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Everything posted by Grim

  1. Always. Remembers he's not supposed to be a happy smiley character and schools expression to a dour nod
  2. He considered for a long moment, his gaze measuring László with the same weighing expression he had studied the phone with earlier. Nadya also stared at her father, surprised at the offer to a relative stranger, though only for a moment. Her dad was nothing if not sympathetic to underdogs, after all. She glanced back at Grim, smiling mischievously. "You get to be my minion. I've always wanted a minion." she teased, grinning as he shot her a wry look, quirking his left eyebrow challengingly. Her father snorted, making plain his own thoughts on that. Grim smiled slightly, then nodded to László. "I do need money." he admitted with a shrug of his shoulders inside the too-large coat. "I'll take the job, sir. And thank you." "Muwhahahaha. My minion!" Nadya mock-cackled as she finished packing the laptop and accessories into a bag and slid it over to Grim. He shook his head, still smiling a little. "Just don't let Nadya pick my uniform." he deadpanned, making László chuckle. "When do you want me to start?"
  3. By the time Nadya had returned the sandwich Grim had taken had disappeared as though inhaled, the lean youth absently chewing the last mouthful as he examined the phones with a careful eye. The older and cheaper ones he quickly considered, then turned to the Samsung Nadya had pointed out. "Can I check the screen, make sure it's responding okay?" he asked. Nadya shrugged, nodding as she leaned one hip against the counter and watched him handle the phone, turning it on after a brief moment of examination. His air of contemplation shifted focus as his odd-coloured eyes flicked up to regard her as he waited for the phone to boot up, examining her face with an intense, bold gaze that was likely very different from the surreptitious gawking the lovely girl was more used to from boys her age. "What?" she asked with a hint of challenge and a tilt of her chin. Realising he was staring, Grim's lips twitched at one corner even as a hint of colour suffused his features, making the scar over his near-colourless left eye stand out faintly against the pale skin before he dropped his gaze once more to the phone as it chimed ready. Without speaking he brushed his finger over the touch-screen, noting the lack of any problems before he nodded, turning the phone back off again. "It's a good deal." he commented with an air of decision. "I'll have to take the older cheaper Chromebook, but that'll do what I need it to." He looked back at Nadya with a nod. Plainly, the scion of Odin had the traditionally male approach to any kind of shopping: minimalist and far too practical.
  4. For his part, if Grim was shocked at seeing Nadya dressed - well, normally - he gave no sign of it. Unless the slight curving up of one corner of the serious young man's lips was a sign. With Grim it was hard to say. Was he amused? Glad to see her? Was the vestigial smile some phantom expression disconnected with what was really going on behind those odd eyes? Of course, Grim knew he was pleased to see Nadya - and surprised at being pleased - and somewhat confused at the fact that she wasn't dressed Nadya-ishly. For some reason he thought that she would dress the same at home as at school - after all, he did. In many ways despite his intelligence and composure, Grim was very much a clueless young man. He also realised he hadn't answered his perky bandmate yet. "Looking for a phone and maybe a cheap laptop." he answered, approaching the counter. Though he wasn't smiling as such, there was a conversational warmth to his tone that Nadya recognised from yesterday after the chilly young man had opened up a little. "I figured that I can't be depending on landlines and the school library computers every time I want to get something done. Hello, sir." He added with a nod to László, who clicked his tongue as he remembered something. "Grim... Grim... You are being the boy who disappeared and returned, yes?" László asked, his gaze keen as he studied the youth anew. He was a worldly man, had seen a lot in his time, but this boy had the second oldest eyes he'd ever seen. "I read it in the papers." Grim forced a slight smile. nodding as his eyes met László's. "Yes sir. Though don't believe all you read. I wasn't stolen away by aliens or Elvis."
  5. ((This side-fiction is happening at the same time as ‘Doubling Up, Doubling Down’)) The chill of autumn was in the air, the weaker sunlight fighting a battle against the cold winds promising winter. So far, the remnants of summer were winning, but sooner or later the first frosts would form. Grim thrust his hands into the pockets of his too-large coat, feeling the warmth of the garment keeping the chill breeze at bay. His fingers curled in the pocket, wishing for the reassuring solidity of the Heartwood Stave to lean on, but that was tucked under his bed back home for two reasons. Firstly, carrying a length of black wood around town was not an action calculated to be inconspicuous. And secondly, he needed to walk without aid if his ankle was to get stronger and his limp was going to get any better. So it was that he’d walked downtown rather than hitching a ride, and though his leg was protesting somewhat it was able to bear his weight. He’d focused on walking without limping as the coach had suggested, and had been mostly successful before the exertion started to tell on his damaged nerves, causing his limp to return as he walked the last couple of blocks to his destination. ‘From Dusk Till Pawn’, the sign read in black lettering. The grill-covered window display showed a variety of electronics, jewelry, watches, and curios that the desperate or needy had traded in for cash. Grim, however, was here to buy rather than sell. Given his... limited means it was out of the question for the young man to buy a brand new smartphone or PC, but a second-hand laptop or early-generation touch-screen phone was within his meagre budget. As the door swung shut behind him and the dim electric lighting replaced the weak Salem sunshine, the son of Odin slouched along the displays, hands in his pockets as he browsed.
  6. "At every door-way, ere one enters, one should spy round, one should pry round for uncertain is the witting that there be no foeman sitting, within, before one on the floor" Grim's voice was soft, but carried despite that in an oratorical cadence as he quoted. Answering the glances that got thrown his way with a faint wry smile, he moved back over to his stump and sat down once more. Naturally enough, it was Nadya who broke the silence. "Cryptic much?" she asked with a teasing quirk of her lips. Grim didn't smile back, at least not with his mouth, but his mismatched eyes glinted good-humouredly as he picked up his blackwood staff and laid it across his lap. He was surprised to find himself relaxing around the others, even enjoying their company, his defensive sense of inferiority abated by the simple realisation that he wasn't the only one who dealt with such issues. "It's from the Hávamál." Fishing the amulet Nadya had given him out of his pocket, he gazed at it for a moment before looking up at the rest of them. "Said to be the wisdom of the All-Father. All sorts of advice for all sorts of situations. I read it a few days ago. Still working on interpreting it beyond the surface layers, though." He fixed his gaze on Rachel. "Point being, it's wise to be wary of people's motives. But equally, being convinced of conspiracy will only make sure you see them even when they're not there. I'm learning... lately... that it's a good idea to accept the possibility that people don't mean you harm, even if they don't tell you everything. Sometimes it's not about you at all." He flicked his glance back at the amulet, then over at Nadya. "And sometimes, people can just be nice." He tugged at something under the neckline of his t-shirt and hoodie, pulling out a large tooth suspended on what appeared to be a braided thong that glinted red and gold in the sunlight. Slender, scarred fingers unfastening the ends, he slipped the amulet onto the braid so that it nestled down next to the tooth, then tucked it back under his clothes.
  7. No problem Vivi. Study hard, and then we'll throw you a party after
  8. Its how it seems to me, yup. Like you, no OOC issue with it, but the vibe.was definitely "kthxsonowwhatguys?"
  9. For a moment he studied her, his expression unreadable as usual, then he sighed and stood. He realised that she wasn't coming closer, that she was requiring him to come to her. A demonstration of authority? Or a test of his willingness to compromise? In a moment of clarity he realised that it didn't really matter what Rachel thought it was. For him to get to his feet and limp over to take her hand was a demonstration of his own good faith - not just to her, but to everyone present. Leaving his black wood walking stick behind, he limped over and took her hand in a firm clasp that gave the lie to his apparently scrawny appearance under the too-large clothes. "I'm not the most easy to get along with either." he said softly, meeting her eyes. "All I had was my sense of... self sufficiency I guess. It's how I survived the last eighteen months. Now I have to adjust, like you and everyone else here. Not just to being the son of Odin, but to being more than the nothing I felt I was before." "I'm not good at small talk, or being pleasant. But I don't think we're strays, cousin. The gods - our parents - didn't carelessly spread their ichor around. We might be pieces on their game board, but that doesn't make us inconsequential to them. Think about it: we are made of human flesh and bone, and they chose to add a spark of their own essence. Would you view that carelessly, if it was you? They have to use us, because for them to get involved themselves would cause more problems than it would solve. And as for us maybe dying..." He let his hand slip from hers and glanced around the Band, then back at Rachel, meeting her eyes once more as some indefinable emotion leaked from behind his stoic expression. "Speaking just for myself, here. I'd rather focus on how I live, and how I die, rather than whether I die. And I plan to live and die as a son of the Aesir, and as member of your Band, if you'll have me." A small crack appeared in his eerie self-possession, and Grim shoved his hands into the pockets of his oversized coat, plainly discomforted at his own display of feeling.
  10. As the others showed up, first Austin then Laurie, Grim withdrew slightly. It wasn't pointed or even particularly noticeable to the newcomers, but the set of his shoulders and the calm stoicism of his expression indicated that the cracks Fisher and Nadya had made in his emotional armor were sealed with the unconscious ease of a young lifetime of hiding ones self. Waving a small, waist-high greeting the slender young man stepped to one side, casually plucking another donut from the box and sitting himself down on a tree stump nearby. Austin and Laurie. Two other people he'd never have crossed paths with outside of lessons before. Popular, good looking, athletes and Most Likely to Succeed types. He studied them both with a steady scrutiny as he munched on his snack, his thoughts clear, for once, of feelings of inferiority or bitterness. Nadya was right - what the Hel did it matter that none of those here would have said more than brief "Hi" to each other in the halls? They were all divinely gifted, a label that seemed particularly apt for the daughter of Apollo. "I don't mind if Wolf doesn't." he said in response to Laurie's query, a touch of wry humor in his tone, if not his expression as he got comfortable, setting his walking stick down beside him and pulling his book out of his bag. Withdrawing a little, but not ignoring the presence of the others, now and then peering up through the mop of tousled dark hair as one or another spoke or acted, Grim relaxed into study.
  11. For a long moment Grim regarded Nadya, his face expressionless as he considered her words, his fingers feeling the rough metal of the amulet in his hand. Despite his dour nature, he couldn't help but be touched by both Fisher's determined diplomacy and Nadya's own special brand of charm mixed with blunt truth. And the gift. He looked down at the effigy of his father, considering. There was wisdom in Nadya's words - scions of the gods had enough problems that trying to tackle them all alone was likely to be a short journey to Valhalla at best. And Fisher was also right, much as it stung. Part of Grim wanted friendship, wanted to be part of something rather than drifting through life like a leaf on a breeze. He was, despite his introverted nature, still human - at least mostly. And after all, what were the gods except humans writ larger than life? He examined the carved face of Odin, noting the one eye, his left hand coming up to trace the scar over his own eye. "Thank you." he said, looking up at Fisher and Nadya, a faint smile curving his lips for a moment. "For the wisdom, for the kindness, and for the gift." He sighed, slipping the effigy into a pocket of his oversized duster. "I meant what I said: I'm not good at... friends. Or family." Nadya laughed at that, offering once more the box of donuts. "Who is? Some are just better at faking it." Grim took a deep breath, then walked over to Nadya and took a blueberry one, looking into her eyes and giving another minnow-flash smile. "I'm not doing anything more important right now, I guess."
  12. Grim's jaw clenched as Fisher's last words hit home, both mismatched eyes blazing with pain that was as terrible as it was all too human. His eyes closed, then reopened, and Fisher could see that shutters were coming down over the display of naked emotion. When Grim spoke, his voice was too calm by far, though his features seemed even more haggard than usual. "Touching tale. Gets me right here in the feels. So what you're saying is: if I'm a good stray and take her shit, Rachel will grace me with her benevolence and allow me to tag along, because she's a sucker for charity cases." He dropped his gaze, focusing his minds eye on the rune Jera. Calm... Harmony... Peace... It was hard. Fisher's words had opened up wounds, stirred up pain, and Grim regretted opening up to the other youth now. He felt like his own secret hurt was being used to persuade him, and he hated that. He hated that he wanted so badly his whole life to have someone give a shit, hated that people only cared because he was god-blooded. He wanted to cry. Instead he looked up dry-eyed and met Fisher's gaze. "Forgive my anger. Gods be with you, son of Izanami. I may be without family, but I'm used to that. I may be hurt, but that pain is old and part of me. I might be alone, but that's not news either." He turned and started to walk away. "To tell the truth, I'm not sure I know how to be any other way. Take care, Wolf." He raised a hand without looking back, waving farewell.
  13. Grim was far from easily spooked or rattled, and even less prone to letting others see it. Even so, the sheer size of the wolf caused him to take a prudent step back as it barrelled into Fisher. A moment later and he realised this monster was a... pet? Companion? He wondered at it's origin - was this Rachel's? Fed on her eitr? A moment's thought and he disregarded that - animals or mortals fed on the Aesir blood were notoriously surly towards everyone but their 'donor', whereas Wolf was a candidate for waggiest tail in Salem right now as Fisher scritched behind her ears. "Hi." he said to the massive canine, then looked at Fisher. "Wolf? Seriously?"
  14. A foxish grin, razor sharp and swift, flashed across the pale scarred face as Grim shook his head - not in negation, but in amusement. With a sigh, he took Fisher's hand in a brief shake. "You get an A for effort, Fisher. And an A+ for honesty. Least I can do is come along and see what you want me to see." The smile disappeared and his usual stoic demeanor returned. "No promises - I'm not particularly interested in a coaxed apology any more than Cooper is interested in taking in strays. But who knows - you might be able to hold my attention until the meeting starts." "And don't expect any profound rune wisdom from me - yet." he snorted, tapping the book's cover. "I know the names of them all, and what they look like, and some of what each one represents. Odin plucked out his eye and hung on the World Tree to learn the lore of the runes, which he then shared. They can be a tool of divination, or blessing, or cursing. You can trace a rune in the air for a working, or sing a rune into a poem, or carve it into bone or wood, or even scar it into flesh. Each has different uses, effects, and layers upon layers of complexity." He smiled that same quick here-and-then-gone smile. "I'm a novice, so far. I used to be interested in all kinds of occult stuff - used to think it was interesting how people made stuff up to explain the world before science. And now... it's all real, magic is real, runes have power and I'm having to deal with it." He shrugged, picking up his sandwich and eating in quick hungry bites.
  15. When Fisher got up to walk outside, Grim had a pretty good idea what he was doing. It didn't take divine intellect to work out that the scion of the Kami was used to smoothing over the ruffled waters left in his leader's wake. If he'd been asked, he'd have told Fisher not to bother - but then, it was Fisher's choice to get involved. Grim shrugged and went back to his book until the other youth returned with a long-suffering air, then subjected him to an appraisal and spoke. Despite himself, the taciturn Odinsson smiled a little. Fisher was laying on the charm, and plainly not for insincere reasons - he genuinely wanted to smooth things over and welcome Grim to the Band. Privately, Grim felt that the scion of Izanami had a gift for getting the best out of people. Hel, he even liked him somewhat. He closed the book again, his expression neutral as he considered Fisher's outstretched hand, then his face with a gaze that was too sharp by half. "Bearing in mind I didn't ask you to get involved, Fisher, what did your leader say?" he said with a slight emphasis on the word 'your'.
  16. For a long moment the slender youth's gaze locked with Fisher's, weighing and measuring. He sighed softly, some of the tension leaving his drawn features as he dropped his gaze to consider the dark swirling of his coffee. "I believe you mean that." he said softly. "But words were spoken. Bad choice of words? Sure, lets go with that. But let me add some more context. First, she plops down in that seat, glaring at me, and stated what class she remembered me from before my disappearance. Fine, good, nice ice-breaker. Point to Rachel. Then she calls me a dumped stray, which stings a little. And finally she asks if my kidnapping is going to cause any problems." He lifted his eyes to meet Fisher's again. "A brief bit of small talk, then a petulant, careless complaint-slash-insult, followed by an inquisition." "She has already defined me by resentment and potential problems I will cause her, Fisher. I believe that you and the others do not want me to feel unwelcome." Grim shrugged, giving a rare half-smile. "The fact I'm even discussing this is proof of that. But the fact remains that the leader of your band has made her position plain. So fuck her. I don't have to take that."
  17. "She said enough." Grim meant to leave it at that, some perverse streak of obstinacy leaning him toward letting Fisher twist in the wind and chase his own answers... But Fisher wasn't Rachel. That didn't completely alleviate Grim's hostility, but at least it meant Fisher was on the edges of it rather than the target. "She brought me up to speed on the fact that she doesn't like our elders 'dumping strays' - her words - in your band. So I let her know that was no problem, and that I won't be imposing on her clique." He appeared casual, but the iron self-control with which Grim spoke overlaid a deep well of bitter anger, going back years before his kidnapping and Visitation. "It's quite amazing how it doesn't matter whether I'm godblooded or not, my relatives want me to be someone else's problem." His fingers clenched slightly, then relaxed with conscious effort. He made a flicking motion as if discarding the whole affair, a sardonic smile crooking one corner of his mouth. "And I actually expected things to be different. So much for inheriting the wisdom of Odin."
  18. Slender scarred hands paused in their delicate tracing over ancient futhark script as Grim looked up to see Fisher standing over his table. For a moment he paused, eyes narrowing in consideration - but Fisher had asked rather than simply imposed, and some ingrained courtesy of his own recognised that fact. The book closed with a soft 'whump' and the scion of Odin set it aside, sitting back and gesturing to the chair recently vacated by Rachel. "Go ahead." he said simply, taking a bite of his somewhat neglected sandwich. His tone was noncommittal, as was his body language. Considering the mood he was in regarding his 'fellows' right now, this was practically welcoming.
  19. Grim relaxed as the pain and anger - and yes, disappointment - faded from his mind to a dim echo of their former sharpness after Rachel left. She seemed oblivious to the fact that he wasn't going to be attending any Band meetings, now. Whether that was because she thought he had no choice, or due to her not understanding his words was not his concern, though neither state of affairs spoke well of her. Regardless, he wouldn't be showing up like some hopeful to a cheerleader tryout to show 'what he could do'. He was the son of Odin, not a dog to kick and coax until it performed tricks. He got himself another mug of coffee and, after a moments thought, a sandwich. The noon sun was warm through the coffee shop windows, the book was thick and filled with knowledge, and Grim had nothing else to do with his Saturday afternoon except to delay going back to the foster home.
  20. "Those responsible are dead." Grim stated coldly, lowering the mug in his hand to set it on the table. He met her stare unflinchingly, his pale drawn features expressionless, betraying nothing of the pain her words caused. Like an ant under a magnifying glass, the old warm feelings of a childhood crush burned away. Even here, he was not welcome. Even here, in a band of demigods, to a woman related by divine blood, he was a figure of unearned resentment. His eyes narrowed and he leaned forward, matching her stare as his voice dropped low, taking on a venomous tone. "And whilst we are in the spirit of fostering understanding, I am equally unhappy about being forced to associate with and take orders from people I know nothing about... and care even less about. Our elders placed me with you. I did not ask for it - and you do not want another 'stray'. So now we know where we stand." He sat back, picking up his book and opening it again. "I'll not impose on you further. Be courteous - and wise - enough to do the same for me." he finished in an air of dismissal, dropping his gaze to the pages.
  21. As the attractive package of pink-wrapped athleticism sat down and glared at him, an eyebrow crooked over a vibrant green eye for a moment before Grim quietly closed the book he was reading and sat back in turn, taking another bite of brownie as he returned her glare with a look of calm appraisal. His left eye, the glacially-pale, almost colorless orb with the scar over it, was an eerie counterpoint to it's companion as both peered at Rachel from under the tousled mop of dark hair. She seemed irritated, but not with him as much as just... generally. He followed up the mouthful of brownie with a gulp of coffee from the mug in his hand, then nodded in response to her statement. "I remember." he said quietly. "There were a couple of other occasions we were in the same space at the same time, but honestly I'm surprised you remember at all. I didn't really stand out." A ghost of a smile played around the edges of his mouth, a flicker gone as quickly as it manifested. There was a presence about Grimsley Algar now, a self-possession rare amongst adolescent young men, even ones who were god-blooded. He raised his mug to her in acknowledgement, eyes meeting hers in a direct gaze. "Not like you." Once he'd had a crush on Rachel, probably like many (both male and female). Once, he would have stammered and mumbled and tried his hardest to fade into the background to adore her from afar. Sitting across from her, he realised that although she was still impressive and still beautiful, he wasn't the same boy he'd once been. What a difference a year and half can make he thought wryly. Meanwhile, over behind the counter, Darci's brow furrowed slightly as she caught sight of Rachel sitting down to speak to... what was that kid's name? The one who'd disappeared - Grimsley! That was it. Why would the leader of a band of demigods be sitting down and talking to Mr Invisible? A serious talk, too. They didn't seem like close buddies or anything. The barrista's eyes narrowed as she turned back to the espresso machine, deep in thought.
  22. ((This fic is open to all who want to take part and takes place on Saturday afternoon after the Dance. It is assumed there was a band meeting and quick briefing on Saturday morning.)) The sounds of steam, the scent of ground beans and the hubbub of voices were all underscored with gentle acoustic strumming from a solitary guitarist on the raised platform that served the Drip as a stage. It was warm here, an island of pleasant coziness and comfort against the first chill breeze of autumn. Grim sighed softly in relief as he sat down at a vacant table, setting a large mug of black coffee and a brownie in front of him as he shucked out of his overcoat, a blue duster that seemed a size or two large for his still-slender frame. Slender but solid, he'd realised when showering after his swim earlier. As part of his physical therapy to help regain more mobility in his leg, the scion of Odin had been mandated a daily swim by Coach Fingers in addition to hikes, combat training, and a confidence course he had to run once a week. Fingers was not the coddling sort, and Grim was grateful for it. He'd berate a student who didn't give 100%, but if you did give your all and still failed, he'd just nod and say "Again." Or if you were wiped out, he'd simply say "Hit the showers, and do better tomorrow." Under the regimen of exercise, Grim was not only recovering full use of his leg, he was getting stronger than he'd previously thought possible, though how much of that was his Aesir blood was hard to say. He still looked like he was made of coathangers, a condition exacerbated by the too-large second-hand clothing he wore, but Grim was enough of a young man to take some pride that he was growing out as well as up. Now, though, he was just glad to be sitting down with a warm cup of coffee. Pulling a book borrowed from Mr Syracuse from his bag, he flipped it open and settled in to read, now and then sipping from his mug as his mismatched eyes scanned the pages. There was a lot to catch up on, not just the year and a half of school he had missed, but the fact that all the legends and myths were, if not wholly true, then at least true enough to kill you if you were ignorant of them. The school was less of an issue - his mind had always been keen, but the ichor of Odin running through his veins now made schoolwork trivial. He paused for a moment, eyes not reading the words in front of him as he was lost in thought. Family. An odd thought, to have family. For years that word had been associated with a bitter old man who hated the sight of him. Now family meant having a sprawling array of larger-than-life, honest to goodness gods expecting great things of him. It was a step up, in many ways. Giving a rare, thin smile, Grim took a bite of brownie and went back to his book.
  23. "This is your brain. And this is your brain on powdered Nemean tiger penis."
  24. I'm up for a meet-n-greet fic if others are. I know we decided to off-camera the band meeting but there's no reason it can't be a side fic if people want.
  25. What is known about Grim as a result of the off-camera introduction: Scion of Odin. Odd-colored eyes with a faint thin scar over the left one, seldom smiles, scarred hands from lots of thin cuts. Has a slight limp. Was mostly an invisible scrawny waif fading into the background of the school before his disappearance for 18 mths. Seems to have grown and filled out a little, but still wears too-big threadbare second hand clothing. Polite in a distant way, and sparing with words and expressions. Not shy or retiring - he will meet the eyes of whoever is speaking to him - but taciturn and hard to read. If anyone has any specific quizzing to do to him, that can happen on-camera.
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