Inbox (Caldera)

[coldsong]

"Everyone you meet is fighting a battle you know nothing about. Attack while they are distracted.

Kindly leave a message."

Comments

[odare]

"Okay..."

Finnick tries to suspend his judgments and think this over. So, they're both Gods then, or have godlike powers, or whatever. No one has explicitly said that to him, but that's the implication.

He can sort of wrap his head around it-- needing to get your frustrations out, but feeling that it's not fair to fight someone you're ten or a hundred times more powerful than, so turning toward someone your own size, so to speak. And of course, power at that level is very deadly, even to another godlike being.

He sighs. He feels like he wants to argue, but what can he really say?

"I found your bodies. It wasn't... Pleasant."

Then he's mulling over what else to add...

"It felt like we were worlds apart yesterday. It was almost like you forgot who I was." Or perhaps he forgot that Finnick is a full human with feelings that can be hurt.

[coldsong]

For Loki's part, his first encounter with Solas revealed how much they have in common, from mindset to skillset, and it's so ingrained he's forgotten that not everyone knows this.

"It takes a lot of skill to turn a shapeshifter into stone," he says neutrally. And that's it for a few moments, as he studies Finnick in his peripheral vision. This young man, he remembers now, has seen an awful lot of corpses. From friends, from enemies. People he had to kill himself, and didn't want to. This must have been a nightmare for him.

Not that it was an ideal situation for anyone. Loki certainly enjoyed himself in the moment, in a dark, savage way, but he has mixed feelings after the fact.

"Norns. It was only yesterday? It feels like weeks." He rubs his temples with the heels of his hands. "I told you, we were all being influenced by Triton. Not deliberately, perhaps, but by the sheer force of his vengeance and pain. Perhaps I'm uniquely susceptible. I..."

He trails off, and for a moment it seems like he has nothing to add, but then: "My mind is full of holes. Has been for years. I was...captive. In the hands of a warlord. Thanos. I mentioned him once, I think?"

"Physical torture couldn't wring everything they wanted from me. They needed conviction, not meek, fearful obedience. There was an artifact they used. The Mind Stone, set in a scepter. They gave it to me, to use as a weapon, a tool to control others, but it was a door that opened both ways." A dull smile; Clint Barton is the one who used that phrase first, with respect to the Tesseract.

"I still don't know how much it took from me, how much it influenced me. I remember some of my decisions but not all of them. I remember holding it was like a a drug. It hurt and I couldn't get enough."

"But vengeance and rage can be like that, even without a magical influence behind them." He takes a deep breath and lets it out. "This feels like the aftermath of that. I thought I knew what I was doing, but now that I'm not doing it any more I'm not so sure."

"Something had its claws in me, but maybe it was just a darker part of myself. I don't know, Finnick."

[odare]

The neutral tone is irritating. Your boyfriend tells you he found your dead body turned to stone and all you have to say is that it's impressive that it was done to you?

But Loki continues before Finnick can say something like that, and he listens. He sits next to Loki on the bed, not touching him anymore, instead hugging his own arms.

"We were all being affected mentally by Triton. I get that, and I know I can't blame you all that much. I just..."

He sighs. He isn't really sure what to say, or if his being upset is even valid enough to put words to.

"Yesterday, and even now, it doesn't feel like you're thinking about my point of view, or that you care how any of this made me feel."

[coldsong]

For a moment Loki looks at him as if Finnick's the one who just stabbed him. Lost, hurt, bewildered. Talking about the Mind Stone takes a lot out of him. Talking about that time in his life is agony, and...well. Maybe it really doesn't matter. He always assumed it didn't, in Asgard.

He drops his gaze and folds his hands in his lap to quell the shaking.

"I care. I'm trying. But I don't know what you want me to say. I can't tell you it wasn't really me, because I don't know how much of it was. I warned you. I always warn people I'm going to hurt them, whether I want to or not, and they don't believe me until it happens, and then I lose them." His voice is thin and thready now, stretched taut, scared.

"Whatever it is you want me to do, no one ever taught me how to do it before."

[odare]

Finnick appreciates that torture and mind control is difficult to talk about, and that's precisely why he doesn't want to keep talking about it; it's difficult and triggering for him, too, to hear about his loved ones going through that. It's a subject that tends to make him shut down, so he would rather skip over it for now since he's already upset. He hopes to address it later.

For now, he turns to Loki, bending his knee on the bed. It is, in an odd way, relieving to hear him getting upset. The cold, neutral tone he's been taking since yesterday morning is what's been bothering Finnick the most. Emotion, that is something he knows how to deal with.

He puts a hand on Loki's back, gently, between his shoulder blades.

"Well, firstly, you're not going to lose me, so do away with that thought. I love you, and I'm not easy to scare off."

He sighs softly.

"... If it was really you who killed Solas, and even if Triton had nothing to do with it... I think I can accept that. I don't have much room to judge, since I've killed lots of people too, and I'm friends with plenty of people who... Who get into a similar mindset as you did, when they're fighting. Wanting blood, going into a... Frenzy, or whatever you want to call it." He's friends with Enobaria, for fuck's sake, who had her teeth filed into fangs so she could rip people's throats out. He understands becoming desensitized to these things, even callous, and that it doesn't necessarily reflect on a person's morality, or who they truly are.

"I guess... What hurts is that you didn't reach toward me for help. I didn't feel like you were my ally. I didn't feel like we were on the same team. It didn't seem like you gave a single thought to how your actions might affect the other Visitors."

[coldsong]

They're dealing with opposite instincts. Loki has spent the better portion of his life being taught to 'man up' and stifle most of his emotions. He's never known anything to improve by him getting upset, and so his defenses and explanations are always methodical and even and cool, until he loses control, himself.

He goes very still under the touch, and it's hard to tell what that means, whether he's anticipating something worse to come from it or whether he wants more. He's not sure, himself, except that he feels wrong-footed and confused and on the run.

"Bloodlust is too simple an explanation," he says. "I'm not a creature of battle. I'm a thing of chaos and disruption, and so is Solas."

"I don't think...I don't see how you could help me not be what I am." He looks at him sideways, uncertain. "I was trying to explain, and you said you didn't understand, and then you got angry and left. Obviously that doesn't make you responsible for anything I did, but I don't understand what you expected me to do differently. I tried. I warned people I wasn't myself, kept away from them, fought the shadows even though I wanted to join them--I even tried to help Percy. I only really slipped when I ran into Solas."

He shakes his head. "You have to understand, Finnick, I've had lovers before, but not a team. They were mortal. I had to protect them, often from myself. The only person I ever fought alongside of like that was Thor, and he...broke that trust years ago, without even realizing he'd done it." The first time Thor told him know your place, Brother, it was over.

"I didn't mean to hurt you. I was trying to protect you."

[odare]

He shrugs.

"Battle is chaotic. People dying at random. Senseless. It makes sense that you'd be drawn into that, I guess. For me, it was..."

He looks down at his own ankle, fidgeting with his pant leg.

"I was back in the Games. In the arena. It was awful. I just wanted some comfort from someone I care for, and to know someone had my back. I couldn't get that from you, and your cryptic warnings not to trust my allies just sent me back further into that headspace of not being able to trust anyone, because at the end of the day, we'd all have to kill each other anyway since there can only be one winner."

His voice becomes increasingly strained as he speaks.

"And then seeing that you had killed an ally... I don't know. I just don't want this place to be anything like Panem, and for me, trust and working together is the antidote to that. It's the thing that soothes my fear."

"But you were trying to protect me by keeping a distance from me, so..." He shrugs. "I can't fault you for that, I guess."

[coldsong]

"I usually hate battle. Partly on principle, it's my brother's providence." He sighs. "Not chaotic like battle, chaotic like...picking up the status quo in both hands, turning it upside down, and shaking it like an Etch-a-Sketch until the picture gets blurry. No one gets too comfortable. Disruption is a survival mechanism."

If they don't have Etch-a-Sketch where you're from, Finnick, Loki will petition the faction leaders for several. They're kind of relaxing to play with anyway.

"It's important, because societies will fall into one hierarchy or another, left uninterrupted, and the downtrodden can only be downtrodden for so long before they either erupt or collapse. The Trickster's role is to upset things, to make sure they don't collapse. And it's a double-edged sword because the moment I get too comfortable, I get myself into trouble with the very essence of what I am."

"I know when I try to explain these things, it sounds like I'm self-fellating, and I'm not going to pretend I'm entirely free from arrogance. Maybe I'm a narcissist, I don't know what the clinical definition for that is. But really, I'm just trying to explain why I'm doing things that seem inexplicable from the outside. I don't like hurting people. I don't want to hurt people, especially the ones I care about."

"And I do. I love you. And it scares me because I know I always hurt the ones I love the most."

He's quiet then, listening to Finnick. Apologies are hard for him, emotions are a struggle to perform in a way other people will understand, but trauma...trauma makes sense. "I didn't mean to put you back there," he says quietly. "I wasn't afraid I would hurt you physically, but I know my words have claws. I know when I can't stop being cold."

"I love you, and I never want to hurt you. I'm sorry." And kills him that he can't promise it won't happen again. "My instincts always say to push people away for their own safety, but people will never let you do that until after you hurt them."

He reaches out tentatively, trying to put his hand over Finnick's like he's afraid he'll bite. "How...how can I comfort you now?"

[odare]

He doesn't know about etch-a-sketch, and Loki should definitely get him one, but he does understand what Loki is saying. It reminds him again of one of their first conversations where they spoke of rebellion. If Finnick had the power to shake Panem like an etch-a-sketch, he would have.

"I appreciate you explaining it. I just get frustrated when I don't understand your explanations. But I do understand this, now. I think it's an honorable role that you play."

Because Finnick knows how terrible hierarchies can be, and how much suffering they can cause. Chaos also causes suffering, and so does rebellion, but freedom always comes at a cost. It's the lesser evil, he thinks.

"Thank you," he says softly, to the apology. "The next time I'm pushed away, I'll have more perspective on why it's happening, and less confusion, so it won't hurt as much."

"I know that I don't... Completely understand you, and I know I'm probably not smart enough that I ever will. But I want to. I want to put in the time and the work to know you more deeply, if you'll let me."

He lays his own hand atop Loki's.

"I just want a hug... Please." He looks into Loki's eyes with vulnerability.

[coldsong]

Sometimes disruption is good, and sometimes it isn't. Sometimes it just means people end up getting hurt.

"For all that I'm...terribly fond of words," he admits, "it's tricky to express it in a way that makes sense to anyone but me."

He shakes his head then. "It's nothing to do with intelligence. If anything, it's my own mind being...aberrant. I don't think the way other people do. Not even other gods. I have to translate moving impressions in my head into words, and then take other peoples' words and translate them back into impressions if I really want to take them in."

Not that he's claiming to be unintelligent, himself. Just...a very particular kind of intelligence, which is sometimes as much a curse as it is a gift. More cunning than cleverness; more poetic than it is intellectual.

"I want to be understood," he adds softly. "Although I don't always understand myself, either."

Loki meets his eyes, and it's evident from the wary way his pupils flicker that he's a little on edge still, just from the fraught nature of the conversation. Still, he doesn't hesitate when asked for a hug, sliding closer and gathering Finnick into his arms. "You deserve better than this. All this madness," he murmurs into his hair, and kisses the top of his head.

"But since I can't give you that, I'll give you all the hugs and kisses you want."

[odare]

"That's okay," he says softly. Loki's mind being different, not understanding himself, it's all okay. Finnick loves him, so he'll always try to understand and bridge the gap, even when it's hard. Especially when it's hard.

He melts into Loki, arms wrapping around his cool, bare abdomen. He tucks his head into his lover's chest and closes his eyes as tears fill them. Everything still hurts, throbbing like a recent wound, but at least there's a reprieve for a few moments, in Loki's embrace. At least he's not going to lose Loki just yet.

"I think my life will always be madness. It's what I was born for." It's like he was chosen to endure all of this. The Games, the rebellion, the fight here in Caldera. Chosen because he was strong enough, perhaps. Even if he doesn't feel strong most of the time, he is still here, after all this time.

He lifts his legs to lay them across Loki's lap.

"Just... Have to remember the gifts I've been given. You're one of them."

He lets silence stretch out for a while, as his muscles relax, the hug releasing good brain chemicals that begin to ease his pain.

"Maybe this isn't a good time... But... I've been meaning to ask you something."

Another few beats of silence, thinking on how to word it.

"Have you thought about... Staying here for good? When it's all said and done? Provided we're not sent off into the abyss before then..."

[coldsong]

It's not okay, though. Because it leads to struggles like this, misunderstandings that Loki himself can't see coming and doesn't know how to prevent, and he feels like he's been crying out for years that he is wrong and damaged and not fit to be around people like this, with gentle hearts and gentle hands, but he craves them so. Like a moth craves a flame, but in reverse.

"I don't want to be the madness," he whispers. "I don't want to be like this."

But then Finnick says he's a gift and in a way it makes him feel even worse, like somehow he's tricked him into thinking Loki is...anything more than mischief and danger. He doesn't know how to do this. He's never known, and all he can do is just hold on and hope it's enough.

It isn't a good time for that question, but because it's a question Loki has been considering for months, he only gives a faint shrug, and then nods, nuzzling into Finnick's shoulder absently. Physical touch is keeping them both from spiraling at the moment.

"I've nowhere else to go, really. It's either that or face the afterlife, I assume," he murmurs. "It's been on my mind. What about you? You have more to lose."

A weird way to think of things, perhaps. But Finnick very clearly merits Valhalla or some other similar repose, wherein he might meet his loved ones again.

[odare]

Finnick isn't sure what to say to that, so he just rubs Loki's back, presses his cheek against his bare skin, and hopes it's soothing.

It's sad. Loki is cursed with a nature he doesn't even understand himself, a nature of chaos and a strange nihilistic neutrality, yet he yearns for love so deeply he can't refuse it, even though it seems to always end poorly for him. And Finnick just wants to love him past his nature, in spite of it, because of it. Finnick wants his love to be the key that unlocks something deep within Loki and makes everything make sense, but he knows that isn't what his love does. Sometimes Finnick isn't even sure whether his love helps or hurts Loki, whether it's a blessing or a curse to him.

He wants it to help. Maybe, in the end, he won't be able to. Maybe all he'll ever be is a few nice memories in a sea of others in the godling's immortal mind. Maybe he'll never be what Loki needs, maybe he will never be enough to truly help him in any lasting way. And that hurts, and that's sad, a dull ache in the heart, but he can't stop loving him, anyway. It's similar to the way loving Annie sometimes hurts, when she's far away and he can't reach her in the depths of her mind. Or loving Maedhros, when he's seeing his torturer and insisting he's only dangerous and horrible. But Finnick has always had the patience to just be there, and hold someone's hand through madness he can't even imagine.

All he can hope is that being there, and holding their hands, is enough in the end.

"Well... I believe in the afterlife now, but it seems like there are several. Maybe infinite afterlives, in other worlds like this one. And Mags might be in one of them, and Annie might end up in one, but there's no way of knowing we'll end up in the same place. Whereas I do know for sure that there's people and animals I love here. I know a lot of them will go back home when this is all over, or even before it's over. But there's you, and maybe Maedhros, and I'm sure plenty of others who are dead and would stay. So... I'm just seeing what other people think, but I probably will end up staying."

"... Sorry to bring it up now. It's just been on my mind a lot."

[coldsong]

As he'll say to Solas later on: perhaps part of what Loki is is this split between his own wild nature, and the part of him that's hungry to be let in, and seen, and loved for what he is. He's tried to let the warm and loving aspect of himself go, pushed it away just as violently as he did his own family, and it keeps coming back to reproach him for his worst actions. Likewise, he could stifle his wild self, perhaps. For a while. Come in from Útgarðar and play gently, and savor the fruits of intimacy and security.

But there would be a reckoning later. A backlash. And Loki's not the only one who would feel it.

So here they are, neither of them sure what they're doing, what happens next, if love will save them or break them. Which is more or less what every relationship is like, though perhaps on a less dramatic scale than the two of them.

There's you, Finnick says, and Loki can't help but smile. It's bittersweet, more sweet than bitter, that Finnick still seems to think of him as a net positive. "I'll stay as long as you want me to," he says, and Loki hates making promises because he's not especially good at keeping them, but this? This is an oath.

[odare]

Finnick moves to press a tender kiss against the base of Loki's neck.

"I want you to stay for good."

Does he mean in Caldera, or with Finnick? Yes.

He thinks this place is good for Loki, and Loki himself said that the afterlives he knows of don't appeal to him.

"I want you to stay here and be loved by everyone. Including me. But even if you don't want to be with me forever, or things don't work out between us, I still want you here. As my friend, or my ally, or even just my hot neighbour I sometimes write poetry about." A smile ghosts on his lips, and they curl against Loki's cool skin.

"But it's your decision, love. If we both decide to stay... I thought maybe we could, uh... Go together, to ask the leaders about it. Just as... I don't know. As a commitment?"

He shrugs and shakes his head, as though disregarding this idea he's thought about for... Maybe months now.

"We don't have to. It's just a thought."

[coldsong]

His neck is his weak spot, and any tension that was left in him dissolves at that kiss. There are probably things they should discuss. Unpleasant things. Dark histories. But not right now, not if Finnick is going to do that, and say such kind things.

"Stay with..." he begins, but trails off to let Finnick say his piece. No need to ask for clarification when he's already getting it. And the picture he paints--stay and be loved--is so appealing it ignites a little sliver of hope in Loki's chest. Maybe he's not hopeless, maybe he's just...incredibly difficult, but there are a few people, like Finnick, who still see something worthy in him.

"I want that too," he says, fumbling a little for pretty words. His arms slide tighter around Finnick, and he shivers at the feel of warm lips against his skin. It takes a moment for the rest of what he says to sink in, and when it does, Loki makes a small noise of surprise.

"A commitment...?" Norns, he really is forgiven. Is that how this is meant to be? You say you're sorry and there is actual reassurance, real forgiveness? And that's it? It doesn't just hang around your neck like a dead albatross?

This is probably out of line, in the healer's quarters, but Loki doesn't care. He lets himself sink back, pulling Finnick with him, half on top of him. "I...I want to say yes. I need to know more about what you're thinking though."

No one's ever asked him to go steady before, Finnick! You're going to have to explain the process, inasmuch as you can.

[odare]

He feels the tension relax out of Loki, finally, the tug of his arms and the telltale shiver that always happens when he finds a certain sensation thrilling. He's relieved to feel this in his partner, as it suggests a positive reaction to the things he's saying, a warming and thawing of Loki back to what he usually is like around Finnick. He huffs a breath, a quiet laugh, as Loki pulls him down onto the bed, and curls up comfortably against his side, head and arm on his chest.

"What I'm thinking? Mmm..." He traces small shapes on Loki's chest with his fingertip. He's not totally sure what Loki means, but he'll explain how he came to this plan.

"A couple of months back I realized that I'd like to be with you for good, and that we both seemed to want to stay here for good. So I just thought... You know, the way people move in together, or get engaged or whatever, we could do our own version of that. Go together to Cordelia and ask her to let us both stay. Like a ceremony."

"... Maybe it's silly, or too big of a... Step. You can think about it, if you want."

[coldsong]

Sometimes he's a wall of solid ice, Loki, but other times he's a soft flurry of snow. Or the sparkle of sunlight on the water's surface, perhaps. Trust a man who loves the sea. "It's not silly," he assures him.

From this position, he can't see Finnick's face as well, but he can feel his heartbeat and the rhythm of his breath. He buries his fingers in his hair, ruffling lazily. "I've had a few mortal lovers before," he says slowly, thoughtfully. "One or two that were more than short flings. It was always my feeling that...that they were giving me so much of their limited time on the planet, I owed them a great deal more. I could never stay, was the thing. I wasn't permitted, and while I do love to do the things I'm not allowed to do, my father--my king--would have sent Einherjar down to Midgard to pluck me up and bring me back to Asgard, and that would have only caused fear and heartache."

"So, I would visit whenever I could. Bring gifts. Teach magic. I watched them grow old and blessed their graves when they died. Followed their family lines, some of them, for decades, and blessed their grandchildren. Carved their names in the mountains above Valaskjálf so that Asgard would remember even when Midgard forgot."

"I have been committed. My care, my sentiment, risky as it is, for you and yours, as long as your line lasts. Were your wife and child to be found here, they would know no fiercer defender." Although he'd probably also keep a safe distance because he's toxic, but they've just been over all that.

"But that's not the kind of commitment you mean now, I don't think. I don't think you're proposing a marriage to me, either, though I...don't see any reason you couldn't be wedded to more than one person here, if you chose. I know you have others dear to you." Angel Dust is a delightful pain in the ass, and maybe if they're all fortunate, John will find his way back. And Finnick has long since made it clear his love for Annie has not, and will not, change, which is fitting.

"So what do we call this? Other than love. Do you want me to live with you? Or to live with me? What will change?"

[odare]

Finnick's eyes close at Loki's hand in his hair. Like Loki's neck, that's his weak spot, and it makes him relax more fully as well. Listening to the story of commitment, Finnick's hand rubs caressing circles into his partner's chest, because he finds it very sweet.

"I'd never refuse that kind of commitment from you, if that's what you're offering." The wording didn't make it entirely clear to Finnick; the general 'you' or him specifically.

He shifts to face Loki more, to put his chin atop his hand on the godling's chest and look at him.

"But I want to know what you want. I've wanted this to be something more... Solidified for a while, but haven't wanted to push it or force it, since we both like our freedom. I think it's too soon for marriage, but I'm open to whatever you might want it to look like."

[coldsong]

Loki blinks at him mildly. "Mm...not offering so much as admitting to," he says with a wry little smile. "You're stuck with me, one way or another. If you told me you never wanted to see me again, you wouldn't see me, but I'd still be watching over you."

Now, whether that's romantic or incredibly creepy has everything to do with context.

"You, and your children, and your children's children. Then again, we have no idea how long we might live, here, left to our own devices without dangerous quests to attend to. I assume my lifespan here will be the same as it would have back home, but..." A slight shrug. "They might surprise us. We could both go on for years, decades, centuries."

Or the opposite. Loki's lifespan could be reduced to length of a human's. It would still be more than he expected.

He meets Finnick's eyes, but Loki looks a little lost now, again. He doesn't know what to ask for, what to want, what his options might be, and he's a little afraid of saying the wrong thing.

"...you know, I told him you were mine, months ago. Solas. When we both realized we were the same sort of entity. I told him I wouldn't interfere with him unless he harmed you or my friends, and he told me hands off Beleth." His smile is weak; he suspects this is mildly irritating, rather than a touching story, but it does paint a picture. Loki does a bad job of showing his affections, but they're often on his mind.

"But I suppose there is more to a committed relationship than being willing to fight god on your partner's behalf."

"...I'm probably insufferable to live with all the time, but it would be nice to come home to you. Maybe not every day, but more often than not. Half the week, perhaps. And just sleep in the same bed or have dinner together."

[odare]

I'd still be watching over you. You, and your children, and your children's children.

Finnick does not hear the rest of the stipulations that follow that phrase. In fact, he doesn't even let Loki finish talking. He grabs his jaw and kisses him deeply.

Clearly, he thinks it's romantic, not creepy.

The kiss lasts a few long moments, as he pours his passion and his relief into it. He and Loki are bound, in one way or another, and though Loki might view that as a curse for Finnick, it's exactly what he wants. What he's been hoping for.

When the kiss breaks, and Loki continues about Solas, Finnick rests his chin again and watches him. His eyes are lidded with a certain hazy satisfaction. An adoring contentedness. He doesn't find it irritating; he likes the fact that Loki referred to Finnick specifically with that's mine, don't touch, even months ago.

"You're always welcome at my house, no matter what. It's a bit full, but I like it that way. If you'd like more privacy, I could come to yours more often."

If John were here, he would say John and Loki would need to hash out a schedule for bed-sharing, but he's not.

[coldsong]

He's never really had this discussion with a mortal lover before. He never promised his care to their descendants, always held himself back, because he couldn't promise to be there constantly, so what was the point? He might try and fail, and then they'd just assume he was a liar, because he is. He's not at all sure what to expect as far as a reaction, but when he's grabbed and kissed like that--abrupt, insistent, one of his favorite ways to be kissed, really--he just sort of melts, neck and shoulders going slack as he makes a low groan of approval.

He looks dazed after, and while his commentary continues, it's breathless and a little meandering. Having done something so wrong and then clearly having followed it up with something very right is...confusing, but it feels good.

"My apartment is yours," he says with a sheepish smile. "I have no idea how to decorate, you know. If there's something you want me to have there, you can say so. I'll keep an extra toothbrush and a set of pajamas for you."

"I'll make you a sword." He nuzzles into his hair, then sinks back, closing his eyes. "Or enchant one for you."

Does that sound like a non-sequitur? Wait, let him explain: "...it was a traditional wedding gift, among the peoples that worshiped us. Sometimes the groom was meant to break into the family crypt and retrieve the sword that belonged to his father, or grandfather, to give to his bride. A symbol of death and new life."

"But that sort of thing gets a little overwhelming in a family with multiple sons; you can't have a mausoleum with a revolving door. A new one is acceptable."

Oh, wait. No. He has a better idea, and there's a brief, bright grin as it shows on his face. The Lævateinn. How many Bones would it take to bring it here? He'll have to see what he has.

[odare]

What was upsetting Finnick the most about the circumstances of Loki's death was that he didn't feel considered. He was questioning his importance to Loki, and whether the godling intended to include Finnick in any of his life's plans, on a macro and a micro scale. He is now glad he brought up this topic at what seemed an inopportune time, because as it turns out, it was simply overdue. Discussing it now is assuaging many of the insecurities that have been plaguing him regarding their relationship, insecurities that came to a head yesterday.

He smiles at Loki with a hazy look. "That would be great. I spend too much time at the Inn- I need to make more of an effort to sleep at home or at your place. I can decorate your apartment with beach-trash a bit, if you want." By beach-trash he doesn't mean literal trash, of course, but the art he makes from seaglass and driftwood and the like.

He raises the brow at the offer of a sword, listening thoughtfully to the explanation.

"Death and new life. That sounds fitting for us."

A Loki-made sword as a wedding gift... Wow. How extravagant and romantic; he loves it. But he sees that Loki seems to have another realization, one that delights him, and Finnick's lop-sided smile grows until his cheek dimples.

"What?"

[coldsong]

"I love beach trash. Arguably, some of my dearest friends are beach trash." That's him harassing you, Finnick. A little tentative, but playfully meant.

"Yes, please, come stay with me more often. And... perhaps on calm nights we could spend the night on the water, on your boat. Especially now that the weather's getting warmer. The sea breeze is refreshing."

He worries his lip as if deciding whether or not to let Finnick in on what he's thinking. It would be a fun surprise, but maybe being up front is better in this case.

"I had a sword," he explains. "Called Lævateinn. I made it, actually, when I was...eighty something, I think? It was destroyed with Asgard, but I don't think that matters to this place. I'll see if I can get it with Bones. It's a boy's sword. Small. But it has some surprise powers and I think it will be good to you."

[odare]

Finnick laughs, the sound like bubbles rising to the surface, the corners of his eyes creasing and his dimples showing. A far cry from his polite, appeasing laugh, this one sounds truly, deeply happy. He plants a kiss on Loki's cheek, bracing his other cheek with his palm.

"Oh... You'd stay on the boat with me? That would be amazing," he says dreamily. So pretty, so romantic... Ugh. This is why he loves Loki.

"Whoa. That would be incredible, if you could get it back." He never thought about asking for something that had been destroyed... But why not, right? Just pull it from a timepoint when it existed. Boom.

"Well, now I have to think of a good gift for you." How could he possibly match a sword made by a god? "Our wedding traditions are all a little kitschy and sea-based. We don't really have a traditional gift that I know of."