Dec. 3rd, 2012

lokiofsassgaard: photo of a plague doctor in a red Hawaiian print shirt and a black necktie, wearing a white Panama hat (Default)
I've begun plotting Midgard Legends, AKA the one that does ridiculous things to Captain America and Hellboy. Eventually, they are going to do a jump in France. And then this happens:

They walked an almost leisurely pace across the quiet field, none daring to break the silence just yet. The calm, sunny weather seemed incongruous with the smell of blood and death that still hung on everything. Loki inhaled deeply and turned his gaze to the sky.

“Then call we this the field of Agincourt, fought on the day of Crispin Crispianus,” he said calmly.

“The hell are you talking about?” asked Howlett as he pulled a cigar from his breast pocket. “You hit your head on the way down?”

“It’s Shakespeare, you philistine,” Loki said flatly.

Behind them, Pinky and Morita laughed quietly.

“Well, pardon me, your majesty,” said Howlett. He bit down on his cigar and readied his rifle out of habit.

Pinky jogged Loki’s arm with the butt of his rifle. “Yanks, eh?” he asked.

Now Loki laughed.

“Hey, bub. I’m Canadian,” Howlett said, lifting his chin proudly.

“My word, what have the colonies come to?” asked Pinky with an exaggerated despair.

“That’s enough,” Rogers cut in before the men could get too loud. “We’re here to do a job, so let’s get it done.”

“Yes, sir,” said several of the men in chorus, followed by Pinky muttering quietly, “Bloody Canucks.” It set everyone off laughing once more, and after a few moments, even Rogers joined in.

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lokiofsassgaard: photo of a plague doctor in a red Hawaiian print shirt and a black necktie, wearing a white Panama hat (Default)
Loki of Sassgaard

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