asgardeventide | 01

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[ A backstage moment before he begins: Don's eyes roaming upward, amusement fidgeting on his features.

He settles back. He's dressed clean and simple. Rain streaks down the window behind him; his hair's slick as the streets outside.

The room's sparseness is accented in Hel's red. ]

One of the things I like about magic is that I have no vocabulary for it.

I come from a place where magic is plunging a hand into your pocket and coming up with exact change. A cab going your way at three in the morning, that's magic. The streetlight winking out as you step under it.

So. [ A pause. He raises his eyebrows, smiles. ] Show me what you can do.

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Show me target.

[ For half a heartbeat Don's chin dips to his chest; the only sight onscreen is the part in his hair. He looks up trapped in a grin, gives his head a slow shake as if hoping the smile'll slide off. ] I'll take heart in the fact that you don't see them everywhere you look.

[ The barest hesitation. His demeanor doesn't change but his gaze twitches from the man's face to the name Thor and back. ] Big or small?

[ And... laughter, because that is an amateur's question. ]

Heed here: small for bows, daggers and hatchets. Big for all other weapons, and their men.

[ 'lo, preening, all hail. ]

Now - do I seem to you an archer?

How's this?

[Castle raises his hand, palm down, in front of the camera. Following it a few inches below is a pen, floating up with his hand. He turns his palm over a few times to show that there's no string connecting the pen to his hand.]

Eh?? [He grins, his eyebrows going up excitedly.]

[ It's a parlor trick—real magic doesn't change that. Still he slants forward. Straight-backed, hands dangling off his knees. He doesn't blink; his focus dilates then constricts.

Finally he leans back. Looks up at the man's face, slings out half a smile. ] How many times did you practice that?

[Except that it's not a parlor trick, because Castle's power is telekinesis and he can lift things with his mind. Maybe the hand part is what's throwing Don off. Castle puts his hands behind his head but the pencil still floats in midair.]

Honestly, not many. The cool thing about powers in Asgard is that they're almost innate in a way.

And' wwhy wwould anyone do that? You're not exactly offerin' much recompense for askin such a favvor, are you.

[Eridan's appearance itself seems magic to half of the residents here. After all, there aren't many gray skinned fish "people" wandering the city.]

[ Don follows the network. Follows it like a team on a losing streak, but he's seen enough to be startled rather than shocked. He flinches, then leans forward. A flurry of blinks as if his eyes or the device might be at fault. ]

Only my attention. [ His gaze has leveled off. He speaks frankly. No bargaining, no posturing: take it or leave it. Then, voice veering into wryness: ] Consider this an advance.

Howw vvery gracious a' you. I'll try not to wwaste your time.

[He says the words in a deadpan voice, barely restraining himself from just pushing the disconnect button on his bracelet. But at least this man was interesting, unlike most of the populous--who let Eridan insult them and said nothing back.]

So, I'm assumin' you got a powwer a' your owwn. They gifted me wwith regeneration.

[Oberyn is highly amused by this man.]

You may find yourself disappointed. Or surprised, if your perspective is just right.

[ An abbreviated laugh, nothing more than a huff of air and the hitch of one shoulder. ]

Let's say I'm willing to be surprised but prepared for disappointment.

A sensible man, despite our predicaments of being here.

Have I found a kindred spirit? [ Teasing, a little. The question drawn out. ]

I should hope so. I come from a place where speaking the truth is akin to madness.

[ Reality? He's from there too.

Don gives the man a look, notches it into the conversation. He reaches offscreen, returning with a cigarette he lights in a series of expert movements. ] What do you do with it instead?

[Oberyn smiles.] I offer it anyway.

Horseshit. [ But there's a friendly expansiveness to the pronouncement. Don's expression loosens and he smiles, disarmed and disarming both.

He spreads his hands, cigarette scrawling smoke in the air. Raises his eyebrows. ] Am I gonna get a look at this power of yours, or does it require further introduction?

I believe my new skills can only be of use in person, unfortunately.

Interesting. [ An assessment, not a prelude to thought. Don's gaze sharpens; he knows of one power like that. ] Nobody said you had to use them on me.

I never had the intention, my lord.

[ A jolt of his eyebrows. He returns the cigarette to his lips, fingers lying across his mouth. His eyes roll to the screen and he waves off the title, queasy with it. ] Don. [ Firmly. ] People let you do that? Knight them mid-conversation?

A custom from my home. You've hardly the look of a peasant and you speak as well, if not better, than most lords. [Though it serves as a form of flattery that too many like.] Our knights are called "sers."

[ She's not actually on screen, but instead a cat - or the form of one made out of shadow. Bigger than the last time, and from off screen wanders a second one. A matching pair!

Still somewhere just out of view, she speaks: ] My power has grown - I could even make a third. [ She sounds amused. ] Poor mouse!

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video; I DID SAY I WOULD TAG THIS (like a week ago sob)