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dottirofthor
Send me a url and my muse will tell you what they think about them.
“Thyra needs to get out of the circus more. There comes a point where I’m really just going to have to steal her out from under Viper’s paperwork. I demand girl time.”
all the texts, bae
Send “✆” for a morning text.
[SMS: Reepicheep] I know it's early and I'm sorry.[SMS: Reepicheep] But if Viper can spare you for today, there are some things here I think you'd like to see.
Send “✉” for a text that wasn’t sent.
[SMS: Reepicheep] If something ever... happens to me, you can't let anybody take Littlest away from her dads.[SMS: Reepicheep] I think her grandmother might try, but my little girl deserves better than that life.[SMS: Reepicheep] I know her dads will love her; I can't be sure about that in Asgard.
Send “☎” for a rushed text.
[SMS: Reepicheep] I didn't stop long enough to get a really good look, but you might want to check the back side of your trailer when you get up.[SMS: Reepicheep] Looks like Terry's been having his own little art class on the outside wall under the window.
Send “⁇” for a drunk text.
[SMS: Reepicheep] So this whole 'magic elf root' thing is supposed to help me sleep through the night.[SMS: Reepicheep] Honestly, it's a load of bollocks. I feel -
Send “ø” for a late night text.
[SMS: Reepicheep] I really hate Asgard.[SMS: Reepicheep] There are whole weeks where I want nothing more than to blow the stupid thing into a hunk of irradiated rock.[SMS: Reepicheep] But damn if I don't miss the sky.
Send “✘” for a hateful text.
[SMS: Reepicheep] You still wanna kick something in the face?[SMS: Reepicheep] I've got a prime target right over here.[SMS: Reepicheep] He's even short enough we can reach, so long as he stays tied to the chair.
Send ☠ for a threatening message
[Text: Brat One] If you bring that car back to me in anything less than pristine condition, I’m going to bottle your soul and wear it like a necklace.
### (James and TNT)
what your muse’s name is in mine’s phone
Coyote
what your muse’s picture is in mine’s phone
That video clip is what the screen displays when he calls.
This may or may not be the background on her phone.
what your muse’s ringtone is in mine’s phone
Rain - Breaking Benjamin
my muse’s last text to your muse
[SMS: Coyote] Come home safe. [SMS: Coyote] You know how to reach me if things get out of hand.[SMS: Coyote] Don't be a hero.
- what your muse’s name is in mine’s phone
Reepicheep
- what your muse’s picture is in mine’s phone
- what your muse’s ringtone is in mine’s phone
Slut Like You - P!nk
- my muse’s last text to your muse
[SMS: Reepicheep] Clear your weekend. I refuse to submit myself to this spa thing without backup.
(Terry's still a bb in her timeline which stumped me, but I anticipate most texts will be variations of 'How big of a clean-up crew will be required?' XD)
♕
The tent had been decorated differently this year: rather than being enchanted to look like a misty, otherworldly forest, the inside of the big top now looked like the ballroom of some golden palace in the stars. Beautiful, glassy stone floors shone beneath a vaulted, glass-and-gold ceiling that followed the line of the tent and depicted the kind of night sky one could only see far, far away from city lights; acrobats in jewel tones and Venetian-style masks danced and flipped along the ceiling and its burnished-gold beams, seeming to defy gravity without the aid of ropes and harnesses. At one end of the tent an orchestra played, and waiters done up in outfits similar to the acrobats’ jewel-and-precious-metal tones carried trays of hors d’oeuvres and champagne through milling, dancing crowd.
The Ringmaster stalked gracefully through the masked patrons, dressed completely in black from his all-black tux to his black bespoke shoes to the billowing black cloak draped over his shoulders; an intricately twisting black mask in the shape of a skull covered most of his face from his forehead to his nose, and a cane with a golden skull at the top was held almost regally in his left hand. Vivid green eyes caught sight of a familiar female figure and Loki made a beeline for Thyra, slipping up quietly beside her.
"I believe we have another success on our hands," He murmured as he took a glass of champagne from one of the passing members of his company. Loki eyed Thyra as he took a sip of his drink, approval evident in his gaze as he drank in her outfit for the evening.
"You look lovely."
Rainy Day Women
Bright flashes of lightning lit up the night sky from off in the distance, moving closer with a speed that worried the mortals as they poured out of Cirque du Mal's big top and made their way down to their cars in a much speedier fashion than they did on other nights--nights with a far better forecast. Even some of the company were muttering among themselves about the impending, unseasonably rough storm, a fact that was noted by a different set of ears than usual.
Tall, pale, and curvy, with long, wavy black hair and strikingly full lips, it was the Ringmistress who stalked the circus grounds now, no longer dressed in the leather and top hat of the Ringmaster's uniform--no longer male. This lesser-known form was an advantage: it allowed Loki to move about the grounds undisturbed, checking the protective spells he'd laid over the circus and its inhabitants in the time before the storm truly hit. Another flash of lightning--this one brighter and closer than all the rest--lit up a familiar figure, and the Ringmistress stepped up beside the other woman with one hand shoved into the pocket of her jacket, curled into a loose fist.
"I would not stay out too long. It will be...unpleasant, soon."
And the woman let her green-eyed gaze lift up to the skies, a touch of wariness uncharacteristic of the goddess threading her body with lines of tension.
It would seem she had never learned to rid herself of the unease storms brought since leaving Asgard so very long ago.
The Ties that Bind || Thyra & the Queen
There were so few places of peace left in the universe.
On Asgard it was too quiet, the vaulted palace rooms had once held so much life and laughter; now there were only ghosts. On Midgard it was too noisy, too loud; the cacophony was deafening, empty sound without weight or beauty or meaning. Alfheimr was lonely; Vanaheimr had too many memories. Everything was so empty.
This was what it meant to live so long that everything around you crumbles to dust.
On those days she had to be on Midgard, however, there was one small place in which she often sought sanctuary. Tucked away in a little building near the park was the barn that housed the horses ridden by the mortals' mounted police. And one could travel from star to star across the galaxy; stables were stables were stables.
She could feel faint echoes of her daughter - and her granddaughter - here; it was from Seeing her that the Queen had first learned of this place. But those traces were faint and far away. No one in her family had been here for months. Persephone was still trapped in writing her own history... there was no one to disturb her here.
So she passed the time moving slowly from stall to stall, making friends with each occupant in the patient, quiet way of someone intimately familiar with the words of horsefolk. Their warmth, the earthy smell, the gentle affection of herd-bound herbivores... It was a balm for a raw and weary spirit in an otherwise painful world.
So absorbed in that small moment of peace, Frigga did not feel the approaching aura until it was very nearly on top of her. It was... familiar, but different. Not wrong necessarily, just... different. That was enough to narrow down the list of suspects to exactly two - and one of those was far too young to have come this way alone.
"I did not expect to see you here, my dear."
"Whose idea of a fun time is this?" - dottirofthor
Loki merely grinned darkly as zombie after zombie pulled itself from the earth or else appeared from the woods both ahead and behind, flipping a pair of long, lethal looking daggers with wicked anticipation.
"You wanted to play," He replied, nodding to the 'undead' creatures materializing around them.
"Let's play."
