Inbox (Caldera)

[coldsong]

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

Kindly leave a message."

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[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."

[coldsong]

"I like being on the water," he says, and tilts his head into the kiss, melting a little. He has his own romantic streak, and Finnick seems to be exceptionally good at tapping into it. "Mm. If it were at all practical, I'd give you an Asgardian water-skiff, but it would be impossible to fuel here, and you already have a boat."

Although maybe in the future. Something small and light, that can run on magic...? He'll think about it.

"The real benefit of the Lævateinn is that it transforms into a wand or a dart or a sword or dagger as needed. You could turn it to a dart and carry it in your pocket and no one would be the wiser. I cut the branch for it from a tree-root that grew in the dark space between worlds."

He nuzzles into him, closing his eyes. "Mm. The gift is that you love me in spite of everything. You don't have to give me anything, but if you want to, I'll cherish whatever it is."