second rune; death; video

[deadelfwalking]

 [When the feed starts, the netbook's camera shows you a view of the forest floor.  A deer carcass lies among the grass and twigs, and it's obvious that the poor thing did not have a clean death.  It's in the advanced stages of decomposition, even though the blood around its body is red and fresh.  The camera does not linger on this image for more than a few seconds; it pans upward, to show Koltira's face.

 He's standing over the deer, holding the device in one hand, holding Byfrost with the other.  Agony creases his expression: his jaw is clenched, his eyes narrowed, every muscle in his pale, sallow face is taut with pain.  The guttural growl of his voice occasionally rises in octave as he talks, as though something is beating the shit out of him from the inside.]

Were we brought here to fight for something, or to waste time reliving the past?  Send.  Us.  On.  A mission.

[He stabs the tree next to him with Byfrost, and the sword glows sickly green; the tree bark begins to decay rapidly, as though it's practically melting.  Diseased fumes pour out of the bark, forming a nasty miasma around Koltira's body.]

I need a battle. [he hisses, and blood trickles from the corner of his mouth as he bites down on the inside of his cheek.]  Now.

Comments

[withouthumanity]

Am I mistaken, or did you not arrive here unwillingly?

[deadelfwalking]

I had as little control over the event as anyone else. But I was taken from an unpleasant set of circumstances. [he puts a peculiar emphasis on 'unpleasant', suggesting that it's a pretty significant understatement.]

[withouthumanity]

( Loki can most certainly agree with that sort of feeling. )

You imply that you prefer it here. ( That's the first time he has experienced this. Suspicious. )

[deadelfwalking]

[roughly.] Well. Not at present, no.

[withouthumanity]

Would you prefer it over your home?

[deadelfwalking]

No good awaits me back in Azeroth. I am damned either way.

[withouthumanity]

( he knows that feel bro )

—and what are your crimes?

[deadelfwalking]

[grimly, gritting his teeth.] A refusal to follow orders.

[withouthumanity]

Nothing as colorful as I had hoped.

[deadelfwalking]

[hnnngh.] I am not ... in much of a condition to offer you colors, stranger.

[withouthumanity]

A pity.

Then it is war, that you want? Here in this realm?

[deadelfwalking]

Some other time, perhaps. [wincing.] Regardless of whether or not I want it ... I must have it.

[withouthumanity]

( That is enough to make Loki's expression shift, albeit very lightly; it changes into something of curiosity, his eyes narrowed. )

You cannot control your want?

[deadelfwalking]

[through gritted teeth.] No. It is the curse of this body.

[withouthumanity]

( Curiouser and curiouser. )

The curse of it? Is it not your own body to control?

That sounds terribly—unfortunate.

[deadelfwalking]

[hissing.] It was my own once, yes. Then I died, and it was desecrated and raised into undeath!

[withouthumanity]

But you are still yourself, are you not?

( loki is not getting this, but he is still incredibly intrigued by it )