revivalproject | Message in a Bottle

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Message in a Bottle

Who: Loki and... you?
What: Getting the lay of the land
When: 5-6 days after people started arriving
Where: Proximal to the fountain, areas nearby
Warnings: None at this time; will update if necessary

It's a sad commentary on Loki's life that this is not the first, second, or even hundredth time he's awoken in a place with no idea where he is or notion how he got there. Until the last few decades, such awakenings had normally involved Thor, Sif, Iofast, and a lot of mead. In more recent times, it had gotten distressingly less about being tricked into drinking too much and more about being kidnapped, or having his mind overtaken by something, or worse.

His first reaction on opening his eyes is to feel frantically at the back of his neck as he sorts things through. No port. And here is his magic, still hot in his blood. And this is most definitely no ruined Proles, despite any outward similarities; the lack of dome makes that abundantly clear even before he gets a good look at the buildings.

And then there's that glowing sphere...

He finds himself up on his feet and touching the thing before he's processed that it might be a bad idea, and that takes his estimate of the situation from one of concern to near-emergency. Even as information floods his brain, unasked for and unwelcome, he's tearing himself away from the thing.

No matter how angry he is, this at least answers a few questions. He has to admit that in the privacy of his own head, even if he hates it. Loki retreats to the top of one of the nearby ruined buildings, hiding in an illusion, in order to brood.

He isn't the only one here. He hears the voices of others, even observes a few from afar. But he has no way of knowing how friendly they might be. Are there others from home about? Others from Proles? He can hardly dare hope. But standing in the square and shouting Hello is most certainly not his style. And this place appears to lack the convenient internet of Earth or network of Proles, which had made anonymously testing the waters much safer. His bread and butter is paranoia, and nothing that's happened to him in recent years has done anything but strengthen that feeling.

So, best to leave a calling card and see who might pick it up.

He waits until the square is deserted and returns to the fountain. It seems the best source of fresh water, so it will no doubt be visited often by whomever is around. After some consideration, he's decided that the assumption that most of the people he's observed are some format of human seems fair, so that's the best language to address his message in.

Using a bit of magic, he leave the following emblazoned on one edge of the fountain:

~ LINGORMR

Then he retreats back to his observational post to see what happens, again cloaked and hidden. The magical effect of it is obvious to anyone who has the skill; it would do well for him to see what compatriots--or enemies--he might have around.

[ooc note: the equation is the time-dependent, one-dimensional version of Schrödinger's equation.]

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They have no proper supplies here, but even scrap metal can find a new life with the right application of Wanda's powers. It had taken her a few tries to first not crush it and second manipulate it into shapes she was satisfied with, but now she's started to make makeshift containers and tools. Plants and people (and tiny dragonlings) need watering, and Wanda is nothing if not persistent in her efforts to actually assemble a proper meal from what's available, so trips to the fountain are commonplace for her. She doesn't mind. It's not like she's actually carrying anything.

She does make a rather obvious sight with a tiny fairy dragon perched on her shoulder and several crude containers floating beside her suspended by wisps of scarlet power.

The equation is new...and it might as well be written in an alien language. Whatever it means, it's lost on her. But when Wanda trails a finger over it she senses something familiar. Maybe this is just what Asgardian magic feels like or maybe...maybe her friend was brought here too. Or another version of him who might not be so friendly. Regardless, she'll have to be careful.

Wanda spares a glance over her shoulder like she half-expects something to appear, but she's not going to stand here stressing about it. She has a job to do, after all, and after a sigh she starts directing the containers to dip into the fountain,

Loki recognizes Wanda, in the sense that he's made it his business to keep tab on things on Midgard even while he's been busy pretending to be a dead man and taking care of important covert business for Asgard. He's never spoken to her and doesn't have an entirely precise understanding of her abilities--something that now feels very much like a mistake.

(Really, is it his fault he's been so busy and that humans are in a terrible rush about everything? Short-lived people.)

But this takes him to the calculation he became very familiar with during his time at Sanctum. The chance of someone from Midgard greeting him happily are generally very low. But unlike in Sanctum, here he doesn't have the useful anonymity of the network to feel things out first. It's very annoying.

He sends an illusion of himself; he's not entirely certain how Wanda's powers work, so it'll also tell him if that trick will work on her. The illusion appears on the opposite side of the fountain from her, a perfect image of Loki that tilts his head curiously as he looks at her.

Wanda's head snaps up at the sudden movement but she doesn't look displeased. "Lo--" His name dies on her lips - something's not quite right here. Everyone she's ever met, aside from Ultron and his sentries and Connor, leaves a bit of a psychic impression in space at that distance. Even when she's not trying to look for anything deeper, it's still hard not to be vaguely aware of the people close to her.

Has he found some way to mask his presence from her? She's never encountered one of his illusions before; he must have had little reason to use them on the Fleet. Wanda glances around the square again, doesn't immediately see anything, and decides the easiest path is just to address the Loki in front of her. She's not even going to try reaching out to probe - she knows him well enough to know that would be a violation. "It's just me, Loki. I remember you."

Interesting. Definitely not the Wanda from his universe, then, which is unsurprising. He's never encountered someone who knew him from home.

Which probably means the Loki she does know... ugh.

The illusion Loki inclines his head politely and offers a conspiratorial smile. Loki knows about his other selves enough that he could pretend to be one of them... if he had a reason to. He's yet to find a compelling one in a situation like this. "Wanda Maximoff. I'm afraid you have the advantage on me. Where I am from, we've not formally met, as I'm far too busy being dead."

Excuse you, that's her friend...or was. Now it remains to be seen.

Wanda's a pretty good actress, but there are some things you just can't mentally prepare for. She can't hide the shades of disappointment in her expression as she shoves that warmth down and gets all her masks back in place. He'd said that they wouldn't meet again, and she hates that he got to be right one last time.

"I know," she says softly - Thor had been the only person whose condolences hadn't felt hollow after Pietro's death. "I didn't meet you at home. I was...somewhere else, before this."

She tilts her head at him. "You know, I am not going to attack you. Not unless you give me a reason."

"I, too, was somewhere else before I came here. Obviously a different place."

He waves the illusion away; it disentangles into strands of light and disappears. Then he steps from the roof and teleports the short distance to where Wanda stands. "I'll hold you to that. Even a little bit of murder will hurt my feelings quite badly."

Despite herself, Wanda ducks her head and laughs. This feels better and she's sure she's actually talking to Loki this time. "We can't have that."

He looks okay, at least. Definitely happier than the last time she saw him. "How long have you been here?"

"A few hours at most. I prefer to have as good an idea as I might of where I've landed before I start making noise." He smiles crookedly. "Most of the time, when I wake in a strange place, what follows is quite unpleasant."

"Some of the wildlife isn't friendly, but no one is actually trying to hurt us yet." Yet, because...well. "We haven't found the Agrii and almost everything is broken. If you want something comfortable to sleep on you will have to make it yourself."

She sighs. "But I am sure it could still be worse."

"I've done my share of living rough," Loki says, unconcerned. "Anyone who has been on a hunting trip or a war party with my brother has survived far worse than the lack of a bed." He grins. "Builds character, according to him."

He laughs. "The last place I was in had flesh-eating undead and an atmosphere that burned one's skin like acid. So yes, it could be far worse. This is almost pleasant when one ignore's the circumstances."

Spoken like someone who always knew he had a bed to go back to - but that's such a Thor thing to say that she can easily imagine it in his voice.

"I wouldn't call this a vacation but...no, it's not that bad. We still have our powers and memories and I think we still have a chance to get home." That hadn't always been a given on the Fleet, but Wanda's still not sure just how much power whatever the natives used to bring them here has over them. So far they don't seem to be interested in toying with them, just...odd.

"That we do. Another improvement. Before, I was... human." He makes a face. "I don't know how the mortals do it. Nothing smells right."

"We shall make our own chances." His smile becomes something more predatory.

Wanda makes a face. "Nothing would have smelled right in a place like that." Being human has nothing to do with it, she's sure...but if he'd lost his powers too, she could understand that annoyance, at least.

She doubts that look is directed at her and so lets it slide. "Do you feel anything strange here?"

He considers the question soberly, because it deserves full though. They are on a strange world, and there's the question of the storms and what other environmental difficulties happened to their kidnappers.

"There is something," he finally says. "But I don't care to give it a fully name, yet. It's..." He wrinkles his nose. Human word, incoming. "Oogy."

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Message in a Bottle

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