002; elevator of forced honesty

[memefox]

elevator of forced honesty

» POST: a top level for your character(s) » RESPOND: to other characters ICly. your characters are now trapped in an elevator together. » UH OH: neither character can lie. » ADDITIONAL, OPTIONAL COMPLICATIONS: at player discretion characters may also... a. be unable to remain silent when asked questions b. be unable to speak around the truth when answering c. be compelled to reveal truths/secrets unprompted THE POWER OF THE ELEVATOR COMPELS YOU.

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Jamie Dodger | OC

[smokedout]

[ragnarsson]

So.

[Most awkward elevator ride ever.]

How did you get the scars on your face?

[smokedout]

[Again with this shit?]

My adoptive father ran a broken whiskey bottle across my face when I was your age.

[....Well then. That is definitely far beyond what he was planning to tell anyone, so... that's a thing.]

Why do you care?

[ragnarsson]

[Well, that's a first, Dodger actually telling him something without having to pull his teeth out.]

Scars tell stories. If you have them, it means you're a survivor.

[Small compliment from the Viking.]

[smokedout]

Scars don't need an explanation to tell stories if you're smart enough to think them through.

[He leans against the back wall of the elevator, shrugging lightly.]

Facial scars are for betraying someone more powerful than you. Scars on your back are for breaking rules. Scars on your hands are for being careless. Scars on your legs are for taking stupid risks.

[He looks him over with a calculating expression.]

Which checks out, since everything about you says stupid risks, yeah?

[ragnarsson]

[Ivar's only half-listening to Dodger now. He usually does when the man starts thinking he's the smartest one in the room. It's the mention of scars on his hands that make him look his own over. He's gotten plenty over the years from dragging himself around from place to place. It's the only place he really has any prominent scars.]

That'd make more sense if I had many scars on my legs. But I don't. I was born a cripple, I didn't end up this way from battle.

[smokedout]

[He just rolls his eye. He wasn't being fully literal, but he doubts the cripple cares an awful lot about poetic semantics.]

Just surprised you didn't pry about my wrists again.

[This honesty bullshit can suck his dick.]

[ragnarsson]

[Just look at that smirk on his face.]

You know, I'd actually forgotten all about that. But since you're the one to bring them up and all-- [So he has no one to blame for this but himself.] --how did you get them?

[smokedout]

I put them there myself.

[Every time Ivar gets that self-righteous smirk, it makes Dodger wish he could watch him burn in hell.]

My mind's fucked up and when I feel bad I take it out on my own body. Satisfied?

[ragnarsson]

No.

[He says blandly. Is Ivar ever when it comes to putting the thumbscrews to Dodger?]

Sounds weird to me. [Self-harm among the Vikings manifests more as a desire to lose the will to live. They usually end their lives on the battlefield or kill themselves at some point.] Do you really hate yourself that much?

[smokedout]

[He shudders at that, annoyed and stressed once again at the viking's constant need to poke holes in him.]

Yes, I do.

[One of his hands moves to the wrist of the other, scratching at the wraps as he speaks.]

Far as I can tell you've got no sense of remorse, so I bet you wouldn't understand - but after a while, being the sort of person I am wears you down. And since no one else has managed to kill me, I figure I should do everyone the favor sooner or later.

[Why is he telling Ivar this. This is a horrible idea. What the hell.]

[ragnarsson]

[Dodger's right about one thing. Ivar has no remorse and very little conscience. He's never felt bad about anything he's done, seeing it always as being necessary at the time. There's no sympathy in Ivar's face as he responds.]

If you really wanted to kill yourself by now, you'd have done it already. [He leans forward, steepling his fingers in front of his face.] Or you could always just catch me in the right mood so I could finish you off once and for all.

[smokedout]

[He raises a brow, and huffs softly.]

As a Viking you should know better - there's no honor in sitting down and dying, I've got shit to do while I'm still here. I'd rather getting killed by someone fighting as hard as I can... I just know that after how many people have tried and failed, I'm more likely to end up overdosing in my bathroom than getting killed with a knife.

[He cocks his head.]

Besides - my boss still has some use for me back home. Whenever I can get back to him.

[ragnarsson]

You have honor? [Ivar looks at him dubiously.] Since when?

[Vikings have honor, but it's of a different sort then the modern world's. Suicide held no shame if it was done with entering Valhalla in mind. Falling on one's sword or jumping off a cliff were perfectly acceptable ways to enter Odin's hall if one couldn't die in battle.]

Who knows? You still could end up getting killed with a knife. [Ivar grins, a smile as sharp as one of his blades.] At least then you can die with some dignity still intact.

[smokedout]

I might be a jackass but I still have morals. And anyway, just because you care about honor doesn't mean you have to be honorable all the time.

[He is following his own code of ethics, usually, so he isn't lying. Although he tends to stray far into the territory of things he himself doesn't find acceptable, simply because he feels like it.]

I could end up killed with a knife, you could end up burned alive, and your girlfriend could show up for me to have some fun with. [His eye sharpens as he watches him.] The world's full of surprises.

[ragnarsson]

You have the morals of a dog. [He wrinkles his nose.] And probably the fleas of one too.

[Ivar can tell Dodger is trying to get at him, but he's not stupid enough to take the bait.] Now, now. I thought we were supposed to have a truce. [He gives Dodger one of his chilling looks, the kind filled with no empathy or conscience whatsoever.] Think about your daughter. If she shows up here, think about all the things I could to a pretty little girl.

[That's the difference between them. Ivar's not above hurting or even killing a child if it suits his purpose.]

[smokedout]

[Is that a difference? Honestly?]

Watch your tone, I've done worse to little kids and your daughter is around already. I called a truce to save my own skin but if you don't want to honor it, your girl's the perfect size to fit in a crockpot.

[He moves a bit closer to Ivar, bristled with annoyance.]

And I wonder how long it would take you to even know she was gone. You sure leave her alone a lot, for her age...

[ragnarsson]

As I told you before, go anywhere near my daughter-- [The knife appears in his hand quick as a flash, pressed right up against Dodger's side where his kidney is at.] --and I'll kill you before you even know what's going on.

[He's irritable at being told he's leaving Winter alone too much. It's a cultural difference. Vikings were prone to leaving their children alone with others for long periods of time while they were working or raiding.]

[smokedout]

Cool your jets. [His hand whips up in turn, grasping Ivar's wrist and giving it a light burn before he shoves it away.] Long as we're sticking to words, I've got no beef with her. Just be careful if you feel like pulling another knife on me, got it?

[He may be scared of Ivar, but that's never stopped him from being cocky. And the fact that he isn't dead yet means that he must have somehow made the kid hesitant about killing him.]

[ragnarsson]

[Ivar winces when his wrist is burned and he bites his lip to keep from crying out. It's painful no matter how tough he tries to ask.]

Just stay away from my family, Dodger. Or I'll bury you in the ground.

[He'll honor their truce for right now, more for Winter's sake then his own. Ivar would burn the world down if it meant keeping his daughter safe. If it means he has to keep this waste of space around instead of taking care of him like he wants, he'll do it with gritted teeth. But in the back of his mind, he knows that someday, he'll take care of Dodger the way he wants to. His luck can't hold out forever.]

[smokedout]

Step off the juice.

[He mutters, more firmly than before. Right now they're just two dogs barking through a fence, but the more the tension rises, the more his hand is itching to be around the kid's throat. He could use a hole burned through it, that might make him more pleasant company...]

I ain't got a problem with your family, get that through your head. I got a problem with you. So step the fuck off, or your daughter's fair game.

[A pause, and then a scoff leaves his mouth.]

Oh, that's right - you can't step off, can you?

[ragnarsson]

I'll keep your peace for the sake of my daughter. For now.

[See, Ivar could be reasoned with, up to a certain point. Past that, he became too crazy to care. Dodger gets a flat, contemptuous look.]

As if I've never heard that one before.

[He's heard just about every mocking cripple joke on the planet and from men a lot more wicked than Dodger was ever capable of being. Everything Ivar had heard was old even in 816. It still didn't stop it from stoking the fires of anger in his heart.]

[smokedout]

[Dodger leans down, hands on his knees as he sinks to Ivar's eye level in the most condescending way possible.]

Here's one you probably haven't heard, then - if you fucking touch me again, ever, I'll make sure to keep you alive after I've cut your legs off and fed them to you. See how much easier it is to crawl around like a dog with stumps instead.

[ragnarsson]

[There's a long beat where Ivar seems to consider Dodger's words. But the mutant has made an error. He's gotten close. Far too close. Then, without warning, the Viking punches Dodger square in the face. Just as he does that, the elevator doors open with a soft Ping! Ivar calmly rolls out onto the floor.]

I think you've made your point quite clear. And I've made mine.

[Personally, he hopes he broke Dodger's nose. After a lifetime of building muscle in his arms, Ivar can hit hard.]