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[doeswhathewants]

[The Stark phone's feed is jumbled and half obscured by a pale hand with black polished nails, but it can still film the seven, knee-high garden gnomes converging on Serrure, each with an apple in an outstretched hand and plenty of half bitten, crushed apples around him.]

I said no apples. See? Full. Very full. Perhaps if you baked them in a pie or with some brown sugar sauce like that bakery-

[And a well aimed apple is now between Serrure's teeth, he takes a step back and something hits the back of his knees. Losing his balance he falls backwards, landing inside a clear container. The phone shifts just in time for the clear glass lid to come slamming down, sealing the glass coffin.

He spits out the apple.]

What are you- [Banging on the side with a closed fist.] Still alive in here. [But the forest animals have all ran off and the gnomes are busy arranging flowers around the base of the coffin. Serrure looks to the phone, starting to feel a bit fuzzy from the poison apples.]

Ah- help?

Comments

[infernoandhearth]

I suppose I oughtn't to have given them the idea from flinging apples at them in the first place.

[Luke, at least, looks apologetic. Briefly. And then he smirks.]

Are you quite sure you wouldn't rather wait for a prince to come along and take you and the coffin for a macabre conversation piece?

[doeswhathewants]

You were trying to help, but obviously not.

I hope this is not hermetically sealed or I'll run out of air before anyone can come along. [A couple of gasping breaths.] No, actually, I think I can smell some of those flowers- [Tapping on the glass] Not those blue ones! They're hideous.

[mortemscintilla]

Serrure!

What's going on?

[ He secretly smirked. Not that he'll ever tell. ]

[doeswhathewants]

What do you think is going on? I've been locked in a glass coffin and I am obviously not dead.

Though not for want of trying, these apples are poison.

[mortemscintilla]

Wh-who do those little gnomes think you are?

Snow White?

[ Li. Why does this concern you more than the fucking poison? ]

[infernoandhearth]

[Luke just kinda rests his chin in his hands and grins at him.]

It's very picturesque, you know. Would you rather wait for a proper hero? I'm only an apple's toss away.

[doeswhathewants]

[And he's just linefacing at you.]

Says the one not sealed in a glass coffin. Feel free to put in a rescue, I dub thee Luke, Prince of Apples.

[doeswhathewants]

[Loki isn't concerned about the poison, either. He thought those apples tasted funny.]

Yes! I did not dissuade them because they had sandwiches. And, you know, they are animate.

[mortemscintilla]

They...

Lured you with sandwiches?

[ That is pretty funny. ]

[infernoandhearth]

[Luke stands up and aims the camera at himself, specifically to bow dramatically.]

To your rescue, fair Loki. Is there even a male form of maiden? What a dreadful gap in the language.

[He shoves his device in his pocket and he's off running. He tries sending a bit of fire ahead, just to check, and is disappointed to find these gnomes are not, in fact, wooden. They're already fired clay. Whatever. He comes to a halt in the clearing and bows again to the gnomes.]

Hail, dwarves. My word, what a lovely young man you have in that box. I'd like to take him home, please.

[It. Might work? It's worth a try, he figures.]

[indecent_butterfly]

Did no one tell you not to take food from strangers. Or strange...things.

[doeswhathewants]

Why not? I was hungry. And they were quite pleasant, not like some of the other animated things today.

Then the forest animals arrived and the gnomes kept trying to engage me in singing.

[doeswhathewants]

I think the male version of maiden is basement dweller.

[The dwarves watch Luke coming, are not perturbed in the slightest by the fire. But after he speaks, they gather in a circle and bow their pointy little hats in conference. After a moment, they pull away and collectively shake their heads, pointing to Serrure, then making the throat slitting gesture.

Obviously he's still alive, it's too early.]

[doeswhathewants]

Well. No. I thought what was the worst that could happen? Poison? Pah.

I did not plan on glass coffins. And besides that, I am male.

[mortemscintilla]

Were they good sandwiches?

[ Yes. This matters. ]

They do realize you're a little boy, right? Not a princess?

[indecent_butterfly]

Your creativity needs expanding then.

And what exactly does the one have to do with the other?

[doeswhathewants]

Who is so creative as to expect glass coffins?

Well, I cannot be their princess because I do not like princes. [Blinks.] I think. No, definitely not.

[doeswhathewants]

Oh, very good sandwiches. The tea was a little bland, though.

[HUFF]

I told them. Thrice over, I told them.

[indecent_butterfly]

More people should.

Not all princesses like princes either. And why can't the princess be the one to save the prince in the end?

[infernoandhearth]

[This warrants a solemn nod from Luke.] Oh dear, it looks like you're right. I'll check back in regularly, shall I?

[He wanders off, and runs off as soon as he's far enough away out of view. At which point he flips his device back on and texts Serrure.]

Pretend to die! Probably best to make it as dramatic as possible, I think.

1/2

[mortemscintilla]

That's ... odd.

Considering they don't have tastebuds.

Or, um, brains.

[ His inner-chef is offended. ]

[doeswhathewants]

[The gnomes appear satisfied and go back to tastefully placing flowers.

Serrure receives the text and sends back-] Give me five minutes.

[And Loki is clutching his throat dramatically, coughing, choking, gasping] Dying, I am dying. Vision, going black...walls closing in- goodbye cruel world, let them mourn Serrure, let them say he was taken too young...too young. [And then he flops back, lets out the most deathly rattle of breath he can manage, closes his eyes and places his arms- crossed- upon his chest.]

[mortemscintilla]

You should be careful. What if those apples give you the 'Sleepy Sickness'?

They never did find the causes for it. But I hear it can sink you into a coma-state. And give you psychosis.

And, er, turn you sort of.

Handsy.

[doeswhathewants]

What? Handsy? Do you know this first hand?

[He's just staring at you, aghast.]

[doeswhathewants]

A princess could save me, I'd not object. Only, I do not know of any princesses I'd want to risk this curse to do so.

...or any princesses at all, for that matter.