returnjourneylogs

Malekith ultimately had no desire to wander out, though there was a ping of curiosity. He did enjoy the sight of one Loki falling off the ship in shock and after that delight had passed the svartalfer went to meandering. There were, he noticed, many places not available to them. Not as if this was particularly surprising but worth noting. In fact, most if not all things within the center axis were off-bounds, but hello. Who was this coming out of one area (warden command, maybe? He does not know yet).

So he, in his ridiculous tallness and black on black, does something totally surprising: he talks first. A cant of his head, hands folding before his body. An odd sort of echo to the embers of his voice. "Not interested in the outside?"

Edited 2022-02-15 13:32 (UTC)

Alice startles -

It's brief, a shock that ripples out from the eyes; flexes her fingers into something defensive. It's brief: It passes. Her chin tips, peering up from beneath a sweep of hair.

"Ugh, sorry," A palm to quiet the click of the door, still closing behind her. "I didn't expect -"

A six foot seven elf? Anyone at all? She trails off.

"I'm just keeping an eye on the medbay. Since the doctor's - you know - out." True, and not exactly the truth. "But yeah, I think I've had enough of fish."

She pauses, offers.

"Alice."

Such a small thing. Malekith is quiet. Watching. Eyes meet when Alice turns. She's antsy, by nature he supposes given even he can notice it with startling clarity. And he considers for a moment, perhaps keeping the silence for that stretch with intention.

Then, a short tilt of his head, "for what cause? Medbay is off-limits to inmates." And somehow he doubts her a doctor. Someone skittish as this.

No name, then. Okay.

"So it'd be super messed up if there was an emergency, and no one could get to the first aid kit."

Give him a moment to look around and all the people there are who could get injured, oh right. There are none, presently, except maybe one. He's not that interested in such a thing, though.

"Wouldn't it be, were there people here outside you and I." As for reasons why someone would just wander into the medbay without any particular goal, his would be this (among others): "I would be curious, personally, how advanced this place is." A beat. "Malekith."

Little patience goes a long way, young Alice.

Malekith. It lacks the twee rotundity of even Fillory's foulest-scowling names: Humbledrum, Fen; all soft Britannic consonance. Malekith,

What a fucking relief.

"Sure," If it crosses her mind not to make herself alone here, it doesn't stall her long. Alice turns back, fusses the door open — held at the end of an arm for him to enter. "It's way nicer than what I'm used to, anyway."

Is she referring to a hazily-remembered pediatrician? Possibly.

It's not a name that rolls off the tongue and while on first inspection it has quite heavy implications, it's a name of many interpretations. None that were very relevant to Alice with how giving she was--though Perhaps luckily, he didn't have any particular malicious intent at the moment. Truly, it was curiosity. One of various purposes, of course, but surely time would come for that later.

With a nod, his feet slowly move forward. The slow, purposed footfalls echo through pristine bright lights. Lips pull back in a short grimace but only temporarily. Ah, the technology of this place on first glance was familiar enough. Allow him to peer about for a bit. "From where do you come?"

Edited (Sorry, felt like my reply was crap. wanted to edit.) 2022-02-25 00:10 (UTC)

"Uh, New York," Kind of. No one knows where Urbana is, though. "Earth."

In case the Big Apple also lacks inter-dimensional street cred.

"The whole," A gesture as she follows him in. "Transcending time and space thing, that's kind of new? Like, if anyone's managed it, we haven't been hanging out —"

She's rambling. Settles back against to wall to watch, and let him poke around. The cabinets are locked, she knows that much, and whatever security's on the Auto Doc, it probably won't just hand out PCP.

God, she hopes it doesn't just hand out PCP.

"What about you?"

"Lenger." It doesn't hold any particular judgment, really. "Your kind is so young. Most of your developments occurred while we were asleep."

5000 years ago the human race wasn't exactly a beacon of civilization or intellectual capabilities. Much had changed and, in afterthought, perhaps he should have sent scouts to scout for more than what he had. His largest crime in all of this was a lack of planning. Not enough time; desperation he refused to admit he had. Ego, too. Another flaw he's yet to face.

He thinks, perhaps, opportunity could present itself here. Whether or not it's the intention of this place. Hardly the first time he's gone against the grain. For now, though, he'll take inventory of available technology. Anything useful, too, that could be repurposed.

"It was known as Ginnungagap." Might make the place more interesting if it did dispense PCP, wouldn't it? Eyes meet hers, "When your universe began, we made home in a place we called Harudheen--known as Svartalfheim to others."

It's like listening to Bigby on one of his tears: Youth and exile and vague Nord-isms. All he needs are the wings.

"Harudheen," She parrots, pronunciation crisp. "Or Svartalfheim. Which one should I use?"

As one of those others.

He'd--never been asked. Tiny detail, but it stopped him for a moment. His head tilted toward her--cocked every slightly. Someone was willing to use their language rather than that which was common or dictated by Asgardians.

Hm. "Harudheen."

cont.

( Oh, but he thinks there's more to this story, observing the other man with critical blues. The way the man seems to almost recoil at the experience of retelling. Cold, flat. It's not an emotionless reaction and that intrigues him.

Holding a title for someone else was interesting, too. Indebted to another, or perhaps Waver was a simple servant. Perhaps he simply resented his heritage for one reason or another. No true way of telling yet. The larger question right now was whether he cared or not. Though here, having leverage may indeed be useful. So will he let this go? Mm... no. Not quite yet.

Malekith shifted back in the chair a little. Chin tipped up as, perhaps, the only subtle sign of something similar to triumphant. Please, what are you going to do with such a warning? Kill him? Hahaha. )

Lordship must mean different things for you than I. Not in favor of the weight it carries?

Edited 2022-02-15 15:44 (UTC)

What does it mean to you?

[No threats here, not from this guy. Just someone who doesn't really like talking about himself getting uncomfortable with how this interview became about him and not about the inmate.]

The weight on me is irrelevant. The title isn't mine. I get all of the responsibility with little benefit. [He gets more out of it than he'd really care to admit. But that doesn't change the fact that he's not El-Melloi and never will be, no matter how long he holds on to the name.]

Someone who's lived a life as long as yours probably has picked up an honorific or two.

Benefit. ( Really, that's what comes to mind when he thinks of Lordship or is that simply his experience with monarchy? Ridiculous. It had never been about benefit even if Malekith clearly reaped much. His eyes move from the other man and around the space they sat within. Yes, well Malekith also doesn't like speaking about himself all that much unless there's a purpose to it. He'd rather gather information from others first before giving anything. ) You hold the title just the same.

( Allow him to consider, actually let him rise first and round the chair and consider the vastness around them. It might be beautiful to some but to him? It looked like death. It was death, it was their death. He tilts his head over a shoulder toward the other man. ) Sacrifice. It means sacrifice.

[He watches Malekith closely as he stands, Waver's eyes following his out to the darkness out ahead of them. It was cliche to think about how insignificant it made you feel, but Waver hadn't expected to ever find out how true it was.]

Unfortunately, yes, I do. I had agreed to holding it, after all. I suppose that's where sacrifice comes in on my part.

[He drags his gaze back to his inmate, head tilted as he considers his next question.]

Was it worth it for you? The sacrifices, the status it gained for you.

[It's asked in earnest. No hint of judgement in his voice.]

( This was not how he became their leader; lord to some, though rarely were he addressed as such. Revered as a god by most of their kind some might say and some might say he was, as he was the first. Things that wouldn't come from his lips. Explanations that weren't necessary to give.

Fingers curled and released-- a simple idle motion. Pondering as his eyes turned back to this vastness. It spreads thin, and while all that was now is all there could be it was the thinning that caused larger problems. Dark matter slowly became less and less dense as the universe continued to expand there was no stopping that. Not in any other way. This universe needed to die. )

Sacrifice was not what obtained my status ( He'll explain, just a little. Turning back, sliding over to the chair, a gloved hand running over the back of it. ) To do the things no one else will; make the choices no one can. It is a heavy weight, isn't it? But worth it. ( A beat. ) Do you bear the weight gladly, young Lord?

No. [Waver had looked away, thinking, but it hadn't taken him long to come up with an answer. His answer was plain.]

I'd return it to its rightful owners right now, if I could. But that's not an option. I bare it, I will continue to do so. But not gladly. Just... dutifully.

[It doesn't help that the rightful owner really isn't interested in mage politics and the drudgery it brings, as well. Waver may be saddled with the name El-Melloi for much longer than he bargained for. The very thought made him frown, lines creasing his face that appear far too prominently in someone so young. It's something he has a lot of practice in.]

It sounds like our positions are quite different. I don't get to make the choices, to carry any weight. The other Lords know my situation, and my title carries much less impact simply by the fact that I'm the one holding it.

[Waver smiles to himself, shaking his head. The idea of comparing his life to that of someone like Malekith feeling pretty ridiculous when he thought about it. He wanted to relate to him, but how possibly could he?]

Maybe that's why I'm here. I got to make the choice this time. It's been a long time since I've been able to do that.

( The true burden of someone who was given a crown rather than one who grew into it or earned it, it seemed. He'd never known someone such as this personally but was sure there were others out there with similar weights upon them. Malekith himself knew nothing but this life although some time ago it didn't weigh quite as heavily. Now it felt, sometimes, unbearable--drenched in the blood of his choices. Yet still, he stood proud. Defiant as he'd always been.

And what moved this man, he wondered, to accept such a burden he clearly wished none? Malekith thought to ask whether the other man had no ambition to improve his situation, but the words following answered a little. A few more moments of thought. )

Then, perhaps, your time is now. Give reason for them to acknowledge you upon return.

Mm. I'll worry about that when I get back. If things go well here, it will no longer be a concern.

[Like using this job to buy himself out of the absurd amount of debt that was holding him to the title, for instance.

Waver taps a finger absently on the side of his chin, elbow leaned on his chair's arm. No doubt Malekith was an imposing figure, but he had expected more resistance. Not just conversationally, but perhaps physically. While Malekith seemed more interested in being the interview than interviewee, he figured this could be going a lot worse.

His well-crafted demeanor of a even-tempered academic isn't totally fictitious, but it is a heavily practiced one.]

Our time is now, though, yes. Why are you here, Malekith? Do you know? Was it by choice?

[The idea that some inmates were brought here against their wills was almost a deal breaker for him. But he was here, now, willing to help whoever needed it. Waver would always be the first to tell you that he doesn't like to get wrapped up in other people's personal lives, but here he was. Maybe it was just academic curiosity.]

( If things go well here, it will no longer be a concern. Well isn't that courteous of you to share. He'll note this, and consider ways to prod more into it later. For what did they have but time, really?

And there was a benefit to walking that line between too much resistance and giving just enough to get something in return. He was certain that dossier held item upon item that all left behind a destructive and bloody trail. These things? He had no reason to hide or deny them. For many who know the legends of him, of them, it might come as a surprise that Malekith wasn't necessarily an inherently violent creature.

He did what he had to do. They were met with violence so they responded in kind. Long ago, though, was a different tale altogether. Finally, he'll seat himself once more. )

A good question. ( He'll echo it: ) Why am I here?

[Waver meets Malekith's eyes with his own, and shakes his head and looking just slightly amused.]

I asked you first. I don't want to hear what the Admiralty thinks. I want to know what you think.

[Waver might be working here now, but that didn't mean he thought the Admiralty was 100% trustworthy. He still wanted to do a good job, and do well by the inmates. People taken here without a chance to plead their cases didn't sit right with him, so he wanted to hear things from their perspective. Cater to their needs before the wants of the Admiralty. And now he waits, expectant, hopeful.]

closed -

A L I C E // CENTRE AXIS; MEDBAY // FEB 11

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W A V E R // OBSERVATORY (i think? lmao) // TDM CONTINUATION

sure, observatory!

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