nexus_sages | in which loki is bored and decides to give out magical rorschach tests

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in which loki is bored and decides to give out magical rorschach tests

"Gah!"

Loki sat up just in time for a small black key to bounce of his head and fall in his lap. He looked at it in bewilderment for a moment before it turned into a ring that coiled like a snake around his finger. When he stood he was rather on the short side, and thin as a rail. Really aside from overly large eyes he was rather unassuming. If you ignored the fact that he looked as if he'd walked off the set of The Lord of the Rings. And the fact that his garb seemed to constantly shift in cut and color.

Though as he took a little bit of a walk around and read a brochure someone handed my he slowly took on a more modern look that ended with a pair of ripped up and battered skinny jeans, the holes and tears in which seemed to be slowly wandering and meandering around his legs, and a faded old graphic t-shirt, the print of which apparently shifted every time one stopped paying attention to it. And no shoes! Because sometimes you just really don't feel like wearing them.

"I guess I didn't fall apart quite as badly as I thought I would," he laughed as he pocketed the brochure and fiddled with the ring that was a key minutes before. It shifted again as he walked. Now it was a small rubix cube, black on all side that he twisted and turned without really looking at it. And then it was a key again, which he flipped into the air and caught.

An idle Loki with nothing to do, no plots winding down, and no one to pester was never a particularly good thing.

He turned on his heel just in time to stop someone passing by. He holds the key out already turning into a puddle of liquid onyx in his hand and forming into something new. Something unknown.

"Tell me stranger, what do you see here?"

A simple enough magic was working here. A magical Rorschach test you could call it. Whatever the new target of his boredom thought they saw in the amorphous twisting liquid key would be plucked from their imagination and made solid. Sometimes they saw something they desired, money, their lost love. Sometimes they saw fears. Sometimes it was something from their past. Other times it was completely random; a bird, a shoe, a rock. Yes one highly uncreative individual once imagined a rock in the depths of a reality altering wrong magic spell. Whatever they thought they saw in this three dimensional Rorschach, would be plucked from their imagination and made solid in the palm of his hand.

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[Before I tag in: Ver's got a truth-sensing curse stuck in her that she can't turn off. She knows when people are lying and she can see through illusions; she doesn't know what the truth is or have psychic powers. More details here. If you don't want to deal, let me know, I know it can get annoying.]

[ yah she sounds super interesting to bounce off of go ahead. ]

There are things people learn quickly about Verity: that she's stylish, prickly, and has the cutest dog in the Nexus. Stylish, today, being her red lace tank and striped shorts, her hair in her customary epic Viking braids and tattoos on full display. Cutest dog because even the puppy is in stripes. And prickly, well... he'll find that part out soon enough.

If asked, she'd deny having a working sense of imagination. This isn't true, but trying to focus on things that aren't real gives her a headache, so she believes there's something wrong. The atrophying of an unused muscle, due to the fucking curse again. (He'll get to that part soon enough too.) But since Bobbi wants to sniff at this guy's feet and she isn't really in a hurry, she'll allow herself to be questioned.

This is the sort of thing (her) Loki would do, so is it any surprise her mind is on a handsome young god? Her eyes mist up a little and it's a moment before she finds her words again to answer. "Loki."

Even Loki would be hard pressed to disagree with the fact that Bobbi is certainly the cutest dog of any he's ever seen in his many centuries of existence.

"Loki?" he cocked his head, blue eyes glancing to the side. The swirling mass of key had flattened into a circle, the surface reflective and bearing the image of Loki ( that is the one the young lady was familiar with and not the one with the weird key). He wore a familiar smirk and leaned over his lips moving but no sound came out.

"I wasn't expecting an answer like that. But the unexpected is always so... interesting," he closed his fist and the mirror turned back into the small black key. The vision within clearly stuck at her, and Loki was a lot of things but he wasn't typically one to make maidens cry. Especially such stylish maidens. He always did like stripes.

"Brother, neighbor, friend?" he twirled the key around his finger, "Lover maybe?"

Bobbi is not only adorable, she's a good girl. Her sniffing is polite and dainty. Such a little lady. If Loki would like to pet her, that would be acceptable and appreciated. Who can resist those perky little ears? She's the perfect cure for the sads that're starting up.

It might be everyone's saving grace that this new Loki's eyes are blue. The eyes that haunt her were green. (It still hurts to think of it as a 'were'.)

"Friend." The answer is too quick. Don't be mistaken by the mass of ancient magic in her, she's as mortal as they come. Just unlucky. "He was my friend." With the image gone she can blink a few times and clear her eyes, which focus on the stranger again. "What is that?"

Certainly there's none in any world who could possibly ignore such a perfect polite little pupper. And Loki DOES like things to occupy his hands so crouching down to give her ear scritches and pets do the job quite well.

"A dear friend, I see it in your look," he reached into his pocket and pulled out a squeak toy shaped like a donut for the sweet little fuzzball. He looked up at her question and then glanced at his had, almost as if he'd forgotten he was holding it. Happens when in the presence or irresistibly fluffy creatures.

"Ah this?" he smiled, opening his hand, palm up, the small black key resting in it's center, "It's a key. My key. Though it's been a very long time since I've last held it."

Bobbi is an excellent hand occupier. She has a good ratio of places to pet versus places that wiggle when pet, and her fluff is high quality. Loki's her new best friend forever until she meets someone else. Who could doubt the sincerity of such big puppy-dog eyes? The fact there's a squeaky toy in the deal for her only solidifies the decision: Loki is an excellent tall one.

"Yes." There's no blush and no objection to Bobbi getting spoiled rotten. Verity rather likes seeing people treat her pup so well. "Best friends." Whatever else it might have been, she's sure about that. As sure as anyone can be about a Loki. But he's always going to be a reason for her to fidget nervously.

The key may look like a key for now, but keys can be all sorts of things. And all sorts of things can be keys. (This is why she gets such headaches.) "Good that you found it again. Is it showing off because it missed you?"

"Best friends are good to have."

It's quite a key. Every key a key could be capable of unlocking anything and everything and even that which you wouldn't think unlockable. Honestly it gives headaches even to people not wrapped up in ancient truth curses. Truly the greatest of his creations, if only for how vexing it is to those who encounter it.

"Missed me? It's just a key after all," he replied with a small laugh knowing full well that wasn't the entire answer as anyone with eyes could probably see. It may have started it's life as a simple key, unassuming, mundane, but centuries had weaved legends and myths about the thing, the particular magic of his world turning those stories into reality. There's a reason those who kept it for lengthy periods of time said it was made of lies. The tangled web of half truths and deceptions and myths turned real that surrounded it were thick.

"Though I never truly lost it," he gave Bobbi another ear ruffle as he stood, dusting off his battered jeans, "I always knew precisely where it was

"Yeah. I was lucky." Despite the sorrow, she can still smile about it. Eventually.

A Loki, being vexing? How terribly on point. It'd almost be more mischief if a Loki were honest and sincere. Habitually. (It's the honest ones you want to watch out for...) Can a god of mischief behave? Can a god of lies tell the truth? Does the man define the stories, or the stories the man? Verity is not well-equipped for these kinds of theological debates.

'Just a key'. That gets a snort and a cocked eyebrow from her. She's not going to even try to pretend she believes him, or that he believes that. Verity is far from an expert in magic, but she knows that key is no mere thing. "Uh huh. Pull the other one, or I'll get lopsided."

The thing about Verity's looks is this: anyone patient enough to wait just a moment longer and look beneath that imperious eyebrow might be rewarded with a smile. It's no dazzling 'the clouds have parted and everything is sunshine and rainbows' smile, but it's there and it's sincere. This mischief is familiar enough to be more pleasant than irritating. Anyone who can handle the sassing might get to see more of it.

Bobbi, on the other hand, gives a puppyish yawn when the pettings go away and lays down between them to wait. She's got a squeaky-toy that needs to be defeated.

Edited 2016-08-08 00:38 (UTC)

A lovely smile indeed. And certainly a nice change. Loki is not exactly the most... popular mythological figure after all. And he so rarely has the chance for such ordinary conversation.

"I have been known to lie," he laughed a little, like it was a small personal joke he'd told a thousand times a thousand times. It was, however, certainly the truth. Lying. Kind of his whole supposed thing. A bit confusing to think about but nothing was ever just simple with him.

"It is a good key though," he nodded vaguely, "Every key that is was and could possibly be. Even things you wouldn't think were a key. It can unlock any door, any potential... a Posibilikey if you will. Isn't that neat?"

The only person in this conversation likely to win a popularity contest is Bobbi. He's in good company, or at least, understanding company. And cute company, thanks to the aforementioned puppy, who is having a grand time with her new toy and has no idea at all how annoying all those squeaks can be.

"It's the times you aren't known to lie people need to worry about, I think," she points out. Something's making that smile of hers grow. It might even be him. Verity's had a long time to think she can handle this. The confusion, the lies, the places where it's impossible to know what's truth or not. It's amazing what people can convince themselves of in the darkness of grief.

"A 'posibilikey'. Catchy. Tweetable." Oh, dear. Do not ever say he caught her giggling, she'll declare him a damned liar. Which... probably isn't so much of a threat. "What's it open for you?"

Excellent! He was honestly expecting a cringe at that. Even he would admit his puns can be pretty terrible when eh puts his mind to it.

"Well it IS my key. I made it. But it's not about what it opens for me," he shook his head staring at the small obsidian artifact in his hand. This is the longest he's held it since he created over a millennia ago. He planned on letting it go soon enough anyways. Once he decided a good direction of course, it was never meant to stay with him long.

"It's more about what you can open with it. What people will do to obtain it," with each person it came in contact with it changed, it's legend grew, it's power and potential soared. It was never something that stayed locked away in some dusty corner for long, "What would you do with a key that can unlock anything?"

Terrible puns are the best puns, doesn't he know that? It's one of those great paradoxes of humor, like how people hate dad jokes but laugh at them when they're memes. Besides, nobody can really account for taste.

Verity's gaze drops to the key, too. She's obviously very curious about it, but there's no sign she wants to touch it. One of those little gestures, no leaning closer. She is, in fact, very happy staying away from it. There's trust issues between her and magic items. You know how it is: someone who gets bitten by a dog as a little kid might never trust dogs.

"I don't know." It's the best answer she can give, even after a few minutes of thinking about it. "Hope it never falls into the wrong hands. It sounds dangerous." Alas, that's the Willis way: lock away the powerful artifacts and try to keep them out of the wrong hands. Certainly, never use them, not under any circumstances. Never talk about it, never tell anyone the whole truth, and never think about how it's ruining the family. Well. It's not much of a family if she's all that's left.

"What did you make it for?"

He let the key tumble from his hand, except not really, it hung suspended from a slim chain, hooked around his finger as it swung gently. He smiled at her statement. In his mind there was no such thing as 'wrong' hands. Every hand it passed through helped his cause. As for 'dangerous' hands... well they tended to take the key by force. And they key didn't like to be taken that way. In fact terrible things happened to befall those who did. A lovely little trick ingrained into it.

"Why?" he chuckled, "To create a legend of course."

And create a legend he did. One that scarcely a person across the hundred kingdoms hadn't heard of. While that much was true and a desired result it wasn't exactly a completely honest answer to her question. There was a bigger reason.

When the key tumbles, Bobbi looks up. She sees only good things in the limitless possibilities. Pets. Food. Excellent places to sleep. Things to sniff. More pets. Maybe another squeaky toy?

They're looking at the idea of 'right' and 'wrong' from very different perspectives. The individual choices of a few mortals means little to someone as godlike as him. To her, it's the difference between a life worth living and a life in hell. And if he's anything like the Lokis she's met before, he has an innate playfulness and curiosity about 'what would happen if...' that she does not. There's a reason people like her are never the main character.

"A legend?" Okay, fair enough, he seems to have done that. Her curse, regretfully, doesn't let her see when something's not the whole truth. (That oversight's led to some interesting issues.) Still, it's the sort of answer that begs a followup: "Why? I mean. Was there a vacancy or something?"

It's a totally serious question. She's had an interesting life.

"A legend!"

His eyes lit up and he smiled enormously, a real smile not a playful litter grin or a mischievous smirk. He's the type that talks and talks and talks sometimes far too much for anyone else to get a word in edgewise. But even then he'd heard nearly every question. But this one, this one was a new one.

"Precisely!" he clapped his hands in delight and spun on his heel, "Vacancies of light and life and wonder and mystery. Gaps and holes and cracks and the sad sad people who lived within them... I wanted to fill them all..."

He sighed then, eyes looking vaguely off to the distance, remember those 'early' days. So boring. No one with a sense of adventure, everyone content to eek out their miserable lives one day after another unaware of the cracks in the world slowly yawning open to devour them.

"I did too. Took the old and mixed some new and set it all off to see it'd work. Not just the key but everything else too, though I will admit the key is the key to it all," he sounded almost giddy. His eyes focused on her once again, "You I like."

A real smile, for little old her? How delightful. It coaxes one of hers out to say 'hello'. Fair's fair and all, and honestly, smiling feels pretty good. But good luck getting her to admit it. She doesn't mind letting someone else do most of the talking, so long as the talk is interesting. Storytime is just about her favorite thing. So... how long can he keep this up? Because her schedule is pretty open. Has it been mentioned she's an excellent cook?

She can empathize with those people living lives without light and wonder. The idea that there were so many that they needed a legend is sad and a little daunting. No reality deserves that. But the spinning around is unexpected and she takes a step back. Bobbi, on the other hand, is totally down for whatever's going on! She jumps up and her tail is wagging. Are they going for walkies? Are they dancing? Is it an adventure? She does not care!

When he focuses on Verity again, he's met with the lingering remains of her smile. She almost has a smart comment ready, too, but then he has to go and be all serious. "Oh. Thanks. I like you, too."

A man in his late twenties is walking by, heading in the opposite direction. His pace suggested that he's been here long enough to have some idea of where he was going, despite the ever-changing nature of this multiversal hub. He's dressed in clothes that don't really add or take away from the look of him. They're functional more than anything else. A good looking enough guy, but ... kind of scruffy.

And then there's the attitude. The body language tends to say it even when the words or the look on his face doesn't. It's almost a cavalierness. Definitely aloof.

He hadn't even noticed the black goop that the other man was messing with until he stopped and posed his question. 'More magic', he thinks to himself, 'it's always magic around here'. It so happens that his stance is beginning to soften a little on unseen forces that respond to some people and not others, but he still doesn't trust it.

In the black, he sees something he's seen so many times before. The very distinctive impact of when blaster fire hits a non-reflective target - a flare and a small rain of sparks. Why of all the things is he gonna see that in this guy's spell? Inwardly, he's a bit concerned, outwardly he just shrugs.

"A firework." Han lies. "Is it broken or something? Why do you need someone else to look at it?"

Edited 2016-08-01 12:29 (UTC)

Loki smiled There's a slightly acrid scent of ozone in the air. It's there and gone quickly like a soap bubble popping. Certainly though it's not a smell once usually associates with a firework though. He knew this and felt Han probably does too.

He said nothing on the matter. He was, after all, always a fan of a brazen lie told with a strait face. Yes, he rather liked the cut of this fellow's jib.

"It's not broken, surprising," he laughed. It HAD been through quite a bit recently he was surprised it was still working, "However it's like a mirror. What I see and what you see are two entirely different things."

If there was a patron god for Han Solo, one of mischief and lies is likely to be the right one. He grew up in something of a den of thieves and being taught how to cheat and steal was complimentary among them, in a way. It meant they thought you had potential. Far worse things happened to the kids that got adopted that didn't have potential.

Skip ahead a few years, cunning young man that he was, it was only a matter of time before he escaped from there. The early twenties were spent trying to legitimize himself. He didn't succeed in that. Clearly. The man looks like something, but legitimate? No. Not that.

These days his work has him lying all the time. Lying on authorities, lying to his bosses, lying to people coming with work, lying about happened on the runs ... it goes on and on.

He's told enough of them in his lifetime that doing it with a straight face, usually isn't all that hard.

"So you ask what people see in this stuff and how does it help you?" There's always a way that magic benefits somebody as far as he's noticed.

Edited 2016-08-02 12:37 (UTC)

The man who passes, nattily attired and walking with a silver-headed cane, pauses as the little object catches his eye, intrigued. "It looks..." he allows, after a moment's consideration, "like a promise. Where ever did you come by it, sir?"

Oh. Now there's a surprising answer. A promise! He did love the unexpected and it was so hard to find it these days.

"Where I find most of my own promises I imagine," he nods firmly, "I made it."

"It's one you've not yet given, then?" the thin man asks, studying the little object, "or is it to yourself?"

"Made, given, fulfilled, and returned. Surprisingly unbroken," he turns it over in his hand and hold the key up for closer inspection, "It was a long time in the works, I might be keeping it to myself for a bit now."

A promise, a game, a lie many long centuries in the making.

"A promise with a story, then," he observes. Removing his hat, he adds, "may I congratulate your craftsmanship, sir."

"Thank you but I can't claim all the credit," he offers the stranger a wry grin, "It was crafted over a thousand years as it passed through the hands of hundreds."

"The best stories are," he replies, lips tugging upward in a wry hint of a smile in answer.

Hunter had been out for a walk, trying to clear his head of the unfinished marble art piece in his apartment. But of course, his mind keeps on going back to the art work, debating different options over and over again in his mind.

His scrapbook is half filled with different drawings of how he wants the finished piece to look. Different angles sketched out in paper, so he can try to capture the same imagery when he gets back to carving the artwork out of the marble.

So when Loki holds out his key, Hunter sees the marble slab, slowly transforming into the Chimera that he wants to carve out of the stone.

"A creature of great power and mystery."

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in which loki is bored and decides to give out magical rorschach tests

/pounces you

Re: /pounces you

:D

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That issue was Ver's first appearance btw. Speed dating. Those were the days. ;)

I've actually been meaning to pick up Agent of Asgard you know

Obvs I highly recommend it. ;) But only if you like awesome things!

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i am so sorry it's been so long! ignore this if you like

Uh, no? ;P What's three weeks between friends?

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