#grimoireweavers

[thewonderingsorceress]

“Accidents” Happen

@grimoireweavers

Ella had been ‘scouted’ to do a job, and not one of her normal in and out jobs either. She had been paid to get sensitive information, not on the business wither, but on Tony Stark and his own personal server. She was suppose to gather all the information that Stark had on the stone and other alien tech. She would have to create an identity and make it so she stuck out enough to get Tony Starks attention, but not enough to be obvious. This meant a lot of leg work before it even started, but the amount she was getting paid wasn’t something to sneeze at, and they were paying for all the cost of this little adventure of hers. 

So she spent a few weeks setting up an iron clad identity, setting up her space and the schedule and habits of Tony Stark. There was a cafe/deli he seemed to favour, that was perfect actually. Unsuspecting, especially if she acted like a loaner who was just trying to work on her computer. He was nosy, he was paranoid, he’d look around and see her screen that she was ‘trying’ to keep hidden from others. So that’s who Ella was, she was a mid-20′s coding ‘genius’. She was proficient and excelled in many things, but genius wasn’t a word she’d use to describe herself. Being the best was just a requirement of the job. Ella would take on an American accent, East Coast; and will have grown up in a small town in Virginia before being moved around and stuck around in Tuckerton, NY. She was an orphan who was fostered around a lot, she threw herself into coding and branched out to science and tech for fun for her stability. She then was contracted by private business all over the world. There was plenty of lies in there, but she kept somethings truthful to make it more believable. She was currently in New York after finishing a project and was working on her own stuff. She had rented an apartment off W 10th and Greenwhich Ave, that looked like it was decorated professionally but held all manner of things. Now that was all set up, she decided to make her move. 

Ella positioned herself by the counter, her computer angled towards the area people picked up food and away from those sitting and who would look at her screen. She had on a pair of jeans and a loose button down that cuffed around her elbows, sneakers and some ‘airpods’ in that let her listen in on conversations, and a pair of big black framed glasses that held in them technology that might be necessary. She slouched in her chair slightly, letting the coding show over her whole screen as she added to it easily. She didn’t look up when Stark walked in, it’d give her away. She just continued to type on her computer, shifting every so often to draw his attention to her, especially when he got closer to the pick up part of the counter. She didn’t stop typing as she added to the code, it was an AI that would be able to perceive a type of encryption that was used and figure out the weak links within that system through recognizing patterns in employees computer behavior and their profile. It was more than most could do, but something easy for her as she had a code that already seamlessly got past every, well almost every, data bank without setting off alarms by finding that weak link and impersonating an employee to look like they were the one’s stealing the data if anyone ever noticed- they almost never did. 

Her sandwich was all but untouched until then, she thought giving a moment or a pause might give Stark a chance to read the screen or but in. So she paused, as did her clicking on the keyboard, to take a bite and wait.  

[trickshxt]

plotted starter for @grimoireweavers​ (tony!)

It’s quieter than he thought it would be; the tower. A monolithic symbol altering the skyline, pointedly obvious from near anywhere in the city, a statement boldly made with neon and steel and arc reactor energy pulsing in the night. He’d stood outside it long ago and looked up. Felt the wash of cyan over his face and wondered what was wrong with him that hope hadn’t worked.

Now, however, he stood within and felt the silence entomb him.

No expense may have been spared, but everything seemed to be given without a hand to receive. Rooms left empty. Labs quiet. Hallways cavernous. And save for the hours that saw activity, after those? It felt cold.

He’d attributed it, at first, to himself. Barton wasn’t a name (not even his, technically, sort of, right now at least) that fit within the clean lines and modern furnishings. Calloused hands caught on fancy fabrics and smoke clung to him like stubborn dust. Settling in the folds and reminding him even as he stood looking out the floor to ceiling windows that such places weren’t his. He was a man of the streets, a man of dark corners and dingy alleys. Meant to be lost among the sea of people all looking to simply get by. (His nose ached with that reminder.)

This, however...this was not his domain. An ivory tower meant for the one he was currently ambling to meet. Feet dragging as he ran the rose quartz tucked neatly into his pocket over and over and over his fingers. Worrying a new groove into the side.

The assignment had been so simple on paper. Suspiciously so; black chunks of markered out sentences, entire paragraphs, leering up at him in taunt as he’d listened to the briefing. Keep an eye on a high profile personality. Scope things out. Report inconsistencies, unusual behavior, oddities outside of the realm of norm. (Ha, what was normal these days anyway?) 

Why him, he’d asked.

But they hadn’t said. A look passing between handlers and he’d felt the chill then. A connection they weren’t saying. Something being twisted behind the scenes. And he’d felt his stomach drop because how many times had he been the one to pay?

It’d become more obvious when he’d arrived.

Eyes. How many times had he said he wasn’t his brother; but the lie was rarely bought. Assumptions made and, admittedly, they weren’t entirely too far off in some regards. They’d both been born to scrabble. To make do and adapt. And they had, they had.

But the proximity was close for his liking and while Tony Stark was known to most of the world he’d only had a handful of assumptions to go with. Playboy. Billionaire. Genius. Philathropist. All titles he’d seen in the hastily done research that night and yet none of it replaced the gut instinct that had settled in: nothing like me.

Towers were for those who’d never needed to tread water. And he felt, very much so, that he was doing just that. Barely breathing among a turbulent tide of a personality so overwhelming his head reeled just from keeping up.

The man talked to talk. Or, so he’d thought, until he’d realized that silence was as much a weapon as noise. Words spilling from Tony Stark’s mouth in a tide until something gave. Watching, as he’d come to do a lot of lately, as Tony’s mouth twitched just so and he moved in for the kill. A joke, a comment, a take down, a compliment. Flipping switches that motivated and massacred alike.

Hands always busy, was something else he’d noticed. Twitching, tapping, tinkering, tooling. He’d heard, once, a long time ago, about threads that tie and at times he felt as if Tony Stark could see that which most couldn’t. Finding pieces and bringing them together. Unwraveling a knot late into the night and smiling at his own cleverness.

He’d almost think the man insane if not for the way that those moments rippled. Sometimes large. Sometimes small. Always whispered about in the halls and causing the man’s own shadow to grow.

How long, he wondered, until he was eclipsed by himself?

Inclination had him, admittedly, unwilling to see more than he’d assumed. But experience he found often trumped such predlicetions. And he found himself watching closer with each day. Noting the space the man kept around himself, so firmly defined even with others. Chaos wielded with the cleverness of a clown.

(Wasn’t that how the man was sometimes seen? Maybe that was the point?)

Every easy observation came with more uncertainty. And by the time he found himself summoned - much to Happy’s chagrin - to the private lab even he wasn’t entirely sure how to react. Carefully keeping his own face cool as he stepped out into rock music and soft lighting.

His hand itched for a cigarette, though he found the man easily enough. Shoulders hunched over something, gaze unwavering. Back to him. (Though even he wasn’t stupid enough to call that trust.) 

He hesitated for a long moment. “You asked for me?”

[storiesofwildfire]

Minor Blog Update--

For quite a long while now, I’ve had Sebastian Castellanos ( the main protagonist from The Evil Within games ) as a side muse on this blog. I made that decision because I wrote Seb on his own blog, but didn’t have enough desire to be on there that I attached him to Loki. It was fine, because he fit well into Loki’s Evil Within verse.

But now I will be removing Sebastian as a side muse, not because I’m no longer writing him, but because I’m moving him onto my new multi-muse blog. Sebastian is really the only character on this blog that doesn’t really fit well or mesh with Loki’s universe as a whole, so I’ve decided to give Seb his own space over on my new blog, @grimoireweavers.

If you’d like to check me out over there, I’ve just launched it and have a lot of muses over there that I’m really excited about!!