( oh, look! it's natasha in the bar. as usual. it's kind of where she hangs out (which might be a moot point, considering the rations). she's standing behind it, leaning on the counter, throwing a knife up and down in one hand. she doesn't seem to be paying a lot of attention to it, but the hilt keeps thwacking into her palm, so she's clearly paying enough attention to not lose a finger or two. )

Steve Rogers and Bruce Banner have been returned home.

( her voice is quiet. dangerously so. she's not brooding the way she was when tony left, but she's definitely .. not ok.

just before the video turns off, her face twists slightly and when the knife comes down in her palm again, she throws it, right at the camera - or just off to the left where it buries itself in the table, quivering slightly.

the video cuts. )

( ooc: all replies will either be text or voice. feel free to have your character be concerned and come to the bar (in loki district) to confront her directly, particularly if they have prior cr. )

In the spirit of cooperation, I'd like to offer lessons on shadow control, archery, horseback riding and swordsmanship.

Those who think this is a trap, think again. I don't want to lose any more than you do. Speak up and I'll see what I can do. I'm not going to work with just anyone, mind, and I'm not promising to be what I'm not.

[But... be what this place needs, indeed.]

So I woke up this morning and started to feel pretty uncomfortable in my god house. It's starting to get to the point now where I don't feel like I should be here.

( Except this is her house, right? Wrong. Lydia's new memories from home have resulted in her changing houses - from Odin to Hel, and she doesn't know it, or that it can happen )

So for anyone that's actually left here, has anyone felt unwanted in their home? Their house here, not in your world. I know it happens when you visit another house but this is my house.

Or is everything just getting messed up the more the war goes on?

( Thiazi's getting stronger and some guy's soul has been stolen. That's pretty messed up )

[Alastair is sitting on a roof, looking out at the city. He has a couple of blades next to him. It looks like he might have been in the process of sharpening them when he took a break.]

The change of seasons here is pretty dramatic, isn't it? One moment we still have green, the next...

[He nods out to the suddenly awe-inspiring fall colors of the trees.]

Did it happen like this before? I'm ashamed to say I didn't notice if it did, I was... [He wets his lips and ducks his head a moment,] ...preoccupied. [Preoccupied with being corrupted. Oops.

He lifts his head and smiles.]

Regardless, it's lovely, even if it's a bit sudden. Back home... [A distant sort of look comes over his face as he remembers.] Back home it was always very slow. There was never any one day you could say "now is the end of summer," because when things were Balanced, or at least close to it, it was a slow transition from one season to the next. Maybe our seasons were longer, it's hard to tell.

[He sighs deeply and is quiet for a long moment, then smiles again.]

There's beauty in the world, everywhere. Sometimes it's hard to find it, but every now and then you have to stop and look around and remind yourself why you're fighting.

[His grin turns sheepish and he shakes his head.]

It may seem silly, and believe me, I sound a little ridiculous to myself sometimes, but do me a favor and take a moment out of your day to just appreciate the beauty around you, and remember the beauty of home.

Hate to be that guy who goes and adds to the list, but... Well. There's no one left to say it but me, is there?

[ he sighs, a dog can be heard barking in the background. ] ...It's Buffy. She's-- you know. [ helpless shrugging, face-scrubbing. he doesn't know what to do now, but it's clear on the feed that he's been crying. ]

Jo Harvelle? She, uh. There's a letter here. So--

I guess that's it.

[ --zoop. then about an hour later the feed comes back. ]

Buff--she. She used to do some training, down at the Arena? Figure, um. I figure I could make myself bloody useful for once and fill that slot.

So if anyone's interested... yeah.

[ and gone. ]

Now that Spring is here, almost. I thought I'd remind all the boys and girls of Asgard that I run a little survival group known as the Scouts after school. No popcorn or cookies, but hey, we have pocketknives. [ this is a totally legit bribe for small children, right? ] Plus we get to go camping. [ okay he might be a monster at heart but he seriously hates camping. hopefully they can kill some small animals or something before he loses it completely. ]

Speaking of... [ this is not related at all!! ] This is going to sound odd, but it is my job back home to worry about these sorts of things. I found a room? Spattered with-- [ should he say blood spatter in the same post as boys and girl scouts? he just doesn't know. ] Biomatter. [ because that's better. ]

No one that you know is... severely injured, are they? [ it was a lot of blood, okay. ]

So, yeah. Sign up with me, Dexter, or let Headmaster Snape know you're interested. In the Scouts. [ not blood, though that would also be relevant to his interests. tell him in private!! ] We start on Monday.

[ he gives a little salute at the screen, though it's clearly the nice-guy salute and not any sort of military gesture with how limp it is, followed by a bright smile. ]

[ the woman on the video is smiling, though anyone who knows her can tell you that's a pretty scary thing to be happening. still, this isn't for people who know her; it's for the general population, and she's doing her best to not be scary. for the most part, there aren't many in asgard who know who she is - at least, not by sight. she's a nobody. and she likes it that way. ]

Everyone should come to the bar I work at.

[ straight to the point, blunt. ]

You get a nice drink, I get tips, we both go home happy. I've recommended it before, but things tend to be a bit slow after mayhem.. and honestly, I'd hate to see this place close.

[ mostly because it's a cover for her to pick up all the happening gossip in the city. but if the travelers don't come, then she doesn't have anything to listen to but natives. still, she doesn't seem untrustworthy from the video, and that's the entire point. ]

Whatever you want to drink, I can make it. Or at least, something extremely similar; this place doesn't have everything you'd expect by way of alcohol. So, give it a shot.

[ attached to her message is a map to the bar and a menu. ]

locked to the avengers: tony stark, bruce banner, thor, jane foster, sif

( +++ )

[Alastair's hair is loose, and it is... rather long, actually. Almost down to his shoulders. He runs a hand through it and looks a little sheepish.]

I usually tie my hair back, so I guess I hadn't really grasped how long it's gotten until just now. Does anyone here have some skill cutting hair? It doesn't have to be much, just enough to keep it from getting too unruly, I suppose.

I can pay, if you like.

[sophie is sitting on her bed in her room, which means that behind her the walls are painted with a mural that looks like the silhouettes of trees in the last bits of twilight. she's a little thing, more hair than girl, and her voice is low and even and calm.]

It occurred to me, in the midst of a conversation I was having with a friend, that most of the Travellers here now likely weren't here when all of this started. Or, rather, when it came to a head the first time, as none of us were here when it started. We've plenty of reason not to trust the gods entirely, but that doesn't mean that the war isn't real or that the threat isn't true.

[she gives a little shrug. gods. what can you do?]

It was over a year ago now, the first Ragnarok, at least as the seasons pass in Asgard. It may have been a prophesied battle, but we weren't prepared, not really. By the end, we were hungry, exhausted, injured. Many died and our enemies were still strong. Asgard should have fallen.

It didn't. Not because of anything we did, but because of Freyr, who sacrificed himself and wiped out a great many of the invading forces, and drove the rest to retreat. You can still see the mark of it out beyond the wall.

Before that, I wasn't sure this was real. I wasn't sure I believed, because it's a rather unbelievable story, isn't it? That those people in the castle are gods and we've been spirited away to the mother of all worlds, that this place, this rather unextraordinary place, as places go, is the root of all things. But then I watched a god die, and that changes things. When someone who believes that they will live more or less forever, who would never grow old or wither away, when someone like that decides to die to try to save something, we should all pause for a moment. We should pause and wonder if there's any greater show of fear in the world than that, and wonder what makes gods afraid.

[she sets her chin on her hand.]

In any case, I've seen a great deal of doubt, and it's understandable. I thought it might help if those of us who have been here the longest might speak about what we've seen. This is a war, it has been here, and it's coming back. And if what we've been through recently is any indication, it will only be worse the second time.

If anyone has questions, I'll answer them as best I can, and welcome others to do so as well.

[ spike is bustling around his kitchen, tea and toast in the making. he pulls a slice out of the toaster and starts smearing jam on. ]

It's been a little while, you lot. Or, well, guess I saw most of you on the train home. But now there's new folks and old folks coming back and the like. Par for the beginning of the month, or whatever frame of time it is they use here.

[ now starting in on the second and a thoughtful look crosses over his features. ] I would say this place gets less agonizing the longer I'm here, but I think I know better than to jynx it by now...

[ the kettle goes off, startling him into spinning too quick and knocking the toast off the counter - jam side down. ] Oh come on!

Bloody hell. Where was I? Oh, yeah.

Sober two days, you bunch of bastards. Hope you're happy.

[ the feed is about to go out but a few muffled words make it through as he's cleaning up the jam: ] How did hair get in this? Ugh. Crooks.

[ - and zamo. ]

[There are rather dark circles under this Doctor's eyes, but he carries on as if he's not exhausted. As always, he's leaning forward. At attention.]

First, I want to say that I'm quite proud of the efforts in Alfheim. You really pulled together as teams. Not only did you have excellent leadership, but everyone kept their heads. Pat yourselves on the back if you didn't blister it.

Second: I'm going to talk a bit about love and loss. Hot topics these days, seems like.
( and he rambles at length )

[ Wichita's been here, roughly, five days. and all she's done is wander around looking for her sister and decidedly not wasting her time talking to anybody else that happens to look her way. maybe it would be easier to literally ask around if anybody's seen Little Rock, but to be honest, she's kind of freaked out that there are people to ask at all. just- people. she's never been scared of crowds ( let's be real, they're a pickpocket's goldmine ) and she's never been shy, she just hasn't actually dealt with this many healthy human beings in almost three months. it's like culture shock, only a little worse, considering she was apparently brought here by a bunch of norse gods. what the hell, right? at least they had showers here. she never appreciated hot water so much in her life.

so she's been cruising around the city on foot, hands stuffed in the pockets of her leather jacket, gun tucked into the back of her jeans, as always. like everything might flip over at any minute and reveal that yeah, it's just a dream, and yeah, she has to wake up and fight for her life. something like that. who knows.

two days into her stay, she started watching the network. war talk, boring talk, weird talk, power talk. it was all so, so surreal. but it backs up what that little intro video said, that they were all brought here to fight a war of the worlds or something, so she's kept her eyes and ears open, and her mouth shut.

until now.

five days and still no sign of her sister? yeah. it's time to speak up.

not about that, of course, not about her. but speaking up in general. she's kind of on edge at this point, not hysterical or anything, but clearly annoyed. it's for the best people can't see her, because she's got a scowl to end all scowls on her face. a n n o y e d. ]

So. What happens if you've been brought here and your whole world is already torn to shit? We're supposed to be fighting for our world's survival, but I'm already doing that back home, and to be honest, it makes this place look like a playground. So what's my motivation here, what's my angle? No, seriously. All ears. Please.

Also, I'll be needing directions to the cheapest bar in town, as soon as possible.

[ click. ]

[When Skuld appears on Asgard's network, she is the picture of regal composure - perfectly groomed and solemn of face, a far cry from the dirty, soot-covered refugee that arrived the day before. Only when she speaks can some of the frayed edges be noted, but never to the point of hysteria; she is still a queen, and this is a royal duty.]

Travellers of Asgard. For those whom I did not have the pleasure of meeting on my last occasion to visit this city, my name is Skuld, and I am ruler of the elven kingdom of Alfheim. While it pleases me to speak with all of you again, I must regretfully inform you that it is on a very dire matter indeed.

[She glances down at her hands, ensuring that they are still steady where she's folded them in her lap, then back up again with iron determination.]

( Cut for Skuld's loquaciousness. TL;DR: things are, in fact, hitting the fan in elfland. )

[And indeed, her speech is done. The gods will be backing her on matters relating to Asgard, which will likely be the most pressing concerns for those that live here, but she will take any questions about Alfheim directly. And of course, it will likely be her who tries to soothe those angered by this speech.]

[ at first all that comes into view is a bottle of single malt scotch, unopened. then an ashtray, nowhere near as untouched. slowly spike's hands and then his face enter into the picture too and he looks haggard; tired, and far too human. he had known this day would come, because in the end he always ended up alone. but it was always different when it actually happened, and somehow the abandonment itself was never any less painful. ]

I told myself I'd say something profound, quote some Churchill or something... [ did wes even like churchill? it wasn't like he knew. ] But how do you mourn a ghost? How do you mourn a ghost again even?

This was his drink, too rich for my blood, but then again I'm not a Wyndam-Price.

[ spike swallowed and turned away before slowly pouring a shot and raising it up for a fallen friend. ] To Wesley.

[The video clicks on with Harry sitting in a seat in his office. The office itself seems a bit sparse, but that doesn't matter. What matters is that Harry looks agitated. He's pleased that Voldemort has slipped up enough, but it means he's careless; it means it will be difficult to stop him from hurting others. The fact that he's been outed the way he has been means that the individual who did so doesn't look much better.

Not that Harry's against things being carved into his skin. It's a dark thought, though, and one he's not acting on.]

Hello, everyone.

[A simple beginning, but he soon continues, as if he's reading a slightly prepared speech:]

I'm here to tell you about Tom Marvolo Riddle. He also goes by "Lord Voldemort" on this network, and had my bracelet not come off during the recent battles, I would have warned you all about him sooner. I apologise for that. It was a mistake on my part. I meant to do it sooner, even, but I worried that it would bring people greater harm. I ... er, I'm really sorry for that, too. [He settles into his seat.] He's someone who's very dangerous. Back home, I defeated him, but "defeating" someone is not always the easiest of tasks, you see. He's someone who fears death, and Asgard chose to hand him exactly what he wanted all along: immortality. Only at the same time, it stripped him of his power. So, he doesn't much care about that. He wants it both ways, and he came very close to achieving it back home.

[Harry isn't going to explain that part, though.]

What's important is that Voldemort is not to be trusted. He hurt a friend of mine, and that's why I decided to do this as quickly as possible. I don't even know who else he has hurt. I know about his life. He started as an orphan, and even as a little boy, he tortured people and scared them just because he could. He saw power as a means of opening up the world to him. But that wasn't all. See, he's someone who feels like he's entitled to what belongs to him. Answers, objects, and little things like that. He obsesses, he chooses "equals," and he doesn't care about anyone or anything. He has no real love for his "followers," also known as Death Eaters, and he uses them.

Well, actually, he's rather quite incapable of love.

He's young now, but he won't stop hurting people until he dies. He is very clever, and he would be a useful ally to Asgard if only because it would help him go home. After all, he has a future left for him where he kills a great number of people. Including my parents. [He pauses, gaze steady.]

He will seek means to become powerful. Tom's very fond of that, and he's already sought some of them here. My recommendation is that if you are helping him, you stop. You don't try to make him better. He doesn't want to be better. He doesn't want to love, and he can't. Don't see him as someone who can help you in a pinch. He sees power as a means of manipulating others. He gains followers so that they can die in his place.

I can and will answer any questions you have about him. My only request is that you call him Tom Riddle. He doesn't deserve to be known as "Lord Voldemort." He should be known as who he really is. He's ashamed of who he is, and where he came from. He's lived his life trying to be somebody else, but he will always be a boy with the same roots available to him.

[He stops speaking momentarily, looking somewhat weary. That was a lot.]

I will add one more thing. He's not more important than the war efforts or saving Asgard. I imagine he would rather like to be, but I think we should remember that we have more important things to worry about than him. Avoid him, disable him at all costs, but do not let him be more important. He is prone to hurting nearly everyone here, and he will do it if the opportunity presents itself. But he is not Thiazi, nor is he the grey sickness. And he'd agree, I think, but I guess not enough to keep others from finding him out.

I think we should all thank him for being so open about that. That makes our ability to overlook him much easier.

[Harry looks as if he's ready to cut the transmission, but he realizes one final thing.]

Er ... and I'm sorry to everyone he's hurt. Or anyone he will send Barty Crouch Jr. to hurt. The two of them are dangerous. While I say they're unimportant in light of the war efforts, that doesn't mean I don't ... I mean, I do care. A lot. If you'd like to talk about it, please let me know.

Right, that's all.

[edit, made about five minutes later]

[Most of the edit is is a link to a video where Tom Riddle is standing in his bedroom. The video lasts long enough to get a good view of his face.]

This is his face.

[He's been hiding for a long time. Hiding from his madness, his death, the aftermath of the split worlds; hiding from the truth. But something needs to be said.]

Fuck.

[Okay, so that wasn't a good start. He scrubs his hands over his face, which looks tired and drawn, and starts again.]

Yeah, it's true. Our heads really do blow up. But that's not it, I'm betting you all figured that out your own ways. What I've gotta say is, if you saw me when everything was upside down -

[Pinching the bridge of his nose now. God, this is fucking awkward.]

- I had control, alright. Back home, I'd learned to stop the rush. Mostly. But getting it all back like that in one hit would screw anyone up. Some mutations, they're - [No, he won't spill everything about Pyrokinesis; he won't make himself look weak.] - anyway. That shit you saw me do, I might as well have been on crack. I'm not a psycho. Yeah, I like to fight, and I won't back down, but I'm not a psycho.

[He glares out at the city.] Laugh if you want. I don't give a shit what most of you think.

[But some people needed to hear this, and there were too many to contact individually. So this had to be said, and it was, and now he's switching off the feed.]

((ooc: BACKTAGS ARE NOT FORGOTTEN. I just didn't want to miss the chance to address his aftermath in some way.))

[He wasn't thinking. That's normally his style anyway as the feed comes on and Connor looks no worse for the wear. He's sporting a dark bruise under his right eye, and is a little cut up, but other than that he's fine. Well, physically.]

All right. So I guess I was wrong, proactive citizenry doesn't have anything to do with this place.

It is way too messed up even for them.

[His jaw clenches and nostrils flare.]

Some of you people have some huge problems. You know that?

[This stems for the inability to protect himself in mirror verse as well as he should have been able to. Also the frustration of being away from home and tossed into another place where he couldn't help those he did manage to care about.

Yeah, in short, Connor is doing what he does best: lashing out.]

[When the video clicks on, Connor holds a crumpled paper in his hand as he looks at it, and then at the feed with a small rueful smirk on his lips.]

I have to say that waking up here is at least a step above waking up in a dingy shed strapped to a pole. But, I don’t buy any of this.

Really?

Is this the best you all could do with me? You can’t be afraid of unwinding me, after all it would solve a lot of problems.

Proactive citizenry must really have a lot of money and plans to be able to put me on this island.

But I guess that if you can make pork n’ be- I mean Cam, then this isn’t far-fetched at all.

[Tossing the paper onto the floor, the sound of a foot crunching it further can be heard as he reaches and brushes a hand over his eyes, huffing.]

We were so close to figuring out too. Even if I’m here you don’t have us all, oh and by the way-

[He smirks looking back at the camera.]

Nice socks.

[He turns off the feed.]