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(no subject)
Aug. 21st, 2025 05:04 pmPlease don't leave a message. Or text me. Really.
[Mail, phone, text for Sylvie]
[Mail, phone, text for Sylvie]
(no subject)
Nov. 22nd, 2024 05:22 pmIn the aftermath of the Purge, Sylvie has spent more time disguised as Dan, poking around at City Hall, gathering information about the tradition, trying to work out who had signed off on the first one, where it had even come from. She doesn't get much, which honestly isn't that surprising, but at least she's tried.
And given that she's already wearing this male form, the one she doesn't entirely hate, even if it doesn't feel quite right, she's going to go drop in at Bucky's and see if he can figure out who she is. While Loki has seen her like this once or twice, she generally prefers the glamour she wears most of the time, which means she packs this glamour and the person she's made up to go with it away.
The people she loves don't need this fake City Hall worker, but sometimes, the Loki in her gets a little restless and demands some mischief.
Bucky will forgive her.
Nearly at his place, Sylvie stops, catching sight of him through the window of a cafe and she grins, pleased by this slight change to her plan. She ducks inside, the bell tinkling over the door, then slides into the seat across from Bucky.
"Well, hello, handsome," she says in a low voice.
And given that she's already wearing this male form, the one she doesn't entirely hate, even if it doesn't feel quite right, she's going to go drop in at Bucky's and see if he can figure out who she is. While Loki has seen her like this once or twice, she generally prefers the glamour she wears most of the time, which means she packs this glamour and the person she's made up to go with it away.
The people she loves don't need this fake City Hall worker, but sometimes, the Loki in her gets a little restless and demands some mischief.
Bucky will forgive her.
Nearly at his place, Sylvie stops, catching sight of him through the window of a cafe and she grins, pleased by this slight change to her plan. She ducks inside, the bell tinkling over the door, then slides into the seat across from Bucky.
"Well, hello, handsome," she says in a low voice.
(no subject)
Sep. 1st, 2024 09:55 pmSpending the day as a man is exhausting.
Though it has yet to work in Darrow, Sylvie is convinced one day her alter ego -- she's called him Dan and he works at City Hall and no one actually knows what he does, but they all like him -- will yield some kind of results. Some information someone doesn't want the rest of them to know, the transplants from elsewhere. Because Dan, like so many others, has always been in Darrow.
Still, she doesn't especially like being Dan. He's handsome and he's charming and he's funny. He's also non-threatening. Women laugh at his jokes, men invite him out for beers with the guys. It's all so generic and boring and mundane, and not in the way she's come to enjoy. Dan would never be caught dead somewhere like Hideout, where Sylvie has been half a dozen times since the vampire's show. Dan doesn't stomp around like Sylvie does, Dan doesn't listen to loud music, he drinks Darrow's equivalent to Coors light and he sure as hell isn't in a relationship with more than one person.
Dan's single. He'll always be single. That's just easier for Sylvie to deal with.
Sylvie is not single, however, and as she stomps into the townhouse, still wearing Dan, she knows at least one of her two men is present. He's seen her in this form more than a few times, so she knows he won't be startled by the angry blond man suddenly slamming cabinets in their kitchen and she should revert back to her preferred form, but there's something more satisfying about slamming things with a big stupid man's hand.
Which she does. Vigorously.
Though it has yet to work in Darrow, Sylvie is convinced one day her alter ego -- she's called him Dan and he works at City Hall and no one actually knows what he does, but they all like him -- will yield some kind of results. Some information someone doesn't want the rest of them to know, the transplants from elsewhere. Because Dan, like so many others, has always been in Darrow.
Still, she doesn't especially like being Dan. He's handsome and he's charming and he's funny. He's also non-threatening. Women laugh at his jokes, men invite him out for beers with the guys. It's all so generic and boring and mundane, and not in the way she's come to enjoy. Dan would never be caught dead somewhere like Hideout, where Sylvie has been half a dozen times since the vampire's show. Dan doesn't stomp around like Sylvie does, Dan doesn't listen to loud music, he drinks Darrow's equivalent to Coors light and he sure as hell isn't in a relationship with more than one person.
Dan's single. He'll always be single. That's just easier for Sylvie to deal with.
Sylvie is not single, however, and as she stomps into the townhouse, still wearing Dan, she knows at least one of her two men is present. He's seen her in this form more than a few times, so she knows he won't be startled by the angry blond man suddenly slamming cabinets in their kitchen and she should revert back to her preferred form, but there's something more satisfying about slamming things with a big stupid man's hand.
Which she does. Vigorously.
(no subject)
Sep. 25th, 2023 02:38 pmSylvie keeps seeing her idiot brother.
She sees him as he was, not as the man Loki or Bucky might know, but as the boy she had grown up with. The glimpses she gets of him are always fleeting, a flash of his stupid gold armour (play armour, he's a child) through a crowd, or his eyes meeting hers from across the street, just for a moment before someone crosses in front of her and he's gone. He'll turn a corner ahead of her and when she follows, he's nowhere to be seen.
Twice now, he's stayed a bit longer. Staring from a distance too great for her to cross before he disappears and when he holds her gaze, she feels like he has something he's trying to tell her.
But Thor was always a bit too thick even for message delivery and maybe she's just gone insane.
Her dreams aren't much better, strange and dark, with details that become bogged down in a sense of ruination. In one, she vaguely remembers Loki sitting cross legged in a dark room with a handsome stag resting at his side. But the stag had started shedding his velvet and it hung in bloody strips from his rack, which Loki had been pulling off bit by bit, laying the bloody velvet at his feet. He had beckoned her closer and when Sylvie knelt, it was in the blood. Loki leaned in, his lips to her ear, and he had said something to her in the dream, but she doesn't remember his words, only that they had left her chest feeling tight, as if something was coming for them both.
Tonight she's sleeping in her own room, having started off alone, but at some point Loki had joined her. When she wakes with a start, a warning on her lips from a new, ominous dream she can't remember, it takes her a moment make sense of the shape in the bed beside her. Before long, his familiar sprawl becomes apparent, dark hair on a pale cheek, and Sylvie exhales shakily as she rests her forehead on his shoulder.
It's clear she isn't going to fall asleep easily, so after several moments, Sylvie rises and hooks a silky robe from where she'd left it on a nearby chair. Pulling it over her shoulders, she wanders to the window to look down on their yard, their home, and centre herself.
Thor is standing below. Her breath catches as their eyes meet, his large and sorrowful, and she's suddenly furious.
"What?" she barks, then slaps her palm against the glass. "What do you want?"
She sees him as he was, not as the man Loki or Bucky might know, but as the boy she had grown up with. The glimpses she gets of him are always fleeting, a flash of his stupid gold armour (play armour, he's a child) through a crowd, or his eyes meeting hers from across the street, just for a moment before someone crosses in front of her and he's gone. He'll turn a corner ahead of her and when she follows, he's nowhere to be seen.
Twice now, he's stayed a bit longer. Staring from a distance too great for her to cross before he disappears and when he holds her gaze, she feels like he has something he's trying to tell her.
But Thor was always a bit too thick even for message delivery and maybe she's just gone insane.
Her dreams aren't much better, strange and dark, with details that become bogged down in a sense of ruination. In one, she vaguely remembers Loki sitting cross legged in a dark room with a handsome stag resting at his side. But the stag had started shedding his velvet and it hung in bloody strips from his rack, which Loki had been pulling off bit by bit, laying the bloody velvet at his feet. He had beckoned her closer and when Sylvie knelt, it was in the blood. Loki leaned in, his lips to her ear, and he had said something to her in the dream, but she doesn't remember his words, only that they had left her chest feeling tight, as if something was coming for them both.
Tonight she's sleeping in her own room, having started off alone, but at some point Loki had joined her. When she wakes with a start, a warning on her lips from a new, ominous dream she can't remember, it takes her a moment make sense of the shape in the bed beside her. Before long, his familiar sprawl becomes apparent, dark hair on a pale cheek, and Sylvie exhales shakily as she rests her forehead on his shoulder.
It's clear she isn't going to fall asleep easily, so after several moments, Sylvie rises and hooks a silky robe from where she'd left it on a nearby chair. Pulling it over her shoulders, she wanders to the window to look down on their yard, their home, and centre herself.
Thor is standing below. Her breath catches as their eyes meet, his large and sorrowful, and she's suddenly furious.
"What?" she barks, then slaps her palm against the glass. "What do you want?"
happy birthday, old man
Mar. 10th, 2023 07:23 pm"Is this what people do?"
She's asking Loki, because while she thinks he would at least claim not to be good at any of this, she knows for a fact he's significantly better than she is. Still, she had wanted to try, and now they're standing in the dining room of the townhouse, staring at the people she'd hired as they set out the dinner they'd made, five courses, three settings, and an extremely uncomfortable goddess at the centre of it all.
A year ago, she'd found Bucky, rather sadly and pathetically, buying himself a single cupcake to celebrate his birthday. She hadn't made a big deal out of remembering, but Sylvie's memory is long and rather iron clad, so here they are, a year later, with Sylvie having not the slightest idea if what she's trying to plan is at all what Bucky might want.
Loki is better at this. She should have let him take complete control and then forced him to let her take some credit for it. Whatever gift he's come up with, she's planning on taking some credit for that, and maybe she'll allow him some credit for the dinner in return.
She hadn't stolen anything, hadn't conjured any of it, and while the money she'd used to pay for the catering hadn't exactly been come by honestly, at least she had paid. She's wearing dark clothes, simple, elegant, jeans and a blouse, the silver dagger necklace Bucky had bought for her laying against the material of her shirt.
Loki, as usual, looks beautiful and she elbows him, then nods at the dinner table.
"Well?" she asks. "Is it right?"
Bucky would be here any moment, after all.
She's asking Loki, because while she thinks he would at least claim not to be good at any of this, she knows for a fact he's significantly better than she is. Still, she had wanted to try, and now they're standing in the dining room of the townhouse, staring at the people she'd hired as they set out the dinner they'd made, five courses, three settings, and an extremely uncomfortable goddess at the centre of it all.
A year ago, she'd found Bucky, rather sadly and pathetically, buying himself a single cupcake to celebrate his birthday. She hadn't made a big deal out of remembering, but Sylvie's memory is long and rather iron clad, so here they are, a year later, with Sylvie having not the slightest idea if what she's trying to plan is at all what Bucky might want.
Loki is better at this. She should have let him take complete control and then forced him to let her take some credit for it. Whatever gift he's come up with, she's planning on taking some credit for that, and maybe she'll allow him some credit for the dinner in return.
She hadn't stolen anything, hadn't conjured any of it, and while the money she'd used to pay for the catering hadn't exactly been come by honestly, at least she had paid. She's wearing dark clothes, simple, elegant, jeans and a blouse, the silver dagger necklace Bucky had bought for her laying against the material of her shirt.
Loki, as usual, looks beautiful and she elbows him, then nods at the dinner table.
"Well?" she asks. "Is it right?"
Bucky would be here any moment, after all.
(no subject)
Oct. 2nd, 2022 11:34 amSylvie isn't following Hilde specifically. Rather, she hadn't set out with the intention of doing so, it's just that she had come across the girl acting curious, and so she'd fallen into the act of following her. Watching her. Possibly, in the view of some people, looking after her. Making sure she's safe and isn't about to walk headlong into a scenario that's more than a girl of her age can handle.
She's well aware Hilde is capable. She's still a child at the end of the day, however, and not a child with any kind of super strength or, as far as Sylvie knows, knowledge of how to fight.
So as Hilde trots down a hall at City Hall, of all places, looking for all the world like she belongs there, Sylvie follows.
Sylvie, wearing her disguise as a boring, conventionally handsome white man in an average suit, trails Hilde down another hall, watching and listening. And then, when someone finally seems to realize a child is wandering the halls unattended, when someone calls after Hilde, asking what she's doing, Sylvie steps forward, still in her disguise.
"Eleanor," she says in her deep male voice. She's not about to give these people Hilde's real name. "There you are, sweetheart. You can't just go wandering off here, you'll get lost."
Stepping up beside Hilde, Sylvie looks down and her eyes shimmer with green magic, hoping that is enough to let the girl know who she really is behind this bland face.
She's well aware Hilde is capable. She's still a child at the end of the day, however, and not a child with any kind of super strength or, as far as Sylvie knows, knowledge of how to fight.
So as Hilde trots down a hall at City Hall, of all places, looking for all the world like she belongs there, Sylvie follows.
Sylvie, wearing her disguise as a boring, conventionally handsome white man in an average suit, trails Hilde down another hall, watching and listening. And then, when someone finally seems to realize a child is wandering the halls unattended, when someone calls after Hilde, asking what she's doing, Sylvie steps forward, still in her disguise.
"Eleanor," she says in her deep male voice. She's not about to give these people Hilde's real name. "There you are, sweetheart. You can't just go wandering off here, you'll get lost."
Stepping up beside Hilde, Sylvie looks down and her eyes shimmer with green magic, hoping that is enough to let the girl know who she really is behind this bland face.
(no subject)
Sep. 14th, 2022 07:22 pm"Why are we here?"
Sylvie doesn't generally go shopping. Not for her clothing. It's easy enough to just cast a spell and change her clothes when she wants to, though she does have some good basics in her clothes. Expensive denim, a good pair of boots, shirts that are both functional and beautiful, as well as some t-shirts, and even one dress she'd purchased out of sheer fury when it was too warm for her to consider trousers. That's enough for her.
The boutique store they're in makes her uncomfortable. Somehow they've ended up here and she doesn't know why or how. Did he drug her to get her in here? Did he distract her somehow? It's his fault, she knows it is, because she wouldn't have come in here on her own.
The clothes are nice enough, she supposes, but that still doesn't tell her why.
"Are you looking for something in particular?" she almost demands of Bucky. Part of what she likes about him so much is that he's as functional and practical as she is. Somehow she can't imagine him in the baby blue sweater that hangs on the rack next to her, no matter how soft it looks.
Sylvie doesn't generally go shopping. Not for her clothing. It's easy enough to just cast a spell and change her clothes when she wants to, though she does have some good basics in her clothes. Expensive denim, a good pair of boots, shirts that are both functional and beautiful, as well as some t-shirts, and even one dress she'd purchased out of sheer fury when it was too warm for her to consider trousers. That's enough for her.
The boutique store they're in makes her uncomfortable. Somehow they've ended up here and she doesn't know why or how. Did he drug her to get her in here? Did he distract her somehow? It's his fault, she knows it is, because she wouldn't have come in here on her own.
The clothes are nice enough, she supposes, but that still doesn't tell her why.
"Are you looking for something in particular?" she almost demands of Bucky. Part of what she likes about him so much is that he's as functional and practical as she is. Somehow she can't imagine him in the baby blue sweater that hangs on the rack next to her, no matter how soft it looks.
(no subject)
Jun. 24th, 2022 02:20 pmSylvie hates that they're here.
Nothing about the festival itself is interesting to her, not the music, not the camping, none of it really. But the possibility of an island having simply appeared, now that is absolutely fascinating. So she goes, she demands Loki goes with her, to see what they might be able to discover about the island, about Darrow, about the impossibility of it all. Their intentions are good, even if she doesn't know what they would have possibly used any of the answers for.
All this time, all these months, and she still doesn't know if she wants to leave or make sure they stay.
Things begin to go wrong almost immediately. The festival itself is a joke, with little food being supplied, and almost nothing Sylvie might call music, even within the loose definition Darrow uses for the subject. The tents are barely more than tarps and she's intent on getting back to Darrow properly at the first chance they have.
Except they miss the ferry. And they miss the ferry because, for longer than she'd like to admit, Sylvie had been floating following a bloody bee sting. By the time she finally figures out how to get down -- a second sting, which is really more luck than anything -- the first ferry is gone.
And the second ferry is on fire.
The first time Sylvie sees someone in a cloak, they're preparing to swing a bat toward Loki's head, and while she's certain he can protect himself, she still grabs his arm and yanks him back, shouting, "Down!"
Nothing about the festival itself is interesting to her, not the music, not the camping, none of it really. But the possibility of an island having simply appeared, now that is absolutely fascinating. So she goes, she demands Loki goes with her, to see what they might be able to discover about the island, about Darrow, about the impossibility of it all. Their intentions are good, even if she doesn't know what they would have possibly used any of the answers for.
All this time, all these months, and she still doesn't know if she wants to leave or make sure they stay.
Things begin to go wrong almost immediately. The festival itself is a joke, with little food being supplied, and almost nothing Sylvie might call music, even within the loose definition Darrow uses for the subject. The tents are barely more than tarps and she's intent on getting back to Darrow properly at the first chance they have.
Except they miss the ferry. And they miss the ferry because, for longer than she'd like to admit, Sylvie had been floating following a bloody bee sting. By the time she finally figures out how to get down -- a second sting, which is really more luck than anything -- the first ferry is gone.
And the second ferry is on fire.
The first time Sylvie sees someone in a cloak, they're preparing to swing a bat toward Loki's head, and while she's certain he can protect himself, she still grabs his arm and yanks him back, shouting, "Down!"
(no subject)
Apr. 4th, 2022 02:15 pmSylvie wouldn't say she's bored with Darrow, exactly, at least in part because Loki affords her the opportunity for plenty of exploration, as it were, but she's far from settled. Most days, she does at least one small thing to test the boundaries of Darrow, to dig deeper into its history or push back against the walls that keep them here.
Most of the time, she's not even sure why she's doing it. The multiversal war hasn't reached them here and it's only in Darrow, for the first time since her Asgard was destroyed, that Sylvie has had something good. She has friends, people who care, and there's Loki. Impossible to understand Loki.
Despite her actions, Sylvie doesn't really think she wants to leave.
But she's still here at the edge of Darrow, the place she's determined is as far as she can go before she's turned back, however that's done. She's here and she's using little blasts of green energy against the border, wanting to see if she can find a weak spot. A place where, if they push hard enough, they may just be able to break through.
And she senses the presence before either of them speak. Something dark, something powerful. Rather than turn, well aware someone's come upon her, Sylvie just continues with what she's doing, little bolts of green flying from her fingers to the border that keeps them there, where they dissipate into the air.
Most of the time, she's not even sure why she's doing it. The multiversal war hasn't reached them here and it's only in Darrow, for the first time since her Asgard was destroyed, that Sylvie has had something good. She has friends, people who care, and there's Loki. Impossible to understand Loki.
Despite her actions, Sylvie doesn't really think she wants to leave.
But she's still here at the edge of Darrow, the place she's determined is as far as she can go before she's turned back, however that's done. She's here and she's using little blasts of green energy against the border, wanting to see if she can find a weak spot. A place where, if they push hard enough, they may just be able to break through.
And she senses the presence before either of them speak. Something dark, something powerful. Rather than turn, well aware someone's come upon her, Sylvie just continues with what she's doing, little bolts of green flying from her fingers to the border that keeps them there, where they dissipate into the air.
(no subject)
Oct. 23rd, 2021 02:13 pmTwo long months into her time in Darrow and Sylvie hasn't found this place to be any less frustratingly boring than it had appeared on her first day. She can't figure out how to leave and, as much as it pains her to admit even to herself, Loki had been right to question where she would go. Where they would go now, she supposes, because she can't imagine leaving him behind.
And where would they go? Back to the TVA, she has to assume, even though they haven't really spoken of it any further. She isn't sure she wants to speak of it. She isn't sure what she wants at all, which is unsettling enough after so long of wanting nothing more than revenge. Without it, she's at a loss, adrift in this stupid little city with its rules and its borders keeping her here.
Now, though, she's slightly less inclined to leave. Unless they were to go together. Which is one more thing she leaves unsaid between them. Eventually, she has to assume he's going to grow tired of her not saying what she means and Sylvie likes to think she's prepared for that, but ever since meeting Loki, she hasn't truly been prepared for much of anything he brought into her life.
Which is why she so often finds herself here, in the haunted building to which he's been assigned. He may not even be here, but she takes the creaking elevator up to his floor, then leans against the doorframe of his apartment and drums her fingers on the door.
"Open up," she calls. "Before I get bored and leave."
And where would they go? Back to the TVA, she has to assume, even though they haven't really spoken of it any further. She isn't sure she wants to speak of it. She isn't sure what she wants at all, which is unsettling enough after so long of wanting nothing more than revenge. Without it, she's at a loss, adrift in this stupid little city with its rules and its borders keeping her here.
Now, though, she's slightly less inclined to leave. Unless they were to go together. Which is one more thing she leaves unsaid between them. Eventually, she has to assume he's going to grow tired of her not saying what she means and Sylvie likes to think she's prepared for that, but ever since meeting Loki, she hasn't truly been prepared for much of anything he brought into her life.
Which is why she so often finds herself here, in the haunted building to which he's been assigned. He may not even be here, but she takes the creaking elevator up to his floor, then leans against the doorframe of his apartment and drums her fingers on the door.
"Open up," she calls. "Before I get bored and leave."
(no subject)
Sep. 13th, 2021 07:33 pmWhile Sylvie has given up trying to find a source of power for the TemPad, she hasn't given up trying to get out of this place. Everyone tells her it's impossible, but she has to believe they just aren't smart enough to manage it, that they've become complacent, comfortable, and don't bother trying. She isn't going to stop, though. She can't stop. The rest of these people don't understand just how important it is that she get back to the TVA.
Her current plan, besides anything she might be able to manage with Walter's help, is to find a thin spot in Darrow. They have to exist. If she can find one, she'll be able to leave, slip between worlds, find herself a proper source of power for the TemPad she has tucked in her jacket, and make the bloody thing work again so she can have some hope of undoing what she's done in the first place.
Although, no multiversal war has come to Darrow just yet, which she has to assume is a good thing.
Still, she's trying. Dressed in a pair of stretchy black jeans, black boots, and a deep green shirt beneath her black jacket, Sylvie has traced a source of power to downtown Darrow and realized a little too late that she's sensing some other powered person in this place rather than something that can actually help her get out of here.
Too late because she's inside a dance club. Too late because she's already in the crowd, the music pumping, bass pounding, drunken idiots stumbling around, feeling each other up in dark corners and on the dance floor. Some big guy is nearly humping some poor girl who looks like she's barely able to stand and Sylvie steps hard on his foot and puts herself between them, then shuffles the girl back off toward her friends. This isn't why she's here. She isn't some do-gooder hero like Loki tries to believe himself to be. She needs to get out.
The big guy looks confused, but simply turns to find someone else to dance with. Which is when he sidles up next to Sylvie. He's smaller than the other man, his hair is dark, pushed back from his face, which is pale, with sharp angles, hollowed cheekbones, and for just a second Sylvie's heart skips in her chest.
But then the features resolve. Become someone else. Attractive enough, but not the man she was hoping for in that moment. Her gaze flicks over him, unimpressed, and then she pushes past.
"Hey, wait," he says, grabbing her wrist. "That was really cool of you, helping that girl."
"Let go of me," Sylvie says, wrenching her wrist from his grasp. He backs off a few steps, holding his hands up, then disappears into the crowd. And that's when someone grabs her from behind. Big hands on her hips, a warm body pressed against her back. It's all under the guise of dancing, but Sylvie's not an idiot, and she can feel every bit of the intention in the move. Without thinking, she throws an elbow back and it slams hard into a man's nose. Then she turns and a green blast of energy flies from her hand to his chest, plowing him back through the crowd on the dance floor.
A few people protest, but even then, almost no one has even noticed what's happened.
Her current plan, besides anything she might be able to manage with Walter's help, is to find a thin spot in Darrow. They have to exist. If she can find one, she'll be able to leave, slip between worlds, find herself a proper source of power for the TemPad she has tucked in her jacket, and make the bloody thing work again so she can have some hope of undoing what she's done in the first place.
Although, no multiversal war has come to Darrow just yet, which she has to assume is a good thing.
Still, she's trying. Dressed in a pair of stretchy black jeans, black boots, and a deep green shirt beneath her black jacket, Sylvie has traced a source of power to downtown Darrow and realized a little too late that she's sensing some other powered person in this place rather than something that can actually help her get out of here.
Too late because she's inside a dance club. Too late because she's already in the crowd, the music pumping, bass pounding, drunken idiots stumbling around, feeling each other up in dark corners and on the dance floor. Some big guy is nearly humping some poor girl who looks like she's barely able to stand and Sylvie steps hard on his foot and puts herself between them, then shuffles the girl back off toward her friends. This isn't why she's here. She isn't some do-gooder hero like Loki tries to believe himself to be. She needs to get out.
The big guy looks confused, but simply turns to find someone else to dance with. Which is when he sidles up next to Sylvie. He's smaller than the other man, his hair is dark, pushed back from his face, which is pale, with sharp angles, hollowed cheekbones, and for just a second Sylvie's heart skips in her chest.
But then the features resolve. Become someone else. Attractive enough, but not the man she was hoping for in that moment. Her gaze flicks over him, unimpressed, and then she pushes past.
"Hey, wait," he says, grabbing her wrist. "That was really cool of you, helping that girl."
"Let go of me," Sylvie says, wrenching her wrist from his grasp. He backs off a few steps, holding his hands up, then disappears into the crowd. And that's when someone grabs her from behind. Big hands on her hips, a warm body pressed against her back. It's all under the guise of dancing, but Sylvie's not an idiot, and she can feel every bit of the intention in the move. Without thinking, she throws an elbow back and it slams hard into a man's nose. Then she turns and a green blast of energy flies from her hand to his chest, plowing him back through the crowd on the dance floor.
A few people protest, but even then, almost no one has even noticed what's happened.
(no subject)
Sep. 1st, 2021 04:54 pmIt's been ten days and Sylvie is still here.
She sleeps in the flat provided, she purchases food with the money supplied, she's changed out her incredibly uncomfortable armour for clothes she can easily move in, given how little help Loki was in that regard, but besides these three very necessary compromises, she hasn't settled into Darrow. She refuses to settle into Darrow. There has to be a way out, despite what people have told her. Sylvie just has to find.
Chances are high no one else in this place has been smart enough or ambitious enough to actually work it out, but she's hardly going to stop. By now, getting back to the TVA has become the only thing that matters simply because she hasn't been able to do it so far and the more difficult a task becomes, the more Sylvie becomes dedicated to making it happen.
Mobius would have some smart response to that about her being a classic Loki, she knows, but she's choosing to ignore the voice in her head that sounds a little too much like him.
Instead, she's gone as far as she can down an open road before she knows she'll be turned back into the city. She has yet to work out this magic, though she's studied it countless times over the past ten days, taking this same path over and over, waiting to sense the moment in which she's sent back into Darrow, but it's yet to happen. Another frustration. Sylvie is better than most when it comes to magic, including this stupid city, she believes, but she can't work out its magic or what might be behind it.
Even He Who Remains couldn't keep himself hidden from her. (But then, Loki had been there, too, she thinks. Loki's hand in hers had been the extra strength she had needed to break past Alioth and Loki isn't here. Every day she wakes up and Loki still isn't here. If he was here, then neither of them would be here anymore, they would figure it out.)
With both her hands raised, Sylvie tries to feel for the border, but it's just air. More air. A place exists where she'll be turned around, but she can't find it and she makes an angry, frustrated sound deep in her throat, not quite a scream but certainly getting close. Then one hand flies out to the side and a bolt of green energy explodes from her fingertips in her rage, blasting a tree on the side of the road and sending it toppling to the ground.
She sleeps in the flat provided, she purchases food with the money supplied, she's changed out her incredibly uncomfortable armour for clothes she can easily move in, given how little help Loki was in that regard, but besides these three very necessary compromises, she hasn't settled into Darrow. She refuses to settle into Darrow. There has to be a way out, despite what people have told her. Sylvie just has to find.
Chances are high no one else in this place has been smart enough or ambitious enough to actually work it out, but she's hardly going to stop. By now, getting back to the TVA has become the only thing that matters simply because she hasn't been able to do it so far and the more difficult a task becomes, the more Sylvie becomes dedicated to making it happen.
Mobius would have some smart response to that about her being a classic Loki, she knows, but she's choosing to ignore the voice in her head that sounds a little too much like him.
Instead, she's gone as far as she can down an open road before she knows she'll be turned back into the city. She has yet to work out this magic, though she's studied it countless times over the past ten days, taking this same path over and over, waiting to sense the moment in which she's sent back into Darrow, but it's yet to happen. Another frustration. Sylvie is better than most when it comes to magic, including this stupid city, she believes, but she can't work out its magic or what might be behind it.
Even He Who Remains couldn't keep himself hidden from her. (But then, Loki had been there, too, she thinks. Loki's hand in hers had been the extra strength she had needed to break past Alioth and Loki isn't here. Every day she wakes up and Loki still isn't here. If he was here, then neither of them would be here anymore, they would figure it out.)
With both her hands raised, Sylvie tries to feel for the border, but it's just air. More air. A place exists where she'll be turned around, but she can't find it and she makes an angry, frustrated sound deep in her throat, not quite a scream but certainly getting close. Then one hand flies out to the side and a bolt of green energy explodes from her fingertips in her rage, blasting a tree on the side of the road and sending it toppling to the ground.
