#like here was the thin cloth pants with the ceremonial armour

[worstloki]

Fics where Thor/Loki are surprised at each other’s d*ck size like they weren’t raised together.... u can’t fool me I saw what kind of daywear normal pants they had on through Thor 1

[daddymcfriendlyfire]

Smoke, Gold and the Dancing Dead

[Note: Just putting this out here. If anyone actually likes this hmu]

One

“Did he suffer… why is that even a question on this?” Alexis huffed, a frown tugging on her pursed, pink lips. “Well, if you’re willing to pay $2.5 million to bring him back then I think you can get through a questionnaire,“ Phoenix replied, tapping her nails on the glass coffee table. She sat back on the golden, white velvet couch, careful not crease her own white dress. “Not when I’ve been through five,” Alexis sighed, biting her knuckles with a furrowed brow. “Trust me, it’s worth it,” Phoenix promised with a small smile.

Is it worth it to have to put up with his insistent nattering? His drunken kisses that always felt like been kissed by a fish? But if I didn’t bring the damn fool back, wonderings would become rumours that’ll pile up so high they’ll to topple over and crush me.

The waiting room from the moment you stepped inside was like stepping into a different well, reality. The turmoil and rush of the harbour outside was nowhere to be seen inside the palace of La’Ramose. It wasn’t officially dubbed a palace but that’s what it was, from the white marble walls, the sandstone barriers, and towers at the water’s edge, the numerous flower beds filled with petals spun of white and gold and grass so green it seemed almost handcrafted. Even the guardsmen in their pale gold and cream-lined leather armour plated with silver scales on their back made for a rare sight of beauty and well-spent wealth. Even the waiting room itself, filled with a smiling secretary, four guardsmen, and a rare cactus cared to modestly boast of the Necromancer’s influence. Something both Alexis and Phoenix wouldn’t mind having a hand in. “Done,” Alexis said with a sigh through her nose, filing the papers into uniform. “Well then, they should be ready for the ceremony by now,” Phoenix said, straightening her dress and standing. Alexis followed the socialite to the Black Salt room, both graceful as feline despite the heels and golden armour plated on their arms. It was light and wouldn’t serve much in the way of defending them from an axe or bullet, instead it served a higher purpose. Their armour and the glyphs inscribed into the scales or the tattoos on their very skin were there to sing of their heritage. To say who they were without a single word leaving their glossy lips. From their shoulders to their arms, the gold and glyphs told any socialite, slave, soldier or Necromancer how their lineage fought in wars and skirmishes past and how they served humanity, earning their place and power. The second the two entered the Black Salt room, all warmth seemed to simply fade away. The white of the waiting room was gone to be replaced with black marble, the stone table in the centre covered in yellow roses, thorns and birch branches was surrounded by a shallow pool of water. Atop, resting pale and peacefully, the old fat man lay. He may be the corpse waiting to reawaken, but he was the star of this ceremony. No, that honour lay only and always with the Necromancer herself, the Lady Fleur La’Ramose.

She was everything and more the rumours, photos, paintings and chatter on the radio had promised. Her paintings promised a beauty of golden-auburn hair as if sunlight and honey had been spun into the wavy curls at her shoulders, the blue that looked to be as if her mother had stolen the blue from the sky and placed it in her child’s eyes. If her mother had stolen the sky, her father had stolen the moon and stars to weave the silver of her flowing dress and scales of light armour on her shoulders with a thin trail down to either middle finger, twisting into rings that promised to be worth more than Alexis’ family home. Of course, her paintings left out the brown freckles or the small scar by her left eyebrow but they were a candle to the sun. The Lady didn’t even need to say a word for silence to blanket the room. She merely stepped forward, barefoot into the water and onto the step. Fleur rested two hands upon the corpses’ forehead and closed her eyes. Alexis dare not take a breath. It was all over in a few moments. She wasn’t sure what she’d been expecting, but he didn’t jump back into life the second Fleur retracted her hands from his head. It took a moment but his arm twitched, then his head began to spasm until he sat up, coughing and splattering without an inch of grace for someone returning from the realm of death itself. The lady La’Ramose, having performed her miracle simple slipped her silver heels back on and went to leave, to return up the stairs from whence she’d came. But this would not do for Phoenix. It would not do for either of them. Together they passed the old man, looking about confusedly and went to speak with the Necromancer herself. “My lady…my lady La’Ramose!” Phoenix called out at the foot of the staircase. The Lady paused, then turned around, her silver trail reaching down to the step below. Phoenix faltered, hesitating in a realisation that she was speaking to Fleur herself. “I – just – wanted to share my admiration for your splendid resurrection and for your work as a whole. As such a contributor to our community, I thought you might like to join us for the Flauderlair annual ball on their river castle. It’s quite the stunning fair and so many – including Alexis and I will be in atten - ” Phoenix was cut off the second Fleur decided she had grown bored of pretending to care. “Quite so. As it happens, bringing back loved ones from the dead as a career is one that keeps me quite busy. As…interesting as the ball sounds I believe I, unfortunately, haven’t the time to spend on such things. Please do enjoy your husband, ensure you take him to your local evaluator to ensure he’s of sound mind and have you papers correctly filed to check he isn’t resurrected again,” Fleur pleasantly reminded them, not bothering to hide the distaste in her dry smile and sharp eyes. Phoenix was not someone most said the horrid word no to. For someone to put it so…forward in the way of a socialite left faint bitterness on the roof of their mouths and a strain evident in the vein in Phoenix’s neck and the grind of Alexis’s teeth. But Fleur didn’t care for their dislike or their thirst of the influence she carried. Fleur didn’t care for much. Only a few.

~

“Did they manage to get their claws into you yet?” He jested, a smirk tugging at his lips. "Don’t even joke about such things, at this point, I’m close to imposing a rule of silence in the Black Salt room. At least their dead ones don’t ask if I can attend their tea parties,” Fleur sighed, unlatching the silver armour upon her shoulders and letting it slip onto the floor. Hex simply laughed, rolling onto his back amongst the white sheets of the circular bed. That was one of the few things Fleur enjoyed without an inch of guilt. He didn’t bother with a shirt but lay amongst the sheets and pillows in his black pants, belt and a golden necklace, a black earring at the top of his lobe. He didn’t care for the open-air balcony that overlooked the river, or the fact that many in the harbour far below could probably see his half-naked self. Even after a day of doing nothing but lay about like a common house-cat, his black curly hair didn’t have a single sign of bed-head or a trace of sleep-dust in his eyes that seemed to reflect the blue in the sky above. As he laughed, his eyes did the thing where they squinted so he just fell into a wild tangle of blind cackling. Fleur couldn’t help but envy his laid-back nature and not to mention his ridiculous amount of free time. “Why not attend at least one? Feign some interest, make them claw at each other for a chance to speak with a La’Ramose,” Hex continued to grin, on his knees he helped her out of the silver armour on her spine and unlacing the open v at the back of her dress. Fleur sighed through her nose, dipping her head back onto his forehead. While he spluttered on her golden curls, Fleur shrugged the shoulder straps off and let her gown fold down onto the white, stone floor. It was cold and felt wonderful against her bare feet, sore from a day spent in heels. With the cold, salt-heavy wind that carried the colours of the river flew in through the open balcony separated by three, open white shutter panels, she couldn’t help but faintly shiver at his warm touch. Specifically, his arms wrapped around her waist, curls and face pressed onto her back, enjoying her own warmth. Without warning, Hex hugged her closer and let himself fall back, pulling Fleur with him. “Hey!” She half-heartedly protested, her exhaustion crumbling away for her to fall into a fit of laughter, the two entangled as Fleur turned and rested her head on his chest. It only took her a moment to begin to untangle herself and roll beside him. “C’mon, not even a minute?” Hex murmured, shifting onto his side. Casual as he dared, he slid a hand underneath the strap of her bra on her back as if she wouldn’t notice. Fleur jokingly glared and that only sent her house-cat of a partner into a bout of laughter. She left him to it and went to slip on a white, short jumpsuit and socks, tying her blonde curls into a high-bun. It was a small, separate room where she kept her clothes and jewellery, a full-length, jagged mirror set against the black stone wall. The small room was lit by a string of lanterns encircling the hexagonal set of walls, the warm light gentle against the honey-gold of her hair. There’s no time to play with Hex tonight…not with the stupid amount of paperwork I have to chew through and sign. Twenty appointments over the next three weeks and each demanding a different set of flowers, a choir for the Reese’s, a boat ceremony for the Charleston’s and a cleansing for the Maeth’s. Paperwork forced smiles and an overabundance in bullshit. Joyous.

Fleur took her time despite the fact she was only preparing for a night spent pouring over her desk and papers. A time in which Hex would spend continuing his painting of the riverside city by moonlight, probably listening to whatever jazz was popular twenty years ago, hogging her personal phonograph for his own amusement. “Fleur…?” Hex called out, something off in his voice. Did someone decide to show up unannounced? That’s what you get for laying about half-naked… “Fleur.” He called out to her again, but this time, there was most certainly something wrong. Shit. Cautiously, slowly, Fleur crept out from the dressing room and into their chambers. Hex was no longer on the bed, instead he stood between the shutters, a woman standing behind him. The shutters and the balcony itself, all of them were covered in some…substance, a red type vine that had spread across the balcony, the railing and through the shutters. The woman that stood behind hex was dressed in this same red, a cowl hiding her face. From her arm, a similar red substance grew into what looked to be a blade, the point pressed against the small of Hex’s back. Another stranger on the other balcony opening, the red substance grew from both of his arms, beneath the sleeves of his cloak. Hex looked her, fear clouding his features. “You’re the Necromancer?” The female stranger said, cocking her head to the left. “I – I am, but please whatever it is your after, I’m willing to cooperate. I have jewels – gold and silver - but please don’t, don’t hurt us - ” Fleur tried to reason, but the strangers had no interest in her pleas. Who are they? Their thread isn’t gold or black – but red? They’re not one of the Heavenly Artisans or a Witch Doctor but something else…someone who managed to get past my guards.

“We don’t want your gold,” The woman said almost softly, a lilt evident in her voice. Fleur stepped forward slightly, arms raised in a form of surrender. “Then…let him go and we can calmly discuss things…” Fleur suggested, taking another small step. “We’ll be taking what we came for. Don’t try to run, Fleur,” the Woman said, the shadow beneath her cowl looking directly at her. The second the necromancers’ name was uttered, the blade at Hex’s back was pushed through and out the front of his chest. Fuck it. Fleur leaped forward, any regard to remaining calm abandoned. All that mattered was getting his body, whether it was breathing or not. But she wasn’t fast enough it seemed, as the woman, her blade still between his ribs pulled back, the red thread throwing them back and over the balcony. “HEX!” Fleur screamed, starting after him only to be slammed into the two steps separating the room. The other stranger had pulled his arms from the thread, using one whip-like arm to hit her out of the way. She scrambled to get to her feet, doing her best to ignore the dizziness and throbbing pain. Every second, every decision Fleur made could bring her further or closer to the stranger woman and Hex. The stranger man struck and Fleur managed to stumble out of the way, over the threads of every shade of red she leaped over the balcony railing and felt the silence of the night air cancel out any other sound. Fleur La’Ramose had lived in the riverside mansion for her entire twenty-two years, so in that very moment without a single inch of hesitation, she jumped over the balcony to the dark, dark river below. The river Tet had been a home for her and now, it had become a cloak to shield her.