[identity profile] swords-love-me.livejournal.com posting in [community profile] lt_safe_house
Time: March 2, 2003?
Place: Lower Tadfield military base and Tadfield Manor
Status: Public (War, Loki) - Complete
Summary: War's arrival in usual style

The soldiers were, she had decided, like soldiers everywhere. Tell them you outranked them and they salute, say "Sir yes sir!", and wave you on through. In her case, it had been no different, except for the fact that they replaced "Sir" with "Ma'am". That, and there was a distinct tightening in the trouser area. Seems they weren't used to Generals who were also curvy female redheads who just happened to be dressed in tight leather.

As the senior officer on site, General Waugh was, naturally, allowed free access to all the buildings in the military base. Much as the swords and guns, her physical weapons, gave her a tingling thrill, she wasn't afraid to move with the times. The tech they had here was beautiful. Nothing dangerous in itself, unless you counted the several thousand volts coursing through the circuits, but it was so wonderfully efficient. It was like a giant curved sword that, when she swung it, would reach round the world and touch everything on it. It was so elegant, so simple. Sometimes, she had to hand it to humans, just for being so damn inventive.

She wasn’t here to set it off though. No, she was just here to admire and play. Sometimes, the anticipation, the knowledge of the potential, was better than the reality. Besides, if they set this whole lot off, there probably wouldn’t be any humans left, or, if you came down to it, any world to put them on. No particular barrier to her, but she’d grown fond of this place and these people. She’d grown especially fond of their whiskey.

Mouth twitching in a smile, she put down the controller she’d been using to navigate the glowing screens, and stood up from her chair as she spun it round. Walking over to the door, she tapped the young private on guard outside on the soldier.

“Any place to get a decent drink round here?”

He looked momentarily confused, then said “There’s the mess, ma’am.”

She wrinkled her nose. “You mean the place where they serve slops and watery stuff that tastes like rat’s piss?”

Seeing the fleeting panic on his face – what if this was a test of loyalty? – she smiled slowly. “Don’t worry, not a test. I’m just in need of a proper drink. Whiskey – Bunnahabhain, or at least Glenlivet.”

The private relaxed. “Nowhere on base, ma’am, but there’s a hotel up in the hill. There’ll be a bar there, I’m sure. Would you like me to radio through for a car?”

“No need.” She grinned, seeing something in the distance. “I’ve got my own transport.”

War strode across the hard standing to the tank – a brand new, top secret Challenger 2, if she wasn’t mistaken. She wasn’t, of course. When it came to weapons and military tech, she never was. Vaulting lightly up the side, she slid down inside, and set it in motion towards the gates. Seeing her approach, the guards saluted and swung open the gates. Whatever the General did must have authority, after all.

As she made steady process down the roads and lanes, she hummed to herself. It was a bright clear day, and this was one of the more entertaining ways to travel, if not the fastest. The roads withstood the tracks fairly well, but the hedgerows on the narrower lanes were less lucky, and somewhat scalped after she passed.

Through an external camera, she saw a sweeping curve up round the side of the hill, leading up to a big house – more of a manor than a house. This, presumably, was the hotel. Gentle roads, however, were for careful drivers and sissies, and War was neither of these. Going full throttle, she drove the tank straight up the hill, over the grass and the edges of a couple of flower beds which were stupid enough to get in her way, and parked, in the loosest sense, outside the large front door.

She pushed the hatch open, jumped out, walked the short distance and pushed the door open.

“Any chance of a whiskey?” she asked the seemingly empty hall.

(no subject)

Date: Friday, 20 February 2009 20:00 (UTC)
From: [identity profile] leucemic-god.livejournal.com
"Look, he was completely confused and flinging all sorts of curses about," Loki evaded the question. As far as he was concerned he and Czernobog were even after all the help he'd given him in finding the best doctors. "I think he was even more surprised than I when we found out one had actually worked."

"Well, they like to take blood samples to analyse - though that's fine by me - and they give you blood transfusions. Blood from people whose names they don't even know! They make you blood brothers with anonymous strangers!" He shuddered at the thought. "But the worst part," he whispered into his glass. "The worst part is that my blood is no longer my own."

(no subject)

Date: Sunday, 22 February 2009 20:13 (UTC)
From: [identity profile] leucemic-god.livejournal.com
"He didn't mean to," Loki repeated. "And I'm fine. Still recovering and I've got to be careful about some things for a while, but other than that I'm perfectly healthy."

He was beginning to regret telling War so much. Not because he didn't want her to know, or because he worried for Czernobog. Czernobog could take care of himself and he probably knew War well. He'd be closer to her fellow horseperson DEATH, Loki assumed, but he had to know all four.

No, there was something else that was bothering him.

"You're not going to tell Odin, are you?" he whispered. "If he finds out that the blood bond between us is broken ..." He didn't dare finish the sentence. It was bad enough that he's said this much out loud. Saying things made then feel more real.

(no subject)

Date: Thursday, 26 February 2009 22:45 (UTC)
From: [identity profile] leucemic-god.livejournal.com
"I just ... Thank you," Loki whispered.

He wouldn't have been too worried about Odin finding out, if he'd been sure Odin still treasured the blood bond as much as he did. If so, it would be easy enough to restore. If however Odin had come to regret it over the centuries of pranks and mishaps, then he had a once in eternity chance to rid himself of all obligations towards Loki now.

"He should still be somewhere in America," he said. "But then it's been over three years since I've heard from him." That was probably his own fault for not informing him he was going to England. Odin probably had even less a chance to find Loki than Loki had to find Odin.

(no subject)

Date: Friday, 27 February 2009 16:06 (UTC)
From: [identity profile] leucemic-god.livejournal.com
"Ah, I'm fine really," Loki assured her. "Just spent too much time cooped up and not doing anything. I just need to regain my strength."

He didn't really have much stuff - certainly nothing he couldn't easily transport in his backpack - but a tank ride with War sounded like an enjoyable and not too straining activity. He did need to get out more, if he wanted to get used to a more active lifestyle again.

"Nothing to transport except myself," he explained. "But we could just visit some nearby town, if you have nothing better to do, have a look around and maybe find some entertainment."

(no subject)

Date: Saturday, 28 February 2009 15:53 (UTC)
From: [identity profile] leucemic-god.livejournal.com
Loki shrugged. "Whenever suits you best. I haven't got any other appointments, yet."

Except his next check-up, but it was several weeks until then.

"Hey, this is Lower Tadfield, right?" he mused. "Do you think there's a Higher Tadfield somewhere on a hill?" He looked up at the ceiling as if hoping it would magically appear there.

(no subject)

Date: Monday, 2 March 2009 10:41 (UTC)
From: [identity profile] leucemic-god.livejournal.com
"Yep, just pick a room and tell Sister Mary where you are," Loki said. "At least I think you have to tell her. I didn't really ask." He shrugged. "She has the keys, if you want to lock your door, though."

Oh right, that military base.

"Think they've got any flamethrowers lying around that they don't need?" He'd always wanted his own flamethrower, though it might not be the best idea to use it around here. Then again, you never knew when you might need an unexpected tool.

(no subject)

Date: Sunday, 8 March 2009 19:19 (UTC)
From: [identity profile] leucemic-god.livejournal.com
Loki grinned. "That's okay, I don't really mind what colour it is. I've just always wanted to try out a flame thrower. I mean burning arrows were all the rage in the middle ages, but you look rather silly using them these days."

Of course, there were all sorts of neat little tricks one could do with or without matches, but well ... flame thrower in Loki's mind equaled instant inferno.

(no subject)

Date: Tuesday, 10 March 2009 19:24 (UTC)
From: [identity profile] leucemic-god.livejournal.com
"The rooms on the first floor are bigger than the rest," Loki reported without hesitation. War probably knew him well enough to know he'd already explored most of the place. "There are lots of unused rooms in the far wings, but they've got renovations going on that can be expected to eventually reach them. I haven't been in the basement, yet, but would expect it to be quite large and partially unused."

"The attic's mine," he added after a moment. If War expected him to respect her ownership of the red flame thrower, he'd expect her to respect his claim to the attic actual rights of ownership be damned.

(no subject)

Date: Friday, 13 March 2009 16:50 (UTC)
From: [identity profile] leucemic-god.livejournal.com
Loki tried to recall the colouring of the rooms he'd seen. It hadn't seemed that important at the time.

"Not that I remember, but it's quite likely that some have a violent history considering the symbols I saw in the chapel," he offered. He couldn't sense these things himself, but maybe War could. "Or you could just move in next to me."

(no subject)

Date: Friday, 13 March 2009 20:20 (UTC)
From: [identity profile] leucemic-god.livejournal.com
"What? Oh no, my room's on the first floor. The attic's just ..." He couldn't tell her that he liked to read so much he'd made himself a special place for it. War probably remembered the days when he'd made fun of Odin for even knowing how to read. "My storage place. Or something like that. It wouldn't be good to live there. No bathroom."

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