nexus_crossings | Ceremonial curiosity

This is the type of question most likely to get Loki's attention, given his current course of study. What is magic? What is the divine? You know, light, easy questions like that.

He appears rather abruptly, not exactly within the other man's personal space, but only few feet off to his left. "An interesting query. In my experience, a ceremony is, at its simplest, a method by which to connect events through time. We celebrate our child's birth because our parents celebrated ours."

"...well. Some of us had parents who celebrated our birth, anyway. My point is, it makes for a chain of tradition connecting us to our ancestors and to our children's children yet to come."

"But if you are speaking of something more along the lines of a magical ritual, that, I would say, is normally a focus for energy and will, much like a magic wand or a stone of power."

The sudden appearance does startle Viatorus. Not a difficult feat, by any means, and he does manage not to scramble, but he startles nonetheless. He flattens out his tie and clears his throat before speaking.

"Um, there is, wouldn't you say, a certain amount of power inherent in these ceremonies? How well or poorly a ceremony goes affects the outcome, influencing people, communities. That's part of the reason so many traditions have collected over time. Good omens, ill omens. A sign of a good or bad wedding- o-or birthday. Are they not, in some respects, intertwined? Magical and non-magical ritual? Religious and earthly?"

...okay, so Loki was absolutely looking for a reaction there, but since he wouldn't want to frighten someone past the point of a decent conversation (at least not today), he merely smiles, eyes glinting with amusement, rather than mock or push his advantage.

He's really been on his best behavior in the Nexus. It's been a long streak. It can't last forever.

"A reasonable point. There is inherent power in so many things," he says. "There is power in a single word. I cannot deny there may be some in practical, secular ceremonies. I would still venture to say any real power in them derives from the passion and focus of their participants, rather than the ritual itself."

"The steps of a ceremony may vary across worlds, across cultures, even in the same culture across time periods, but the importance of them--the power--tends not to. One generation demands that the bride and groom swear to 'love, honor and obey' amidst their wedding vows. The next eschews the idea that any adult should swear obedience to another that they purport to love. The wedding is still a wedding, and it is still a milestone, because the participants believe in it."

What a curious point: Secular ceremonies shifting the source of power from the ritual itself to the people participating. It seizes Viatorus' attention and he leans forward, all ears as Loki continues to explain his thoughts on the matter. Whatever questions might have been on the tip of the young scholar's tongue vanish with Loki's particular example. It takes him a moment to take it all in and consider.

His hands slide across each other, his right covering the ring on his finger as they fold over. "That is... a very interesting distinction," he says eventually. "So, then, the influence of ceremonies where the power lies with participants is dependent on the participants upholding its terms. And, perhaps, you would say that so long as they are bound within the terms of the ceremony, however small they may be, the participants are... influenced by it...? By each other's power and not a greater one."

Loki is so very attuned to nervous gestures. He sees that motion to cover one hand with the other, gaze dropping and rising again, along with one eyebrow. It's an arch look, to be sure. This is a good discussion, though, so he doesn't comment.

"I think so. I find so much of what people consider to be marvelous and occult is directed by sheer force of will; of an individual, of a group, of a people. Even on a basic social level, of course, what you say is true. Participants in a ritual or celebration make a commitment to the others involved, whether they promise fidelity or merely mean to express sincere pleasure at a celebrant's joy."

He considers a moment, then says, "The answer may change if we are discussing a purely magical ritual, though, or a religious ceremony meant to call upon a deity directly. In that event, I still say much of the power comes from the participants, directing their will to call upon magic or divinity, but there is a greater power involved if they succeed. And that must surely affect the outcome."

"This would be easier to discuss in specific terms, incidentally. But since we haven't even been introduced, I will allow that you may not wish to reveal your personal concerns to a stranger."

"I wasn't really thinking of anything specific. Really." He's not the best liar. He fidgets too much, overcompensating in his false expressions and then suddenly feeling guilty about them. "I-It's just that it's easy to say magical rituals have power. Of course they do. Even with the ceremonies that don't have an immediate, obvious effect, you put power into them. You make sure they have power. Other ceremonies, secular ceremonies, as you say... They're harder to see. It's harder to know."

Wait, he said something about introductions. Was that a prompt? Oh, that was prompt, wasn't it? He's being rude!

Viatorus scrambles to offer a hand. "I'm Viatorus, by the way. Viatorus Durant. I'm a magical consultant, and scholar. I... I guess that's why I'm thinking about it. I know so much about magic, but... non-magical ceremonies... I haven't thought about as much."

Oh, son. Loki knows a bad liar when he sees one. Luckily, he's comfortable with playing the long con; he doesn't need to know what his new friend is fretting about just yet. He'll figure it out over time, or it will become irrelevant. His smile is smug, though, and knowing.

"It sounds like, in essence, you are asking whether all ceremonies, secular or spiritual, are on some level magical." Loki smiles, accepting the handshake. His grip is gentle; he's not out to impress anyone with his strength. "Am I right? I wonder if there is some variance across worlds, in that answer."

"Well met, Viatorus. I am Loki Odinson, of Asgard." At this point, he can't be sure in what worlds that name will or will not be recognized, but he'll leave a pause here, just in case.

Viatorus' grip fades with his gaze as his attention turns from greeting to thinking. "I… guess I am. On some level…" How… simple though. "Maybe? I… can't imagine a world with no magic at all. Maybe there's another kind of power."

If Loki was amused by Viatorus' failed attempt to lie, then he might well enjoy watching the scholar work through the introduction and implications that follow. He nearly, nearly asks if Loki is named after the god- Which also means he's probably from an Earth, a fact that always makes interactions easier. But 'Odinson'. 'Of Asgard'. A few years ago he might have been slower on the uptake, but he's had a recent re-education in Norse myth.

He squints, cringing preemptively for any mistakes he's about to make, and for the dozen or so improper actions he's almost certainly done already. "As in… The Loki? The Norse god?"

"I was discussing the essence and definition of magic not long ago, with another person here." Not that Adia is a magical scholar, so far as he can tell, but she has some experience with encountering it, for sure, and is pleasant to bounce ideas off of. "I know my own talents quite well, but how they might apply to other universes is a different matter. One I am currently studying."

But this is a good reaction. He likes how he can see the wheels turning, the implications being weighed, almost as much as he likes being recognized. His smile is charming and aggressively smug, but lately he's been catching more flies with honey than with vinegar, so he gives a gentle, encouraging nod alongside it.

"Even he," he says. "Though perhaps I do not perfectly match the picture painted of me in every world's folkloric tradition."

He's speaking with a god. A god he knows ashamedly little about. The wrong pantheon. The wrong situation. Viatorus stands stock still, vibrating in a silent explosion of energy beneath his skin, until his silence is more pointed than any words.

"I'm sorry," he blurts out, his held breath escaping him. "I haven't met a Norse god before. I haven't met any god like this. In the flesh. Not being... hosted. I'm not sure... I didn't know there were..."

A thought springs to mind, glazing his eyes and stopping his words. He bites his lower lip, troubled, as he slowly returns to focus on Loki.

"I know that this might be a nuisance, a-and that we've just only met, b-but I feel it is... somewhat my duty t-to ask a favour of you." Although he looks like he half expects to be struck down by ~~lightning~~ magic for bringing it up at all. "W-Would you meet m-my wife? Someday? I just- She worships the Norse gods. I... I'd say most of what I know, she taught me. If I'd met you and hadn't so much as asked..."

To say he'd feel like a poor husband would be putting it mildly.

Loki has been, since he arrived, quietly delving into the mysteries of his own nature. Odin, back in his world, would proclaim himself god of wisdom one day and the next scold Loki for thinking himself divine. It always seemed absurdly inconsistent. And for the longest time it was easier to assume malice on Odin's part, rather than an awkward way of communicating a truth too complicated to be put easily into words. Even in the Allspeech.

Reality is malleable. Reality is contradictory. They are both gods and mortals, story-creatures beholden to the humanity that invented them, and elemental beings that hold sway over their followers. The multiverse is strange that way. More so than many people are equipped to take in. But Loki, at least, is comfortable with his own cognitive dissonance. And even now he is willing to find out he is wrong, provided the next step is to a step up.

In any event, he's looking for believers. He has no details in his plan, but he does know if he has any hope of vengeance against Thanos or of reaching out to assist his brother against the Mad Titan, he will have to gather resources, knowledge, and power like never before in his existence.

So. He's stumbled across someone who not only knows his name but has some awe for it. It's a bit like hitting the jackpot. The back of his neck prickles, and he takes a moment to clear his throat and fold his hands behind him, much like Frigga used to when she was teaching him about the weather, or the stars.

"I am reasonably certain I am not the last you will encounter," he says, carefully modulating his tone. It would be rude to scare this young man now, and counterproductive. "Your reaction is very gratifying, however."

Oh, Norns. Viatorus, you poor lamb, has no one warned you against asking favors of Loki? It's like offering a pickpocket your credit card and PIN. "You may ask," he says. "And I am inclined to agree with your request, but I feel some clarification is needed here. You do understand what kind of god I am, I hope? If your wife worships me, she is a unique individual. Not that that is meant as a criticism, merely that in some universes I have something of a reputation."

"She mostly worships Frigg, and Freyja. She's a völva, and they help her," he explains before hastening to add, "But I know she would love to meet you."

Still, the need for elaboration baffles him a little.

"You're a..." Trickster. Don't say trickster. Don't be rude to your wife's god, Viatorus, for the love of Morpheus! "A-A-A god of cunning. And magic."

That doesn't mean he's going to trick Viatorus, after all. Why would he do such a thing? Why wouldn't he want to meet someone who would be so excited to see him? Perhaps he feels it's disrespectful. Beneath him. In prayer there is due respect given, there are offerings...

"She'll make the meeting worth it. I-I mean, her baking. She's an excellent baker. Her cakes are worth an introduction." Maybe that's what Loki was looking for. Viatorus goes quiet and awkward again while he awaits Loki's verdict on his suggestion.

Hey, mentioning his mother isn't fair! Loki makes a small, subtle motion, one hand coming up to rest fingertips over his own heart briefly. He also makes a conscious decision not to fill this man in on what's happened to the Aesir in his universe. Hopefully the same is not true of the pantheon where he comes from--

Hm. What are the chances he'd run afoul of another version of himself, if he pursues this?

...Well, everything's a gamble.

The flicker of expressions washing across Loki's face is probably somewhat confusing to Viatorus. There is something soft and sorrowful at the thought of Frigg, which then turns more pensive, almost calculating. For whatever it's worth, he seems not the least bit offended by the description of himself, and he looks up belatedly at the offer of baked goods. Ice-green eyes blink twice, and then he breaks into a smile and a bright little laugh, not of mockery but of delight.

"I do like sweets," he says. "But it is you who are asking this favor, and you who will owe me for it. Provided you accept that and understand that the nature of the Nexus is such that there may be differences between my universe and your own, I am amenable."

Frankly, knowing a völva might be advantageous for him anyway. "But I had to make certain, you know, that you don't come from a universe where I'm the god of marshmallows and adorable kittens."

Viatorus can almost hear his sister's furious reprimand already. Offering a favour to a trickster god with no terms. This is the real reason she's his protector. She would have seen the issue with this a mile away, and treated a god with the same suspicion she treats everyone else. That's simply not in Viatorus' nature, however. It's easier for him to trust that whatever Loki asks for in return will be weighed by a kind of fairness.

"As long as whatever you ask for in return is of roughly equal value..." Then what is there to be concerned by? What's the worst that could happen?

It comes as a bit of a surprise when he has to stop himself from laughing. He covers his smile with a hand until he can smother it, and shakes his head. "I've never heard you called as such before."

Reaching into an inside pocket, he pulls out a business card of deep, shimmering purple with gold letters imprinted into it detailing his full name, number, and an address here in the Nexus. He offers it over and hopes Loki takes it before his hand starts to tremble. "All my details are there. F-For when you want to contact me. To call in the favour, o-or tell me when you're free to meet... meet my wife."

In years past, Loki might or might not have cared about fairness, or kindness. There have been times he was unnecessarily vicious, even toward mortals who purported to worship him. Even now, his cursed clever mind is weaving ideas for what he could demand. Some are nothing short of cruel; that's merely how he thinks, all possibilities examined with none dismissed out of hand. But the friendship of a völva is valuable. Even Odin at his proudest and most powerful would not deny that. And one does not gain friends by terrorizing their husbands. Usually.

Besides, the awe and trembling and barely-controlled excitement is downright endearing.

"Of course," he says easily, with respect to 'roughly equal value'. Really, one could make a case for equal value being nearly anything from 'attend my birthday party' to 'dedicate unto me your firstborn'. It's only a visit, but not many people get a command performance from a god.

He's pleased by the aborted laugh, but says nothing. Seems like Viatorus expects a level of formality from a god, and that's all right. At least for now. Probably, Loki should inform him of Thor's presence in the Nexus, but he's absolutely not going to. Then this invitation might turn into 'can you bring your brother' and no. Just no. He's not sharing, today.

He takes the card and looks it over, nodding mildly. "I have a PINpoint as well, but I can be contacted via informal prayer. Tell me, did you marry for love? And what is your wife's name?"

It's an eternal relief to find Loki unbothered by the almost-laughs and stumbling words. Truthfully, they're common enough from Viatorus even when he isn't speaking to someone so important.

Oh, but informal prayer. Could he even do that knowing that he'd have to face the god afterwards. There's something deeply different in seeing gods in dreams or at the edges of his consciousness compared to meeting them in the flesh. Would it be better to privately message a god? Runa would have to do the prayer for it to be truly to form, he thinks. Which begs the question, should this be a surprise, or...?

Loki's first question shocks him out of his thoughts. He coughs in surprise and gapes until he realises he's gaping, only to rub his neck and glance around to hide his embarrassment. "Um, well- It- We married... I-I-It was arranged, but... but we're happy." He's pretty sure. "H-Her name is Ingirun. Ingirun Ny- Durant. Ingirun Durant. Everyone just calls her Runa, though."

It's possible Viatorus is stumbling across one of Loki's saving graces; the same one that Adia has found. There is some small part of him that still values innocence. He would venture to say he has none, himself, but that makes it all the more interesting in other people. At his best, Loki can be like a gangster who cannot resist stopping his work to pet a fluffy baby duckling.

Maybe there is some world out there where he is the god of adorable kittens. But probably not.

Mind you, when he says 'informal' he means it. "A chance to consider your question regarding ceremony and ritual," he tells him, half playful. "You know a little bit about me. Tell me, what better way to honor a deity of mischief and chaos than by bending rules and expectations? Even with respect to prayer."

The intent is what matters.

He nods at the answer he receives. "It has no bearing on my agreement. I was merely curious. My congratulations on your recent marriage."

Yeah, that slip of the last name there made it pretty obvious, even without the prior context of the conversation about ceremonies and the shy little motion to hide the ring on his left hand. The conclusion is there to be drawn, Loki has drawn it, and he is satisfied with his work. "I look forward to meeting her."

There is always the possibility of becoming the god of adorable kittens. Something which Viatorus would advocate wholeheartedly. Possibility and hope are two of his specialities.

Although Loki might be a little hopeful himself in trying to encourage Viatorus in mischief. He hasn't done much that could be considered cheeky since he was a child. And certainly not in regards to gods. It doesn't quite fit with the stoicism set in marble halls that he's used to.

Still, he offers Loki a weak little smile and a nod. "You're right. I'll try."

Clearing his throat he adds a, "thank you." He's not sure how Loki knows he's a newlywed, but a small show of omniscience is really the least surprising thing in this encounter. He sways on the spot before leaning forward ever so slightly. "C-Can I ask, are you really a god of magic?"

A challenge, then! Loki should probably feel out the people surrounding this man before he decides whether to try encouraging him to get into trouble. But he doesn't often do what he should. Once again, he gives him that fiercely charming smile. "Consider it an experiment. We'll record the results and determine whether they are repeatable."

The scientific method, as designed by humans, is not an entirely bad idea. Somewhat inadequate when working with the divine, but still.

"A god of magic," he repeats the question thoughtfully, and nods. "That's a fair assessment, yes."

Every good liar knows when not to push his luck. Claiming to be the god of magic would be too grandiose even for Loki. "And yet something of a student at this time, as well. There is a surprising amount of variation between worlds, and at its most fundamental level, I feel that magic--"

Pause. No, he'd best not get too pedantic here, not until he's sure what Viatorus is actually asking him. "Your pardon. Did you have a specific question? Your question is what caught my attention, you know. That ought to be a source of pride."

Loki, like everyone who encounters Viatorus more than once, should certainly make sure they meet his sister before they engage him in anything considered even remotely risky. Much to Isidor's irritation, however, she more often ends up as a consequence and not a deterrent. Not that Viatorus makes things easy for her.

An experiment? Specifically condoning misbehaviour? Excuse him for a moment, this contradicts everything he's ever been taught. Experiments are all about following rules, not breaking them, right?

Unable to contain his concern, his face wrinkles into an expression trying meekly to hide his uncertainty. "Um... I-I'm sorry, but... I'm not sure I... I mean... How?"

A specific question? Perhaps not for Loki. For his family, though. How has Loki not been mentioned in the many incantations, the thousand rituals he's seen? Is it a part and parcel of worshipping a god of cunning that they must be sly and choose to keep their allegiances hidden? That, at least, is a question for the only person who openly professes his loyalty to the trickster god.

"A hundred thousand questions." Barely an exaggeration, but he delivers it with a fleeting smile. "But honestly, more embarrassment. My family worships several gods of magic. It feels wrong not to know more about you. I-I'll... have to fix that."

Sounds like the natural order of things to Loki. One sibling wild card, one sibling upholding order and sensibility? Sure! One could argue in his and Thor's case they switch roles occasionally, is all. And then Hela came up and had to spoil the rhythm they had going.

It's funny, sometimes, how Loki enjoys stepping outside his own traumas and distress and reflecting on what an interesting story it all is. Either way, he's probably going to want to meet this sister of Viatorus'.

"Well," he says thoughtfully, face neutral but eyes dancing with amusement. "I am the god of mischief. I wonder what would happen if, for example, someone were to walk across grass with 'keep off' signs in my name. Smoke next to a 'no smoking' sign in honor of Loki? Pray to me while playing music very loudly in the early morning so as to wake the neighbors?" He shrugs. "All relatively harmless gestures, but all transgressive, after a fashion."

And some more likely to reap consequences than others. If you get the cops called on you for being disruptive in Loki's name, is that a kind of minor sacrifice? So sue him, he's curious.

His smile softens a little at Viatorus' explanation. "As I said, I have a reputation. Rites to me have historically been few and far between, and reserved largely for the bold, the outcast, and the desperate. But by all means, please feel free to add me to your rosters; I am not the jealous type."

Er. If he reads anything about Loki, he's going to realize that's not necessarily true. "Well," he clarifies. "Not where worship is concerned, at least. I do not object to sharing space, as it were, with Hermes and Thoth."

"But let me reiterate, there are likely differences between universes. I have already had to disappoint a friend by telling her I am not the mother of Sleipnir where I come from." Not as far as he knows, at least. He could probably screw around with time and make it happen from here, but...he has other projects on his mind.

There is a moment where Viatorus has to wonder if Loki is joking with him. In a sort of test of humour, maybe. Surely it's not that easy. No talk of intent or grounding or physical offerings. It's what he's suggesting, however. The instructions right out of the god's own mouth. Irrefutable.

Viatorus' uncertainty gives way to thoughtfulness, his mind already beginning to turn as he tries to think of something appropriately mischievous. "I'll... I'll see what I can come up with."

Loki is such a humble god. More humble than most Durants. It boggles the mind how he isn't invoked more often, differences or no. Surely he would be the perfect patron god: Fun, kind and magical.

It's mostly thanks to an extensive education in his own pantheon that the 'mother of Sleipnir' line only receives mild surprise. Gods. Being odd comes part and parcel with divinity, it's well known.

"Should I... ask how things are different? I don't want you to have to field..." Mother of... How to phrase this. "... personal questions more than you have to. Want to. Um... Need to."

Well, the suggestion is a bit tongue-in-cheek, but the thing is, based on Loki's understanding of the universe, it might actually work. And it dovetails nicely into Viatorus' original question. Is there power in a ceremony, in an act of worship? Does the dogma really matter, the order in which things are done, the solemnity and pomp? Or is it, as Loki tends to think, mostly about focus and intent?

He's going to need to know. He wants the security and power of worshipers, and not, for once, for petty reasons.

'I'll see what I can come up with' is utterly heartening. There's a flash of real delight in his smile. Of course, if Viatorus perceives him as humble and kind, he is clearly the more deceived. Fun might be applicable, though.

He laughs at the question and shakes his head. "There would be too much to go into, I am sure. You need not worry. I have never in over a thousand years answered a question I did not want to."

"But I will tell you this much: human folklore in my own world has me described as the parent of Odin's great eight-legged horse, the goddess of the underworld, and the great wolf Fenrir. All of them were born before me, and I respectfully decline to accept the blame for any of them. And I have yet to meet a Jormungand, so I tend to assume someone merely saw me in a serpent form and made some assumptions."

"...if I were going to claim any of those, though, Sleipnir was at least quite a magnificent horse." He looks thoughtful. "I do shapeshift. It is not impossible for me to mother or sire a child. Other versions of myself may have done so."

He's not saying he hasn't, in fact. Just not the aforementioned quartet of semi-divine curiosities.

Edited (minor typo) 2018-11-03 22:14 (UTC)

For all his empathic ability, Viatorus has never quite managed to decipher anyone's true intentions through the haze of his own anxieties. He will, as he always endeavours to, take others by their word. It's harder to be wholly to blame for any incorrectness that way.

The ease with which he's encouraged to dabble in trickster's games is an incredibly lucky mix. He was raised a scholar, to take pride in curiosity and experimentation. More importantly, he was raised to respect the gods. All gods. His is a family of great priests and priestesses. Awe and reverence for the divine run deep in his family's teachings. Loki is indeed lucky.

It does, however, feel somewhat rude to be discussing the validity of Loki's personal affairs. Although maybe that's simply Viatorus' sensibilities speaking, as Loki seems to have absolutely no qualms about the subject.

"Those... are quite a few differences," he manages eventually. More thoughtfully he adds, "I would love to know where those versions of the stories came from. How they came about. How they were so wrong." Now that he thinks about it. "I wonder if our myths about our own gods are wrong..."

Pulling himself out of his thoughts he meets Loki's gaze again. "Do you know any Greek gods? Hermes? Apollo? Hades? M-Morpheus?"

Loki is getting the impression, in fact, that in Viatorus he has stumbled upon a perfect storm of characteristics for an ally. His tendencies in the Nexus thus far have been quite benign. He knows what he's after (power, worship, respect, affection, in no particular order), he knows why he's after it (Thanos), and in the Nexus his ability to charm, negotiate, and flirt will be more beneficial than his talents at lying and deception.

Eventually, he has to assume, Viatorus will read some of the darker exploits of Loki. The stories are not all true, but they're pretty much all in keeping with his character. Until then, though, if he has him in the palm of his hand, that's good. And he's a bit endeared by it all.

"That's something I've been reflecting upon, myself," he says. "Do the stories make the god, does the god make the stories, or a bit of both? It may even be possible that there is mythological cross-contamination, as it were, between universes. I would not put it past an alternate of myself to travel through my dimension and leave stories of his or her own exploits."

"There, too, is always the possibility of some of the more scatological tales being meant as slander, but I am past the point of taking them personally."

Even the one about him tying his personal regions to a goat's beard. He's not claiming that one, but it does strike him as sort of funny.

He looks thoughtful at the question. "If I have ever met a god outside my pantheon, they have not, alas, revealed their nature to me. I have met beings who could be considered powerful on par with, or greater than, gods. But power does not equal divinity, does it? There is something else that must be there."

Ceremonial curiosity

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