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Tweak says, "I did it all for the cookies."

G. M. Dark (illustratedman) wrote in wariscoming,
@ 2013-01-27 19:08:00

Entry tags:

loki, mr. dark

Who: Loki and Mr. Dark (aka Gershom Mallory)
What: Oh, this and that.
Where: Here and there.
When: Evening, 10pm.
Warnings | Status: TBD | in progress

Mr. Dark hummed a tune. It wasn't even really a tune, it had never been before, actually. Rather, it was some listless little sound that spoke of a thousand sorrows, a hundred lonely nights and the fears of a million people wrapped into one. It was the sound of cold uncaring, of calculated scorn. The sound of a being who enjoyed no happiness and suffered no goodness in the world. It whispered from his lips and spread into the night air, casting forth to inspire the misery in others. Dark smiled faintly, but there was no hint of mirth on his visage. He was a man that felt none.

Lawrence was awfully depressed these days. There were so many roiling emotions and activities--so much sorrow and despair. How could the Carnival not come back? Why, when everything was so deliciously sweet it made Dark want to set up permanently. But no, there were genocides around the world, abandoned brides, sleepless men to encounter. All of it became their diet. Ah, to butter their bread with delicious pain! To stuff themselves on peoples' nightmares.

Shaking his head of his musing Dark turned to look out over Lawrence, stepping back so that his feet were upon the track. Thin hands bereft of their usual black leather gloves slid into the pockets of his trousers. He even allowed his shoulders to slump, for though he was a man a century older or more he wore now the body of his 16 year old self. And given that he was a performer, he sought to make the act believable face to face. Loki, of course, knew who he was under this guise of teenage idiocy, but so long as he didn't speak then Dark would have no problem. And well, if Loki spoke it was because Dark lost his grip upon the trickster.

Looking up from the gravel at his feet, Dark smiled. His companion for the night had arrived.

"Good evening," had he worn the top-hat he'd have swept it off his head, bowed and made a show of it. Now he merely extended a hand in greeting.

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subtletrick
2013-01-28 03:54 am UTC (link)

Of late, it seemed that Loki's tendency towards nocturnal wandering was actually going to become a habit. It was not really intentional - ideally, he would remain at home, with his Darcy, where he was supposed to be.

Ideally, he would have no reason to be out, tonight, because ideally Dark would never have returned to this place. Loki was not entirely certain what to expect from this meeting; he was not feeling particularly optimistic about the end results of this. How could this end well? The best case scenario he could come up with was that nothing changed at all; in the worst, he would once again lose himself to the emptiness that was better and worse than this humming unease Dark's presence had dredged back up inside of him.

Loki appeared from nowhere without a sound, no flash or smoke or anything to announce his presence. He looked, from the outside, like someone completely calm - cool and collected, blank expression and steady figure, dressed in what passed for casual for Loki (Darcy claimed he needed to re-define casual, but when contrasted against his armor and cloak, gilded and emerald and bright, this dark suit was, in fact, far more casual). The calm exterior likely did little to hide the internal turmoil from the man he was here to meet, however - Loki knew no matter how much he wished it were not so, Dark knew exactly how uncomfortable he was, knew every shred of anxiety and darkness in him.

He could do nothing about it. The locks in his head had all been broken.

>"Good evening," came the greeting, the man disguised as a boy, the power disguised as a person, and his hand came out, as if for a handshake. Loki ignored it; he was no fool, and he had no intention of making any more contact with Dark than he had to.

"What did you wish to discuss?" His tone is short - just shy of snappish, really - and he holds himself like a prince, as if this entire meeting is beneath him; it's an illusion, it's all an elaborate, useless play, but he can do nothing else than perform it anyway.

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illustratedman
2013-01-28 04:12 am UTC (link)

Dark admired Loki for a moment. Not in any sense of looking up to the man--god, whatever he was. No, indeed, it was more admiration of Loki's presentation, for there he stood in all his glory. So well put together! Were he a different man, a weaker man, Mr. Dark might have been cowed by the being before him. Now he merely looked him over and inhaled a deep breath. He didn't need to in order to read Loki, of course, but the visible show of his own ease was meant to unsettle. He wasn't afraid.

But Loki, on the other hand. What was that he detected?

He lowered his hand a bit and casually began rolling up the sleeve on his left arm, exposing his skin inch by inch. Only, it wasn't the pale skin of a teenager marred with the occasional rough-housing bruise. No. Every inch of Dark's skin was covered in ink, the faces and figures were the representations of the many men and women Dark had seduced with his evil power--those who had succumbed to him. They were all in various states of agony, writhing in their misery. The images moved when Dark flexed his hand, forcing them alive by all accounts. And there on the skin upon his forearm appeared Loki's visage itself, reflecting the innermost monster of Loki's being.

Dark extended his arm to allow him a glimpse. Lucky, or unlucky really, there were the faint glow of lights nearby. They were not completely cast in shadow.

"I wish to discuss our current.. uh, situation," he said blithely, his happiness false. Mocking. "It would seem we're at a.. crossroads of sorts. How did you know it was me?" he asks quietly, his voice hinting at something.. dangerous.

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subtletrick
2013-01-29 04:15 am UTC (link)

Seeing his face on the other man's arm, the expression on the image twisted and wrong but still correct in every line. It was the face of a monster without actually being distorted. It was cruel and cold, and Loki found his own expression mirroring the inky one on display.

"You have a rather distinct energy," Loki replied, voice cold, but lit with something almost taunting, too. "The moment you arrived, I could feel it. It was not until we spoke that I was sure."

It had been a strange sensation, before he had realized what it was, and why it was so familiar. An hour, or so, before they had spoken, he'd just been hit with it, the strange simmering anxiety, unease and something dark. Once he had read his post on the boards, seen the way his words fell, the feeling made perfect sense.

He wanted to make demands - demand his complete freedom, demand answers for why he was here and what he was planning to do, demand that he leave everyone alone - but instead he bit back the words. Hostile demands were rarely heeded. He had a sinking feeling that if Dark's intentions truly were as dangerous as Loki feared they were, it would cost more than he should ever pay to convince him to do otherwise.

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illustratedman
2013-01-29 05:19 pm UTC (link)

Dark was quiet for a moment, allowing Loki to speak and either confirm or deny what he already expected. Ah! There it was, indeed. He quirked a brow and canted his head to the side, "Truly?" then smiled. It wasn't the smile of a good man, but rather the smile of the darkest of villains whose had his very goal reached without flaw.

"Wonderful!" he clapped his hands together, brought the tips of his fingers to his lips and chuckled, the sound a dry grating noise that spoke nothing of mirth. "Then you are mine, completely. Entirely." His boyish jubilation was a mockery, a perverted twist on the happiness of youth. It was wrong. Utterly, inherently wrong.

And of course Mr. Dark's insistence that Loki was his completely wasn't entirely true. More that it was.. merely what Dark wanted him to believe. Because, yes, he did have power over him.. as expressed in the fact Loki was unable to speak of things Dark did not wish him to. But that power was never guaranteed. Loki could fight back, though Dark wished the man would remain ignorant of that fact. He'd love to have to hurt him, but fighting down his circus acts was never a business he wanted to be doing when he could be luring in the souls of other people.

"You can feel me. Likewise I know you, your strength. I know your innermost self, the parts of you that you deny. I can smell it, and how delicious it is! It tastes like heaven fallen into hell. You will join me when I leave this place."

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subtletrick
2013-02-02 05:00 am UTC (link)

No.

It was what he wanted to say. He wanted to shout it, to use the word as a springboard, launch himself at Dark, rip him open, destroy the facade of the boy and return the man, rip open the man and find the being within, tear him apart, turn him to dust, turn everything that belonged to him to ashes and show him just how little he owned Loki, prove to him that the only one who controlled Loki was Loki.

Except he was certain he would never be able to accomplish this. If Dark could keep him from speaking words that led to others finding him out, even alone, then what else could he be made to do? What else, if prompted, would Dark do with him?

He'd fought it off, once. He'd had Darcy, Emma, Needy - friends and people who had been concerned enough to come to his aid, talk him out of his own mind and get him aware enough to tear every last scrap of the lingering shadow from himself.

Or, so he'd thought. Really, what had he done? Bought himself more time? Lured himself into a false sense of security, thinking he could handle anything? Led the others to trust him, so that now - back outside himself - he would lead them to their eventual destruction at his hands?

He did not even have control over his own words; what else could Dark do, on a whim?

"I will not," he responded - a moment late, less rage and fire and more resigned, veiled panic laced through with the bitter indignation of the proud in chains. "I will go nowhere with you." I will find a way out, he did not say; instead, "You will release me," and for all that he appeared an offended prince-godling, all regal power and stony facade, he knew with a twist in his chest that Dark could see straight through all of that, see the churning sickening dark fear and ice and rage inside, all that made him who he was (would someday make him who he was trying not to be, twisted parody of this Loki).

He was lost before he ever even tried.

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