look of mild unease. He was a stranger, and there was a feel to him that did not feel right.

Unlike with Aragorn, this was a person he almost felt truly 'looked fairer and felt fouler'.

"I didn't want to disturb you. " Frodo replied politely.

What. Was that.

It felt like madness, deep and true. It smelled of blood and fire and ash. It sounded like drums; like drums of war. Something so black. Something so abysmal. His eyes wandered to the halfling. Small, what burden that was for a creature so small. Not quite human but human enough.

"Tis no disturbance," Aragorn had thought him an Elf. Arwen knew he were not but knew he were no man neither. Yet when it came to his soul, what was left of it, what could still be recognized, what a chaotic thing that were.

And those green eyes just watched.

The longer he watched, the more Frodo felt the urge to squirm with discomfort. This Big Person, Human, Big Folk or People, whichever you chose..did not feel like one he could consider an ally.

Frodo could feel the tug of the Ring pulling towards the tall man with something like hunger. His eyes lidded a little, almost sleepily if not for the way they dimmed a bit, his fingers slackening slightly on his book. It was no different than when Faramir drew too close. Only this presence was far darker. The Ring for some reason was as wary as Frodo was, and it was for that alone that it's bearer stepped back, shaking his head.

"Just the same, I believe I shall look on my own. Thank you." He replied carefully, those green eyes being met by wary, weary blue ones. "I wish you a good read." And with a small dip of his curly head, the hobbit began to walk towards another aisle, body tense. His free hand traveled towards the Ring without his full knowing.

He did not know he was staring. At some point, somehow, somewhere between seeing this small creature, feeling that power, and now, he'd lost his sense of anything. The feel of it, the feel of it overwhelmed. It reminded him of terrible things. Entrapping things. So full of sorrow and that slowly turned to anger and that slowly refined itself in to a relentless need for retribution.

First he hated it.

Then he accepted it, swallowed it for what it was, then he let it open his eyes. There was nothing you could do to keep yourself from that kind of power, if you denied it so fully it would destroy you whole. Just let go. Let it burn inside you.

It broke, the glance, and he dipped his head; but that wasn't the end. Because he couldn't. Frodo, you cannot escape a mage so easy. No less a God. Guess who appears right before you once again. "Such a small thing. You," a pause. "And it."

Frodo doesn't have much time to react only to stumble back a bit as suddenly Loki is before him. He steps back a bit further, rigid.

"I am a hobbit. As for your other words--" His voice is tense now, eyes lidding a bit as once again the Ring reaches out towards the god, a horrible churning. A longing to be taken by one who will succumb far easily. His hand trembles but releases itself from it's hold on the Ring beneath his cloak.

"--I don't know what you mean. I'd like to get through, please." His voice is strained. Get away from him, with that presence, because it only grows stronger over him with him near and the burden grows until he finds it hard to catch his breath.

And he would give in. He would. For power, without a single thought as to why or what to do with it. Any planning, any anything that would have existed previous would not any longer. That power -- and he could feel the hobbit felt it. The way his body waned and eyes drooped; it spoke to him, this item, this ring he could only feel.

It would be so easy to kill him. So very easy. But Loki, well he liked to play. When he was he. When he was himself. He liked to play. So that book loosely held in tiny arms shifts and turns and no longer is it full of pages but of venom. That slithering snake moving slowly, seeking to tighten around the hobbit.

"Oh, I think you do know. I think you feel it."

Perhaps he had been protecting Frodo for so long that his instincts had been honed sharply towards any danger that the hobbit was in. Perhaps it was because this ship had so little of Frodo's protectors available, for Samwise Gamgee had been torn away from his master's side. Perhaps it was simply instinct.

Aragorn's hands had stopped in the midst of his work in the gardens, and his feet had started moving even before he realised where he was going. Anduril practically hummed on his hip, and Aragorn closed his hand around its hip as his footsteps quickened. Then he was running, running without knowing exactly why, only that there was danger afoot and Frodo needed him.

He slammed opened the library's doors, the sound resounding around him, loud as clashing drums in war. Aragorn's eyes had barely taken note of the scene in front of him before Anduril was already drawn and glowing by his side, and he reached out and grabbed the snake from Frodo's hands and the snake's head was already cut off, splattering blood all over the ground, over Aragorn's breeches and boots before he had even said a word.

When he did, it was not one that the two here would expect.

"Legolas!" Elven hearing, do not fail him now. Aragorn could tell that Lucas - if that was truly his name - was far more dangerous than Aragorn had thought; knew that he was a fool for trusting this Man; a fool for allowing Frodo to go completely unguarded into danger. He shifted immediately, his sword's tip pointed at Lucas, his body blocking Frodo from the Man's view.

"Frodo. Are you hurt?"

In his hand, Anduril practically screamed for him to lunge forward. The Flame of the West had scented evil; and the drinker of Sauron's blood, the cutter of his flesh, wished to feast itself again.

Aragorn tightened his grip.

Edited 2012-07-18 04:11 (UTC)

He'd seen Aragorn walk out, and while that was usually not something for concern, the fact that he hadn't finished his work was. Though a protector and a warrior in his own right, his charges were mainly the fauna and flora of Mirkwood, his comrades who were warriors as well. The ship had too many strange things, and he hadn't even gotten used to the city yet before this. Cautious he was, too cautious to notice any slight change in dangerous.

The air of fear and concern surrounding Aragorn, however, he could sense, and that was what had him quickly finishing up his own work to put his weapons back on. The slamming of doors had him moving faster; the last time he'd heard any doors being opened so forcefully was when Aragorn returned to Helm's Deep, and with grave news. This time as well, the sound brought down an ill feeling.

Then he heard his name being called, and he knew. It was magic that he sensed; not quite the magic Mithrandir used to warm them and fend off the wolves, nor like that which sealed the halls of Mirkwood's King. But magic it was, and that was all he needed to know to reach for his bow--

Yet it was neither instinct nor familiarity that stayed the arrow in his grip. He did not fire, as much as his mind was telling him not to hesitate. How dangerous this man was, this man who knew magic.

Or perhaps he was not a man at all.

He spared a glance at both Frodo and Aragorn to see if they were harmed but kept his bow taut and aimed.

This man knew the presence of the Ring. And he knew that it was destroying him. Frodo's breath hitched, finding the words slow to come to his throat, and he lost his breath entirely when suddenly the feeling of solid book turned into scales and hissing. Frodo barely had time to breathe before the doors slammed open, his foot only pulling halfway back as Aragorn suddenly appeared before his eyes.

The cry that had escaped his lips was stifled as the snake was beheaded. It should have bothered him more, because that had been his book and now all that remained was blood on Aragorn's clothes and a little staining his cloak, wide, frightened blue eyes lifting to his.

Glancing at Loki, then at Aragorn, Frodo quickly scrambled back, hand closing once again around the Ring as he raised a pale face.

"Y-Yes I'm..I'm alright. " Except the Ring was not silent, and as he turned around he noted Legolas and could only baffle at how they had reached him so quickly. He debated what to do. A part of him, a growing part desired greatly to slip his finger into the Ring and disappear from it all, for the burden grew with this evil presence enhancing it.

Instead Frodo could only fall back, clutching his chest where the Ring rested and struggling to catch his breath. "..He knows. He's after It." He got out, lifting stricken eyes.

Edited 2012-07-18 18:54 (UTC)

Such a little thing. Easy to swallow. He didn't know what it was but he wanted it, he wanted it. This pull almost gravetational. It felt so similar, but stronger, so much stronger. What he could do with a power like this. The idea shook right down his spine, until the crusades showed up. An elf, he recognized immediately, but different from Arwen. Different in strength, and Aragorn.

No blood would be spared. Instead, the snake returns to the state it were before and falls to the ground in it's small compact size. That sword drawn to him barely an inch away and arrows all but ready. Loki straightens, some semblance of rationality still within.

Play it wise. Slowly straighten, take a step back, raise his hands as if in defeat. "Shame we meet again as thus."

"A shame indeed," Aragorn said, and his sword's tip did not waver. His eyes flickered towards Frodo behind him, Legolas at his side, and he took a single, tiny step towards Lucas. "I had taken you to be an honourable Man, Lucas."

He did not know of where this Man had hailed, Aragorn realised. It was but a fleeting thought. So was the thought that the last Man he saw lusting after the Ring was Boromir. Aragorn had no time for such reflections, not while Frodo was in danger and he looked so ashen and pale, so frightened at the violence that the Ring could drive any and all around him to.

(The Ring was silent to him. Utterly silent. Aragorn had gotten used to its soft, insinuating whispers on his time on the ship, and now its missing speech perturbed him. Perhaps this was what had called him here so quickly, for the last time the Ring had gone entirely silent from him was when Boromir succumbed to its power, and the Ring had concentrated the whole of its energies on him then.)

"Legolas, my friend," Aragorn said, but he did not take his eyes away from Lucas. His feet shifted slightly, moving from a defensive posture to one that was ready to attack at the merest shift of the toe. "Frodo needs to be brought to somewhere safe."

With that, Aragorn was already jumping forward. It was not a blow that he aimed at - instead, he only wished to drive Lucas back even further. Anduril's moon-glow flared ever-brighter, almost blinding in its intensity, and Aragorn only hoped that Legolas would have enough time to bring Frodo away- far away from the library so that Lucas would have a chance to regain his senses.

Lucas, Aragorn called him. But he knew this voice, he'd heard it some time ago, though he knew not the name of the speaker. And he knew it was no man. Aesir was what Legolas recalled of that singular conversation. God, he'd translated it as. Yet even with this knowledge there was no haste in his steps as he moved around quietly to Aragorn and Frodo, keeping his arrow aimed at the other.

"He shall be, I will make sure of it," he replied as he approached closer, and continued liltingly and softly, even as Aragorn leapt. "Fight with care, Ranger, for that is no Man you face."

But he had faith in Aragorn, Isildur's heir, to face down even an immortal god-- or at least to keep him away long enough for them to escape. The Hobbit was given another glance, this one longer than the previous. He did not dare keep his eyes from the Aesir for too long, even with Aragorn watching him as well. Eru was the only god he beleived in, but he would not doubt this one's powers, whatever they were.

"Can you run, Frodo?" He could not carry Frodo and fire his bow at the same time. It could only be one or the other.

Frodo glanced at Legolas and Aragorn, standing in front of him protectively. A part of him was greatly relieved, another part that might have been frustrated now deeply wearied instead. No matter where he went they would chase him, to the ends of whatever place he went, until he went to the one place where there would be no way to hide.

The Hobbit stared solely at Legolas then as Aragorn began to engage Loki, stiffening. Lucas was his name? Could he run? Could he escape? Frodo nodded slowly, it would be best that way. The longer he stayed the deeper the pull of the Ring called and the more it dragged it's bearer along with it. He could feel his eyes lidding again, for a minute almost leaning forward as if he would step after Loki and Aragorn, offer it up and be done with it.

But Frodo was still resilient, and he instead covered the Ring once again into his cloak.

He then turned on his heel and started to run, pausing only to give a fleeting glance at Aragorn with concern in his eyes. That man was a sorcerer, some sort of being and nothing he was familiar with. Legolas had not called him a Man--yet so Frodo must trust in the one among them who was. That was an easy thing.

Edited 2012-07-19 20:01 (UTC)

Loki's eyes traveled to the blade again, then to the Elf, then to the Hobbit. And there was a slow, sly, wicked smile crawling over his lips that only Frodo could see. Already working a spell, ignoring the cramping feelings, ignoring the irritation it spent on him.

This very spell was what allowed escape. If he wished to be fast enough, he could lodge a dagger right in to Aragorn's throat seconds later after the blade had gone right through the shoulder of an illusion. Instead, the body appearing behind the ranger steps back. Still his hands are up. If he can get out of this with words and tricks, he would. Not that he didn't mind getting his hands dirty but it suited him better in the long run to go this way.

"Honor is not so singular in fashion, I'd say."

He was no Man, Legolas had said, and Aragorn had no time to tell him that he knew. Lucas was a creature far more powerful than any mere Man could be; an immortal of Rigsdrost, a land that Aragorn did not know. Yet he still did not expect the sudden disappearance, and he whirled around, his sword shifting down slightly. For though he might be a fool to think so, he did not wish to kill Lucas still.

Magic. Magic in a different form than what he was familiar with. Aragorn's eyes narrowed, and he looked at the raised hands- and wondered why Lucas did not kill him. He wondered why, too, that he had merely backed away.

"There is no honour in theft," he replied, his voice just the slightest bit wry. His eyes narrowed even further before he flattened his hand against Anduril's hilt, swinging it around until it balanced perfectly in his hand- with the glowing blade facing towards Lucas. He remembered the first time he had unsheathed the blade in this creature's presence; remembered the slight flinch.

"The Ring is not for you to own, not even if you hold it n your hand."

"Have you no know of war, truly?" Swallow his pride for the better of the situation. He entertained the thought of flat out battle but as the ring departs the pull over him departs as well. Not to say he wouldn't simple destroy another human life because they are human and in the way, but he can think a little more clear now.

If he becomes a notable figure of trouble, there will be no turning back, and while trouble is what he causes it is best to keep a watch on the lethality of said trouble. He cannot afford to simply toss his hand out for all to see so early on.

"Do you know how my father won peace? Through battle, yes. Not without it's prize." A pause, he plays victim so easily. A pause, his brows ebb inward. For a moment, he looks down. "But I am not where I were, I have no army to defeat here."

And back up again. "I know not it's make but of something so dark, but powerful. Tis a curse I'd be drawn to it."

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[ O T A ] Nothing good could come from this . . .

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After this, you two can split off :>

yep and loki gets aragorn all to himself

Awwyiisss