asgardeventide | ( 001; video; backdated to the afternoon of day 146. )

[ If looks could kill, anyone on the receiving end of the feed would have to say their prayers and wish for the best. While her eyes vaguely hint with a vague, possible murderous intent, she appears relatively calm and composed for someone who's just been kidnapped and prepping for a rant, albeit her tone has a certain venomous edge to it.

She purses her lips, tilting her head to observe the bracelet. ]

One word: tacky. You would think gods would at least be able to afford Tiffany's. What, is this place just filled with criminally awful fashion choices?

[ Priorities. She rakes a hand through her hair, trying to will away the exhaustion that seeps into her voice. ]

Okay, right. Norse gods who recruit teenagers and elven soldiers, apparently. [ Guess who did her homework by briefly browsing the important posts on the network? ] Even if the rest of this little performance sounds like a bad plot for a B-rated fantasy movie, forebodingly talking about preparing for battle like it's at our doorstep — their doorstep — isn't very comforting.

[ She pauses, raking a hand through her hair and biting her lip to stifle an approaching frown or fatigued sigh. ]

Serious question here. Since we can't click our heels three times and leave of our own free will, does this place have any redeeming qualities?

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[ Oh, network
Shall he compare thee to summer's day?
Thou art more pointless and full of idiocy.
Full of travellers and their dismay,
He'd like to forget the bouts of crazy.

Are these not all but common ~~blatantly Shakespearean~~ thoughts of one Jackson Whittemore?

No, not really. But if they were to be summed up in something hideously resembling a sonnet, that's how they'd be. So really, he doesn't care much about the network except to check in on whatever the gods might be doing every so often.

He's checking in today only because it looks like the wave of new people is due and while he really could not deal with more people from Beacon Hills (because really, allison's dad too?), he kind of has a small hope in his grinch sized heart (three times too big, not shrunken mind you) that maybe it'll be a face that he wouldn't mind seeing.

Maybe Danny or — ]

Edited 2012-09-21 14:52 (UTC)

[ A very familiar red-haired (strawberry blonde, chimes in a voice in his head and okay, he's hearing double now because he can hear her clearly in his head as well as on the feed), who seems none too happy to be here.

In fact, he even recognizes the look in her eyes and it must really be a testament to how long he's been here when that annoyed and slightly murderous glare doesn't scare him, but actually is a familiar feeling. He'd been on the receiving end of it on occasion, of course.

But getting back to the point. He watches the video all the way through, unsure of what to make of it because that sure was unmistakably Lydia on the feed. Which means she's here. At Asgard. Just like the rest of them.

(and with powers, the implications of which he doesn't want to think about yet) ]

[ So Jackson Whittemore, what do you do?

Do you acknowledge the girl whom you'd basically dumped in the worst possible way ever and made miserable from the last interaction you remember? Do you just ignore her (as you're prone to do) and simply let this post be? Do you go get yourself a non-fat ice cream so you can sob your feelings into it instead?

ALL PERFECTLY VIABLE OPTIONS. BUT THE ONE YOU CHOOSE IS— ]

Edited 2012-09-21 15:11 (UTC)

...Lydia.

[ Ding ding ding. Jackson's put on his video feed as well as is now replying to her. He really can't afford to let her talk to Scott or Stiles or any of the others here first because who knows what they might do.

And whatever may be between him and Lydia now (or whatever it's escalated to depending on when she's from because he may not admit it, but there seems to be some proof for this people coming from further along his future thing), they've always at least had one another. It's been long enough for him to forget the details of everything that had plagued him back at school... everything he'd sort of taken out on her and blamed her for. Right now, amidst the unfamiliar and familiar faces, she's something better at least.

He stares at the feed for a moment, like he's internally debating something. Despite the way he'd sort of just blurted her name out a second ago, he looks more stoic now (although she can probably pick up on the way everything about him seems on the edge). ]

When did you get here? Where are you now? Did you — did you see anyone else yet?

[ And so begins the barrage of questions. They can't seem to wait it seems and he kind of feels like he's stepping back into this strange over-protective boyfriend role even though that isn't what he is at all. Not anymore. She might be a sight for sore eyes, but he still means what happened back home. All he wants is to keep her away from the Leather Pack and the Stooges.

It's the least he can do when she's completely new to this place right? ]

[ Lydia.

Given how certain she had been that she'd never hear that familiar voice flowing into her eardrums, it very nearly resembles a melody to be cherished — but that particular sentiment is fleeting. She proceeds to respond as she ordinarily would, distant and biting, but then his countenance flits across the screen and finally, finally registers within her mind.

She'd been a bit hesitant to approach him before, recalling his numerous outbursts targeted at her existence, but the manner in which she reacts is nothing compared to those instances. Her face blanches at the sight of him, any remaining colour draining from her face as though she's captured a glimpse of something spectral — and as far as she's concerned, she has. ]

Jackson?

[ It's surprisingly meek, questioning (are you real?), as her eyes search his own for some iota of genuineness, but words and images lie. Lydia knows that now, perhaps always has, but Peter had merely solidified that line of thinking.

She should be overjoyed to see him alive and well, a mirror image of the boy he'd been before she had cradled his head in her lap and prayed for him to return to her as the life drained from his eyes, because having Jackson torment her on a constant basis and tear her to shreds was an improvement from having no Jackson at all.

He isn't real, she tells herself — just another presence in her mind destined to haunt her.

Girls like Lydia Martin don't cry often, but the fresh wound is a painfully deep and she can feel the beginning of tears threatening to spill from her eyes like a waterfall even as she dryly swallows, willing it away. ]

[ He's another trick, another curse, another reminder of everything that had gone sour in the past few months. While the desperate portion of her brain ( and more importantly, her heart ) yearns for him to be real and not another dreaded hallucination to add to her collection, she can't risk dropping her guard like she had with Peter. And so, without that confirmation, his questions go unanswered and the words trapped in her throat remain unspoken. ]

Stay away from me.

[ It's intended to be scathing, strong, but it isn't difficult to detect the manner in which her voice wavers and almost cracks, nor the flicker of hurt, anxiety, and bemusement present in her eyes. She's as vulnerable as she had been when she'd cavorted through the woods, as vulnerable as when Peter had preyed on her and manipulated her to his heart's content, as vulnerable as she had been when Jackson gone and died and left her all alone again — and though it's a weak attempt, at least she's trying to keep herself from falling apart completely. ]

[ To see her on the verge of crying only sends his stomach churning because well isn't that great? is she still so triggered by what he said about her ruining everything -- or is it something more? It must be the latter because while he's seen Lydia cry... it's never been quite like this.

There's something he can see in her expression as she stares at him and he can't seem to identify it. She's staring at him as if he's a mirage, an illusion, unreal and he swallows trying to figure out why she hasn't replied to any of what he's asked yet.

Can't she see that he's actually trying to be helpful to her for once? ]

Lydia, where —

[ And there it is. The words that send a strange punch straight to his gut and shock him enough to keep the annoyance at bay. He's being overwhelmed by confusion anyways because he's never had to deal with anything like this in terms of anyone else from Beacon Hills who's shown up here. He can recognize the vulnerability and he stares at her, concern shining in his eyes before he squares his jaw and continues talking like she hadn't said anything at all. ]

Listen. I need to know where you are, or else you might run into something a lot less pleasant than me.

[ okay true the wolves can't really wolf out here, but their still a weird looming threat. and if he has to do a little bit of lying to maybe convince her to let him come find her — well, whatever works right? ]

( 001; video; backdated to the afternoon of day 146. )

[ video ] LET'S DO THIS 1/?

[ video ]

[ video ]

[ video ]

[ video ] I APOLOGIZE TO YOUR INBOX this is done now i swear

[ video ] NEVER APOLOGISE also 1/a billion

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[ video ] okay done and i'm sorry for being soul-crushing.

[ video ] you know i love the soul-crushing :')

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