[closed] what you knooow-ah

[shadowglitter]

WHO: Odin & Foggy (+ bonus character unlocked! new challenger approaches: LUCINAaa)
WHERE: Maurtia Falls! Foggy's office.
WHEN: the 7th but can history really define a moment like this
WHAT: SWORD TRAINING
WARNINGS: SWORDS?

[ Like the tremors before an earthquake, like the rumble before a volcanic eruption, and like the frantic barks of a panicked dog let loose seconds before that big storm finally hits, there's a distinct air of dread around Foggy's firm this fine Thursday morning. Their first lesson is supposed to be tonight, when Foggy's done being an adult and put away his lawyer hat for the evening, but Odin's as impatient and as easily-excited as he is terrible and kind of a dick sometimes. It's around ten-thirty when he busts down the door and makes a beeline for Foggy. Disaster has struck. Sorry.

He's all dressed up, as he tends to be, in his standard mesh affair - with an added set of scalemail pauldrons to really suit today's aesthetic. He's got a backpack that's clearly too heavy for him, judging from the way he keeps grunting and lugging it further up his back, and he keeps hitting his head on the sword handles that are sticking out the top of it. Sweaty and red and just all around stupid-looking, Odin drops his backpack down on Foggy's desk with a grunt and takes a second to catch his breath. ]

You-- [ wheeze ]

You can't get mad at me. I called ahead. I made an appointment. I made two hours of appointments, pretending I was looking for consultation under someone else's name. And I'll pay. [ WHEEZE ] You can't be mad!

Comments

[cigarbribery]

[Foggy was absolutely expecting something crazy to happen, after he got the first call from someone who sounded exactly like Odin, except higher-pitched, trying to make an appointment. Four times, taking up two hours of Foggy's time. It would be fine, were it not for the fact that it's two hours before lunch and Foggy would rather relegate exercise to the afternoon. Way in the afternoon.

He's halfway through a slice of strawberry pie kindly given as payment by a grateful client when Odin bursts in. His hand just freezes halfway to his mouth, and Foggy just. Stares at Odin.]

...yeah, you're scheduled for 10:45, Miss Foggerson. [Utterly deadpan. Yeah, he knows.] And I appreciate the enthusiasm, but you can wait fifteen minutes while I finish this pie.

[A beat.]

Seriously. Did you run all the way here? You should take a seat, there's another slice.

[shadowglitter]

[ It goes without saying that Odin's acting skills are unprecedented and that any potential identifying mannerisms Foggy might have found in his flawless masquerade was just good luck. Or - lawyer skills? Foggy's a perfect lawyer, Odin's a perfect actor. While he'd be typically outraged over any other piece of garbage calling him out on his lies, this was a real immovable object/unstoppable force situation, and Miss Foggerson, coughing into her fist and awkwardly brushing her shoulder off, is happy to accept the stalemate. ]

I'm literally never not running. But do you think there's time for pie when you're at war? [ Odin laughs, totally derisive, sitting down in the chair opposite Foggy. ] Because - well - you would be right. We actually had a mess hall, back when I was fighting for Lord Leo. We made pies all the time? So. You may... proceed.

[ He'll take the slice offered to him, shifting aside the backpack to make room, then just. Totally eating his portion of the pie with his fingers. ] I brought you a uniform, by the way. You're going to love it. It's not going to be incredibly form-fitting, seeing as I didn't have your measurements - but that's fine? I'll get them for next time.

[fauxmarth]

[you think this evening's already great, Odin? it gets better: Lucina's here!!! well, already here. putting away files and packing things up for the evening so Foggy can have some time to relax from the hard day's work. between the metallic clanking and the Very Distinct Sound of a familiar voice, the last of that work is forgotten as she steps out of a back room, eyes locking on Odin and brightening.]

Owain! [don't get up; she'll come to you. besides, hands full of pie -- that's sitting business. she sweeps over behind him and hugs him around the neck.] Foggy did suspect you were on the way soon. I would've asked to be certain, but... [she withdraws, shrugging, smiling.] I kind of wanted to be surprised, too.

[cigarbribery]

Yeah, but did they have a secret ingredient that makes them even more delicious? [He bets they don't, so ha! He takes a bite of his pie and savors it, because it's gonna be the last good thing he's going to get before two hours of embarrassing himself because he doesn't know how to swing a sword.] Uh—does it have chainmail or something? Since we're going to be fighting with swords.

[He's pretty sure he can't pull off mesh.

To Lucina, he waves.] Want the last slice? Mr. Jamison made it, that's like, a guarantee that it's going to be the tastiest thing you'll eat today. [To Odin, he explains:] He's a baker, we defended him from a charge of slander.

[shadowglitter]

[ As much as Odin loved his mom, he would always screw up his nose and complain when she hugged him too tightly - the same thing kiiiiiinda happens here with Lucina. He lights up the second he sees her, but soon she's grappling him from behind and he's laughing through the whining stooooopppppp that ekes out of him, lightly patting at her shoulder when she pulls away. Jeez, way to embarrass him in front of the cool kid.

Thankfully, it's easy to get the attention off of him by taking out Foggy's suit of armor from the bag he brought. He lays it out on Foggy's desk, scooching all that pie aside so he can set it out flat, and it-- it truly is an atrocity. Siberian bear-hunting suit of armor meets Dior by John Galliano's Fall 2006 show meets so many nude panels. How can something with so many spikes and so many frills still show so much skin? So, so much skin. Yes. You know. That much skin. ]

So - ah - when I first came to America, I was hired as an actor at something called a dinner theatre. It was terrible and I hated it, but by completely dismissing my boss's stage directions and never performing any of the plays he wanted me to perform, I managed to write and star in my own lavish masterpieces and spent all of my money on commissioning outfits for the horrifically understocked wardrobe they kept in a box behind the pizza oven. This was gonna be in my last show, before I went on Big Brother and became tremendously rich and tremendously heartbroken.

[ he pushes it across the desk, the folds of silk and latex and mesh and s... satin and-- something else-- revealing, bunched beneath a mass of too much colour, an adjoining headpiece. nice, bright red devil horns. he looks at Foggy. puppy dog eyes. ]

It would mean a lot to me if you took it. Not even just for now? Just - in general. To wear whenever you liked. I'd love that. [ siiideways look to Lucina. ] He'd look good, right?

[fauxmarth]

What a sweet old man. We'll have to send him a card as thanks. Perhaps later, I'll-- [NOPE IT'S ARMOR TIME. she is politely silent for this most reverent of reveals.

a heinously broken sense of fashion is a family trait, unfortunately. without a clear sense of just how glaringly bare some of this nightmare suit is, her not-as-broken sense of propriety cannot help salvage some of this for poor Foggy's sake.

it's actually a two-hit K.O. between all the shiny color and Owain's heartfelt backstory for it: Lucina is terribly moved. she smiles warmly, squeezing her cousin's shoulder in support as he petitions their friend to inherit something so sentimental.]

What a thoughtful gift, Owain. [she smiles at Foggy:] Gods willing you'd never need such attire to defend yourself, of course. Still, I think it would look lovely.

[this the hell you have actively allowed yourself to be set in, Foggy.]

[cigarbribery]

[For one glorious second, Foggy imagines saying no—nope, he can't, the puppy-dog eyes killed that fantasy before it could even form. Just stabbed it through the heart and cut its head off and left it twitching in the dust of dead dreams.

Instead, Foggy's imagining what Matt is going to say. Or not say. If Matthew Michael Murdock got his super-sensitive feelers all over this disastrous bouquet of satin and mesh and devil horns, he would laugh at Foggy, and he would die from lack of air, and Foggy would also die. Of embarrassment. He's only slightly exaggerating. He then imagines Karen, and it does not go any better.]

It looks amazing. [Padmé is going to laugh at him probably. Nicely, but she'll laugh.] Seriously, I couldn't have asked for better. [Hey imPort bullshit now is the time to send Maurtia Falls to hell. Please?]

Just—can you guys promise me something? [He leans in close, as if imparting a secret.] My friends, Matt and Karen, from New York? I'm gonna surprise them with this, so—if either of them ever show up, just keep it on the down-low, yeah? Don't let any details slip to either of them, especially Matt.

[Matt must never know or Foggy will never ever be able to live this down. Ever. God, there's even little devil horns.]

[shadowglitter]

[ it would look lovely. Odin beams, as ever, at Lucina's praise, his knee bouncing excitedly and his fingers tapping a far too loud rhythm against Foggy's desk. the affection in him is palpable the second Foggy admits how DEEPLY AND SINCERELY he's in love with his present, and Odin's heart is more full now than perhaps it's ever been. he may have saved the lives of his parents, he may have saved two seperate worlds - but that shit is small time. he gave someone clothes and they actually liked it.

any other time and Odin would have fought tooth and nail to convince Foggy to shout about his armor from the top of his lungs, because pride is the best part of.......... wearing this garbage. but he's placated by all the sweet talking and cheerfully waves his hand away, getting up and bouncing on his feet. ]

A surprise this good is the caring man's ambush. I'm not going to just "keep it on the down-low". I'm going to shove this secret in an iron vault, bury it six feet underground then flood the entire continent with acid-lava.

[ hmm. ] You should change. You should change right now. [ a cautious look to Lucina. ] Should we let him change in private, do you think, or would it be better if I stayed here and helped him get dressed? Handmaiden-style.