"ᴡᴏᴅᴇɴ" (
craftpunk) wrote in
maskormenacelogs2019-01-18 07:15 pm
Entry tags:
(no subject)
WHO: Woden DAVID BLAKE and SABRINA SPELLMAN
WHERE:Jeopardy
WHEN: Evening
WHAT: Chance Encounter!
WARNINGS: HOPEFULLY nothing will warn otherwise
David quite liked Jeopardy. The weather, of course, was abyssmal, even in the winter, but the culture was more his style. The neon, the closeness to Black Rock -- he wondered idly, if there was anything similar to the festivities near Black Rock in his world, and thought he would check, later.
It would be worth coming out, then. He could imagine it being quite fun.
But for now, he was bundled in cold-weather gear, when he walked the streets, his eyes shifted back and forth, and he sunk a touch lower into his scarf. Nervous, was the word for it. He felt perpetually nervous, like someone had the crosshairs on him, and without his helmet, he felt... more than exposed. Doubly so as he'd been trying to keep a clear head, just in case... Well, even though it was only Cassandra here from his world now, there were others he knew who would probably jump at the chance.
But it was easy to blend in, in the winter, and David rounded a corner, paying more attention to his phone in one hand -- scrolling through one social media or another -- than the sidewalk, before his phone clattered to the ground, from bumping into someone. "Oh, terribly sorry," he said, British politeness coming out automatically, when he didn't have his second personality on full display. He took a moment, to pause, and figure out who this was. "Have we met?" he asked, before he bent to retrieve his phone.
WHERE:Jeopardy
WHEN: Evening
WHAT: Chance Encounter!
WARNINGS: HOPEFULLY nothing will warn otherwise
David quite liked Jeopardy. The weather, of course, was abyssmal, even in the winter, but the culture was more his style. The neon, the closeness to Black Rock -- he wondered idly, if there was anything similar to the festivities near Black Rock in his world, and thought he would check, later.
It would be worth coming out, then. He could imagine it being quite fun.
But for now, he was bundled in cold-weather gear, when he walked the streets, his eyes shifted back and forth, and he sunk a touch lower into his scarf. Nervous, was the word for it. He felt perpetually nervous, like someone had the crosshairs on him, and without his helmet, he felt... more than exposed. Doubly so as he'd been trying to keep a clear head, just in case... Well, even though it was only Cassandra here from his world now, there were others he knew who would probably jump at the chance.
But it was easy to blend in, in the winter, and David rounded a corner, paying more attention to his phone in one hand -- scrolling through one social media or another -- than the sidewalk, before his phone clattered to the ground, from bumping into someone. "Oh, terribly sorry," he said, British politeness coming out automatically, when he didn't have his second personality on full display. He took a moment, to pause, and figure out who this was. "Have we met?" he asked, before he bent to retrieve his phone.

no subject
She heard he clatter of the phone and grimaced immediately, worried she might have been the caused of a potential screen crack. However, her head swerved to look for the spirit first.
"Wait, don't..." Sabrina sighed and turned back to face the other person. It isn't until she looked him in the face that she startled, hairs on the back of her neck rising. "... you're Woden, aren't you?"
She recognized him instantly, but perhaps to David's surprise (or not), Sabrina doesn't associate this unmasked face with David Blake, but the so-called God who had sewn chaos months ago and harmed other imPorts.
no subject
Without his face obscured, it takes a lot, to keep his expressions schooled, neutral. He loathed it, being so open, and public with everything he was. He craved that vague mask, the reflective cover to shove the world right back at them. Their faces, everything someone was, made them watch when they spoke to him. It was the impression of being watched, and he loved it.
Not like this, and his fingers stilled, mouth slightly open. "Ah -- Interesting. Most wouldn't recognize me," he pointed out, a slight gesture with a hand, waving it off. "You are... " a pause, thinking. "I apologize, I believe when we spoke I was... a touch pre-occupied."
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What did this god want from others anyway?
She stepped back to put some distance, having recalled he was more than capable of influencing others into doing things against their will. If a power like that was used against her, there was no telling what David or Woden (whatever he called himself) could have her do.
"Sabrina. Sabrina Spellman," said a touch defiantly. "You're a wanted man, aren't you?"
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"The police are not interested, after all. I am not a wanted man by the law, but if you are speaking about imports... I'm quite certain a few would like my head," a pause, and a soft scoff. Irony, of course. He loved the irony. "Far too many want my head lately, and it's not quite the position I thought I'd be in."
After all, back home, he was only a nuisance. Cass thought him his own petulant son, while the real Jon whispered back to him in his most vulnerable moments, and the rest of them... they thought he was nothing, a gnat to swipe away. It's funny, how in the end, he ended up surprising them all.
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"That can't be true," she argued back self-assuredly. "Coercion is illegal, you know."
Her arms folded over her chest now and though Sabrina hoped that she looked like the sort of person one would actually think twice about upsetting, the reality was she looked far more like a petulant teenager instead.
"Should I feel sorry for you that imPorts are upset with you?"
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Because he knew, of course, that he was an awful person, the worst, should be punished, et cetera. Woden -- David -- was not the sort who denied who he was, and that was clearly the problem. He embraced it, and made everyone else uncomfortable in the process. He looked her over, and while he could see that she was trying to be intimidating, it didn't work.
Mind, he wasn't actually interested in causing problems, either. That was dangerous.
"There's a certain freedom, in accepting who you are, you know. I decided to do that a long while ago, and it's been invigorating, to say the least."
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And then David says something that's almost alarmingly relatable, but Sabrina cautioned herself to try and not think too hard on it.
Which was proving difficult. For as stubborn as she was, she had a curiosity about her she almost always had to satisfy.
"Even at the cost of others getting hurt in the process?" Sabrina longed for her own freedom, but it appeared for her obtaining it meant her friends would hurt in the process and she doubted she could bear that.
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Instead, he'd stayed home, because it was expected. Because he had a baby who needed caring for. A son to raise, a relationship to ruin, and then the dregs of everything else to pick back up, and raise a child genius who'd been... so disappointing.
"How many inches of yourself do you give, before it all snaps back?"
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Her thoughts drew back to Greendale, to her family and her friends, the lengths she had gone through to protect them from harm or the truth. Her friends especially -- having lied to them for all her life to keep them shielded from darker revelations, though it had all unraveled recently.
"What... so you mean to say that all you did was because you tried being... nice before? And you got fed up?"
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"I suppose that you could say, yes, that I was fed up. Or rather... I was provided the opportunity to cast off old chains and find a new place in life," and new chains, provided by Ananke herself. Persephone, of course, had figured out how to deal with that particular problem. That left David to work with the Pantheon unencumbered. None of them had the faintest clue, after all. Even Cassandra, clearly the smartest of them all, had been blinded by her unwillingness to listen.
Even now she was.
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She attempted to put herself in his shoes for a moment, but a part of her was in a similar situation; she was forced to conceal to a part of herself to her mortal friends for all her life, but not once had she ever snapped and decided she was no longer going to play nice among others for it.
"Your freedom doesn't mean you can do whatever you want."
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"I have been strangled for no reason, threatened... by "heroes", of the sort. Even before I did anything here," he lifted a finger, as if to accentuate the point. "In fact, it was based on my name alone. Because some others from my world said I was... well, dislikeable. I certainly hadn't done much yet," but he shrugged, his lips tightened.
It wasn't true, of course, but none of it was as bad as what he'd done here -- save for one very small, very son-shaped detail.
Sometimes, David missed having someone like his son to confide in. Moments like these forced him to feel raw, and open, like he would give up his secrets so easily.
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ImPorts weren't an "ask questions later" kind of group, were they? She found it difficult to wrap her head around the idea when many of the imPorts she encountered had a strong sense of justice. Were they all as reactionary as David implied?
But what really had her hanging on his every word was the part about having to pretend. She wanted to argue back, biting down on her lip to keep herself from blurting out something she would regret soon after. Of course Sabrina knew what it was like to pretend. She's led dual lives in Greendale, something she never wanted to do, but was forced into.
But she could never lose control. It risked exposure, among other things. She didn't have that kind of privilege.
"But you hurt people in the process, didn't you? You didn't have to."
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"I only gave people power, and told them to do what they would with it. Do you fault the porter for hurting people, when she gives people power?" he asked. "Simply because I gave a gift with no limitations is no fault of my own," he laughed, and tipped his head. "It's like telling a girl to dress modestly, for fear that she would get hurt otherwise." He snorted, as if the idea was ludicrous.
All for liberated women was he, David Blake.
"You can't control what people do with their power, with their abilities, with stimuli. You can only punish if they act otherwise. I, for one, wouldn't hurt a fly."
Mostly for fear that the fly would hurt back.
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Maybe David had a point.
Power was desirable, but easily corrupted another if not cautious. Sabrina herself wanted power and freedom for herself, but not at the cost of change. She knew her limitations, which is what currently stopped her from her pursuit of it.
Perhaps the imPorts David had empowered had gotten drunk with their newfound abilities, delirious with it. It's hard to say; Sabrina wasn't there when it happened.
But their anger she had seen on the network seemed raw and genuine.
"The Porter... it's different. It's the government's fault for being so careless with a machine they don't understand."
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It was a simple argument, in David's mind. One that he didn't think would actually work. It was too simplistic, and if he were arguing in good faith, he most certainly wouldn't have made the comparison. But this wasn't a good faith argument -- he hadn't assessed Sabrina as an intellectual equal, few were, and even fewer remained such.
His thoughts drifted to Cassandra, ah, and she had been so perfect, but even now... she refused to spar with him, her mind clouded by emotion and anger. That was the problem with such things. Strong emotions were so inconvenient, so problematic in David's mind.
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Strange, how she didn't say "we" in that moment either.
But no, Sabrina might have been a clever teenager to a degree, she was far from an intellectual, too emotional and headstrong that easily clouded her judgment. This was a girl who acted based on her heart and not her head.
"But it's about how they use it. If you gained the power to create fire and then burned down someone's house, that's both morally bankrupt and illegal."