eachdraidh | video | open to both courts (yay non-locket devices)

I've been thinking.

[ John's sitting against the base of a tree somewhere, idly scratching a stray mutt behind the ears with one hand while holding his device with the other. ]

Seelie, Unseelie. Order, Chaos. Can't really have one without the other, can you? But that's the whole thing the courts want: one to win over the other. And that's with the queens being sisters.

Sort of seems like it won't work either way, in the long run. Not in a way anyone wants.

[ This would have been essentially blasphemy, once upon a time; treason of the highest order. But John has had no shard for eight months, has only the memory of a gold cloak to his name now. It's the Shuck he serves and the Red Hand he fights for, this world and its people and those he cares about. ]

But maybe that's just me.

[ He shrugs, pausing just long enough for the dog to look up at him and whine. A snort and he goes back to generously bestowing ear scratches. ]

Anyway, if any of you are looking for something to do, a way to make money, and aren't afraid of hard work -- the Red Hand's hiring. We're a mercenary group but we'll take all sorts; we can find a job for you, if you've got something to bring to the table. We have no court-attached contracts, are focusing more on what the natives to this world need, so no worries there -- and I'm a shardless son of a bitch, so no worries about getting spanked or whatever your court does for having conversations with the 'wrong people'.

Leave your prejudiced bullshit at the door, though; we've got all sorts of races and believers among the ranks. If you can't handle that, I'm more than willing to throw you out on your ass.

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[ a thoughtful pause. then comes judgement. ]

You'll need quite a lot of eyeliner to make up for that.

I used to have a tattoo of the Grim Reaper, but I cut that arm off.

[ It grew back. ]

I'm not sure if that's dedication to the cause or not.

Eyeliner and fancy hats aside, I have to ask—what's with the dedication to the Shuck?

[ he's been to Hel before, he's aided Hela in her schemes and through her loyalties to the dead. Loki always had a tenuous relationship with her—daughter or not—and felt like certain things didn't exactly need to travel over with him when he arrived in the drabwurld. ]

It wasn't a thing, before. I mean, I was a Marine, but it's not like I was religious.

Here, after I became part of the Pack... I don't know. They're there for you, and you're part of them. They're part of you.

[ For someone who grew up a twin, who then hadn't talked to her for ten years, who had shunned connection... having connection that was there, that he couldn't run away from? That was huge. ]

Plus you sort of lose yourself to that nature, if you don't willingly do your job.

[ That too. ]

[ the whole thing is a little vague, but he gets the gist. it brings more questions than answers. ]

All right, I think I've gotten ... erm, half of that, I suppose?

[ that's what he's getting from it. while his unease doesn't show in his expression, it's definitely making him thoughtful. he had done a lot to escape death, and to escape Hela's halls, going as far as to tossing his spirit back into the reincarnation cycle on a hope and a whim. it had proved well used, as well as damning in some ways.

he wondered if it would've been better if that Loki had died that day against the Void. ]

So, bear with me. You're part of death. Death has a job to do. Death always has a job to do.

[ Story of his life. ]

Right.

[ Even Death by Mercy. ]

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