Ojiro Sniper (
deicider) wrote in
meadowlarklogs2018-09-26 08:34 am
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
[open]
WHO: Ojiro + anyone
WHERE: Safehouse, New Amsterdam's artificial river.
WHEN: Beginning-Mid July
WHAT: open log
NOTES OR WARNINGS: None really.
Morning Run
Sniper rolls out of bed every morning at 4:30 on the dot to go running, sometimes for an hour, sometimes for three. Still nursing a broken wrist, it's the one exercise they can still go all-out on, and if striving against the weakened state of their body didn't fix this whole stupid situation, it at least felt like getting something done.
They've managed to get extracting themself quietly down to an art, sleeping in their work out clothes (stolen during recent chaos, thanks kaiju) so their fumbling in the dark doesn't wake up any of the others still bunking in the safe house.
They're not opposed to company, if someone else picks up the habit. For anyone they catch awake at this hour, they give a teasing smile in the dark, whispering. "If you want to come, you have to keep up."
Sport Commentary
Sniper's inserted themself into the cooking rotation—it seemed only fair, given the amount of calories they burned through in a day—and has mastered making most of the cheap nutritious staples one-handed. Gone most of the day scouting New Amsterdam and lining up job prospects, they're always back in time to help make dinner.
Once the initial frustration of being here had faded enough to allow for idle curiosity about this version of Earth, Sniper had been drawn to investigate the cultural cornerstone they knew best: sports. The results had been disappointing. Nothing very innovative. The Olympics were still going at least, but digging further, professional sports in general seemed open only to the already-rich. There had been plenty of accusations that Sniper had used money to compensate their own small size with expert training for the pentathlon (true on paper though not in spirit), but back home it wasn't weird to see the non-wealthy go professional.
They've been steadily watching their way through the past Olympiads: opening ceremony, the pentathlons, record-breaking achievements. They use the implant with the ease of long familiarity; it was pretty similar to what they had back home (back home it didn't require brain surgery) so chopping things for dinner at the same time was easy. Judging my their scoffing, they're not that impressed. "That's the record?"
Free Lunch!
Afternoon generally finds Sniper by New Amsterdam's artificial river to find lunch. The river is a sad sight for someone who grew up seeing the ocean—this whole world was a sad sight compared to their own flourishing world—but it was lively and less claustrophobic than the rest of the city. And the food wasn't bad.
They're buying some dumplings when they spot a fellow safehouse occupant. Even if there hasn't been a formal introduction, the face is familiar, and they wave over, gesturing to the cartoon of dumplings in their hand with a smile.
"Want some? My treat."
When's the last time you had something that wasn't bug casserole?
Cast-off
Around mid-july the cast on their wrist finally comes off! You can find them celebrating doing one-armed pushups in the safe house.
WHERE: Safehouse, New Amsterdam's artificial river.
WHEN: Beginning-Mid July
WHAT: open log
NOTES OR WARNINGS: None really.
Morning Run
Sniper rolls out of bed every morning at 4:30 on the dot to go running, sometimes for an hour, sometimes for three. Still nursing a broken wrist, it's the one exercise they can still go all-out on, and if striving against the weakened state of their body didn't fix this whole stupid situation, it at least felt like getting something done.
They've managed to get extracting themself quietly down to an art, sleeping in their work out clothes (stolen during recent chaos, thanks kaiju) so their fumbling in the dark doesn't wake up any of the others still bunking in the safe house.
They're not opposed to company, if someone else picks up the habit. For anyone they catch awake at this hour, they give a teasing smile in the dark, whispering. "If you want to come, you have to keep up."
Sport Commentary
Sniper's inserted themself into the cooking rotation—it seemed only fair, given the amount of calories they burned through in a day—and has mastered making most of the cheap nutritious staples one-handed. Gone most of the day scouting New Amsterdam and lining up job prospects, they're always back in time to help make dinner.
Once the initial frustration of being here had faded enough to allow for idle curiosity about this version of Earth, Sniper had been drawn to investigate the cultural cornerstone they knew best: sports. The results had been disappointing. Nothing very innovative. The Olympics were still going at least, but digging further, professional sports in general seemed open only to the already-rich. There had been plenty of accusations that Sniper had used money to compensate their own small size with expert training for the pentathlon (true on paper though not in spirit), but back home it wasn't weird to see the non-wealthy go professional.
They've been steadily watching their way through the past Olympiads: opening ceremony, the pentathlons, record-breaking achievements. They use the implant with the ease of long familiarity; it was pretty similar to what they had back home (back home it didn't require brain surgery) so chopping things for dinner at the same time was easy. Judging my their scoffing, they're not that impressed. "That's the record?"
Free Lunch!
Afternoon generally finds Sniper by New Amsterdam's artificial river to find lunch. The river is a sad sight for someone who grew up seeing the ocean—this whole world was a sad sight compared to their own flourishing world—but it was lively and less claustrophobic than the rest of the city. And the food wasn't bad.
They're buying some dumplings when they spot a fellow safehouse occupant. Even if there hasn't been a formal introduction, the face is familiar, and they wave over, gesturing to the cartoon of dumplings in their hand with a smile.
"Want some? My treat."
When's the last time you had something that wasn't bug casserole?
Cast-off
Around mid-july the cast on their wrist finally comes off! You can find them celebrating doing one-armed pushups in the safe house.
no subject
Honestly, there have been frequent times where Loki has supported Thor's horrible decisions—just came out of one of those recently, actually.
no subject
"You two lucked out getting kidnapped together." They don't bother to mask their own envy.
no subject
It wasn't surprising that Thor was still concerned with his presence, anyone with half a brain would be. Regardless, he's making a decent impression. A fine place for half-a-new-start.
"We weren't, not entirely. He comes from a bit behind me in the timeline. Who knows whether that's a good thing or not. The whole concept gets meshed up between the borders of dimensions and time and other scientific blah blah blah ..."
no subject
But there's a keen look in their eye with this new information. They knew enough about metaphysics to hope that being displaced in space meant being displaced in time, too. "It sounds like a good thing. If we all got taken from different times, it's easier to think we can be put back at any time, too."
So it would be like they never left. That was thinking for too ahead, without there being a single lead on who had done this to them all, but it was the first concrete hint Sniper has gotten it might not be too late for their own world. The smile they give Loki is sympathetic but sunny.
"That does sounds really awkward for you and Thor, though."
no subject
"We've handled worse," especially from a time traveling point of view. "Do you plan on returning to your own universe?"
While things are looking pretty bleak, the possibility does strike him.
no subject
They'd take pains to make that happens. Whatever it took. Their own world still had a chance, but not without Ojiro Cardigan Sniper.
"You're not planning on staying here, are you?" They look to Loki, eyebrow raised incredulously.
no subject
At least now. There has to be a way to get back, because traveling through time, space, and dimensions was merely a matter of resources (that they didn't have, at this very moment). Loki was, if anything, good at adapting, and he was good at finding opportunity. Asgard, while obtainable sometime in the future, was not a place that he wished to return to today.
There were other systems at work, and other future selves to thwart.
no subject
Maybe they had just been listening to Tully Mardi too much lately. But it didn't take a professional war analyst to see a grim future for this world. Especially if those monster attacks continued, which was practically a gaurentee.
"It's in everyone's best interest to get out as soon as possible. Unless you like the prospect of dying for someone else's screw ups."
no subject
"You may share my mother's gift for prophecy."
Asgard has collapsed and been built again time and time again—New York has collapsed and been built again time and time again. He has no doubts of the resiliency of humans and their deities, and while this world teetered, it wasn't lost. Not yet.
"The future is still where it is, in the future. But we haven't gotten there yet—this universe hasn't gotten there yet. Until we do, there is the prospect of change, and pessimism brings nothing but prediction."
He knows what's in his best interest, and he needs time more than he needs to go back.
no subject
There was a lot Sniper could say to that. Large-scale change takes large-scale destruction. Their own world had had to nearly destroy itself to become better, and it had worked, because the cost had been so horrifying the people left over realized they never wanted to pay it again. It could work for this world, that was true. It felt clear to Sniper that their group was the change, but they didn't have time for this world's problems.
no subject
But he has. He's been the hero, he likes it, but it's not really Loki. He's better at opening doorways and creating options.
"But I'm a god of chaos, I'd be a poor one if I didn't advocate for change."
no subject
no subject
"Besides, there's a clear tension that has mounted. This world might not need saving, it just might need a little push into saving itself."
Says the catalyst.
no subject
no subject
"But yes—in a manner of speaking. I've seen endings both mortal and divine, and I've even been responsible for them from time to time. Luckily ..." he clucks. "I don't do that sort of thing anymore."
no subject
Old enough for that particular resume, but that wasn't really a helpful metric. Sniper could have said the same thing about themself, and they were just 30. "What sort of thing is 'that' sort of thing?"
no subject
He says it like everyone's gone and done it in their lifetime.
"I've been through quite a few of them, was the catalyst for most of them. So, this time around what you see is what you get—I haven't quite figured it out, but I'd say around mortal drinking age."
There are other reasons he hasn't quite figured it out, but no one really admits to killing their former incarnation. It's a bad line.
no subject
no subject
It's easy to disconnect himself from the Lokis that he's been, to paint himself over with varnish and consider himself not that Loki. There is the myth, and there's the person. There are always details that myths miss.
"Is there no Loki in your realms?"
no subject
Sniper thinks long enough about the question to indicate that they're picking over a solid maybe. But no, despite the gods popping up recently, neither had been mythological. Just weirdos. And Loki evidently was flashy. They shake their head. "No, I don't think so."
no subject
"Small comforts. Why are you so interested, anyway?"
no subject
Not to mention they did need to know if Loki was maybe going to cause on apocalypse. It didn't seem like the kind of thing you could just quit. They were pretty sure that's where this world was going anyway, but knowing how imminent that might be would be useful.
no subject
It's said like the punchline of a joke.
no subject
Not 'a god showed up and screwed up everything in the world' though there was truth to that.
no subject
"I'm not exactly the poster child for all gods, but I've got stories. Mine may not be how the resonance expresses itself." There was an opportunity here. He had an evil future self somewhere holding the axe just inches from his neck, and he meant to find an escape route.
The place is nice, all metal and what passes for brick. There's a neon sign that's bright agains the artificial light.
"But sure, why not? Let's talk divinity."
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)