Inbox (Caldera)

[coldsong]

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

Kindly leave a message."

Comments

[earthborn]

[Alright, that got a smile; he can probably hear it in her voice.]

Yeah well... maybe I like being unimportant, for once. But yeah, I can talk. You got a place in mind, or is this a convenience store stoop kind of a day?

[coldsong]

Are you comfortable in Salt Spire? Come to my flat, if so. I'm about to move anyway, I think. You can help me empty out my pantry to make the process easier.

[earthborn]

Can’t threaten me with a good time.

[Hell, the underwater city was probably more comfortable for her than most— Shepard’s still a spacer, at heart.

She arrives in good time, the military propensity for promptness an ingrained habit she’s never had cause to break. Shepard looks as she always does: same scarred face, same tired look in her eyes, even the same set of clothes. Charcoal grey coat over a washed out black shirt and black pants with numerous pockets, and combat boots. Does she own multiples of this stuff or does she simply do more frequent wash days? Place your bets. ]

…not many visitors down here, huh?

switching to prose format for ease

[coldsong]

Loki's flat is on the second floor of the little building he's in, and she will no doubt find it easy to get into the building and up the carved coral staircase. It's not a large place, but the architecture is elegant. Loki meets her at the door, dressed down in a loose kaftan in a pale blue-green that almost matches his eyes. His feet are bare, but his wrists are covered in delicate gold-and-seaglass bangles.

"No," he says, beckoning her inside. "I think even other Visitors assigned to Undine find being this deep underwater unsettling, knowing the only thing between them and messy implosion is a magical dome. That's not why I'm leaving, though. Wine?"

[earthborn]

"Wine," Shepard agrees, "Back home, I could just about barely get drunk, if I was willing to go for broke. One nice thing about having access to my own enhancements put up for sale: I don't have to buy 'em."

Which is to say, she'll take hers in a big glass, thanks. Shepard awaits refreshments and makes herself comfortable, as she is bid, before ever once considering that it might not be her smartest move to willingly admit that she can be made drunk and vulnerable in front of anyone, supposed God of mischief or otherwise. It takes her considerably less time to decide that she just does not care, and to have a sip or two.

"There are a lot worse ways to die," Shepard opines, about the dome, magical or otherwise, "At least it'd be quick. Take that over gettin' spaced, but— why are you leaving?"

[coldsong]

He makes short work of fetching a bottle of very good Rosymorn Red, obtained from Astarion and Lioriley's winery, from his pantry. The vampire's taste in wine is impeccable, and Loki ought to know, he's something of a snob about wine, himself. He pours it, lets it breathe, and brings her glass to her, before collecting snacks far more haphazardly, coming back out with some sort of small cheesy baked biscuits, a blueberry scone, a bag of dried apricots and walnuts, and a rather huge box of what are probably high-end chocolates. "Help yourself to whatever you like. I can probably find more things in the pantry if that doesn't suit you."

But she needn't worry about intoxication. Loki might play a trick on a drunk person, like sticking all their furniture to the ceiling while they're out, but unless they're really asking for it, he's disinclined to really take advantage.

"Spaced," he echoes with a grimace, remembering the long, cold, airless fall from the Bifrost. "Agreed. But I'm leaving because I'm switching affiliations to Sylph."

He sips his own wine, leaning back in his chair and manspreading like the brooding prince he is. "I feel as though both Sylph and Undine fit my ethos well enough anyway, but for now I think Nymion needs to be watched. And it needs to be done more subtly than Lulu's attempt. Lulu is far more powerful than he seems, and I fear that made him careless, knowing he could rely on his own strength with most opponents."

"I'm at least used to outmaneuvering storm gods, or influencing their better natures." Also their worse natures. If the worst comes to the worst, he might be able to tease Nymion into doing something foolish enough to end himself.

But only if that proves to be the best way to handle him. "And I know I'm weak."

[earthborn]

"Well more power to you," Shepard toasts him, or the notion of spycraft, with her somewhat less-full wineglass, and sighs in the wake of the relevant drink, "Personally, this level of corruption and bullshit doesn't really rise to the point where I start worrying about it... but I'm given to understand my standards are fucked."

Between Panem, the Reapers, and her own much-flaws military dictatorship, things had to get pretty dire before she took action. Though, to be fair, Shepard's idea of action tended to come very decisively for those who would be gods... and she's not convinced that Nymion, or indeed any of them, are yet smart enough not to stand next to windows. It's really quite amazing how accurately you can take a person's skull apart at a mile away, with the right tools...

...Ah, but what's the point in daydreaming? Loki has one thing right: Lulu wasn't the man for the job.

"He got off pretty light, all things considered.. I know a lot of people in Nymion's position who would not have just kicked his ass and dumped him on the doorstep."

[coldsong]

"Your standards are fucked," he confirms with a little grin. "But no, you do have a bit of a point. Given the absolute power the faction leaders wield, they could be infinitely worse. Even if they're doing nastier things than we know behind the scenes, they could be infinitely worse because they're doing them subtly."

"From the perspective of someone who does in fact care about mortal self-determination, I don't love it. But from someone who is a god, myself--or was, at least, and likely will be again--I understand it and respect their restraint. Ignacia in particular. One would expect an explosive temper out of a volcanic deity and yet she's mostly kept to herself responsibly."

"But they need to get better. Whatever this is killing their people, it has no comparable restraint."

"Anyway, my idea is to advertise my interest in Nymion himself, and make no secret of my intentions. He'll take notice. He may not care, or pretend not to care, but he'll notice and at least think it's cute."

[earthborn]

"That's a stereotype," Shepard points out, smirking with the powerful confidence of someone who is about to spout complete nonsense, "Maybe she's quiet because she's a volcano girl. Everybody notices when the mountain blows up, but you notice most of the time it's just sitting there minding its own business."

It's really not at all bad wine, in the opinion of her undeserving palate.

"Look, you're not gonna get an argument out of me. You're a sneaky bastard, and you know how suck up to people in power; it's not the worst plan. But what's your endgame?"

[coldsong]

"Of course, my apologies." He's amused, and gives the slightest of bows. "Heaven forfend I racially profile the gods."

She's funny, in a sharp, understated way he enjoys immensely.

"Truthfully, I'm still working out the endgame. I will say that taking over for any or all of them is not part of it. I would if I had to, but I don't want to, and even if I did want that level of power, I don't think I'd take it until I knew what we're really up against."

It still doesn't sit well with him for his divinity to be totally ignored by the gods of this place, but he's meant to be an oppositional figure in his own pantheon, he can cope.

"For the moment, this is about positioning myself to be close enough to make the next move quickly. The endgame is to improvise."