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 the room where it happens, tag; loki/maggie
SIGYN IWALDADOTTIR
 Posted: Jul 5 2018, 07:58 AM
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words: ###. tag: loki. notes: whooo!
When you got skin in the game, you stay in the game But you don’t get a win unless you play in the game Oh, you get love for it. You get hate for it You get nothing if you Wait for it, wait for it, wait! God help and forgive me I wanna build Something that’s gonna Outlive me What do you want, Burr? What do you want, Burr? If you stand for nothing Burr, then what do you fall for? I Wanna be in The room where it happens!
Sigyn enjoyed the presence of the Hellfire Club in her spare time - a destination for the elites, as it was, intrigued her from the first whisper that crossed her ear. It had been years since she attended a good party on Midgard, with her life normally led by the likes of SHIELD, or the World Security Council in this present era. Hounded by politicians and professionals alike, Sigyn felt that she was constantly required to be in a business mindset. There was not time for fun and games - only the work they were required to perform. The mindset was exhausting - where was the joy?

She had stumbled upon the Hellfire Club on a mysterious outing with the WSC's Head of Espionage. A simple evening date had turned into a night of games and exultation. While they were supposed to be examining the clientele - known to hold a wide range of mutants - they spent more time examining each other over the rims of their wine glasses. While the outing hadn't been entirely botched, Sigyn did wonder how they were ever supposed to spy on the Club's unique patrons with such a fun atmosphere to run their nights ragged.

She had returned alone this time - under Ross' express interest - dressed simply in a black lace and heels. A gold flowered necklace and earrings to match from Asgard served as her talking piece - a focal point that Sigyn hoped to use to keep her clients interest. And she was doing just that - leaning languidly against the bar, drink held casually in one hand, with other entwined in the hand of suited businessman. He laughed loudly - already drunk, by the time Sigyn had offered to buy him a lager. She kept his interest, running her hands through her hair and adjusting her dress, doing what she could to keep the mutant focused. He downed his drink, snapping his fingers to reveal a spark that caught Sigyn's interest. Success - or so she thought. She stepped closer to the man - pulling her hand from his and waving her fingers, revealing a small orb of blue light. But Sigyn cut the magic almost as quickly as she started it - stepping back from her client, her gaze lost. She turned from the mutant without a goodbye, despite his sounds of protest, and moved further into the bar.

She simply hadn't felt that mental signature in years...

It had to be a trick - her skills were dull, here, on Midgard. Surely it wasn't true. Because why would he be here? Now? Of all the dives and disasters, had her beloved husband become entwined in such a cult of a club - such a Midgardian design. It was no surprise that he lived - the second time Thor Odinson had confirmed that Loki had died, Sigyn could only raise an eyebrow. It had become clear that the Prince took much longer to knock down than previously thought - and now, here was evidence. A clean signature - powerful, more powerful than it should be on Midgard - but completely his. Sigyn maneuvered through the club, getting lost within the crowd, and she eased past the dancing humans, intermixed with mutants. Her heart thumped wildly - fear, anxiety, interest, intrigue. Moving past another set of patrons, she came to an immediate halt. Blinking as she saw him, a slow smirk touched her lips.

"It's been a long time hasn't it, God of Asgard."



This post has been edited by SIGYN IWALDADOTTIR: Jul 5 2018, 01:48 PM
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LOKI LAUFEYSON
 Posted: Jul 9 2018, 06:54 PM
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THE TONGUES OF LIARS

“And do you know what the worst part is..?” Loki wasn’t long returned from Stark Tower after the encounter with his brother, which left him in desperate need of a drink, even a drink that would have no effect on him, he’d settle for the appearance of having the weight of the world on his shoulders. And in a way, he did. The fate of the world did, indeed, rest on his shoulders, insofar as getting his hands on the sceptre was concerned. If the trickster was to succeed in his goal of obtaining the Mind Stone for the purpose of destroying the cube, or obtaining the former for the purpose of destroying the Space Stone, knowing its whereabouts would go a long way to helping him achieve that goal, but it appeared he had hit a wall in the form of his brother.

How… how could Thor not know where it was!? The Avengers had been established by S.H.I.E.L.D? Or at least, the group had been in the process of being established by S.H.I.E.L.D during the period he had been lurking in the intelligence-based organisation, so how in Ymir’s name had it happened that the thunderer did not know the whereabouts of the sceptre, despite it having last been in the possession of Agent Romanoff – a S.H.I.E.L.D agent! Loki would have been better off tracking down the blazing haired assassin, and asking her for himself at the rate he was going, and that was accounting for the fact that tracing her whereabouts based on her brainwave patterns would prove difficult, at best.

Much the same as the Mind Stone, which emitted a signature similar to any other sentient being, wherever she was, it was a great deal further than he could pinpoint. In fact, Loki couldn’t sense her at all. “The fact that I’m sober while listening to this…” the Lady Minerva replied, uninterested, but the trickster barely took note of her tone, and continued, “No! The fact I came this close to sleeping with Stark, and for what!?” he questioned, disguised as ‘Regan’, perched on a chair at the bar, a glass of the Lady Emma’s beloved scotch sitting in front of him. He hadn’t touched it. Her assistant, on the other hand, choose to remain propped beside him, the palm of her hand cradling her chin. Bored…

Loki could practically read it in her brainwaves, so it wasn’t just a matter of failing to detect it in her tone, he simply didn’t care, “I am no closer to discovering the whereabouts of the sceptre today than I was yesterday!” he exclaimed as his face became immersed in his hands. “Right… wasn’t the purpose of my flirting with Stark, and luring that morsel of information pertaining to a job opening in Human Resources out of him intended to put you in a prime position to question him, and not your brother? I mean, Stark’s more closely tied up in S.H.I.E.L.D than Thor is, and yes, I am talking the kind of tied up me and Renault intend to engage in tonight” she smirked, and winked at him in the process.

However, Loki didn’t return her playful sentiments, as he realised that had been her aim, and her aim made a great deal more sense than his did. In a matter of seconds, the trickster was cursing the sentiment he had previously cursed the thunderer for being in possession of. “Oh…” the profanity died on his lips. As frustrated as he was, there was no need for that kind of language, and he did so detest that kind of language. “That is unfortunate…” he said instead. “Hey, look, I got it covered. On a scale of one to ten, how drunk was Stark when you left him?” the Lady Minerva questioned. “I would say eleven” ‘Regan’ responded. “Perfect! Then I’ll call tomorrow, inform him you can start the next morning. I mean, that drunk, he isn’t going to remember how the interview went” the red head assured him.

“Wait… does that mean I shall have to… work?” Loki uttered the word as if it were foreign to him, “You want to save the world, right? Well, this is what it entails” the Lady Minerva pointed out, “But I thought it entailed being loved and admired? Can I not just skip to that part?” the trickster questioned, “You wanna stand among the masses, and proclaim ‘You’re saviouuuuur is here’? Well, you gotta make your way through them first” the red head explained, as ‘Regan’ made a ‘hrmph!’ sound at that notion, until something appeared in his periphery, and not the periphery of his emerald green eyes either.

The spike of a familiar mental signature entered his mind, and Loki wasn’t long sighing “Oh… that is unfortunate” he grumbled as he shifted where he was, and spun around on the barstool to be greeted by the familiar face of his beloved wife, “Unfortunate? Dude, what chick you looking at, because it ain’t the same one I’m mentally undressing right now… I mean, hi! Is that… oh my God, that is Valentino, right?!” the Lady Minerva exclaimed in, what appeared to be, reference to the dress Sigyn was wearing.



words: 866. tagged: SIGYN IWALDADOTTIR.
outfit: here! notes: nope!

there can be only one mikey!
of caution 2.0



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SIGYN IWALDADOTTIR
 Posted: Jul 12 2018, 11:53 PM
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Amber Runn
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words: ###. tag: loki. notes: whooo!
When you got skin in the game, you stay in the game But you don’t get a win unless you play in the game Oh, you get love for it. You get hate for it You get nothing if you Wait for it, wait for it, wait! God help and forgive me I wanna build Something that’s gonna Outlive me What do you want, Burr? What do you want, Burr? If you stand for nothing Burr, then what do you fall for? I Wanna be in The room where it happens!
It was a classic move of her husband's - and somehow, Sigyn didn't understand how she hadn't thought of it earlier. What would be the odds that Loki Odinson had survived his death on Svartelheim - only to wind up i the Hellfire Club dressed as - a woman. An attractive one at that, caught in a sultry top and heels. Sigyn could only smirk - shaking her head. Typical. So, so typical.

And yet, why did her stomach fill with butterflies when she saw him? Her? Not to mention every other emotion that welled up in her midsection. Anger. Frustration. Rage. Loss. Fear. Admiration - because he had done it again. He had fooled the universe, tricked everyone except himself, and left the world to suffer for it. Typical. She wanted to cry. She wanted to scream. She wanted to ask him what had happened - what had occurred in the last five years that had changed everything? Not that she had that right - she was the one, after all, who had left. She was the one who had been truly unfaithful - not, as often assumed, in a sexual manner. But instead, in the bonds of trust. She had left - just as she did before - when the future looked too dark to face.

Electing to ignore these various notions, Sigyn took a deep breath. "Yes, well, darling here always did seem to let good things slip through his fingers from time to time. she uttered sweetly. She turned to face the woman that accompanied him - lover, friend, shapeshifting mutant, whatever the case. "Indeed, love!" she uttered excitedly, spinning 360 degrees to appraise the dress in full motion. "I found it and simply had to have it. I don't get a lot of chance to wear dresses these days - where I'm from, it's sort of the norm to wear them. Not here, though, not here." she added, admiring its design. "My mother had a plethora of dresses - stocked our closets with them, and put her best right next to her armor. That way, when it was a special occasion, she only had to look in one space for whatever she needed."

She dropped the fringe of her dress and turned to face Loki again. "You remember my mother, alskling, can you vouch for me?" she said matter-of-factly. Not waiting for an answer, she turned to face the other woman - the one that wasn't her husband - and smiled softly. "Sorry. I got a small bit distracted. You too are quite beautiful Miss...? What's your name again? I'm...Amber. Runn." she added, hesitating as Sigyn decided what to call herself. Quite an occasion as locating one's supposedly-dead husband did not allow for the revealing of one's identity - not even now. While his mental signature was extremely palpable at this distance, it didn't mean that he had revealed himself to the woman next to him. It didn't mean that Sigyn could be careless. The last thing she needed was the Hellfire Club turning against her due to a miscommunication.

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LOKI LAUFEYSON
 Posted: Jul 17 2018, 06:05 PM
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THE TONGUES OF LIARS

It occurred to Loki, the moment after he had spun around where he was sitting, as the Lady Minerva started to swoon over his wife’s apparel, the reasons why she was here. Not here in the Hellfire Club, that was a separate issue, but here on Earth, as he cast his mind back five years. He’d been buried in S.H.I.E.L.D for a year, and he had used that time wisely, and when studying the inhabitants of Midgard started to weary him (and that was something that happened more often than not), he turned his attention to those that made up the intelligence agency’s ranks. Imagine his surprise when he discovered an Agent Amber Runn, who just so happened to be wearing his wife’s face, and just like that, Romanoff and Stark were forgotten. The trickster had another target in mind…

“I do apologise for interrupting this little fashion based interaction, but if you will excuse me, Lady Minerva, I need to have a word with my wife” ‘Regan’ explained as he rose, lacing his fingers through Sigyn’s, and attempted to gently tug her away from the red head, staring dumbfoundedly after them, “Wait! Does wife mean the same thing where you’re from as where we’re from?” she shouted after Loki, but he paid her little mind, as he sought out a quiet corner for himself and the golden-haired goddess to have that aforementioned word, and he intended to have several of them. The trickster eventually settled on a secluded booth off to the western edge of the lounge, and though it was also suitably shaded, he was not releasing his hold on his female form, even if security played a very small part in that decision.

He hadn’t regressed to his original form much since his arrival here on Midgard, having become rather attached to the shape of ‘Regan’. His fingers remained tangled up in Sigyn’s as he slid into the booth, locked with her digits, but not tightly, never tightly. The Aesir and the Vanir both had many things to say regarding their union, the God of Mischief and the Goddess of Fidelity. ‘Abusive’ was one of those things. A liar he might have been, he wasn’t prepared to deny he was neglectful, but he wouldn’t consider himself abusive, not in the physical sense. In fact, Loki had an alarming tendency to hold Sigyn, be it her hand, or her body itself, as if she were comprised of fragile glass, threatening to break at any moment. He wasn’t sure of the reason behind it, but if he had to offer one, then it was probably the miscarriage, the first of many of them.

Broken, that was how he remembered Sigyn. The first time, the second time, and the third time, and he did something unusual every time. He’d crawl into bed beside her, and string his long and lank arms around her, never allowing them to lock in place, leaving them to hang loosely about her. He wasn’t an affectionate sort. He never had been. That wasn’t something that had changed with the revelation of his origins. Loki had always been notably cold in that capacity. He didn’t embrace people, not since someone (Tyr!) compared his hold to being embroiled in the grip of a serpent, and not caring for the comparison with the least liked of his children, ‘hugs’ came to an abrupt end after that. But he’d hugged the golden-haired goddess then, each and every time they lost another one.

Loki was reminded of it when flesh met flesh, his and hers, and his touch was always soft, and never forceful. “I do not know whether to be surprised, or intrigued, to find you in a place like this? Work related, I imagine? Please do not disappoint me, and tell me it is work related” ‘Regan’ implored, elbow propped against the headrest, cheek settled against his hand, the other still holding Sigyn’s.



words: 655. tagged: SIGYN IWALDADOTTIR.
outfit: here! notes: nope!

there can be only one mikey!
of caution 2.0


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