nexus_crossings | Leather and fine wine

Leather and fine wine

The days are getting darker, the air has started to bite. Naturally this means that a certain Winter spirit is starting to brighten. With Hazel's beautiful influence all around him, he's been spurred on to keep busy and ready himself to do an equally (if not better) job. While people may have seen him marching around the Nexus, often with full arms, today he's taking the time to stay in the Nexus to do a little work. Back on his world the weather took a turn into torrential rain. Here, however, it's dry. Cold, blustery, but dry.

Reynard has his trademark leather coat spread out on one of the tables in the Plaza. Two pairs of boots are waiting on the ground, one pair noticeably newer and smaller than the other. His feathered hat rests on one of the chairs, carefully weighted down with a brush. Perhaps it's no surprise then that Reynard is dressed rather lightly then, with his coat all laid out. It's around this table that Reynard moves, brushing and wiping and occasionally taking a sip from a cup. Those who approach will be met with the rich scent of mulled wine and the more cloying smell of whatever he's using to treat the leather.

Finally he pauses for a moment, thinking over his cup before asking, "What is your least desirable quality? What could you stand to improve about yourself?"

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Loki is not at his best these days. The shock of encountering his mother's spirit, however valuable that conversation has been, is still with him. He's been warned of Reynard's existence, and if he knew who he was approaching, he would probably not do so. One seasonal spirit with the power to bring forth heartbreak is more than enough.

Still, this is his kind of weather. Some people complain when the wind gets sharp enough that the chill can bite through their clothing without tearing the seams. Loki likes it. He hates the reason he likes it, but he can't deny the satisfaction of the cold against his skin.

The smell of mulled wine is appealing, and he pauses in his walk to enjoy it, only to turn his head away at the question asked.

"Oh, but there are so many options!" He says lightly, bitterness gentle and muted but not hidden. "How could I choose a single one?"

This is one of those answers that appeals to him, despite being indecisive. The freezing rain of Winter has a habit of finding the cracks in everything it lands on, and when it freezes… Well, that's what the beautiful frost patterns are. Flaws highlighted in elegance. Equally as enjoyable as untouched snow.

Reynard leans back against the table, since he might be listening to several answers in a moment. "Narrowing it to a handful usually helps. I'm sure there's one that stands out above the others once you clear the clutter."

"I am very proud, revengeful, ambitious," he quotes mildly out of Hamlet, "with more offences at my beck than I have thoughts to put them in, imagination to give them shape, or time to act them in. What should such fellows as I do crawling between earth and heaven?"

He's in a mood today.

But the catch to being a skilled liar is this: you cannot always lie. That is too predictable. Someone who can be relied upon to lie every time he is asked something may as well be telling the truth. You have to tell the truth, or part of it, sometimes. Even when--especially when--that truth is uncomfortable.

Turning toward the other man, he folds his arms and takes a step or two closer. "Do you know that voice that humans call a conscience, that is in the back of their heads, they say, telling them right from wrong? Mine does not do that. It instead lists the options available to me that could create the most chaos and ill-feeling first, and only once those are out of the way does it begin to consider more constructive avenues."

"Granted, sometimes chaos is a constructive avenue, but not quite as often as the opportunity to create it arises."

This works out rather well. He gets to have a drink with a show. A somewhat darkly dramatic show, but a show nonetheless. A scene of a person being painted right before his eyes. Folding one arm while the other allows him to sip intermittently, he's a perfectly good audience for Loki's soliloquy.

It's not that he particularly wants to interrupt this flow of thought, but he's genuinely curious when he asks, "Have you thought about trying to change that? The way your mind works?" Perhaps it's more prudent to ask, "Would you want to?"

"I've thought about it extensively, and come to no conclusion." He shrugs. "I am not human. The way my mind works may well be inherent to what I am."

"It does have its advantages. The ability to analyze a situation, to make a judgment call on what might motivate a new acquaintance. No, I would not want to rid myself of it entirely. I do wish it would be more businesslike and less gleefully destructive, that's all."

"However, now that I've told you far too much about myself, I'm going to have to insist on an introduction. My name is Loki."

"It sounds like you need an outside perspective," he suggests. "The one thing people find hardest is to deal with themselves. Doctors still need a doctor, and so on. A back and forth with someone who's sharp enough to give you new considerations might even help you harness your… talent."

Which would be the ideal situation, surely. He might not be offering himself (they're still strangers, after all), but he's silently pleased to see someone who sees their own flaws and seeks to use them to their advantage. It's the smarter way of dealing with them, even if it isn't 'good'.

Reynard stops dead halfway through taking a sip to stare very intensely at this new acquaintance. "Loki? Loki as in 'conveniently appropriately named after the god' or… Loki, as in silver-tongued Loptr himself?"

"If you're going to suggest a therapist--" he begins, but trails off, mollified by the further explanation. No, that doesn't sound like therapy. That sounds like a friend. Or a mentor.

Loki isn't sure he could submit to the suggestions of a mentor; swallowing his pride is very, very difficult. His pride is very prickly. Even spiky. Still, the basic idea of sounding board? Not terrible, if he can find someone to trust.

Correction: someone to trust who he doesn't mind laying the burden upon. Harley, he trusts already, but she gives of herself so freely to everyone around her, and is not without stresses of her own. No, that's too much to ask of one person.

His reverie is disrupted by being recognized. Norns, he is never going to get tired of that. He's a little more subdued than usual with the smile and bow--he's had a recent humbling experience--but he can't bite back the little sigh of pleasure. "I do like that epithet. I haven't heard Loptr in quite a while. Yes, I am he. Or a version of him, at the very least."

Edited (typo) 2018-11-13 16:41 (UTC)

There is a very simple reason Reynard would ever refrain from suggesting a therapist: Someone might end up suggesting it back at him. For someone so natural at hiding himself and keeping secrets, the idea of being honest and open with anyone voluntarily is… daunting. Someone to have a glass of wine with and talk nonsense until it makes sense? Now that's a much better idea.

All thoughts on the virtues of a good confidant/verbal sparring partner are forgotten once Loki introduces himself.

Reynard groans, rolling his eyes right around and then heaving a sigh. He sets his cup down on the table, steps away from it and then gives a flourished bow with a pinched smile. "An honour to make your acquaintance."

When he straightens again, the smile gone, he picks his cup back up and immediately takes another sip before saying anything else. "My name is Reynard North."

Wow! The eyeroll is a new one on Loki. Sure, he gets that kind of thing from Thor but they're brothers, so it's expected ~~and Thor has one less eye to roll with now~~. He looks nonplussed; not exactly offended but very surprised.

And then he bursts out laughing, as if he's just been told the best joke of the year. It only ramps up a notch when North gives his own name, and he has to take a moment to recover, one hand on his chest, the other cupped over his mouth to stifle the giggles.

"Your p-pardon," he says at length. "I did not realize my acquaintance would be so tedious to you. Should I pretend to be someone else? I'm certainly capable."

Shaking his head, he rubs the heel of his hand across one eye to wipe away a tear of mirth. "Yes, hello, I have been warned that you are a spirit of Winter. Are we going to come into open conflict? After what the Autumn did to my brother, I'm trying to decide how far to push my luck."

The laughing only forces him to smother another sigh. He's going to need to top up his drink, isn't he? "No offence, but gods cause drama. I'd vowed to avoid gods as much as possible and you've just ruined a perfect record."

Then again... He shrugs. "You're not the worst one I could have run into, but- Wait." Loki's words catch up to him. "What did Autumn do to your brother?" A beat. "And who did you hear about me from?"

Both terribly important questions. If Autumn has an issue with a god he's no going to undermine her, in her Season or his. As for where his reputation comes from... Well, it's either really bad of him, or... moderately bad. It's important to know which.

"My heart bleeds for you," he fires back. "How do you think I feel? I'm related to so many! But if you do seek to avoid drama, I would recommend not rolling your eyes at people. Offense fully taken, by the way, but I'll decide what to do with it another time."

And probably he'll decide on 'nothing' because he has bigger projects to worry about. He's not even that annoyed.

"I believe the issue has resolved now, where they are concerned," he says. "Or will be resolved shortly. I'm not clear on how their quarrel began; Thor claims to be blameless."

Loki doesn't believe that for a moment, of course. "In any case, organic matter was rotting around him, food included, and he's been living off junk food for a bit. It was heartbreaking to see him so reduced." That doesn't even sound sincere.

"But as far as who told me about you? You'll have to figure out on your own. Snitches get stitches."

Talk of offence being taken gets a 'tsk' and Reynard only manages to stop himself halfway through throwing his eyes to the sky. Normally he has patience in spades, but any being haughtier than himself often drains it faster than a bottle of champagne at New Year's.

Loki talks of Thor claiming to be blameless and Reynard can't quite resist muttering, "Of course he does."

After this he'll have to find Hazel and give her a high-five. Before that he'll have to practice how to do a high-five with Tina. Thoughts which distract him from the mild disappointment of not learning who gave Loki his name, which he only grunts at.

"And Thor? He's your brother? He's here?" It's hard to tell how much that might be a problem during Winter. Hopefully not much, but he doesn't like the idea of competition on the weather front.

Loki is looking thoughtful now, though. "Actually, what Thor claimed was that she seemed to have a grudge against the mere fact of his existence. I thought that seemed like a harsh assessment, but I'm beginning to wonder."

"We are what we are, you know," he says. "If our providences overlap with yours, it's hardly deliberate."

He's probably walking himself into trouble at this point, but it's not winter yet. Maybe it's better to just go ahead and make a bad impression now and avoid Reynard later, when he will presumably be at the height of his power. "He is present in the Nexus, yes. And he is an alternate of my actual adopted brother, as we are not from the same world, so technically I suppose that would be a no, but I might stick my neck out for him anyway should the occasion call for it."

His smile is faint, but hard to miss, and his gaze is suddenly very intent. "He has duties. He is the king of a people in exile. If he brings trouble upon himself again, so be it, but should he merely be walking through your personal space, I would ask you to remember that the lives of thousands depend upon him."

"As long as you don't get in the way of my work I couldn't give a damn what you oversee." Easier said knowing he's not dealing with a famed god of Winter. That might be more… problematic.

Though if Hazel was offended by his existence… perhaps Thor felt too much of Summer. Thunder is always most common in the mid-year heat, after all. That he could definitely understand. Summer weather during Autumn could be seen as an intrusion, a resistance.

"There are rules to adhere to, duties to carry out." He pulls out of his thoughtful gazing to meet Loki's intense eyes. "Out of Season I don't care to meddle in the affairs of gods. It's not clever, and it's not safe. But during Winter… Well. What happens to Thor is up to him. Winter doesn't differentiate between a mortal peasant and a god king."

He takes another sip of his wine and then sets it aside, picking up a brush instead and waving it once at Loki before continuing to wipe down his leather coat. "All you have to do is respect Winter. It's that simple. But those who don't… I can't help them. People always try to bargain with me. Always think that if they plead or threaten or haggle they will get special treatment during Winter. It doesn't work like that. Even for silver-tongued Loptr."

"I do not threaten," he says, recognizes his own words, and makes a little grimace of distaste, shaking his head to start over.

"I suppose it is to be expected that a season should be indifferent to the remnants of a people struggling for survival." He might as well be asking the void of space not to swallow them when their ship breaks apart under fire. That's going at things backwards. Contingency plans are the only thing that can be done here.

He's wasting his time. Best practices are to assume Thor will get himself in trouble here, as well, and come up with a workaround for it. His gaze drops away from North as he falls into thought.

Perhaps he's going at other problems from the wrong end, as well.

"Exactly." Reynard continues brushing for a bit before stopping in his tracks to consider. "Although that will be an interesting watch. Something to keep an eye on. Winter will be intrigued to see how they cope."

With that mused aloud, he gets back to his work. "Having a whole people adrift though. That… sounds unusual for people like yourself. Are they all gods? All your people?"

"See, that's a bit unpleasant to say," Loki tells him mildly. "The kind of commentary that cuts a conversation short, really."

And yet, he hasn't left yet.

"An interesting question," he responds belatedly. "Depends on how you define 'gods', I suppose. Most of them are not worshiped, nor tied to any particular providence. But they are all the same species. All are Asgardians."

That gets a raised brow. "You gods really are easy to offend, aren't you?" He straightens so he can exchange his brush for a cloth and a tin. "I only meant that you often see the strength in a people when they're struggling. The ingenuity and inspiration of people fighting for their culture and family is something to behold."

"I wonder if that means they have the potential to become gods." Opening the tin brings a somewhat less pleasant smell to the air than the wine, but at least it's not too potent. That's why he's doing it outside, after all, to keep the fumes to a minimum. Part of Reynard has to wonder if Loki wears leather that's the same as Earth leather, and if he has servants who treat it for him. "Do you have to do something to get powers and realms?"

"I'm sure ingenuity and inspiration are lovely from a distance, but up close they mostly just look like suffering." Loki looks somewhere between amused and incredulous now. "Please, tell me I'm too sensitive and overly concerned for my countrymen. Tell Thor, as well; he will laugh and laugh."

"I would like to think so. Some sort of hereditary tendency to connect to the energies of Yggdrasil, perhaps. But then there is me, and I am not Aesir, not by blood. Merely adopted and raised among them. So, where then does my power come from?"

He shrugs. "I'll let you know if I find out."

No, he won't.

"I do not know whether belief creates divinity or vice versa, but I know that there is no such thing as a god with no believers at all. If I had never been prayed to, I imagine I would merely be a sorcerer. A good sorcerer, perhaps an extraordinary sorcerer, but not a god."

This time Reynard stops to listen properly, giving Loki his full attention until the other is done. When he is, Reynard's shoulders fall an almost indiscernible amount with a muted sigh. "All the silver at the tip of your tongue but your eyes cannot see its gleaming."

Oh joy. He had forgotten Loki was a magical ~~man~~ god. Something else to watch out for on top of whatever divine powers he has. The thought of reading up on him makes the spirit inwardly groan. Perhaps he'll ask Hazel what she knows instead, and take time to think back on old stories.

"Will you try that? Gathering mortals to pray to Aesir and seeing what happens?"

Loki isn't sure whether that statement is a compliment, an insult, or just general exasperation, so he chooses to take it as the third option and just smiles innocently.

"I cannot lick my own elbow, either," he says. "At least not in this shape."

He may well wish to ask Hazel for her take on this Loki. He's probably not her favorite person, but she has of late been in a position to see him as humbled as he ever has been. Loki himself does not, and will not, forget that.

"Are you suggesting I try that? It seems somewhat like cheating, but I suppose that makes it well within my..." He trails off, struck by inspiration so forcibly it almost takes his breath away.

Why not? Who better to be his allies than his own people? What one god standing alone cannot hope to do, hundreds in alliance may be able to.

"You're a genius," he says, blinking at Reynard.

In this shape. He's a shapeshifter then. Reynard will have to watch out for that. Hopefully Loki has some limits on what he can do, or at least some habits to follow.

Reynard... was not expecting the compliment. It gets his attention immediately. He stops what he's doing to stare at the god, his mind working through what was said until he realises what he's done and the implications.

His eyes go wide and he straightens, waving at Loki, rag flapping as he does. "No, you should forget that. Forget I said anything! It's a terrible idea! It won't work, and even if it does, you have no idea what will come of it. People could die!"

Oh, boy, is he a shapeshifter. There are definitely limits. Some forms he can take as easily as water flowing into a new container, but many require preparation and/or illusion. Reynard can rest assured there will never be a Loki-dinosaur stalking around the Nexus. A snake, a horse, a wolf, though, perhaps.

Oh! He's surprised the man. Loki registers the reaction as alarm at once, and while he is still struck by the possibilities of the idea, his mind also flickers through the possible results of Reynard's displeasure with him attempting to execute it. His first impulse is to explain irritably that half the goddamn universe is at stake where he comes from and defend his willingness to take risks, but that anti-conscience in the back of his head interrupts him promptly.

No. This is not a friend or an ally, he owes him no explanations and does not require his sympathy. What he requires is lack of interference, and just because Reynard has not the power to cause trouble right now doesn't mean he won't remember this chat later.

Loki blinks at him innocently, once, twice, and then breaks out into laughter. "Oh Norns, the expression on your face! What on earth would I want a great, stupid lot of rival gods for? Can you imagine the nightmare? Thor is quite enough, thank you."

Yeah, so laughing at him openly is probably volatile, too, but Loki judges a prank battle with an offended winter spirit might be less trouble than making a true enemy of him.

The idea of hundreds or thousands of gods springing forth anywhere, especially somewhere with access to the Nexus is an indescribably terrifying thought. They would make such a mess of his work in Winter, and of his life outside of Winter. Or at the very least he would have unleashed a scourge upon Loki's world. To say nothing of if some of them turned out to be cruel, or even attuned to the Nexus.

Not that he could stop Loki even if he wanted to. As a human he has next to no power, and as a spirit he has more important matters to focus on. That only makes his relief more palpable when Loki laughs.

No, he's not happy he's being laughed at, but his shoulders still sag with relief, even as he glowers, returning to work on his coat. "Anything you show interest in I'm sure means you feel capable of handling. I'm glad to hear that isn't making a god army."

No, Loki doesn't necessarily want a lot of rival gods, but there is much to be said for making his own people--deceased or not--his allies in the struggle against Thanos. It absolutely cannot be done recklessly, because it could be a disaster and because Loki really can't be sure that they would all be ready to stand against the Black Order, but he is not going to dismiss the idea out of hand.

"Oh, I feel very capable," he says, laughter fading out, although the grin lingers on his face, like the Cheshire Cat's. "Don't dare me, unless you really want to see it. But, no, I don't want an army of gods."

(He totally wants an army of gods.)

"It is a good idea, though. In the sense that it's in-character for me and would create tremendous chaos."

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