Asgard Genesis Inbox

[ragnarsson]

Voice | Video | Text | Everything else

Comments

[353]

[ Mike assumes death is involved, but maybe that isn't the case (maybe he's being naive). ]

What happened to them? [ Ivar doesn't have to tell him but Mike figures it's worth asking in case he's in the sharing mood. The worst Ivar can do is tell him to mind his own business, right? ]

[momsboy]

I love hearing about heroes, and he sounds like a fascinating man already.

[ Someone who clearly left a mark on their son, a positive one at that. It's more than Peter can say about his biological father. If he were to write down his opinion about Ego, half the pages would be swears.

Peter waits for the other man to think about what he wants to say. he isn't in a rush and it's sweet to see Ivar actually doing normal teenager things, like getting a crush. The smile on Peter's own face only grows but it's a very fond one. ]

That's a good start! It's great to have that connection, specially here where we can't really avoid each other for long. [ The smile turns a little teasing and he can't help but add; ] If you two keep getting along and you want me to make myself scarce, just say so. I'll stay in my ship so you two have the room to yourselves and can get to know each other better.

[ragnarsson]

I don't know. What do they look like?

[Has Ivar been eating food without knowing what is or what it will taste like? You betcha. He'd never wanted for food during his life, being a prince, but he still knew about lean times during winters and when on long campaigns. Food was to be eaten when it was in front of you, not to have questions asked about it.

The older ring is made of twisted silver metal with the ends in the stylized shape of wolves. Ivar's < a href="https://i.pinimg.com/736x/98/45/c4/9845c46ed123529353282456c27b31f2.jpg">own is very much the same in style, only it's bronze in color and with the ends in the shape of dragons instead.]

And that's why I tend not to make oaths on them unless it's a very serious matter. [Ivar hates having to keep his word, for he's natural-borne backstabber and prefers lying to his allies.]

How old are you anyway? [Klaus seems to vacillate between being much older then Ivar and having all the impulse control of an eight year old, so he has trouble telling.

Ivar keeps up with Klaus at a good pace as he pushes his wheelchair, his arms already built up after a lifetime of using them to get around.]

I would not have taken you for a jewelry-maker.

[ragnarsson]

One stabbed me in the back and switched sides to work with my most hated enemy. The other died after betraying me.

[Ivar's love life has not been a happy one. Granted, Heahmund had likely switched because Ivar was keeping him as a thrall. Even if their relationship was a good one, it was based more off Stockholm Syndrome then anything else. As for Freydis, well, he'd killed her himself with his own hands when she'd betrayed him to his brothers. Still, it hurt. He was only young, after all.]

[ragnarsson]

He truly was. He was welcomed into Valhalla after a lifetime of great deeds.

[Ragnar Lothbrok's life would become the stuff of legends as the years went on. Ivar would see he got his due fame here. As for the mark he left on his son's life, it had been a great one, but one had to wonder if the last thing to tell his son as 'Be ruthless' had been the smartest idea. Ivar had taken the advice to heart, perhaps a little too well.

Indeed, Ivar when he had a crush on someone was one of the few times he acted like a typical teenager. He seems so happy right now that the word adorable might spring to mind.]

Oh, be quiet. We haven't even kissed yet. [There's a pause.] But if things do go in that direction, a bit of discretion would be nice. At home, sometimes there's nowhere to go. You have to sleep while people have sex right next to you.

[A bit awkward, but if the Norse had let a lack of privacy stop them, they would've died out a long time ago.]

[ragnarsson]

Ivar craves affection and that's what she offers him. Someone dangerous and violent like himself, who doesn't judge him for either his behavior or the fact he's a cripple. She doesn't even seem to care about the latter fact at all. The fact she's hot as hell, especially covered in blood as she is right now, only adds to the fact.

Ivar thinks for barely a moment if this is going to offend his gods. Well, it's a celebration of life that contrasts well with the deaths that had just occurred. He makes up his mind quickly. "If they don't like it, they can protest it later." Who can say what Honir's reaction is gonna be when he finds out what's going on? He might actually like it or at least be curious about the process.

He reaches out and slips his hands under the edges of the blood-drenched shirt she's wearing as a robe (Sorry, Rhys, you're not getting this one back.) and seeks to pull it over the top of her head. He notes for the first time as he finally really looks that one arm is not like the other.

[machinamentum]

He's the one calling the shots where all this - God stuff is concerned, so if it's good enough for him, it's good enough for her. Or so says the grin she presses into his mouth, full and laughing. "Good, reckon no one will bug us here."

Because no, she doesn't think about his legs, any more than she thinks about her arm when she exposes the tattered skin that is her upper body in scars. Those things to her mind are just what has to be worked around, not a prohibition against. Especially not after being so long on Pandora. But as her clothes come off, tossed over her head eagerly, she's left in her mostly sensible underclothes, she shivers a little to let him inspect as she briefly wipes at her eyes. Nothing fancy, just a bra, underwear and where her black stockings hug the top of her thighs. She was never a big girl, tall or otherwise, but certainly not lacking, though these days it's all lean muscle that rolls smoothly in her direct purpose. Might be half metal on her arm.

"So," she breathes it out, squirming that little. Coming in close, dragged her words against his lips and yeah, just a problem to solve. Her fingers going to his jacket, beginning to yank at laces, kissing him in bites between it. "How does this work?" does he need to stay in the chair. "I should say, I'm pretty flexible. So don't be afraid to ask."

Closer, though, easy for him to reach and touch in return. Differently textures to brush overs. Shrapnel on her shoulder, a bullet graze on her hip, acid and fire burns mottled in patches. But the mess, the mess is her arm, it hadn't been a well thought out plan that she hacked it off. A mangled off angled cut at her shoulder where it had come off. The metal of her robotic arm was maintained but well worn, especially in comparison to, say, Rhys. But it works just as well as one of flesh and blood, when she leans over him, meeting his gaze, her eyes so green against the red of the blood.

[channellings]

...depends on the olives, honestly? Some are black, some are green. Some are this odd, reddish-purple shade. They're all oval-shaped, though. And salty.

[listen, klaus can't very well judge him for that when he himself is ingesting random plants with no idea of what they could do to him. not because he's hurting for food though, so that would make those circumstances different.

tempting as it is to reach out and touch, he resists, folding his hands in his pockets, just in case impulsiveness tries to get the better of him. wolves and dragons, huh? he'll remember that.] Better safe than sorry, I guess? [lying isn't something klaus's good at, but he's never been against twisting the truth a little, and sometimes, not even necessarily in his own favor.]

Old enough to know better, boss. [which sounds. so, so tired (and probably a little weird with the ‘boss’ joke). it's not a proper answer, unfortunately.] I'm twenty-nine.

[and a giant manchild, so ivar's assumption isn't entirely wrong.] I, uh, do a lot of stuff people wouldn't think of.

[353]

Woah... That's awful. [ He feels bad for reminding Ivar of these moments of betrayal but it gives him some insight as to why Ivar is the way he is. ] You must have a lot of trust issues...

I'd never betray a friend, though. Ever. [ And Mike considers him to be his friend. ] I'd rather die than do that.

Gah that moment when you have an epic HTML fail...

[ragnarsson]

Perhaps I have had some. There has been so much food here. Everyone should be thankful for that.

[Instead of being a bunch of whiners and complainers which seems to happen quite frequently around here. Klaus gets a surprised stare from Ivar at the question of age. He'd pegged him for close to his brother Ubbe's age, who was twenty-two, but he's more comparable in age to his oldest brother Bjorn.]

How is one so old so consistently foolish at the same time? [Hey, it's a valid question even if he did just also call Klaus old in the same breath.]

Now that I can believe. [Klaus is weird and weird people do exceedingly odd things.] You know, you remind me a little of my mentor Floki. [Something about the body language in how he carried himself and his tendency for oddness.]

[ragnarsson]

You could say that.

[That's an understatement.]

I don't trust anyone anymore. So then no one has to trust me.

[This line of thinking has come back to bite him in the ass several times, but Ivar still hasn't learned anything from it. He can be annoyingly bullheaded sometimes.

Still, he like hearing that from Mike, though he chalks it mostly up to what Ivar sees as naivete.]

Now that is a good quality to have. Loyalty is harder to find then one usually thinks.

oh dude you are totally fine haha!! it happens

[channellings]

I'd hope they are. Sort of missing meat, but I can't lie, I love all the produce.

[yeah, in spite of his flippant attitude, he's supposed to be way more of an adult than he lets on. kinda his thing, after all, since he hasn't had to take on that responsibility for a long while.]

With great skill and dexterity, of course! [nobody can say he doesn't take shit in stride.]

Floki, huh? What was he mentoring you in? [odd, how he'd like to meet someone he hardly knows anything about, aside from a name. if they're similar at all, there's a chance they'd get along.] Probably something way more interesting than I could teach you.

[ragnarsson]

He doesn't want to sound clueless, but he's never had sex in a wheelchair before. At least he's got enough (awkward) experience to know what works and what doesn't by now. "We'll have to do this sitting. I'm not able to stand." He's a bit put out in his own mind that she'll be on top, but that's a cultural thing, and well, they're not among the Norse now. So there's no one who will mock him for this, and if they do, he'll shove a knife down their throat.

He lightly runs his fingers over some of her scars, feeling the different textures of her skin. There's rough ones from what seem like stab wounds and smoother ones that feel like they were from burns. He wonders where each of them had come from. Maybe she can tell him afterwards.

Then he helps her take his own jacket and shirt off, leaving his well-toned upper body on display. For someone who's been in as many battles as Ivar has, there's surprisingly few scars on him. It helps he's usually at a distance. Besides, after all the broken bones he's had over the course of his life, he's fine with having tattoos instead to commemorate his victories. There's several on his chest and one on his back, all archaic in their simplicity as they show designs like Sköll and Hati chasing the sun and the moon forever in their quest to catch them.

He lets her take a look for a moment before leaning up and kissing her again, one hand splayed out over her side and the other wrapping around her back to pull her in close. He was feeling something with her he hadn't felt with any other partner: confidence. She knew he was a cripple and didn't seem to care. So he didn't feel the need to be as self-conscious as he usually does.

[ragnarsson]

So much fruit. We never had this much fruit ever at home. Limes, I have discovered, are delicious.

[Probably a weird thing to have as a favorite, not that Ivar would care. He's also become very partial to bananas.

Klaus' snappy comeback gets a snort of amusement from Ivar. They're almost back to Tyrhaus now and he finds it interesting this is the longest conversation he's had with Klaus that didn't leave him wanting to rip the other man's throat out.]

Life, essentially. My father, he left for ten years and wasn't there much even before that, so Floki was the closest thing I had to one all that time. He's very odd and has his own way of doing things. Very close to the gods, a healer and shipbuilder too. Wears a lot of kohl around his eyes. [Never let it be said the Vikings were restricted by gender stereotypes. Men and women alike both wore make-up and were interested in flowers. This is the most Ivar has really been open with about his childhood to just about anyone. He's spoke of his father and mother to only a few people, for it still hurt to think of them.]

[machinamentum]

It's a treat as far as she is concerned - because she never had this much time to touch. Getting a guys shirt off properly and not just half undone, definitely is a treat. Dropping them over her shoulder along with her (Rhys') shirt. But there's something there to soothe his pride even if she is otherwise more in control.

Because her mouth is immediately on his neck and shoulders the second his shirt is gone. Oh, hell, he's so handsome. The tattoos, the strength in his body, his muscles hard under her fingers as she laps blood off his skin with drags of her lips, though it only smears more blood as she goes on his bare skin. It occupies her most of all as an incentive when he pulls her in. Yeah. Sitting, right. Knees. She's careful where she puts him. She hasn't asked, and he hadn't volunteered the information, but whatever was up, she didn't want to hurt unintentionally.

Planned on hurting him very intentionally, in just the right way.

So for right now, she makes sure to nestle them either side of his hips. Close as they could be as she settled her weight into his lap, and she's - turned on enough, right now, that it pulses up her body with just that bit of friction when they press together that she moans into his skin as she drapes against him. "Fuck, you make me so hot."

[ragnarsson]

As her weight settles comfortably onto his lap, there's spasms of pain, but nothing more then what he usually goes through. Ivar figures if he hasn't shattered his pelvis by now during sex then he's not going to.

His head tilts to the side as her mouth gets right into the sensitive spot right where the curve of his neck meets his shoulder. The bits of his skin that he can feel her tongue touching send little shocks of pleasure up and down his spine.

His fingers close around the edges of her bra. Now, while Norse women have bras, they're just wraps of cloth tied up that can be easily undone. This one with clasps and hooks is a whole different animal. How is it supposed to come off...? He tries for a bit, and when that doesn't work, he gives up, instead working on unrolling the stockings she has on. At least he knows how to deal with those.

[channellings]

Think they're delicious by themselves? You should try 'em with salt and tequila.

[just a little encouragement of underage drinking, it's fine! ivar's customs are different anyhow, so it isn't that big a deal. (funnily enough, klaus is partial to bananas himself.)

damn, that has to be an accomplishment, doesn't it? going longer than ten minutes and there haven't been any death threats or knives. at some point, he'd have to make a joke about ‘who are you and what have you done with the real ivar?’ but now's not the time. no reason to ruin the magic right away, not when he's hearing so much about the viking.

following a soft chuckle,] Well, we've got two of those things in common. [his palm with goodbye tattooed across it upturns, fingers wiggling slightly then he draws the hand up and motions toward some smudged eyeliner. maybe he doesn't have flowers at the moment, klaus would never turn them down if offered.] I'm trying to get on good terms with the gods here, though... and I could teach you some things, but nothing as helpful as that.

[ragnarsson]

What is tequila?

[They'll need to get some here just so Ivar can try it. He's always been fond of ale. Don't worry, Klaus. He's been drinking since he was twelve, he's a veteran by now.

See, Ivar's fury doesn't last forever, at least against those who haven't wronged him in significant ways. His little spats of anger eventually wear out one way or other unless the person in question continues to keep pissing him off.]

I knew it. Give it some time and perhaps you will acquire wisdom too. Hmmm, you'll have to try the Norse style sometime on your eyes. He wears it likes this. [He motions to his eyes, tracing a thick line beneath his lash line, and then drawing a line down his cheeks, then a final one upturned at the corner of his eye reminiscent of winged eyeliner. He snorts at the mention of being taught.]

I shudder to think about what you could possibly teach me.

[machinamentum]

She's careful with her metal fingers as she runs both hands over his body. Making sure to keep out of his way if he really wanted to do it himself, but when he seems stuck on the clasp, she laughs against his throat and brings her hands back behind her back. Yeah, thousands of years and one thing was the same: dudes never could work out bra clasps.

But it comes off quick as anything with a sharp little tug the right way, tugging it down her arms hastily so she can lean back into his body pressing her breasts into his chest. As much about touching him as shifting her weight so he can keep rolling down her stockings. Which, that's - distracting in itself. His hands trickling through the material just enough to make her groan, that building heat sharp between her legs. That hair-trigger eagerness that she barely needed much to get her going. Especially with the heat of blood, of killing even a little, and his blue, blue eyes.

But distracted or not, twitching her hips looking for contact, some things she needs to make sure of first. Leaning up, she bites his lip, tugging his focus that little bit up to her and not just all the fun ways they can touch each other. "Where shouldn't I touch?" Something else, something else important, Gaige, not just how good his mouth feels or the impatient need to get his pants undone and fuck him. "My arm. Can't feel always how hard I'm pressing with the metal. Say, uh, - " shit, word, something he wouldn't say normally. "Grenade? Yeah, that'll do. If I'm hurting you too bad with it. It'll make me stop straight away."

[channellings]

About two dollars a shot, hah! [he dismissively waves a tattooed hand.] No, but really, it's an alcohol distilled from an agave plant. Known to drop even the grownest of men on their asses. [not like everclear could, but.

with all the plant scavenging he's been doing, perhaps he'll get lucky and stumble across something similarish enough here in asgard, they could recreate tequila. then they'll get limes and salt and go to town on the shots.

and hopefully, he won't accidentally piss ivar off during that possible scenario or the psychedelic trip they're gonna be having today.]

I'm wiser than people give me credit for. Sometimes. [whatever sort of design ivar's making, he's intrigued, wondering if it looks more like some dramatic cat-eye or if it's full-on metalhead style. oh good, they've finally gotten back to the god house. klaus moves ahead a couple paces, guiding them the entire way to the dormitories then into the room where his bunk resides, unable to help smiling.]

Most of what I could teach you would make you shudder. [jesus christ, klaus, no.]

[ragnarsson]

We will have to see about that if we get some here. It takes a lot to put me down for the count. [The advantages of learning to drink tankards of Norse ale from the time he was a pre-teen. Drinking was one of their favorite past-times apart from waging war on everyone in sight.]

I have yet to see that, but perhaps your continued existence proves it already. [An insult and a compliment wrapped up together in the same sentence. One can't accuse Ivar of not being clever with words when he wants to be. He's definitely warming up to Klaus. Give it a little more time and he might even show him how to do that make-up look.

Ivar just shoots him a look that says 'Seriously?' when Klaus makes the reference.] I don't think I've had nearly enough to drink for that to start being an option. [That and Klaus is hardly his type. The last time Ivar had been attracted to a man it had been a tough, badass warrior priest with a body count almost as high as Ivar's himself.]

[353]

Maybe you just haven't met the right people? Or the people in your world suck. I have friends back home I know would never betray me either. [ He acknowledges that he's probably very lucky to have his circle of loyal friends. ]

Maybe here you'll meet someone who makes you feel like you can trust again.

[channellings]

Yeah... we'll see. Know what? I like your enthusiasm, though. [there's a mostly full bottle of devil's vodka tucked away in the cubby-hole at his bunk. sharing wouldn't be the worst thing since he's been sipping it sparingly. (kind of helps a bit when he's been getting twacked out on magical plants lately, instead.)

you know what? klaus will take the backhanded compliment at this point if it's the best he's going to get from ivar. it's still something and that counts.] I'm resilient if anything, it's true. [and perhaps their banter is helping him relax— or maybe that's the mushroom? why not both? both is always good.]

Me, either. [he's being truthful, at least, and while he may not be tough or badass, his body count is pretty damn up there in numbers. having made it to his bed, he pushes the curtains aside, clambers onto the mattress and moves to the foot-end, positioning himself just right so he can push the hidden panel out while laying on his stomach, reach in to start rummaging about.] Hope you don't mind green. Would've used blue, but I didn't have 'em. Neither did any natives.

[ragnarsson]

The people in my world do indeed suck. [Most of them are just as conniving and backstabbing as Ivar himself is.]

We shall see. [That's Ivar-speak for 'I don't believe you but I wish I could.']

[ragnarsson]

[It looks like Klaus has finally found the way to get past the prickly exterior Ivar presents. He just needs to get him high, drunk, or distract him with something he gets curious about. Maybe all three at once.]

I can see that. Otherwise you would've already been long since dead. [Ivar comes from a time where making it out of childhood was a feat unto itself, so the fact Klaus can at first be mistaken for a fully-functioning adult is a tribute to being able to withstand quite a bit.]

Let me see, let me see. [He makes a 'Gimme' motion with his hands, looking quite intrigued about jewelry now. Much like a child, Ivar is easily distracted by pretty things and little baubles given to him. It actually was a way some people got him to behave. Just give him a present and prevent him from getting enraged.]