CLOSED.

[selfimage]

CHARACTERS: Loki & the people who put up with him
DATE: Around the beginning of Perdition's Rest
WARNINGS: BE CAREFUL, but I'll add anything if it comes up.
SUMMARY: Shenanigans.

note: closed prompts below! I will be as slow as a turtle in molasses. If you need/want me for anything, or would like a prompt just let me know! go ahead and PM this journal, or reach me at hadal. xoxox

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ANAKIN.

[selfimage]

[ the mines and the argecite weren't really the first and foremost thing in Loki's mind. there had been another one of ALASTAIR's own here, who had framed reports and then vanished. while Loki wasn't sure what was in those reports, he still wanted to be the first one to set eyes on them.

he didn't need much for the trip, only himself and his magical artifacts. somewhere along the line he had procured an interesting looking bowler hat, which sat beneath the pair of horns that curved from the top. it was ridiculous; he was absolutely proud of it. Anakin had come after that, wearing a ratty looking poncho that made even Loki partially cringe. there were discussions of hidden information over drinks, and then a dramatic swoosh of combined cloaks and they were gone.

of course, Anakin would probably need a little more than nothing for the trip, but Loki didn't seem entirely concerned. if worse came to worse, there was always teleporting.

the transport to the desert only took them so far. the fellow in the carriage rattled on about snakes and spiders and other such nonsense as Loki descended the cabin, the soles of his feet glowing as he stepped over the sand, as if they were back on Zeta-12. ]

Well ... [ he began, as the carriage quickly took its leave of them. ] Having any funny feelings about which direction that we should travel in first? [ he tips his hat down. ] It seems quite like a whole lot of nothing.

[apoptotic]

[ what anakin needs, anakin carries on his person. the remaining ration capsules sitting clipped to his belt. a rebreather in its pouch, useful in water and toxic fumes. small miscellaneous medical and mechanical supplies. the silver and black lightsaber once present in triple form in audentes ( since reduced to two. )

not necessary: the leather cord from which hangs a ring like an amulet. it sits hidden largely from view under his clothes, only the cord visible around his neck, the image of his wife in the ring pressed to his breastbone, as close to his heart as he can carry her.

what else he carries is the heaviest of all: memories and recriminations, guilt and shame. they sit around his shoulders like a leaden cape. he can no more rid himself of them than he can rip padmé's photograph from him. his has been a more solemn countenance than ever, more feral, more given to cutting. he needs proofs now more than ever: reassurances that his trust isn't misplaced. and he needs to act, to move — so when loki makes the suggestion, anakin seizes upon it greedily.

still wearing the atrocious poncho ( the long robes having been left behind ), anakin lifts his eyebrows. ]

I do, actually. Most of the time it's away from you.

[ loki is a friend.

ergo anakin can be an unrepentant ass.

~friendship~ ]

[selfimage]

[ unamused and lukewarm, Loki rolls his head over his shoulder to fix his gaze at him. there's a peer through two bright, green eyes, half obscured by dark lashes. ]

It seems as if that poncho of yours is infecting your brain. Are its enticing and nefarious whispers appealing to your bad sense of fashion?

[ the words are delivered with a sort of flawless cadence, as if Anakin somehow had a choice in the matter.

there are some coins for the carriage (hustle money made fair and square) before it heads off in a hurried cloud of sand and urgency. he doesn't linger, though, swaggering forward as if they were experiencing a night on the town rather than an volunteer search party. ]

[apoptotic]

[ anakin arches his eyebrows. he sounds faintly amused. ] You're trying to give me fashion advice?

[ after the carriage leaves, anakin falls into step beside loki. the enticing and nefarious poncho flutters softly in the brisk, cooler wind of a winter in the desert.

winters were unheard of on tatooine. it was the same blistering heat year-round save for the nights. nights trapped outside had been uncomfortably cold, and rife with dangers specific only then. anakin had faced them with a courage that bordered on mad: the certainty that he could handle anything.

on this planet in the present time, they're heading back inside the mines not so long ago fallen victims to the earthquake. some things don't change. his childish certainty that he could overcome anything had not been one.

he doesn't pick a direction deliberately. if asked, he would say he was following loki. and yet he soon unknowingly becomes the one leading the odd pair. something, something force. ]

[selfimage]

Traditional and ornate dress wins over shapeless butt flap any day.

[ there's challenge in his voice, but the barb is more flawlessly whimsy than it is particularly cutting. Loki considers it payback for the prior comment, and a few before.

as if to further prove his point, Loki takes a long, tactless glance at Anakin, from the top of his head to his toes, paying particularly daunting attention on the body of the shapeless fabric hanging over his shoulders. ]

I suppose it does make it easier to relieve yourself if more pressing matters should arise here in the desert.

[ this has now devolved into poop jokes about a poncho, congrats. ]

LOKI.

[selfimage]

[ so, now there were two of them.

and it was their first mission with the two of them.

somewhere between trying to react a point of recognition about his own past crimes and trying to work out the finer details about there being another him along for the ride, Loki had settled himself well. it was by the efforts of some particularly tenacious people around him that he was able to put on such an unflappable appearance (something which he never thought would go together), but it also came with a cost, one of which he knew the consequences well.

Loki had decided it was best to approach the other him on his own terms, which he did. in fact, the next time Loki sees him, he's making quick work of an apple-shaped fruit (that could have had spines on it before they were plucked off), tossing it into the air and catching it behind his back, rolling it along his arm and making it disappear before anyone else was any the wiser. he was as dramatic as he was sneaky.

when he catches Loki looking at him, he puts a finger to his lips in a shush. ]

Re: LOKI.

[mistruths]

[ He's surprised that Loki would take such a risk, taking him into his confidence when their last conversation didn't seem to have inspired anything at all like the sort of trust this shows.

Then again, it's only an apple. And there's so little he would gain from revealing it that he does nothing but let out a breath, amused despite himself, as he walks over to the fruit seller.

And if in the motion of examining a few apple-ish things of his own, one happened to vanish beneath his fingertips, well who's to say what truly happened? He wanders off, falling into step beside his other as they walk down the dusty streets. ]

It's odd how similar they are in shape, when they are so different to taste throughout all the Realms.

[selfimage]

[ it's never about the fruit, but always about the act. ]

Worlds, I suppose.

[ he's not dressed in his mortal garb this time, having replaced it with something a little more Asgardian appropriate. there's the horned diadem, serpentine scale mail, and heavy, tacky jacket that jingles ostentatiously as he moves, which is a lot.

there's a fluid hand gesture as he steps away. ]

You'd be surprised how similar most things are.

[mistruths]

I suppose I shouldn't be.

[ The apple(?) reappears in his hand, Loki casually polishing it against his tunic before sinking his teeth into it. Like the appearance of the fruit, its taste and texture is just barely similar to that which he's used to, enough for familiarity to sink in, but different enough that he's curiously rolling the bite over his tongue a few times before swallowing. ]

A distorted mirror for all things, throughout all the worlds? I would believe it.

[selfimage]

And difficult to tell which, exactly, are distorted.

[ he says coolly, fingering the little cactus-apple that comes from his sleeve. it was less of a magical method, and more of a traditional one, but Loki was fond of tricks all the same. he had become less grandiose after the Siege, finding appreciation in the little things. it filled him with satisfaction, both in the knowledge that it was a small victory for him in the slip of his fingers, but also in the greater war against King Loki. ]

The universe likes things to be the same. Thus, chaos is always less appreciated than order. A shame, that. Not much changes under the pretense of comfort.

AHAD.

[selfimage]

[ finding a place to stay was never entirely high up on his list of anything to do, but with the addition of their new mortal addition, it would be difficult to do anything without proper rest and food. while Loki certainly liked both of those things, they were luxuries given to him when they could be afforded (and not without some long-faced pouting when he didn't get what he wanted). now, they were necessary.

it's time to go in search of a place to stay without much coin involved (in which Loki seemed to be quite the pro), and that would sate their tastes. unfortunately all of Perdition's Rest was crawling with new ALASTAIR recruits, and there weren't be much left open if they didn't act quickly. ]

Should I ask for a coffee machine?

[ Loki drawls casually as they take a stroll around the center of town. ]

[dailydouble]

Would that be considered a luxury?

[ There's very little question about that. There's little point in coffee machines when Ahad could simply turn water into coffee, if he wished. ]

I suppose I could find work, if we find ourselves that desperate.

[selfimage]

I've still a knack for the slight of hand.

[ that was Loki's forte, and he definitely intended to use it. being a notorious cheater in a place where you're not notorious has its ups. ]

For the time being, anyway. You'd need a hat to work around here. [ he's eying Ahad like he might be putting him in the local taste of clothing. ] Maybe ...

[dailydouble]

[ Of course Loki does. Ahad suppresses a sigh. ] Perhaps we may make use of that skill, if we find other options...lacking.

[ He does pause to raise an eyebrow at Loki, at the hat comment. ]

A hat and nothing else? I suppose that would appeal to a certain type.

[selfimage]

[ he's that type, maybe. Loki's brows dip in for a moment, as if he's looking for something else other than the hat.

...

Ahad. ]

If something unfortunate happens to that certain type, I assure you I had nothing to do with it.

DAENERYS.

[selfimage]

[ just because they worked hard (in the loosest of terms) didn't mean they couldn't play hard, either. towns like this were crawling with sneaks and gamblers, and Loki was quick to take advantage of his nature when they arrived. the last thing on his mind seemed to be their mission goals as he strolled around the settlement as if he had been there for decades. it was the saloon that had caught his eye first, and the pack of card next, and before long he was shuffling them like a pro.

things had been looking slightly up since the dealings in Oska. he tried to put the more damaging points somewhere into the recesses of his mind, to deal with on another occasion. there was another Loki here, and there were missing ALASTAIR reports that he wanted to be first to look upon, which left little room for his constant cycling existential trauma to take root.

from where Dany is sitting, Loki twists his fingers together, thumbing the cards into a bridge. he cuts them between dark nailed fingers, letting them roll from one forefinger to the next in a twist of corners and barely discernible faces. ]

Have you played cards before?

[ he asks casually, his hands apart, the cards flying between them in an impressive flourish before he snaps them together.

no tricks here. ]

[conqueress]

[ Perdition's Rest is vast, sparsely-settled, and wild. Curiously, Dany feels more at ease here than she did in either Nalawi or Zeta-12. Perhaps it is because their hosts seem so human, but there are familiar elements to banditry and to large beasts that stalk the sands beyond their civilization, as well.

The first time Drogon had landed in the middle of the town square, nonchalantly holding a charred limb of what had once been a giant lizard between long black teeth, the townspeople had scattered, shouting curses, some of the trigger-happy inhabitants reflexively pulling guns out of holsters. Dany had run to him to show the Qorral that he was no threat--for now. The sight of the dragon caring little for the presence of a small woman had stayed the gunfire, though Dany had seen shutters thrown open as people rushed to windows to gawk at the commotion below. When at last he'd had his fill of the meal, Dany had vaulted onto his back and left them all behind, knowing well that she had just seized the chance to demonstrate her strength to their new hosts. Strength (and notoriety, it seems) are among the currency here, and she must be quick to capitalize.

It's near evenfall now, and she sits with Loki in what might have been an inn, were they in Westeros--but that is not all, she suspects. Some of the laborers here are dressed in such a way that it accentuates their forms, and she has already seen some guests vanish discreetly into the shadows. There is much to watch, and still more to hear, and distantly, Dany wonders with some amusement what Ser Barristan would say. ]

Paper is not the stuff of games. [ With slight reluctance, she tears her gaze from the bar when Loki's question reaches her, the strains of what must be a bawdy song weaving comfortably around them. His fingers are far more nimble than fingers have the right to be. ] But you mean to teach me otherwise, I think. [ She smiles in invitation, deceptively sweet. ]

[selfimage]

[ Loki was quite and very obviously the opposite. his reputation was kept low, and where he would normally be dramatic he was adaptable. it was nice to be given the option of something other than egregious infamy. Dany took initiative, and she was left in the spotlight while Loki melded in with the crowd. he found comfort in being sneaky, and managed, so far, to keep himself low enough that no one would be any the wiser.

she's looking somewhere else, and he's all too aware that her focus is on something else other than his fingers. when she turns back, there's a lift of a dark brow and a follow to where her gaze had been, as if it would have been foolish if they both looked at once. ]

Paper is the stuff of gambling.

[ he likes that smile. after his next showy card trick, he deals. since there's a certain logic to the cards, he explains the hands and the idea behind them—how rare, and how common. ]

Usually there's something to wager.

[conqueress]

[ There is a heaviness to the air, it seems, tinging all that is done around them with a seductive quality.

Loki explains, and Dany pays exceptional attention, following his fingers as much as his rules. He will find that she is always attentive--observant, after years in silence and docility demanded that she sharpen other aspects of herself--and when the proposal comes, she cannot miss the significance. They are both in a place of pleasure, and exchanging their pauper's share of coin would be meaningless when already they must pool it. ]

Are you baiting me? [ The empty card box lies discarded between them, and for a moment, the middle of his forehead makes a tempting target. ] You are, [ she accuses playfully, sliding her cards closer; there is yet hope that she will decree something. ] You are baiting me.

[ But the notion leaves a pleasant, heady warmth all the same. This time, she does not trouble to ascribe the feeling to drink. ]

[selfimage]

Are you properly baited?

[ like he was born to it, he leans back in his own seat. there's an arm across the back of the chair, dangling as if it has nothing better to do than hang carelessly. the other goes to his cards, dark nailed fingers sprawled over the fan of intricately printed designs. she doesn't flip; he doesn't flip.

the accusation is taken with perfect grace, and he shifts his hips on the seat, crossing his knees and giving her a proper view of his legs. if it's one thing that Loki isn't, it's shy.

despite that, his attentions don't seem beyond their table, though his eyes and ears are open to something else other than the amorous yammerings of those about to get laid. when people were trying to impress, their tongues got loser, and it was always the slip that he was looking for. despite all of his flirtations, he seems to be fairly focused on their card game, as if it were some silent challenge for her to do the same. ]

I'll start with your socks.

[ there's a song to his voice as he says it, as if he were demanding coin instead of clothing.

he is wearing that comfortable looking hoodie, his hair artfully tousled to the side as he reviews his cards. ]

STILES.

[selfimage]

[ the desert is the easiest part to do this.

it took a while to get there, but Loki seemed to have gone at least once, and was fairly confident on the way that they strayed from town. it was a mechanical horse carriage ride and a walk near sunset later when they were out far enough that there was a whole lot of nothing in all directions. to the north and west, mountains, to the east, the perfect line of the horizon. the air was dry and hot, even though Loki was still wearing his thick jacket and heavy horns, he didn't even seem to be in mild discomfort. ]

Time to put some thought into action.

[ he seems to find it funny, at least. his words whimsy in the air, though they suddenly seem like the only thing real around them. ]

I gave you a few symbols to memorize, a seal and some runes here and there, did you do your homework?

[ you know, if he's to be a proper teacher and all. ]

[figureitout]

[ perhaps someone only passingly familiar with Stiles would find his quiet during the carriage ride strange — well, "quiet" in the sense that he asks nothing of the destination of their trip, doesn't question the decision to head deep into the desert... not that the threat of the bandits is in any way real, not in present company.

the ride seems to take forever and a half, but when the carriage stops and stiles steps out, it feels like they've arrived on Tatooine: Luke's description of "if there's a bright center to the universe, you're on the planet it's farthest from" sounds incredibly accurate, only substituting "planet" with "place". but then, it seems to have been Loki's idea all along. ]

Ha, ha, hilarious.

[ he wishes his flat words sounded more weighty, less like they're crumbling away, disappearing into the sand surrounding them, but it's the way things are with Loki; everything that isn't him, his words, his gestures, they seem to pale. they're less real, almost as if screaming at the world, I exist more than you do, I am more.

he wishes it was easier, to forget his new mentor is human and god at once, the dichotomy of it almost suffocating — someone who finds it just as easy to banter about pop culture as to speak about metaphysical levels of magic Stiles has no hope of truly ever comprehending. ]

Yeah, I did. [ homework or not, he isn't about to half-ass something as important as this; the symbols are etched inside his mind, glowing bright every time he closes his eyes. ]

I could draw them for you, but — [ a wave of his hand; not the smartest move, to start drawing magical symbols in the sand just for the sake of it. ]

[selfimage]

[ there's an irritating part of Loki that seems to know exactly what he's doing at all times, as if he's accrued some kind of ancient secret that gives him the ability to radiate flawless control. it's one of the traits that seems to make Loki seem very old, until he opens his mouth. that—well—then all bets are off. even the excuse of divinity doesn't seem to entirely fill the gaps of words in Loki's story, but he doesn't seem keen on explaining himself anytime soon.

thus, that flawless control must be trusted.

on the other hand, Stiles seems to be breaking, as if the cracks in his veneer are becoming borderline unbearable. that's why the desert is here: the heat and the dryness are impossible to ignore, making anxiety and unattended thoughts the background noise of their current circumstances. ]

Good. I need you to focus and start drawing.

[ luckily for them, Loki could teleport if they needed to get back. why he didn't teleport here?

eh ... ]

[figureitout]

[ focus, Loki tells him, and Stiles feels like laughing, a bubbling sound he locks up in his throat before it escapes, only the slightest hitch in his breathing betraying him. focus, Loki tells him, as if they weren't standing in the middle of the desert, as if he didn't feel he was drying out, body and mind.

focus. ]

Are you —

[ this time, he does let the laugh escape, a chuckle that seems to aim for ironic mirth and misses the mark by two miles. ]

Actually, I'm not even gonna ask. I'll draw the symbols and if something explodes, I mean, I guess we just get sent to Oska early. No big deal. I'm starting to get allergic to sand, anyway.

[ at least the dryness and heat haven't corroded away his usual bravado, the way words pour out of his mouth, saturated with sarcasm.

at least he does as he's told, symbol after symbol appearing on the ground, drawn into the sand with his finger; the coarse grains burn as they touch his skin, but he ignores it. Loki asked for symbols, and symbols he shall get. ]

[selfimage]

[ there's a quick of his head that repeats that: am I? it says with a raised brow. it means that he knows where that's following up, and he's not.

there's no following up with it, instead Loki dismisses it. ]

Something always explodes—think of it as exciting rather than terrifying. [ says the god who's been through multiple apocalypses, some at the hands of a fiery elemental with a bad attitude. ] It can be fun.

[ settled into watching, Loki glances at him with an easy look. one that cares little about how many are going to explode. every so often he takes a step forward to erase one that Stiles drew, claiming the lines to be a little off, and that there are far worse than just explosions out there.

when he's done, Loki crosses his arms over his chest and takes a good look. then they all get erased with a wave of his hand. ]

In a circle now, center and outward—connect the ones that speak to you.

[ Loki was never an entirely good teacher, but he knew what he was doing. probably. ]