(no subject)

[halfblaked]

ᚫ Hello, you've reached Professor Blake. I'm likely in lecture right now, but you may leave a message. ᚫ

ᚫ VOICE | TEXT | VIDEO | EMAIL ᚫ

[ ⅏ ]

Comments

text;

[photophobic]

I would hate to interrupt your busy schedule, David.
Perhaps you could contact me, once you have the time.

text;

[halfblaked]

[ The text on his phone -- from Kylo Ren -- is enough to make his palms sweat, his fingers tremble. He had actually been in lecture. He's hoping to move to a sabbatical as soon as possible, but he needs the credibility first. He needs to be seen.

But Kylo had already seen him. Who he really was. ]

Is it urgent? I do have classes to teach.

text;

[photophobic]

[ Oh, he knows exactly how David is shaking, now. He's been inside him. When his comm device chirps to notify him that his message has been seen, a genuine thrill runs through him at the thought. He amuses himself while he's waiting for the reply imagining just how hard his heart must be thumping in his chest as he types.

And when the reply comes... yes. That mix of the fearful, clawing need to know what to expect and the half-acknowledgement that if Kylo Ren said it was urgent, David would have to comply...

It can be... obscenely satisfying, being someone's living nightmare. ]

No. I have no urgent need of you. It can wait until you have finished.

text; 1/2

[halfblaked]

[ David knows he's being played.

He knows it, but he can't fight it. If he does, then everything he's worked so hard for, everything he's sacrificed for -- killing his son for -- it wouldn't be any good reason, if Kylo decided to just give it up to the public. This man had power over him, and he knew it.

David hated it. He hated him. He wished he still had the knife, to drag on his skin -- but he was certain he'd enjoy it a lot more than Jon's pulse fading in his hands. ]

Then I will call you this evening.

call

[halfblaked]

[ HE WAITS A GOOD THREE HOURS AFTER.

Just because he's mad. ]

[photophobic]

[ He lets it ring just long enough for David to begin wondering if Kylo Ren is going to pick up or not- and when he answers, his voice is low. Soft. Dangerously so. ]

David.

[halfblaked]

[ He does wonder. He's about to hang up -- but doesn't dare, when Kylo finally answers. ]

You wanted to talk?

[ It's a touch short, clipped, but not hostile. He knows better than to antagonize him. ]

[photophobic]

It's become necessary.

[ The implied contempt was deliciously thick despite his relatively level tone. But yes. Yes, he did want to talk. To confirm some suspicions, and to luxuriate in his power. ]

I had some questions. Regarding Woden's abilities. You are the expert, after all.

[ Yes. Yes, they are going to play this game. ]

[halfblaked]

I see.

[ There's a long pause, and the sound of steps. They echoed down a hall, where there were a few voices, but nothing important.

It's the end of the day, and the end of office hours, most people were going home. A door opens, and shut. ]

And what, specifically, do you want to know about his abilities?

[photophobic]

It seems a friend of mine is suffering some unpleasant after-effects of joining the same temporary pantheon I belonged to. Perhaps you've heard about his experience.
An eight-legged horse of some kind.
Knowing what I do about him I doubt Woden has any idea how the powers he was briefly granted work, and I am in no mood to delve through his mind looking for answers.

[ Well. He can't say the idea has no appeal. Who knows what else might be in there? ]

So I thought I would avoid the unpleasantness and approach you, David. As the expert.
Is there anything Woden could do for him?

[halfblaked]

Ah, yes. Sleipnir. The eight-legged son of Loki.

[ He said it, ostensibly. As if he needed to explain this to someone who'd experienced the godlike power of Woden. ]

Woden, I suspect, gave each god the knowledge of who they were supposed to be. The generational knowledge, the idea of who they were. The gods that they were.

[ A pause. His tone is tight, even. Even a touch sharp. ]

However, if you wonder about his capability to remove that knowledge... you may want to ask, whether or not he wants to.

[photophobic]

I remember.

[ His smile is very audible- and it isn't a smirk or a ploy, either. He had definitely received the better end of that bargain. ]

Óðr. I still haven't finished reading through all the poetry.

[ Stacks of it, David. Stacks of Óðr-inspired verse. Maybe, if you are very good.
His tone shifts. ]

Is it unwillingness, then? Rather than inability.

[halfblaked]

I'm impressed. Not many would be so inspired to hunt down so many old sources.

[ He wants them, of course, even if he's already read them. Multiple times. He is the expert, after all. ]

I am not privy to the whims of the gods, my friend. [ A pause, then. ] However... If you're wondering whether or not Woden can so something, you should first consider how far he will go to do the impossible.

Perhaps there's value in the current state of affairs.

[photophobic]

I didn't need sources. I was the source.

[ That's right. Stacks of poetry he wrote... while he was Óðr. He can't even read half of it now. ]

But we can talk about Óðr's writings later. We were talking about Eli. Perhaps I should meet with Woden to discuss the matter. I've always found him to be surprisingly co-operative in person.

[halfblaked]

[ He can't believe Kylo would write all that poetry but at the same time...]

Perhaps you should ask him if he wants to meet you. I have a suspicion that he would prefer to keep his distance.

[photophobic]

You might be right.
He would probably prefer to keep an air of mystery around himself.

[halfblaked]

If you know anything about Woden...

[ David Blake says, to someone who is Absolutely Not Aware That He Is Woden ]

You would know that it is correct. Perhaps you should instead ask him directly, instead of dancing around the subject.