Send me a character and I’ll tell you
OTP: Mari x Odin *cries about it*
BrOTP: Mari x Lilith, Mari x Margy
OT3: (um um um i don’t know this one um) Mari x Happiness x Life *sideyes u*
NOTP: Mari x Pitch
— - Years, it had to have been,
since the little queen had last seen her.
But the time had no effect on her memory.
She would recognize M a r i in any form,
in any world. One never forgot their best
friend as a child, and Margaery was no
different. As if the subtle spark of her
appearance hadn’t been enough, the
tattoos gave it away easily. Years for the
rose, but the time-traveller looked
exactly the same…
With quick steps, she crossed to her.
“Mari, what are you doing here?”
She always knew to come when she was needed most.
— "Looking for you, min rae.”
A grin found itself spreading across
the girl’s face as she swaggered over
to her best friend.
“Shit, you’ve grown so much.
You’re almost my age now.”
Mari’s hands came up to Margaery’s face
as she pulled her towards her to deliver a
prompt and gentle kiss to the girl’s
forehead, practically beaming with pride
at the Tyrell.
"Come on. We need to catch up.”
I’d sell my soul for you, babe
For money to burn for you
I’d give you all and have none, babe
Just to, just to, just to, to have you here by me, because
”So, is it weird if I ask you when and where I am? Or do you get that a lot? Cause my watch is wonky as hell.”
A snarl rose in Odin’s throat at her remarks, but he quickly pushed it down, in favour of a smirk. “Taunting an old war veteran?” He retorted, tsking. “What poor form.” He moved around her once, twice, pausing in the middle of the mat. He cocked his head to the side quizzically — as though she was a question that needed answering.
”I’m no top dog,” He added, making a false swipe, to get her to react. “You’ve heard of the Hansens. The Kaidanovskys. All with far more experience.” Another swipe, this time for her knees. “—- And Marshal Pentecost."
Then, he made another strike - real, this time, right for her ribs. It landed, and he quickly twisted away again. “One-one." Odin gave a short laugh, dropping into a more aggressive stance.
”What’s this pretty little birdie doing so far from her nest, hm? You think you’re ready for the big league?” He taunted, pursing his lips and arching a challenging brow, beckoning her forward. “Those big, nasty beasties would swallow you whole.”
Odin whipped out the staff as he side-stepped around her, hitting a blind spot at the back of her arm. Harder, this time — the sound of the impact was loud. He did not doubt it would bruise.
Anger bubbled within her and Mari spun, even after he had bruised her arm — fucker does not even have the right to do such a thing — and struck him in the ribs, with just as much fury and strength. ”Two-two,” She cooed, before the proctors even spoke. And she moved forward, her grin back on her face. “You underestimate me, sir.”
With a sharp laugh, she returned to former position, closer to him, waiting for her moment to strike. And then she saw it, and she was moving across with him, striking at him, only to be blocked, each time. The sound of the wood on wood was the only other sound beside her short, breathless laughs. Mari bounced and moved, fast before she circled him and prepared to strike for her third point, aiming for his ribs, like he had done to her.
“Mr. Hjeim, I sincerely doubt you’re even trying —”
“—Because if you were, you wouldn’t be getting beaten by ‘a pretty little birdie so far from her nest.’”
Bright blues flickered open at the sound of a voice. In a moment, he was on his feet, a staff clutched in hand. “Bold words, from such a little girl,” He remarked, giving her a nod. Some of the evaluators looked increasingly uncomfortable, exchanging glances between each other.
He moved to one side of the mat, allowing her a starting corner. His eyes did not leave her - not for a moment. He sized her up; she was small, but he wagered that she was fast. Odin himself was the middling ground between strength and speed - not built for power, or swiftness, but measures of both. “Låt oss se hur fort du faller.”
Slowly, he began to circle her. He moved to strike at her side, then feinted left, striking again, this time at her arm. It was all about movement, fluidity — he doubted he’d find another pilot, but this one — this one had been brave enough to go first, seemingly without fear. Eager to prove herself. It brought the slightest smile to his face. She seemed to be fresh - never in a Jaeger, never in a real battle. All the better. They always need a little scare…
She turned, meeting his strike with the clack of wood on wood. Another turn, and she circled him, light as a feather, quick as a snake. A vulture preparing to strike. Yet she just observed him, watched the cords of muscles and his feet. Watched him as she moved and then —
Another turn, a flash of memories as a ballet dancer, and Mari moved to strike his side, defenseless and open. And then she heard the call of the evuluators — "One-zero." and she bounced back, away, forever moving from him, strategy and swiftness in one. The murmurs of the crowd came loud to her but she blocked it out, tired of them, tired of what they said to her, about her.
”Come on, old man.”
Another taunt, and she spun the staff in her hand, waiting a moment before returning to her defensive position. “I thought you were supposed to be top dog. But all I see is a bitch.”
Get the blood pumping, I want to see this man hurt me.
Two good co-pilots. Dead. One old, rustbucket Jaeger. Destroyed.
And him? Well. The PPDC had decided that Odin Hjeim had not yet met his used-by date. They were putting him through trials, again. ‘You need another co-pilot. We can’t waste your skill, not when the fighting is thickest.’ they’d said. ‘The threat level keeps rising.’
He’d cursed them in Swedish, told them he wanted nothing to do with it. Having two partners forcibly ripped from his mind was too much - each time, it had been like losing half of himself. Their presence in his mind always lingered, like a phantom limb. Nonetheless, he’d complied - if only to show them that there was no chance for another pilot, not again. Not after the last one.
Odin stood in the training room, dressed down in trackpants and a grey tank, sitting on the practice mat in the middle of the space. He kept his eyes closed, focused on his breathing. He’d hardly noticed when the candidates started to pile in, each eager for their shot with the famous Swedish pilot with eleven kills under his belt.
”I hope you’re all ready,” He spoke, his voice gruff and deep. “Because I’m going to annihilate each of you.”
Marina Bingley had never been a pilot — she had always wanted to. Her simulation scores were higher than anyone predicted. Everyone underestimated her. Mainly for her size. And she used that to her advantage many times previously. Even as a young girl, she had been tough, all hard edges with sharp nails. And like all the other candidates, she had heard of Odin Hjeim. Everyone had. A hard veteran with two dead copilots and tons of kills under his belt. But she heard a challenge in his voice though she could not see him and without a second thought, she was speaking, loud and clear.
“I'd like to see you try.”
And then the sea of people parted, and their eyes fell to her and Mari watched the flicker of disbelief across their faces and the whispers fall from their lips. How did she ever become a ranger? She’s so small. Weak. He’s going to kill her. Sharp blue hues darted from one person to the other before she eyed the pilot. His eyes were just as bold, if not bolder, than hers. Bigger, taller. More muscular. She looked a child in his presence — short and lean, with long legs and dainty hands.
“I’d like to go first, if you wouldn’t mind.” And the others watched her as she moved towards the mat, setting her combat boots to the side and taking a staff from the wall. “That way I can show everyone here that anyone big —” Testing the weight of the staff, she smiled and stepped towards him, preparing to move within a flash.
♟ for something my muse admires
Kindness. The willingness to change. A sense of adventure, of loyalty.
♗ for a tip for getting my muses romantic affection
Mari is really attracted to witty men, one who can take her jokes and her quips without having to worry about hurting them. She loves intelligence and cleverness. Clever, witty, intelligent men. That’s how people can get her affection.
♗ for a tip for getting my muses romantic affection
♖ for one of my muses guilty pleasures
♞ for something that my muse wants to do
♟ for something my muse admires
☁ for something that make my muse sad
☂ for something my muse wants to protect
♨ for something that relaxes my muse