Thor Odinson (
worldsaway) wrote in
thearena2014-09-30 07:27 pm
Entry tags:
Stop. Hammered time.
Who| Thor and OPEN [feel free to mingle and make your own top levels, I'll hit them all up.]
What| Some sponsors went overboard with the discount gin and their affection for Norse Gods, 622+ bottles of it are set to flow from Thor's locker.
Where| The Lockers, first floor and around the ice rink.
When| First day of the last week.
Warnings/Notes| Heavy drinking, alcoholism, profound confusion.
There's almost an eerie silence settling over the days now. So many have fallen, a great deal of them people he had sought to protect. It's maddening, really, it doesn't make for good conversation between he and Tony as they await their inevitable deaths. An attack, a catastrophe? It could be anything at this rate. With so few people left, it's almost too easy to navigate the great span of the mall without seeing anyone, it reminds Thor that he ought to check his locker. Perhaps, finally, there will be something of interest. If sponsors are kind, they will send him mead of some form to tide him over, he can expect as much with so many friends on the other side.
Music from the animatronics can be heard, but it means nothing to Thor. The cheesy rap does little to inspire feeling in him, he couldn't imagine it would ever be related to him for a few throwaway lines. He approaches the locker with a suspicious glance around, nodding at Tony to follow along as he rests his hand on the handle.
Stop.
If only he'd heeded the music, but he's opening the door wide.
Hammer time.
Bottles begin to spill out of the locker as if they'd been waiting eagerly to escape their confines. A few crack open on the ground and Thor needs to step to the side, giving Tony a shove away as he does. The two need to jog around a wall and cringe at the cacophony of bottles pouring out of the little space. It seems almost like an enchantment. There are hundreds and hundreds of bottles just spilling out with no signs of stopping. Thor peers around the wall with furrowed brows, unsure whether to look angry or amused. He can only shrug at Tony, blaming it on popularity.
Once it seems safe to approach, he'll wander back and fish through the bottles, finding notes from Loki and Darcy that are just a little damp with the spilled ale. His heart warms as he stares at the pile that still seems to grow by a few bottles every so often. He shouldn't. They're here with purpose. With honor. But he's tired and he's lonely and he's frustrated. To refuse drink on such an occasion would be contrary to his beliefs, and he has no intention of seeing these games through to the end. If his friends desire that he drink, then drink he shall.
A grin is forming on his lips when he turns to Tony and he raises a brow at the smaller man, crouching to lift two bottles of drink from the floor.
"Shall we?"
They shall indeed. They work their way through what seems like barely any of the drink before they're stumbling somewhat. Thor decides it would be best to linger with their stash so as to protect it, but on occasion loud protests of hunger will echo through the hall. Thor ditches his shirt early on and is more companionable than anyone will have ever seen him be with Tony Stark, an arm is thrown round the man as they indulge in a chorus of "One thousand and nineasaguhduh bottles of gin on the floor." Primarily because they continue to forget how much is still there, not that they ever knew in the first place. The locker room is pretty much overstuffed with the bottles, many of which broke on impact. It's quite a sight to see.
What| Some sponsors went overboard with the discount gin and their affection for Norse Gods, 622+ bottles of it are set to flow from Thor's locker.
Where| The Lockers, first floor and around the ice rink.
When| First day of the last week.
Warnings/Notes| Heavy drinking, alcoholism, profound confusion.
There's almost an eerie silence settling over the days now. So many have fallen, a great deal of them people he had sought to protect. It's maddening, really, it doesn't make for good conversation between he and Tony as they await their inevitable deaths. An attack, a catastrophe? It could be anything at this rate. With so few people left, it's almost too easy to navigate the great span of the mall without seeing anyone, it reminds Thor that he ought to check his locker. Perhaps, finally, there will be something of interest. If sponsors are kind, they will send him mead of some form to tide him over, he can expect as much with so many friends on the other side.
Music from the animatronics can be heard, but it means nothing to Thor. The cheesy rap does little to inspire feeling in him, he couldn't imagine it would ever be related to him for a few throwaway lines. He approaches the locker with a suspicious glance around, nodding at Tony to follow along as he rests his hand on the handle.
Stop.
If only he'd heeded the music, but he's opening the door wide.
Hammer time.
Bottles begin to spill out of the locker as if they'd been waiting eagerly to escape their confines. A few crack open on the ground and Thor needs to step to the side, giving Tony a shove away as he does. The two need to jog around a wall and cringe at the cacophony of bottles pouring out of the little space. It seems almost like an enchantment. There are hundreds and hundreds of bottles just spilling out with no signs of stopping. Thor peers around the wall with furrowed brows, unsure whether to look angry or amused. He can only shrug at Tony, blaming it on popularity.
Once it seems safe to approach, he'll wander back and fish through the bottles, finding notes from Loki and Darcy that are just a little damp with the spilled ale. His heart warms as he stares at the pile that still seems to grow by a few bottles every so often. He shouldn't. They're here with purpose. With honor. But he's tired and he's lonely and he's frustrated. To refuse drink on such an occasion would be contrary to his beliefs, and he has no intention of seeing these games through to the end. If his friends desire that he drink, then drink he shall.
A grin is forming on his lips when he turns to Tony and he raises a brow at the smaller man, crouching to lift two bottles of drink from the floor.
"Shall we?"
They shall indeed. They work their way through what seems like barely any of the drink before they're stumbling somewhat. Thor decides it would be best to linger with their stash so as to protect it, but on occasion loud protests of hunger will echo through the hall. Thor ditches his shirt early on and is more companionable than anyone will have ever seen him be with Tony Stark, an arm is thrown round the man as they indulge in a chorus of "One thousand and nineasaguhduh bottles of gin on the floor." Primarily because they continue to forget how much is still there, not that they ever knew in the first place. The locker room is pretty much overstuffed with the bottles, many of which broke on impact. It's quite a sight to see.

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For a man with more complexes than the New York housing commision, it wasn't really something he needed to have in his head.
So as Thor decided to head to the lockers to see if anything had cropped up. Tony had followed, and it was the shove away from the locker along with the bottles of gin pouring out of the looker at a strangely alarming rate and number that brought him more back to himself. Moving quickly with Thor to get out of the way of the clattering madness, his mind ticking with every smash and clank. It annoyed him that he had lost count at around two hundred, but his annoyance was at war with his curiosity as to what was going through anyone's heads to think Thor needed over fifty gallons of gin.
As they move back, Tony pays no mind to Thor as he looks at his notes as Tony picks up one of the bottles and reads what's on the label. Yup, all the hallmarks of a cheap booze. So when Thor grins at him with two bottles in his hands, Tony grins back at him and wastes no time in opening up the bottle. With everything that had happened Tony hadn't had a drink for at least a week before tributes had been taken on suspicion of murder. And while he knows that he should probably be kinder to his liver. With everything that happened he can't bring himself to care.
"It would be rude not to, don't you think?"
He says as he takes the bottle in his mouth and downs a solid third of it before taking a breath.
As Thor ditches his shirt, Tony doesn't. As drunk as he is, he's still very much aware of his chest and doesn't want Thor or the cameras to see it more than they have to. so instead he declares that if Thor's going to shed so will he, so he kicks off his shoes and socks instead, finding the choice far funnier than it is. But he has at least made sure that it's not Thor's job to get the bottles because cutting your feet on gin bottles is one hell of an extreme way to get alcohol into your system.
As they sing about the bottles on the floor it's less what Tony would call singing and more just semi-harmonic warbling. He's even glad for Thor's arm around him, because then it hides the fact that he's leaning into the taller man. Because so far, he's been matching him bottle for bottle and feeling the happiest he has ever felt for a very very long time.
Then at one point in the middle of the song Tony abruptly shops and loudly, and sloppily pronounces "SHHHHHHHHHHHH!" He puts his hand holding the bottle into the air, his index finger pointing out, looking the picture of seriousness when he turns to Thor.
"We have to be quiet." He nods as he talks. "Or. People will hear us." He nods again with finality, he's quiet for a beat before bursting out laughing at his own declaration.
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Thor falls silent when Tony does, the logical part of his brain rousing enough for a careful stare around to figure out what Tony is referring to. His heart and breathing feel as if they've stopped for a second when Tony speaks, like he has made a grievous mistake until he realises that it's clearly all a joke and let's out a low rumble of a chuckle as well.
"YOU are loud. I am not." He declares with an accusatory look. "You will make a fool of yourself, Stark. People already hear us." He points vaguely upward to where he assumes a camera is. "Up there."
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"It's not making a fool of anything. I'm just. Transferring my reputation from home to here. It was in my book so it's not like they didn't know I would do this."
Then he swirls the bottle before taking another gulp from it.
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"We give the people what they want, no? They send us drink, we drink. They have us fight, we fight." He becomes a little solemn for a moment before a small smile finds it's way back on his lips. "I can think of no greater form of protest than taking the chance to make amends." He jostles Tony's shoulder ever so slightly. "You are not so bad as I thought you. But it is difficult to say." He definitely needs to punctuate that with another drink.
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He chuckles when Thor jostles him, grinning even more when Thor says Tony isn't as bad as he thought.
"You. On the other hand are still what I thought you were." He takes a long drink from his bottle before hugging it to his chest. "But now I actually like it. So." He raises the bottle up high the liquor dangerously sloshing about. "To perception!" Then he works on emptying the bottle.
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"Perception!" He calls out, bringing his bottle to his lips for a long drink before he leans back for a small moment of thought and silence. "I had not thought we would see this through together for so long." It isn't meant to be an insult, just an honest observation given everything they've been through.
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Sure Tony had only had one interaction with the spiders, and with Thor and Steve regaining their powers halfway through the fight, leaving Tony to feel even less on even footing with them than he already was had really made the situation stick out in his mind as an awful situation.
"Also. The plush us' looked like they were cheering us on."
He offers in a sincere tone.
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He has come here looking for Thor. Carlos needs to thank Thor for protecting him all last week. It's fairly easy to move around the arena now that it's nearly empty -- truthfully, this is the furthest Carlos has ever gotten in the Hunger Games, and the quiet is eerie. Well, it would be eerier if it weren't for the music, but Carlos ignores it.
The overpowering smell of gin is what catches Carlos's attention. He sniffs the air and frowns, turning his face this way and that. The roomba at his feet bumps gently into his heels, then rolls a few inches in the direction of the smell.
"Someone's that way? Are you sure?"
Another few inches towards the lockers.
Carlos grips his paintball gun and follows the roomba, ready to defend himself or bolt, but not ready for what he actually sees.
"...Thor?" he asks, staring wide-eyed down at the roomful of gin. "Thor, are -- are you okay?" A beat. "Have you been drinking?"
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His hiding place has done him well so far, who would have known that the sound of 600 bottles of gin escaping a locker would be discreet enough to earn Tony and Thor some privacy? They really needed the time to unwind, talk and get.. really damn drunk, apparently.
Thor lights up the moment Carlos speaks, pushing himself up to stand with a surprising amount of grace. He's exuberant, but he isn't about ready to start stumbling around. "Carlos!" He exclaims in return. "I thought you dead." And he says that plainly with a big damn smile on his face before approaching with open arms and dismissing the question.
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"No," he says as Thor approaches, "no, I'm not dead. I was pretty alive when you left, actually. I wanted to say thank you, because if you hadn't come along when you did, I probably wouldn't be alive right now."
Good Goddard, Thor really is drunk. Is Thor going to hug him again? Because that's what it looks like. Carlos wonders if this will be what kills him: if Thor forgets his own strength, he could likely snap Carlos's spine.
"But really, how much of this gin have you had?"
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He chuckles to himself, but true to form he doesn't hug as aggressively as Carlos expects. It's probably strangely gentle, he's even bringing a hand up to give his back a rub. Your spine is in good hands.
"Not enough, I should think." He says that a little too loudly. "A bottle or so, perhaps."
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-- wait.
Carlos blinks. His eyes widen behind his glasses, and oh, no. He steps away -- not quick enough to be suspicious, but with an embarrassed little cough. His face is too warm behind his glasses, and he's quick to change the subject.
"You -- you drank a whole bottle of gin? By yourself?"
He hopes to god Thor doesn't notice the awkwardness, or just chalks it up to the regular awkward Carlos had most of the time. Carlos knows he might be reading too much into things -- honestly, he hopes he is -- but now isn't the time to be getting uncomfortably intimate hugs from dreamboat gods. Cecil just died, for crying out loud.
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But then Carlos asks that question and Thor reels back, placing a hand over the scientists mouth so he can shoosh him loudly and frantically. As if he has something to be afraid of here.
"They will hear you." Who? Nobody knows. He drops his hand finally, but he raises a finger to his lips. "Hundreds of bottles, they sent. I think they intend for me to drink them all." He looks very serious for a moment. "And I shall."
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He kept carrying her anyway.
He doesn't want to bother anymore. He's not going to win. There's no one left. He wonders what they'll do to kill him off if there ain't no one left.
He finds first, the smell, then the voices, sometimes even making it over the music, which if he's not mistaken...
The lyrics reach his ears and for a second he swells with fury. And then it dies as quickly as it came leaving him to simply decide, no, he's motherfucking done with this shit. Maybe it's suicidal, but he's going for it, he's heading to the sorce or the voices. With Terezi's corpse still slumped on his back, and her arms dangling loose over his shoulders, he blinks at what he finds. There is a question clear on his face, even if he can't speak it. What in Messiahs's names...
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Thor hops up the moment Initiate's familiar face rounds the corner. He's a little wobbly on his feet now, all shirtless and smiling far too much considering where he is. His eyes fall to Terezi's limp arms so he thinks perhaps he ought not to move in for a hug, so he just hovers in front of him.
"I had hoped to see you again, my friend." He gives him a warm smile, but drunkenness makes it hard to be tactful and his eyes keep drifting toward Terezi curiously. "I think you ought to wake her."
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He's almost going to smile back. Almost. Until Thor points out Terezi. His face falls and he shakes his head. He's got her legs on through his arms, holding her up, so he can't very well mime that she is but a corpse.
He can look people in the eyes now-- a miracle-- and so tries to communicate that way.
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He reaches out to place a hand on Initiate's arm, giving it a comforting squeeze and staring deep into his eyes. Thor has very intense eyes, Initiate will quickly learn this.
"We will give her a warrior's send off." He nods, moving to press the bottle of gin into Initate's hand. "We shall place her on a boat in a body of water and set her aflame with an arrow."
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But before he can really be allowed to look away, Thor tells him that they're going to motherfucking set her corpse on fire, in a boat, with arrows.
The drink is pressed into his hand and he stands there blinking. He... what? How the motherfuck are they going to give her a warrior's send off if she's already being dead?
Actually, on second thought, fuck it. He had a drink in his hand and he didn't have any better things to do.
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"The drink will do you good, my friend. It is warm, it will soften the sadness." He gives him a comforting, peaceful smile before he raises his voice again. "Shall we give her the send off she deserves, then? There are others here to admire the spectacle, we could very well use the iced court in place of a river or ocean." He seems very enthusiastic about this, if only because he enjoys sharing his culture so very much.
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He doesn't really even ask when he grabs a bottle, he just kind of moseys over and takes one like he's been there the entire time and it's natural. The alcohol burns in the best way, like it's just sort of burning away all the shit and bitterness. It's not all gone, but by the time he has a few he's feeling in better spirits than he has for a while. Probably since before Dave kicked the bucket.
Somewhere along the way, he also loses his shirt and it's probably because he felt left out of the no-shirt party with Thor. Because when Thor loses his shirt, you fuckin' lose yours too.
If you happen upon him, you might either find him with the packet of balloons he's happened upon, where he's drunkenly blowing them up and making balloon animals with them- or rather, balloon dicks. OR, you might catch him leaning against a wall and waving his bottle drunkenly around out of tune with with "One thousand and nineasaguhduh bottles of gin on the floor" as he quietly slurs along to it.
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He is in great spirits, ironically, what with being surrounded by spirits known as alcohol. He feels like he has so much less to lose and no reason to deny the pleasure of drinking when it has been presented to him so readily.
Somehow, between two encounters, Thor has become quite fond of Bro. He happily lurches toward him to lean against the wall with him and smile knowingly at him, moving to loop an arm around his shoulders. "You are a strange man." He observes, pretty much out of nowhere. "Are you from Midgard? I never thought to ask."
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He leans against Thor a little heavily as the man's arm goes around him, meant to be a nudge that kinda just turned into falling against him. it's the booze, honestly. A second or two later, he sits up straighter, cringing as his ass rubs against the floor. He's still wounded from the gunshot clipping him, but he's patched up under his pants, it just fucking stings.
"'m I really?" he asks, clearing his throat a little and trying not to slur- but he's had a lot, it's a little hard not to at this point. "Gonna consider it a compliment." Because if Thor calls you strange, it's probably a compliment. "Midgard?" It takes him a second to realize what's being ask, his brain isn't firing at full capacity. "Earth? Yessir, that's where I'm from. You're from, uh... Oh, what was it? Shit. Ass guard?" He's teasing, if the way he elbows Thor in the side is any indication.
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His heart is still warmed from the earnest compliments Bro had paid him in their last encounter. He already considers him to be a friend, but now he is a very good friend because they are drunk. Such is his logic right now.
"Aye, Midgard. Earth. I'm fond of it, myself." He says, like it's a kind of cake or something. "ASGARD, yes. My homeland- but I reside in Midgard, actually." He points knowingly at Bro before giving him a confused look. "Why do you shift so? Are you uncomfortable?"
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"You better be," he says, like Midgard is completely hot shit and he should absolutely be fond of it. It's the best not!cake. When Thor loudly corrects him, it just makes him want to keep saying ass guard, but then Thor is looking at him like that.
"Wh-" Oh, he realizes he must have cringed or something. "Oh, have you not heard about my butt problems?" he slurs, letting out an exasperated sigh. "Everyone on TV by now knows about my butt problems, how great's that? Fuckin' great." He pulls himself away from Thor and stands up a little, bent over so that his butt is facing Thor. He gestures wildly at it. "I got shot. In the butt." It's an overstatement, the bullet grazed him and it's only a surface wound. There's a lump under his pants where the bandages are. "Ain't that fuckin' awe-"
He'd been about to sit back down as he spoke, but he loses his footing and ends up falling backwards- right into Thor's lap. "Fuck me," he all but squeaks out, as his butt is jarred by Thor's meaty lap and pain shoots through his butt.
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To his credit, Thor is most solemn when Bro presents him with his ass, even though he can't really see anything wrong with it. It's very hard to focus on much more than the fact that it is a nice butt, even if Bro isn't really his type in any sense of the word.
Any attempt at being solemn is destroyed when Bro trips and Thor throws his head back to laugh, hitting his head on the wall behind him in the process and stopping his mirth with a grunt. Still, he'll put out an arm for Bro's back to rest against while scoffing at him. "Is your butt more comfortable, Strider?"
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