First Words

[originalelfdonotsteal]

THE FIRST WORDS

You'll never forget the first words they said to you, your soulmate. They spoke to life the first line of what would become your great love story.

How romantic! "You're beautiful." "Pass the ketchup." "Your shoelace is untied." "PUT YOUR HANDS UP OR I'LL CUT-"

Okay, not all stories start off on equal footing, but this one is yours.

how to play
+ Comment with your character, preferences, and a random line of dialogue.
+ That's the first words, as serious or as stupid as they are, your character says to their true love.
+ The folks responding? You guessed it, the poor saps lucky souls who will, eventually, get into a romantic relationship with this tire fire.
+ Who knows how that happens? It might take years. Right now, don't sweat it.
+ Just dialogue back and forth.

Comments

[coldsong]

[He finds that 'maybe' a pleasantly revealing answer: neither a confirmation nor a denial. If you are a trickster, it's always wiser not to brag about it.

As is the case when you're a god (but he learned that one the hard way). He sips his drink with careful casualness, shrugging one shoulder.]

I am the trickster god, but I was trying to give you an out, saying it that way, since you've already pegged me as a spoilt prince. [Which is true, he is that. He's just other things, as well, and sometimes they override the princely-ness.]

I thought it might make for a longer conversation, the less I show off. But my name is my name.

[infernaling]

[Such a casual declaration, and there go Ea's eyebrows shooting up towards her hairline; he is the trickster god, apparently, and he is self-conscious enough to not brag?

Hardly a trickster god then, is he?

She tilts her head and observes him in this new light, taking in his height, his face, his whole demeanour in sitting.]

You know, where I am from, gods usually reserve their visits to the clerics that worship them. [Slow sip of champagne.] But I am neither a cleric, nor do I worship you, so what gives?

[One beat, as she catches up with the other thing he said:] Also you do carry yourself like a spoilt prince.

[coldsong]

[From Loki's perspective, he's selectively releasing truths in the way he feels is most likely to get him what he wants: namely, a longer conversation and perhaps a bit more in the way of positive attention from a pretty stranger. What's more trickster-y than choosing a convoluted way of angling for what you desire?

He's patient, letting her look him over and draw her own conclusions. Hard to tell whether she believes him, but she's not laughing or asking for proof. A good start.]

I used to do that, but I've never been that widely worshipped anyway. I'd get bored if I just waited for people to call on me. [Sounds tongue in cheek, but it's true. And then he looks a little more serious as he adds:]

Besides, the people who really need a trickster, or a god of lies, are the people least likely to call on any deity, don't you think? Criminals, outcasts, misanthropes. Most of them don't pray at all, and who can blame them? Earthly authority doesn't do much for them, so why should divine authority?

[The best way for Loki to be a god is for him not to be a god. It's taken a lot for him to accept that, particularly when his heart's desire is to be the center of attention at all times, but...there is a niche to fill, and he fits in it.]

I was raised a prince. The younger of two. I am absolutely spoilt; your first impressions weren't wrong. I am also an attention whore, and I like nice things, but I'm uninterested in kicking down. [Frankly, authority has done less for him than one might think.]

[infernaling]

[It's surreal, and this coming from a fucking tiefling, but he seems to see through her as he is going on that rant about what kind of people need a trickster god. It makes her teeth hurt, how accurately that portrays her.

No, she doesn't pray. No, she doesn't appreciate earthly authority, and yes, she is a criminal. Reformed or not, the past follows you around. Especially if you have it on a leash.]

Ha - well, if being an attention whore who likes nice things is what it takes to make a god, crown me. [A beat, and a face.] Actually, scratch that, I don't want a crown.

[coldsong]

[Loki is extremely good at cold-reading. He is not a telepath, nor an empath--that much mental feedback would drive him insane--but he's clever with his educated guesses. What he just said is completely sincere: he does believe himself the god of the outcast, and he understands that most of the people who need him don't particularly want to and may never really accept him as a divinity. Even as he speaks, though, he can tell he's hitting a nerve with her.

Maybe there is something fated in this. If so, neither of them is likely to acknowledge that. There's a kind of ironic grace in that.]

You hardly need a crown; nature has already given you a perfectly lovely one.

[Honestly? He kinda likes the horns. His helmet is an echo. He wonders if she'd laugh if she saw it.]