Ivar "The Boneless" Ragnarsson (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
ragnarsson) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
riverview2017-11-16 06:57 pm
ragnarsson) wrote in riverview2017-11-16 06:57 pm
Entry tags:
- magnificent seven: billy rocks,
- marvel (616): steve rogers,
- original: shigeru miyata,
- star wars: rey,
- ✖ bssm (manga): sailor galaxia,
- ✖ chb chronicles: nico di angelo,
- ✖ game of thrones: daenerys targaryen,
- ✖ game of thrones: jon snow,
- ✖ gravity rush: raven,
- ✖ original: jamie dodger,
- ✖ osomatsu-san: osomatsu matsuno,
- ✖ overwatch: hana song,
- ✖ the covenant: chase collins,
- ✖ vikings: ivar ragnarsson
Video; 1-800-MURDERS
[The video starts off with some cheesy infomercial music, the kind usually found on a device that will cut your hair better or replace all your kitchen devices with one. The narrator, one Jamie Dodger, accompanies a series of drawings.]
Has this ever happened to you?
[A piece of paper is held in front of the camera, showing a crude drawing of someone being violently stabbed to death. Or maybe it's a plate of spaghetti; regardless of which of them drew it, the truth is that their art skills are crap.]
Well, with the help of this eight-step training process, it won't have to. [Dodger's voice lacks every ounce of enthusiasm these infomercials are known for, which is probably why his own video back in the day had been text-only.] Just follow your instructor's guidance and one day you could look like this.
[And again, this drawing is either... someone standing over a pile of corpses, or maybe just a sack of potatoes and some of them have faces? Who knows.]
Time to meet your instructor - Phil Swift himself.
[The video pans over to Ivar, who has the usual somewhat grumpy expression on his face. It’s clear he doesn’t really get this whole idea, but he’s been talked into it. He’ll humor everyone...for now.]
Say something.
Like what?
Sell the product. [Dodger turns the music off with a frustrated huff.] We're not shooting another take.
Fine. [Ivar gives the camera only the most dramatic of all eyerolls.] You all are idiots. I don't care if you have powers, powers don't stop a knife stabbed in your throat. I will teach you to stab people before they stab you. [He looks off to the side of the camera.] Was that good?
...Sure.
[There's an awkward pause here as the boys stare each other down with silent and mutual distaste, before Dodger switches the music back on and resumes his narration.]]
With our teachings you'll be able to stab unaware enemies - [Ivar slices his axe across a dummy's back that they had set up] - slice moving targets - [Dodger throws a pillow from off-screen, and Ivar catches it with his axe and slams it down into the floor] - and even counter fireballs, all from the comfort of your broken leg throne.
[There's another long moment of silence, as Ivar slowly looks up with a cold fire in his eyes.]
And now, ladies and gentleman, for the finale, you get to see a live demonstration. [He yanks his axe back out and there’s a psychotic grin on his face.] Start running, Dodger.
[The video concludes with the device that music is coming from knocking over and warping the sound of the tune with an eerie lilt, and cuts out with a flash of sparks and a loud pop as Dodger dodges an incoming throwing axe.]
[OOC: Know that there will be a lot of threadjacking going on in this post. Dodger and he are horrible human beings.]
Has this ever happened to you?
[A piece of paper is held in front of the camera, showing a crude drawing of someone being violently stabbed to death. Or maybe it's a plate of spaghetti; regardless of which of them drew it, the truth is that their art skills are crap.]
Well, with the help of this eight-step training process, it won't have to. [Dodger's voice lacks every ounce of enthusiasm these infomercials are known for, which is probably why his own video back in the day had been text-only.] Just follow your instructor's guidance and one day you could look like this.
[And again, this drawing is either... someone standing over a pile of corpses, or maybe just a sack of potatoes and some of them have faces? Who knows.]
Time to meet your instructor - Phil Swift himself.
[The video pans over to Ivar, who has the usual somewhat grumpy expression on his face. It’s clear he doesn’t really get this whole idea, but he’s been talked into it. He’ll humor everyone...for now.]
Say something.
Like what?
Sell the product. [Dodger turns the music off with a frustrated huff.] We're not shooting another take.
Fine. [Ivar gives the camera only the most dramatic of all eyerolls.] You all are idiots. I don't care if you have powers, powers don't stop a knife stabbed in your throat. I will teach you to stab people before they stab you. [He looks off to the side of the camera.] Was that good?
...Sure.
[There's an awkward pause here as the boys stare each other down with silent and mutual distaste, before Dodger switches the music back on and resumes his narration.]]
With our teachings you'll be able to stab unaware enemies - [Ivar slices his axe across a dummy's back that they had set up] - slice moving targets - [Dodger throws a pillow from off-screen, and Ivar catches it with his axe and slams it down into the floor] - and even counter fireballs, all from the comfort of your broken leg throne.
[There's another long moment of silence, as Ivar slowly looks up with a cold fire in his eyes.]
And now, ladies and gentleman, for the finale, you get to see a live demonstration. [He yanks his axe back out and there’s a psychotic grin on his face.] Start running, Dodger.
[The video concludes with the device that music is coming from knocking over and warping the sound of the tune with an eerie lilt, and cuts out with a flash of sparks and a loud pop as Dodger dodges an incoming throwing axe.]
[OOC: Know that there will be a lot of threadjacking going on in this post. Dodger and he are horrible human beings.]
[video] [un: j.snow]
The camera is fumbled and initially focuses on a shoulder before moving suddenly up to Jon's face. His hair is pulled back, but he seems to be wearing a plain black tshirt rather than his leathers.]
There's no need for this. If someone wants to learn to fight to defend themselves, I'll teach them for free.
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You did tell me last time you were here that you were a good fighter.
[Though he'd never gotten the chance to actually fight him.]
But if you're good at something, why do it for free?
[He's got a kid to take care of. The extra buck or two doesn't hurt.]
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[The confused, unsettled look on his face doesn't match those words. It makes more sense when he continues:]
Last time I was--?
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[Vikings don't live long lives. He's not going to leave Winter with nothing in the event of his untimely death.]
Yes. About--let's see-- five or six months ago? Not for too long. But I never forget a face.
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( She's not really sorry to interrupt. Not with the direction this conversation has begun to take. )
1/2
People grow complacent when they've had no need to fight in a while. How old is your daughter?
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Sometimes, I fear this place is like an animal pen, where the hogs are kept to grow fat and content until the slaughter. It's easy to let your guard down.
[There's a visible change in Ivar's demeanor when he speaks of his child. Something in him that relaxes and softens a little bit. If he has one reason to love, or more cynically a weakness that can be used against him, she's it.]
Three months. Her name is Winter.
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People are contented here?
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Well enough. Some don't trust why we were brought here, but those who run this place have given us little reason not to trust them.
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His first response to it is a choked, disbelieving chuckle.]
Only six months?
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[2/2 private forever]
[The perturbed expression has deepened into a frown.]
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A little. You're a fighter and have led men before. You have several siblings, though you only ever mentioned two sisters to me. We were friendly, though not precisely friends yet when you left, if you understand.
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Had I seen either of my sisters -- had I mentioned it? My brothers... six months ago I thought them all dead, but one still lives. Six months ago I had only my sister Sansa. She rules the North in my stead.
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[He understands what it's like to miss one's family. Ivar's lost much of his, leaving him only with his four brothers left of his flesh and blood.]
I know what it's like. I've been here a long time now away from my brothers.
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Did I ever mention Daenerys? Six months ago, I was with her, though not as we are now.
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[He says this in a rather tense manner. So often, people pointed to that as a sign that he should have been left in the woods to die as a child. A youngest child who couldn't walk? Clearly, he was a poor, weak runt, destined to die rather than cling to life for years on end.]
No, her name never came up. Believe me, I would have remembered you mentioning a woman such as she.
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» video, un: stormborn
( Her expression is one of avid interest, mixed with a cool solemnity. )
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( Her expression shifts, expressing her dawning displeasure. She'd known full well what he'd been alluding to. )
[private]
» private
And other things, to ensure that each one of them would have no fear.
( The look she gives him is implacable. )
Your training wouldn't involve any of that. And I would defend myself in the wars to come.
[private forever]
[The look on his face indicates that she's wearing him down, though he's not entirely happy about it.]
You can defend yourself best from the back of your dragon: I don't want you fighting on the ground unless there's no other way. And I'm not sure how much of any training here you'll remember, when it's time. But maybe you'll know it in your bones by then.
[A heavy, thoughtful sigh. He can't win without her fighting in the air above him, and he can't guarantee that she'll remain on the dragon's back, though the thought of seeing her disappearing under a swarm of wights makes him sick.]
All right.
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( Care. The bitterness in her gaze now has nothing to do with Jon. Though she never once shifts her focus from his eyes. )
So I'd thought, too. Until Viserion was shot from the sky. I'll take no chances now, not with either of our lives. My Hand might well have sent you beyond the Wall to die for all I know anymore. We can't count on him.
( He's not happy, but neither is she. This place is foreign to them both, and she won't risk sending him out into the Unknown with this 'perimeter guard' unless she knows how to defend him should the need ever arise.
The thought of losing him, now, as before, is crushing. )
Only upon each other. Especially here.
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