nexus_crossings | Ceremonial curiosity

Ceremonial curiosity

In the past few years the Nexus has become more of a home for Viatorus than his own world, despite its strange and changeable nature. So then perhaps it is not so odd that he finds himself feeling more comfortable here than there, able to talk to strangers with nary a stutter. Mostly. Though whatever nerves remain they're still a far cry from how he was when he first came here. Now he can sit and think, his head clear and undisturbed by the passers by.

He sits and watches the crowd flow through the streets, shuffling the ring on his ring finger in slow circles. For once he's without a book in hand, not even with a tea nearby. In fact, he looks quite composed for someone so easy to fluster. Perhaps it's the distraction of speculation, for he certainly sounds like he's been mulling over this a while.

"Do you think that ceremonies hold power? Do they influence anything or do you think they're purely symbolic? Are they an expression of hope, or a way of channelling power?"

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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."

All of this is a bit surreal in how easily Loki simply speaks with him. A shared conversation. And yet, the casual philosophising does wonders to put him at ease.

Viatorus smiles and shakes his head in agreement with Loki's conclusion. Power does not make one divine. Even if it can be used to make someone appear divine, it is not really the same thing.

"I hope you meet other gods," he says earnestly. "Then you could ask them about it. You could figure it out together. Even priests might offer you more insight. I... I'm afraid I only really have a connection with one god, a-and I wouldn't dare speak on his behalf."

A moment's thought passes before he asks, "Have you ever prayed? Does that work? Gods praying to gods?"

The thing about that philosophizing is its utterly sincere. Loki is developing his own opinions on the natures of magic and divinity, and not only is he willing to entertain other perspectives, he's aware he needs them if he is to come to any conclusions. This is an entertaining game, a reasonably healthy long-term goal, but primarily it is about survival.

Not that he's planning on telling anyone that in so many words.

"If the opportunity arises, and I find a god who seems reasonably trustworthy, I might bring it up." He looks thoughtful. Thor is no use for these things. If Loki tried to bring it up, he would only assume he was looking to dominate the Nexus, or an adjoining planet. For which there is, to be fair, plenty of precedent, but Loki's patience for his brother's recriminations is limited. They both know he's not going to apologize, and he's not going to promise never to do it again, so it's best to just move on.

"I think ultimately I will have to consult with as many gods, priests, sorcerers, and others as possible here. What is true on one world does not always carry over, but there may be a consensus."

The question about prayer makes a shadow cross his expression. Not anger; something closer to bitterness and melancholy. "To the Norns, yes. The only answer I have yet to receive is 'no', but I suppose one must count that as a response. As to how they receive it, I cannot say. But perhaps I will learn, in time."

Viatorus nods along with Loki's decision. It's sensible, it's logical, and as a preliminary plan there's not much more to be said, only done. Which brings Viatorus' thoughts full circle. He perks up, hesitates, and flattens down his shirt as he prepares himself to speak.

"Perhaps… Perhaps that could be the favour you call in?" It's a meek offering at first, but he becomes more energetic as he explains, "I have a cousin who is a priest of Thoth, and another who is a priest of Despoina. A-And cousins who are priestesses of Despoina, too. If you wanted, that could be your favour from me. An introduction for an introduction."

Perfectly equal. Perfectly fair. It's such a neat solution. Isidor would be proud… If he hadn't gotten himself into a favour-debt with a god in the first place. It might be a bit hopeful of him to think that Loki would accept such a balanced trade, but Viatorus has an abundance of hope when it comes to the goodness of others.

The body language here tells Loki this is a spur of the moment suggestion, not a wily plan come to fruition, but either way, it's clever. He approves of spontaneous use of new information to maneuver one's way out of trouble just as much as he does of elaborate gambits, and the look on his face is one of surprise, with delight following hard on its heels.

It's almost flattery in itself, to witness. "...I'm starting to quite like you." He says. "Nicely done."

If he had a plan for what kind of favor he actually wanted from Viatorus, he wouldn't cotton to this solution quite so well, but since he doesn't and was merely hoarding favors, and since it sounds like he's going to get at least some attempt at mischief-based worship, he's happy to give him this one.

"Yes, that's a deal. I will meet your wife in good faith, and you will introduce me to your priests in good faith, and we will call ourselves even." He offers a handshake.

The redness in his cheeks gives away the effect of Loki's compliments before the scholar's shy, chuffed smile which he does a poor job of trying to hide. Cunning may not be his area, but making connections quickly, especially to solve problems, is something he's had plenty of practice with. At least this time it manages to overlap with Loki's preferred traits quite nicely.

He takes the hand with an almost uncertain grip, and gives it a weak shake. "A deal." He made a good deal. With a god. It seems utterly unbelievable. "I'll endeavour to be prompt."

So long as he can actually figure out how to effectively pray to the trickster god.

Quick-thinking and networking skills are useful to both humans and gods, and equally accessible to both. Loki isn't saying he's met his match or anything, but he is definitely impressed by the boldness and initiative. His handshake is firm, but not crushing.

"Would you like my PINpoint information, or would you prefer to pray to get my attention?" He'd definitely like to hear a prayer or two, but PINpoints so practical he's fallen into using his frequently.

"I'll try praying," he says immediately. A little quieter he adds, "But in case it doesn't work, I don't do it right, or anything like that, could I have your PINpoint information as well?"

Not all experiments work out, after all. While praying is more natural to Viatorus than texting will ever be, Loki's particular flavor of worship is going to be a new one for him. He'll have to put effort into getting it right, and it might even take a few tries. Even then, nothing is guaranteed. Especially with contacting someone in a multidimensional meeting point. Ultimately, it's better to be safe than sorry.

"Even a failed attempt would be welcome," he says, quiet but serious. He doesn't want to show weakness to this man who so deeply respects the divine of any type and origin. But he'll give him this much information, that he wants and maybe needs human regard.

Then he smiles easily and gets out his PINpoint. "Actually, as I have enjoyed this discussion, please feel free to contact me just for that. I may not always respond if I'm busy," or if he doesn't feel like being friendly, "but since our interests match it seems practical."

He hands the device over to Viatorus. He appears to have modified the outside a little; it's green and gold enamel with a little image of a helmet with curled horns engraved on the face, and asymmetrical lines around the border.

The benefit of dealing with someone who keeps his reactions so plain is that Loki can easily understand the meaning behind the way Viatorus' eyes flick up to meet his gaze. Only for his gaze to fall away out of deference. The dreamwalker would never be so rude as to draw attention to such a glimpse of vulnerability. Instead he just nods and gets out his own PINpoint which looks, for all intents and purposes, like any sleek twenty-first century phone.

"Thank you. If I come across anything I think might interest you, I'll have to let you know." As he transfers the information from one device to another, another small smile appears. "It's a bit of a pity I'm the Durant you found. I'm just a scholar of planeswalking. The Archon is the scholar of magic itself, the heart of it. He'd probably be better equipped to answer questions on magic."

Still, with a smile, he hands Loki's PINpoint back. "I guess I'll have to do."

Loki is starting to understand the push and pull, give and take, of the Nexus. Walking in like he owned the place was not going to be a possibility with Thor there, and thank goodness it wasn't, because he realizes now if he'd started with that attitude he wouldn't have made nearly so many friends so quickly. He is not fully trusted, of course, nor should he be, but so far there are more people kindly disposed toward him than not, and at least a few who have promised him prayer, Viatorus included.

He is making badly-needed inroads, at no cost to himself aside from a little patience and humility (not his strong suit, but effective when he can muster it), and he's fairly proud of himself. So he does note the young man's glance, knows it means he's understood the glimpse Loki's given him, and that's enough for the both of them, for now.

"I would enjoy that," he says with a bright smile, and means it for once. He's not going to look to Viatorus to do his research for him, magical consultant or no, but he'll enjoy a conversation.

Taking back the PINpoint, he gives a little chuckle. "Oh, but what if he didn't like me? I will always take scholar of moderate influence that is kindly disposed to me ahead of a scholar of great influence that isn't."

"Worry not. You'll do."

What a perfect answer. All Loki's answers are perfect, really. An interest in magic, an interest in him. Quite correctly, too, since although the Archon is the scholar of magic, Viatorus doesn't ever remember seeing him smile. Perhaps Loki is lucky after all. Viatorus has to wonder if he knows that. If there's a sixth sense for gods when it comes to these things, mortals and worshippers.

It's probably best he's shy, though, or else he might have said something cheesy about everyone liking Loki. Instead he smiles bashfully and nods, raising his own PINpoint before tucking it away. "I should go and make some arrangements. I... have a lot to think about now, and a lot to do. Thank you, Loki."

As far as Loki is aware, he has no extrasensory guide as to what mortals he ought to be approaching as friends or followers. But in a way, he's still discovering what he's capable of, and he certainly has an innate talent for reading the people he speaks with, guessing where he can press for more and where he needs to back off so as not to alarm them.

There were times he would have wanted to alarm them, but it won't get him what he needs right now, and if he's honest with himself, he's rather enjoying playing the role of the friendly, impish Trickster now, rather than the malevolent Liar.

"Certainly," he nods his agreement. He doesn't need to keep the man all day, and for himself, Loki nearly always has business to attend to somewhere. "I look forward to hearing from you soon, Viatorus. And you're quite welcome."

Probably he ought to thank him back, but even if he weren't a god, he's still a prince and prone to benign arrogance every now and then. Still, his wave farewell is warm, and when he vanishes in midair with a flicker of green-gold, it seems possible it's a performance specifically for his new friend's benefit.

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Ceremonial curiosity

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