epidemiology | CLOSED. ECHOES.

[ well, he did steal them in the first place, from elves no less. elves that were, well, entitled for the most part, so Loki didn't mind a little bit of liberating of their potential magical goods here and there. his best stuff was always stolen.

Loki skates back on his heels as the water rolls forward, rippling beneath their feet and showering them with tiny droplets. with his free hand, Loki shakes the lapel of his jacket, droplets tossing carelessly back into the water as he frowns at their unintentional watery assailant. ]

Many places ... [ luckily, Loki seems to recover quickly. ] Where ever I want, mostly. So, even if you were to guess, there'd be a high probability that you'd be right.

[ there were a few tales of Loki and his boots, more tales of Loki and his uncanny ability to bring ruin; usually they came hand in hand. ]

The boots come from Alfheim, forged by light elves. They allow footing on a variety of impossible surfaces. Water, rainbows, vertical glass panes, snowstorms, clouds ...

[ he rolls his free wrist as he lists them off. ]

[ Loki backslides, and she's pulled with him, gliding effortlessly. For a moment, she's reminded of one of Viserys' tales, of a winter come so suddenly that even the mighty Kingsguard had to step carefully, lest they skid on the ice in ill-suited shoes.

But in an instant, those tales are dashed away. She pictures leaping through the sky onto the backs of clouds, scaling walls as though the world had become sideways, just for her. ]

I see. Then there must be some surface, however flimsy. [ There will be no mounting her staircases made of thin air. She is only mildly disappointed; he's already given her the gift of sailing as ships do, after all. ] What of summer storms? Have you tried to fly with black clouds and thunder? [ she asks of him curiously, biting away a laugh at the frown that had crossed his face. There are some droplets remaining on his shoulder and her cheek, both of which she reaches up with her unattached hand to brush away.

An ambitious wave swells toward them, large yet moderate enough to sink before it reaches any violent height, and she pats his arm to get his attention. Overhead, the sun is temporarily blotted out by dark wings: Drogon has joined them, apparently drawn to their blatant flaunting of the rules of this world--or perhaps just the promise of large fish that leap from the water. ] Can we ride this wave until it falls? What say you?

[ have you tried to fly with black clouds and thunder?

it draws his mind back to Thor, the fury of storms that he's unleashed, but he dismisses it quickly. it's not the time to reminisce about a lost brother. though Thor had shaken the fear of thunder and lightning from him long ago, not intentionally, but Loki had been one of the few who could face Thor's occasional tantrums. they had diminished over the millennia, but Thor was no less moody. he doesn't answer that.

a brow slow brow raises to her, as if they have all the time in the world before it crashes into them. ]

It doesn't take long for you to get a little daring, does it? Catching a ride from strange waves—we don't even know where it's going.

[ it comes out easy and casual, as if this sort of cheap thrill was in his daily agenda. the words clearly weren't of warning, because he's already approaching the ascending wave, his steps leaving footprints against the surface of the water, like an illusion of another reflection. he clearly expects her to follow at the same pace, figuring that she can keep up without second thought.

they need to be quick to catch it, and descending up the incline is tremulous and uneven, especially as it moves. ]

I am tired of wondering where I am going, [ she tells him, but the words are torn from her throat with a gasp, half in delight, and half in fear--and now she must fall into step with him again, before she slips. She'd felt it then, a slight tremor when it had taken her an instant to move, but by whatever means--his grasp or her will--she recovers.

Stride is matched with stride, barely. His own is much longer than hers is, but she has enough grace to leap with him, imagining she is riding with her silver, melding as one with the mount she left behind in Meereen. Her toes catch the swell as the wave rolls toward them gently, and her belly is a mess of fluttering wings. She can scarcely tell whether she will fall backward or forward first, but somehow, it doesn't seem as though her feet will obey her head.

Is this how her forebears had felt, when they'd fought from atop their dragons? Hopefully, his own experience will be enough to steady them both. ]

[ that's enough for him; not every destination needed to be known. It was a testament of freedom, and most magical items that he collected had some significance in cloaking him, or allowing him access to impossible places. He made that impossible possible. ]

Good, I never really like to stay in one place.

[ her wobble doesn't deter him, nor does the sudden leap. The movement beneath their feet is disorienting, but he seems to pick up the pace despite the obvious impossibility beneath their toes. His lips quirk up a bit, curling at the corners. The little droplets of water that he had cared so much about moments before are forgotten as they're newly sprayed with the next wave.

Even as they reached the crest, and the expansion of ocean spread out around them, dotted with land, it seemed a stretch to run from one to another. The details are lost against the horizon, turned to sticks and shadows. Ahead loomed the volcano in the distance, sticking up and carving a jagged triangle in the blue sky. ]

Don't stop. [ running. ] Or do, I suppose. [ it's not like he'd let her drown. He may be untrustworthy, but he wasn't vile. ]

[ No longer, anyway. ]

I dare not, [ she laughs, a slight, breathless quality in the sound. She doesn't fear water, but she has too long trusted only Ser Barristan and her Unsullied to keep her safe. Still, he hasn't allowed her to come to harm yet.

The wave pulls them backward for an instant, and Dany feels as though her heart teeters in her throat. But then it sinks back to whence it came, leaving their ankles on level water again--a brief respite, but gone before she'd wanted. ]

It was a lie! [ she cries in dismay, making a show of being personally offended by tapping the surface with her foot. He was wrong to have his doubts, it seems. ] We were cheated.

[ The landscape rises before them in the distance like a particularly forboding anthill, and she looks to him with a gleam in her eye, playful. ] Shall we go to the volcano? [ she asks, gesturing to the horizon. It seems as good a destination as any to explore, but it's evident that she's savoring the knowledge that they have no duties, for the nonce. She feels sillier than she ever has--and worse, she feels only a little exposed for it. ]

[ somewhere between "lie" and "cheated," Loki starts laughing. she sounds so falsely offended, cheated by an act of nature. they keep moving, even if they're ankle-deep in the tide. it's becoming more tremulous to navigate the waters the further they head out, and the volcanic island, sticking toward the sky like a spout, is look further away, rather than the opposite. ]

Ah—it was awful. The whole thing. The lying, the cheating ... [ the arm that she's holding slips around her waist. it's a slow, deliberate, and well aware that he may be pushing it, but uncaring. it's open-handed, along the small of her back before his fingers rest at her hip, his fingertips light. ] Well then, perhaps there are better accommodations to be had.

What do you say?

[ no duties, just a new kind of freedom. ]

[ Must he be so bold? Unprompted, a delicate shiver stirs at the touch, and she looks at him, his face all sharp lines and comely wickedness. He had flirted with her when a sweaty horse would have smelled sweeter. Was there no end to his shamelessness?

She's tempted, the skin alight where his hand rests. Daario loves and loathes her from his Yunkish prison worlds away, and Hizdahr's passions had only been inflamed when he'd wheedled out of her some new concession. Loki doesn't flinch from the filth upon her hands, or from the monster that she may yet be--but he may yet convince her to tear away the last vestiges of the control she's made for herself.

She hasn't yet admitted to herself that she wants to give that up, however much she wonders at the strength in his arms and the ease in his touch. ]

I should like that, [ she admits, resting a hand over his to keep it there a moment longer, ] but not now. Some other time.

[ She does not say perhaps. He is not Xaro, feigning interest. ]

[ there's no masking his intentions. his touch is light, curious and teasing, always moving. even when she takes his hand he brushes up against her fingers with a satisfied hum. ]

Some other time, then. We do have a volcano to visit.

[ he echoes, as if in confirmation, though there's still a little heat in his voice. there are subtle movements and small glances, nothing outright obnoxious, but enough to express the slow burn of the intensity that's waiting somewhere inside. there's a little snort he uses to clear the air.

the hand around her waist tightens, and he tugs her smoothly closer. there's another brief jump, with a murmur of an old language on his lips, and the a flurry of green light they're gone. the leap ends in the company of coiled, white clouds. teleportation is a little disorienting, especially when it comes in the change of temperature, the sudden thinness of the air, but Loki takes to it like so many fish take to water.

from above, the space between the two island seems barely a few footsteps. ]

[ She's taken to the skies before, but that had been easier. She'd been able to see the ground falling away from atop Drogon's back, and each time, her eyes had grown braver to the sight of leaving the tall grasses (and her humanity) behind.

This change is sudden, and it robs her of a chance to find a new center within her belly. It robs her, too, of the humid warmth she'd grown used to, offering her instead a growing chill that settles about her shoulders like an ill-fitting cloak (or a hard embrace).

As they adjust to the sight around them, the queen realizes too late that she's been holding her breath--and she lets it out now in a sharp huff, immediately regretting it. There is something different about this air: perhaps there is less of it, but she mislikes it. Her next breath is smaller, more shallow, and she knows she will soon grow lightheaded.

Here, he shows his godhood.

There is no platter of fruit to throw at him for not warning her, and she is not so angry as to try and slap him, so instead, she reaches for a cloud--and comes away with a frost of ice crystals puffed across her fingers, rather than the soft, feathery handful she had expected. Dany frowns in annoyance, not yet willing to waste her limited breath on words. ]

[ oh, that's a mean expression. ]

It's the fastest way.

[ he sounds almost apologetic, but not quite for anyone to think that he's really sorry about anything. even when she tries to put cloud in his face.

the leaps he makes on the cloud are easy, and it seems more steady than the ocean that used to be below their feet. (admittedly, he doesn't think he could make it on his own balance alone across the stretch between the isles.) they're sparse, and they disappear and reappear on another.

Loki toggles her easily, keeping a tight enough hold where she won't be falling any time soon. the ocean below them glimmers in reflection to the sun, a passing school of dolphins coming up for breath and then diving into the depths below like tiny marine insects.

the volcano lifts high above the clouds, and its peaks are visible from where they are, a few stray clouds wafting around the tip. ]

[ His apology is as much a lie as the wave had been. And yet, however much she'd wanted to see balled-up wisps strike his face, she is grateful for his hold. Her arms slide to his shoulders--what she can reach of them from her height at his side--and without having to join his leaps, she is given time to catch enough breath to slowly begin adjusting to the shallowness of the air around them, though the cold never leaves her.

So, too, can she look upon the mirrorlike quality of the sea. The reflection that meets them is gold, gold as the sun above, sending sparkling salutes to the sky. She admires the array in silence at first, the frown fading from her face. There had been no water in the Dothraki Sea, save for a stream of mud she had sighted from atop Dragonstone. She has never flown over an ocean, though one day she must. From here, she thinks when that day comes, she may be the happiest she's ever been.

Eventually, the dolphins bring a smile. She has always loved the way they follow ships, playfully eluding the waves just so. ]

Sailors have half a hundred omens. [ When she speaks at last, she sounds as though she's looking into someplace that isn't their present, her voice jolting slightly for every landing. ] When I was a little girl, I made my own. Dolphins leaping before the prow were a sign of good winds, but dolphins in the wake meant ill fortune would befall a vessel. Some storm, perhaps ... or elsewise a fleet of fearsome corsairs. [ Her arm slides along his shoulder, even as he jumps. The jolts are shorter, lighter--not as uncomfortable as they'd been when he'd leapt from the cliff. ] The Braavosi did not think me wise.

[ She sounds amused by that, now. ]

Edited 2016-04-20 20:51 (UTC)

[ at least he has the sense to realize that she's a little chilly. after the whole cloud-in-his-face ordeal, he's got a decent sense to be a little more sensitive. when she slides her arms around his neck, he slides his jacket off of his shoulder, his arm through the sleeve before grabbing the collar with his fingers and pull it over her shoulder. it's still warm with body heat, much more cushy on the inside than it looks. he figures that she'll hold on to the lapel of it in, if she's cold. ]

Did it end up being true?

[ he sounds wistful, almost teasing, but there's something in his voice that seems to lean toward the possibility of her words. Loki wasn't one for omens, he found that he disliked them (for a northern god that was borne of a mostly sea-bearing people). ]

Occasionally if you think about something hard enough, it becomes true.

[ He is far from gallant, but there are little gestures he makes--cleaning and rewrapping her bandages, holding her that she might not feel the impact from his jumps--that show she needn't directly ask him for everything. A god, certainly, but not an uncaring one. Catching onto the collar, she draws the heat down against herself and smiles, perhaps unseen. It feels like half an embrace, to accompany the arm about her waist.

Despite being up in the sky, she feels safe. (And perhaps unfairly, she sneaks a look at his shoulders and the planes of his chest from this angle.) ]

Do you think I have that power? [ She definitely teases, but she likes to think that she might. ] I would tell you what seabirds flying beneath the clouds mean, but you would only see that the opposite came true!

[ She accuses, but it's meant in obvious play. Still, she eventually pauses to consider his question. ] Yet my omens must have proven sound, or else I would have made new ones. [ She had been fanciful, but there had been some power in her game by chance, real or imagined. She'd had so little power otherwise, and even less to dream about. ] I never minded the storms, but I saw corsairs only once.

Edited 2016-04-22 23:13 (UTC)

[ the space between his shoulder and neck are long and slim, made of fine, curved lines. it's as expressive as his face and fingers, twisting in the sort of graceful and long movements he uses to cant his head or jut out his hip, as if he were putting his entire body into it. his limbs all worked in unison, humming to the same tune.

whatever the jacket's made out of, it does a good job splicing the wind.

Loki makes an impossible leap to another cloud as they become sparse, riding out the trails until there's nothing. he does it as easily as he did the ocean, but the sky, somehow, is far less tremulous than the water had been. ]

Well—you could be observant or psychic, but the two always did come hand in hand. Storms have a certain pressure that comes with them. The wind will change, the pressure will drop, and the air becomes electric. The dolphins are rather good at spotting it. [ a pause. ] And you're good at feeling it.

[ there's a noncommittal tip of his head. in front of them is the volcano, becoming close and closer with each step. Loki finds a few footholds as they head further up into the clouds. ]

Shall we see what's up top?

Electric? [ she puzzles at the word. It's true that the wind had changed--she'd always liked the feel of the air before a storm, wishing to stay abovedecks to watch the rain roll in. She'd done it until Viserys had lost his patience with her girlish desires, and as she'd grown older, she'd learned to huddle in the belly of the ship, listening to the rain lash against wooden sides.

They climb even higher, and Dany gazes down toward where the mouth must be. The volcanoes had erupted in unison the day Valyria died, or so the stories claim--but Pu'ulai had cast down its last flame some time ago, for so many to have settled upon its outer islands. Perhaps they might find something growing inside, or else new creatures they hadn't encountered. ]

We shall. We must, [ she agrees in mock solemnity, deftly tucking a piece of ebon hair back into his collar to end its tickling of her arm. ] There may be plunder inside, and I have great need of more dragons.

[ She doesn't truly expect to see anything half so interesting (or useful), but that was how her forebears had found their first dragons five millennia ago: lairing in the Fourteen Flames. Still, there is something curiously eerie about looking upon something that was once so living, turned cold and still. ]

[ the storm was something that Loki knew intimately: he had been both bullied and comforted by it, been chased and embraced by it, all balancing precariously on the toes of the phase of his relationship with Thor. where he became accustomed to the formation and parting of the storm, he couldn't say, perhaps memory became instinct over the millennia that he had known his brother. the date escapes him, like so many other points in his life.

so, he knew the storm, and all the subtleties Thor added to bring it to life. ]

Ah—you had me at plunder. Let's do some plundering, shall we? [ the grin on his face curls into something dangerous, as if this were exactly the cheap thrill that he was seeking. it was like saying "breaking and entering" or "steal the impossible" or some other such nonsense. it was music.

Loki finds footing in the clouds, balancing easily as they climbed higher besides the monstrous volcano. they were little flies in comparison to its size—probably very annoying ones, but still flies—yet the massive comparison doesn't seem to deter him. they continue their ascent into the heavens, finally high enough to take a lengthy stroll above its peaks.

and Loki peeks down into the massive open-mouthed gaping toward the sky, disappearing into nothingness. ]

No dragons, no lava, no fire—this is a very boring volcano.

You give up too easily, [ she teases, daring to lean ever so slightly away from him for a closer look. The inside is dark, and if there are any sounds within to be heard, she cannot discern them from the winds that cross somewhere between their footing and the ground.

It's the thin air affecting her senses, she thinks, but girlish ideas rise to tempt her, and she is moved to share them with him. ]

Will you not even shout a greeting? [ She smiles. ] Or cast down some token. Wish upon it, or else make an offering.

[ for the moment he's quiet, and his brows raise very slowly at the suggestion. well, he's supposed to be the prankster here, and she's the one toying with the idea of tossing the metaphorical brick through the metaphorical window. ]

That sounds like a terrible idea. Throwing something into a sacred place of power ...

[ he turns his head, looking mock self-justified, as if someone had to around here.

then he goes into his pocket (one of the millions lining the inside of his jacket) and tosses it um, right into the mouth of the volcano, leaning forward a bit as it turns very small and then disappears. ]

...

Did it go in?

[ Dany holds onto him as he leans, narrowing her eyes to watch as the contents of his pocket vanish. She waits, half-expecting to hear a roar come up from the depths, or perhaps a flurry of leathery wings.

It does not even glow--not yet, at least. ]

It did! [ she grants, a short, heady laugh escaping her lips. I must remember not to waste my breath. ] Was it a good offering, your gift? [ That shall determine whether or not they are cursed. ]

[ who has two thumbs and a complete lack of respect for divinity? (despite, you know, being a god.) give you a hint, it's this guy.

when nothing happens, his brows knit and he manages some kind of look of complete and utter offense. ]

No, terrible. No one wants nuts when these islands are plentiful with them. They weren't even good ones, they've been in my pocket for days.

If I threw a bad gift at your door, you'd at least come tell me off, wouldn't you think?

[ really, knock knock knock other gods, where are you? ]

[ So, they are cursed, then. How not? She is crossing the skies with a god of chaos. ]

When the gods come to ask why they were treated so ill, I shall send them to you. [ Her tone is playful, the meaning plain: You get to deal with it. What a lovely partner-in-crime she is.

But somehow, she doesn't think they are in danger, and so more hair is tucked into the collar with gentle fingers, escaped in the wind. She thinks that it could not look ragged if he tried. ] What tempts a god to abandon her people? Nalanni did not lack for worship.

[ That much is plain. ]

Edited (whoops this is a more natural response) 2016-04-25 20:18 (UTC)

[ there's a little pucker of his lips and a hm that makes it look like he's truly thinking this over (he's not, he's already made up his mind, but he has to keep up certain appearances, no matter how exaggerated and obnoxious they are).

he hair, now parted far to the side, brushes against his cheeks as she finds ways to put it in other places. the wind will pick up and toss it into something else that still seems to suit him. for now, he doesn't seem to mind the touch, though he's a little curious. ]

It depends on the god, the role, and their nature. If the gods here even abide by those rules of divinity.

[ but he's still thoughtful, for once, keen to give more than a half answer. ]

She's a goddess of fire, isn't she? At the celebration, they sang of her in flame. Gods of fire can never be one thing for long, if it was true that she abandoned Nalawi, it could have been in pursuit of change. [ there's a sigh and a shrug, and he closes an eye. ] Some are fickle. It could have been a slight or duty or something or other. It could be a natural thing, if she's of the volcano, of the earth, then her powers and nature may wane as it changes.

My brother's mother was the elder goddess of earth. Rather interesting story ... well, another time, but it boils down to she feels all upon her body. Every movement, every footstep, every till—you get the idea.

If the volcano is dormant, perhaps she is, too.

Edited 2016-04-26 02:33 (UTC)

[ Dany listens as his words spin her a web, and learns. By the time he finishes, she's resigned her arm to tickling, and left his hair to blow where it might. ] Fire spreads where it will. I understand.

[ If Nalanni cannot be roused, then perhaps magic will disappear from this world altogether. As yet, the queen feels little urgency at the thought. She is someone who is moved to act by righteous anger, not by dire warnings from a source she can neither trust nor see. It is difficult to rouse herself to follow instruction, and thus far, she has largely done so to save lives. Evacuating deer during the storm had come to her naturally enough. ]

And if she cannot be persuaded, or else awakened, [ she allows, ] to return? [ She draws the jacket closer about her shoulders, feeling a chill down her back. ] Who is to say that these people will die, and the world will end?

[ I trust nothing. I know nothing, save that I cannot leave.

For a moment, she's tempted to ask whether they might walk along the edge of the volcano. Short of descending into the pit itself, what choice is more symbolic for a dragon? She doesn't wish to leave the sky, though her feet grow numb. ]

Edited 2016-04-28 21:40 (UTC)

[ for a moment, she sounds like Thor. it's like his stubborn righteousness mixed with a hint of that frustrating nobility that seemed to come so easily to him. for Loki, there was always fog. they may die, but everyone will die, in the end. (a former incarnation had used that logic to justify quite a lot of ruin.) there were universal rules for that, and an ancient order put into place. while Loki played the enemy to the foreordained, there were some rules so cosmically intwine that they could be pushed, but not broken. ]

Well—that is the million gold question, isn't it?

[ there's a leap lower as a cloud below sweeps down. suddenly the volcano becomes much larger, and the call of the birds below a little louder. there's a sweep of warmth that Loki doesn't care to notice. frost giants don't get cold. ]

We've secrets yet uncovered, and some information to steal. [ there's a part of him that looks thrilled at that. his favorite pastime. ] We were requested for a reason, even if it's still lost upon us. Intervention is needed somewhere but an eclectic group of omniversal travelers. It may be that we're meant to make it, regardless of what it is.

[ but his brow pinches and he looks sour at the idea of meant. ]

[ Dany's breath catches in her throat in a small gasp as he leaps, but in the next instant, she is awash in warmth. Her toes thaw, and she wiggles them inside her boots, grateful. She was made for this--for fire, for heat, for smoke.

ALASTAIR knows as little of the mission as they do, she thinks. Elsewise, why leave them to struggle to find the information themselves? There is no value in such a test. If there were, perhaps they would all fail it and prove themselves unworthy captives, that they may be sent back to their own worlds. ] But you do not believe in meant, [ she teases, guessing what that expression means. ] Do they tire you, your many options?

[ It seems to her that there must be some hundreds of leagues between everything being foretold and nothing being foretold. To the East lie chains, and to the West, uncertainty. Either way lies madness. ]

[ there's a puff that makes him look mock resigned at the whole notion. there's a meant, he just finds himself hating it. there's always question of meant and exactly why it's meant, and to whose benefit. Loki was determined not to give his future to anyone, ALASTAIR among the "anyone." ]

If the options would cooperate, they may. [ there's a puff to his cheeks that comes out in a breath of air. a flock of low flying birds flutter past them in a flurry of feathers. a mark that the volcano is certainly sleeping. ] Instead they're few and far between.

Have you ever played dominoes?

[ Sleeping, but perhaps not forever. She has brought too much into the world to think that fire is ever truly extinguished. ]

No, [ the queen admits, a soft flush beginning to rise in her cheeks as the heat is breathed onto them both. I had little time for games. ] How would I do that?

[ She counts the birds, and wonders how many Drogon might have swallowed whole. ]

It's a game of Midgardian origins—[ a pause. ]—the mortal world. You have a set of pieces, flat and rectangular, with dots of certain numbers: one, two, three ... up to six, at the top and the bottom. The game is played by matching the numbers.

[ they slide a little lower, Loki finding less and less to stand on. when there's nothing, they disappear and reappear onto a very small stone ledge. ]

It's to do with the shape of the playing pieces. Slim and square, easy to stand up on their edge. [ Loki makes a demonstration with the gesture of his fingers, showing the width and height. ] They're placed in rows, not far from one another, set up precisely. The rows can go out in shapes and lines.

When the first one is knocked over, it falls into the next, and the next, and they all begin to topple over.

Push this way, or push that way, options here and there ... different outcomes—which one is right and which one free?

[ he puffs up, exasperatedly amused. ] It feels a bit like that, doesn't it? Like we're needed to push a domino.

[ It's easy enough to imagine. How not? She has already pushed dominoes, however unwittingly. A dragon had roasted a slaver's face in Astapor, and when all the chips had fallen, she was left with a war, a famine, and a plague. Where once the Free Cities had been indifferent to her and Viserys, now many of them wished her dead. They are marshaling armies against me even now.

She doesn't tell him that, and not only because she doesn't wish to burden him when he has given her such a gift. The day is bright and lovely, and in the face of so blue a sky, even dragons must put aside their flames. ]

Perhaps, [ she agrees, looking down at the stone beneath their feet with idle interest, ] but if someone has set up the rows, we are made to play blindly. [ She tosses her head, teasing: ] Summon ALASTAIR. Tell them I wish to arrange my own dominos.

[ One stumble, and they will fall. She tears her eyes from the remaining drop, feeling a small thrill. ]

[ it's a tease, but he seems weigh it as possible option. ]

Well, they do have an apparent hand-up, don't they? In the timeline, in fate ...

[ Loki cants his head a little bit, a smug little smirk on his lips. ]

There may be a room full of them, those dominoes. [ or something not unlike it, if they were speaking in metaphors. when he had tried to break into the mechanical room he wanted answers—why damn some, and not others; why save others, and not some? he was left unsatisfied, and cross with the nothing he got out of it. ] That may not be too unheard of.

...

We've one last leap. Quite a way, isn't it?

[ but he seems more amused than scared. ]

[ The Mechanical Room, Dany thinks. I remember. When he remarks upon their jump, she examines him, all handsome scheming and wicked disregard. Here is someone who would gladly overthrow their game, but which of them is the true destroyer? ]

Yes.

[ A strong breeze stirs at her hair, casting silver strands to the wind. She sounds slightly breathless in anticipation, no longer wary of the heights he's carried her to. And so she leans closer so he can hear her over the wind, her voice low, playful. ]

But not for a dragon.

[ when she leans her head in, Loki tips his ear toward her, as if the space needs to be bridged to hear. there's a sort of carelessness to him, defiant and ready to embrace his own recklessness. he was like a cat at a high point, looking down at the rest of the world with a sort of smug satisfaction; it was as literal as it tended to be metaphorical, the boots saw to that. ]

Do you have fangs, too? Perhaps I'll get to see those sometime.

[ there's mirth there, but also some sincerity. it's one of the things he liked about her. with fire came passion, and watching that sort of passion was one of the best things there was for a god of chaos.

hardly a second goes by as he the arm that's around her waist draws up, easily lifting her enough to slide the other arm under her knees. it's a juggle, he has to let go briefly to get his arm in the other sleeve, but he does it quick enough that it would seem like elegantly dressing himself was born nature.

the toe of his boot presses against the stony peak, and the when he starts running, it's on a vertical directly down through the clouds. they scatter birds, upset small creatures that have made their home in the side of the stone, ruffling trees and flowers on their way down. there are wisps of low hanging clouds that they dive through. Loki keeps his footing easily.

that is, of course, until there's a stumble. he lurches suddenly as something in his boots gives (a moment, a second without magic), and his heart flies into his throat. an unfamiliar curse passes his lips, and he starts muttering something quickly in a language that sounds nothing but old. it's like revving up an engine, and the few seconds they spend suspended feels like far too long for him.

finally—finally—the spell catches, and they disappear from the volcano side. Loki hits the ground, still carrying her, catching his footing so he doesn't fall. green eyes narrow as he lowers her to her feet, keeping an arm out for her to balance in case she needs to find her land legs again. ]

Ah, Hel ...

[ Dany had wanted to laugh, to tell him to pray that he doesn't. Her fangs are for her enemies, and in a queerly short frame of time, she has come to want his company. He nurtures without goading her to abandon herself, and does not admonish. Moreover, he does not fear her. Someone who dares to draw close to a dragon is either a fool or a necessity, but dangerous all the same.

She has always been small and light, but he lifts her as though she's made of air. The reclamation of his coat does draw a laugh from her, so quick that she scarce has time to feel his arm move, and when they descend, she's quite forgotten she doesn't have wings of her own.

Until the stutter tears a gasp from her lips, and she remembers: I may fall. Her heart quickens, but time seems to slow around her as they stand there suspended, Loki chanting determinedly in her ear.

She holds fast to him until they land, her heart still pounding. It returns to her all at once in a dizzying rush: the ground, the air, the warmth. She is no longer a dragon, afraid of nothing--she is a queen again, chained to the earth and made to feel the harsh reality of their walls. A part of her falls away, left behind in the sky, and she grasps at his arm long enough to regain her bearings, feeling a touch lightheaded again. ]

What is it? [ she asks, when she can find her voice. Her tone is uncertain, shaken in its worry, as though she's just been roused suddenly from a dream. Gingerly, she lets go of his arm. ] What's happened?

My sorcery faltered.

[ his voice is without any of the usual exaggerated intonation, borderline between frustrated and shocked. it wasn't his spellwork, not his art, but the magic itself. the narrowed eyes move past her and to the volcano looming behind them, large enough to encompass their entire view and hide its peaks from them. ]

Whatever's affected the Nalawi is affecting me.

[ and he was arrogant to think that it wouldn't fully affect him. he fluffs up in his coat like an agitated bird. then he continues hotly: ]

I suppose we should take this as a nudge.

Edited 2016-05-08 00:07 (UTC)

CLOSED. ECHOES.

she stole my boots, and my heart

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one day she's just going to hug him (cherish your freedom from dragon hugs, loki)

CHERISHING

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welp

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loki presents are the worst presents

he hears that like 90% of the time

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