nexus_sages | took a wrong turn at albuquerque

Loki can always appreciate the little nooks and crannies of existence, the in-between appealing to certain facets of his nature. How he found himself there wasn't so important as what he did there, and now he's sprawled in a comfortable lounge chair in the Forum. The shabby, shoeless god doesn't take long before he decides to put his own contribution out there.

"Let's set the stage, shall we?" he calls just before he leaps abruptly to his feet on the chair.

"Congratulations, you've won! You return from a great quest with the glory and the girl or boy or whatever you sought as yours. Hear the cheers of the crowd. Yay, you!" People near him might even hear that hypothetical jubilation briefly, an echoing illusion that fades as he waves it away. "Or maybe none of that, and you came out of it with a bit of personal satisfaction and a friend." (If one misplaced momentarily. Problematic, that.) "Things were going so well, and yet, right now, right now, you're waiting around for what comes after."

"You're as free as a bird, so..." He's made a switch to a more conversational tone as he drops back down into his seat. "What d'you reckon you'd do next? What story would you spin?"

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"Y'don't know after a chat like that? It hasn't it become clear?"

Truly, she had no reason to actually know this and he didn't expect her to. It just happened to have a better dramatic flourish to put it like that. He leans in a little, dropping his voice confidentially in a storyteller's trick to arrest attention, "I am the teller of tales, tall and sometimes otherwise, though no one knows which. I am Loki."

That's a name she's heard before. "Oh."

And then she remembers why she knows it. She gives him a good, hard look for a minute and then? "Oh!"

Suddenly Amelia knows why he felt so familiar. All the stories, all the dropped hints about his nature, and the dozens of selfies on a certain pink-haired woman's phone. Something about him is different now, but he still, mostly, looks the same as what she remembers from the pictures.

"You're... you're Verity's Loki."

This is probably the most stunned she's ever been in her life. It'll pass, but she's a bit slack-jawed for the moment.

Edited (Brain, why do you hate? Go with the right icon the first time, prz.) 2015-11-17 01:14 (UTC)

Any pictures Verity might have are very different, if just for the fact that his other incarnation was impeccably put together in any old pictures. This Loki looks put through the ringer in comparison, shabby and with dark circles under his eyes, and a faint manic air.

"D'you reckon that's so?" His question is asked in a friendly enough way, as her shocked manner is clearly not putting him off a bit. He's fine with filling in the gaps with pointless nonsense and humor. "I'd thought I would be my own Loki, but that's not to say the claim's invalid. Might not be a good idea to argue it with her, actually."

Shabby and ill-slept or not, he's still too similar to the man in Verity's pictures, too similar in manner to be anyone else. Sure, he could be from some alternate of her world (just how many of those are there, anyway? ...wait, don't answer that), but if he knows her, then it doesn't make him any less her Loki.

"I didn't say you weren't your own person, or... god, rather," Amelia corrects with a sympathetic smile. "But from what I've heard of you, the two of you are a pair - where one goes, the other follows, and vice versa. It's why she... kept waiting for you, until..."

She pauses, frowning in spite of her best efforts not to. "Until her world ended." Amelia's honestly unsure if Verity has thought about Loki since then. The two of them haven't exactly been on great terms recently. First because of the heist in Verity's world and then the whole incident at the Samhain ball. No assumption seems safe, either - not without incurring Verity's wrath, anyway.

Loki doesn't respond immediately, looking thoughtful as he absorbs this information. Another perspective on the same events could be enlightening, but it could also be misleading.

In short, it suits his nature.

"Told you much of me, did dear Verity?" Curious. His eyes are bright and focused, the whole of his body language shifting to a state of attention. "With what impression were you left?"

"Not really. She and I... We're not very close. At least, not at the moment." Talk about an understatement. One that could get her seriously hurt if she were to say it in front of Verity. Lucky for Amelia, she's not talking to Verity right now. "I don't know enough about you to rightfully make any real judgement. What I do know is that she loves you and misses you terribly." And no, she's not explaining that 'love' part further - that's a whole other issue.

Her lips draw into a thin line and her fingers tap on her crossed arms for a moment before she continues. "If you're going to press to know what I think, though, I'd say you're not a wholly terrible being."

"I could not be a wholly anything being and still exist as I do," he agrees in what might be the first completely straightforward statement on his part in this conversation. It feels odd, knowing that Verity confided in this person about him even in small doses. Not very close at the moment could mean so many things. Was she making friends?

That is good, he knows. That is right, and how it should be. He is left with no reason to be jealous, truly. (But he won't deny the part of him that feels a twinge. Denying his feelings to himself ended poorly for him in the more recent past, and he isn't so far past it to start immediately.)

"And you, Mistress Not-close-at-the-moment? I find myself curious."

The straightforward answer is appreciated, if only for the brief moment before he turns to ask about her. She should have expected it, really, but the change in conversation still brings some color to her cheeks.

"Me? I'm..." No one of consequence. A merchant-turned-nobleman's daughter. A thief. An assassin. A warrior. Someone who's lost their way. So many answers she could give that would be true. But perhaps the one she settles on is the best.

"I'm a rogue. And my name is Amelia Ronsam."

"A rogue? What a telling thing to consider oneself, d'you know that?" Loki has a fondness for those that live on the edges of whatever reality they find themselves within. As a mischief god, it's almost a given, but there have been incarnations of Loki who couldn't begin to imagine empathizing with such fleeting beings as mortals.

"It suggests the sort who isn't wholly anything either." That's a quality to prize in his mind. With it came ambition, change, and the promise of an interesting story after.

"It means I can be anything, and at the same time, nothing. Someone who outshines the most proud warriors or disappears into the crowd she protects. A person who desires all things or only a certain one." She smirks just the slightest bit as she says it. Having lived the life so long, she knows the details better than she'd ever care to admit.

"A blessing and a curse, depending on how and when I use the title." Her head tilts slightly to the side as she regards him. "But then again, even the God of Stories must feel that way about himself from time to time, yes?"

"I dunno about that. Can it be painful? Maybe. Maybe a bit." No, not just maybe.

It could lead to the most profound agony, but he is presently committed to being noncommittal. His expression, if briefly, might give it away, and his appearance more so. There were few things in the infinite omniverse that could make a god look so tired whenever he slowed long enough to let it catch up to him.

"But to be free and unfettered, that is worth pain." It's not too often that he has an outbreak of wise, ancient godliness, but maybe he's making up for lost time. "Make yourself what you will. You can write your own happy ending."

The shift in demeanor doesn't go unnoticed. From what little she's heard of him from Verity, Amelia understands that Loki is actually ancient. What that means isn't clear to her, but the fact that it's given him wisdom and a unique view of the world is obvious. He's in much better spirits for someone as old as he is, at least compared to what she would have expected.

"I've never worried about my own happy ending before. I thought I could tie my happiness to those I made better with my efforts." She frowns, her gaze slipping to the ground. "Learning to be my own person - that's next chapter in my story. Finding a happy ending will be a nice bonus, if I can manage to find myself apart from the wall of lies I built up around myself."

It's not that she wants to be completely different - in fact, the idea that these changes she's making could do that terrifies her. But she needs to be her own person, needs to find out what actually makes her, well, her. The daily struggle for that is something that will go on for some time now.

took a wrong turn at albuquerque

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sorry, I misplaced this notif!

It's okay, really! =]

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