If there's no one beside you when your soul embarks...

[coldsong]

It's customary to have a Wake after the subject thereof dies. Even Loki knows that. But this is a special occasion. Ego-death is coming to his alternate, and the idea of letting him go off to perish alone, uncertain he will even be mourned, is too dark a proposition even for a flawed and callous person to contemplate.

That, and this Loki has been in a melancholy mood since speaking to the spirit of Frigga. He anticipates a dark choice of his own, sooner or later, and where the fates will send him after that, he can't know. Maybe oblivion, although even at that rate there may be worse places.

What's important right now is that no one dies unremembered. And honestly, any excuse for mischief a party. The first text rolls out to Harley, an innocent enough invitation to join them for milkshakes. Cricket is next, because it occurs to him that Cricket has plenty of liquor, which is good for a reckless celebration.

Things snowball from there.

As long as they don't destroy too much property, they'll call the night a success.

Comments

[nomoreroom]

At present, other than being impossibly creepy, he doesn't seem to be making any active attempts at jackassery. Who knew as the night continued? For now though, it apparently pleased him more to play by the rules, settling into a seat quite comfortably.

"What's the occasion? Isn't Thanksgiving for another week!" As if Nordic Gods celebrated recently crafted American holidays, he knew better really.

Getting a milkshake for himself though, eying the pile of twisted cherry stems.

"What's goin' on with these?"

[coldsong]

That is one point with which Loki does not feel he can contend with the demon. Loki can be unsettling; he can even project psychopathy, but he's not sure he can match him for creepy.

While the demon gets his milkshake, Loki does a quick glance around the room for Adia, but even if she is, his gaze won't linger on her. He's already given her a rough description of Alastor. Between that and her rune, she can easily put two and two together, he's certain. Drawing attention to her is the last thing he wants.

"The occasion is that I have a lead on something that might actually get me drunk, which is a rare event. This is merely the pre-event warmup. If you'd like to taste faery liquor, by all means stick around. But drink your milkshake first."

Oh, the stems. Loki glances at the pile and sighs, picking up the one sad little knot he's managed. "They call me Silver-Tongued, but it apparently applies only to speech, and not any kind of innate lingual flexibility. At least not where cherry stems are concerned. This is the best knot I can manage."

"You'll try, as well, though, I hope?" His lips twitch a little. Fearsome dark hellbeast or not, he really wants to know if Alastor can tie a cherry stem with his tongue.

[nomoreroom]

Everything pertaining to getting and eating that milkshake? Perfectly normal, perhaps somewhat incongruous to the way Alastor... was, in general. Perfectly polite to the person taking his order, and perfectly neat when enjoying the drink itself, if not almost to an obscene degree. Meticulous and clean, napkins at the ready. There was no need to get sloppy.

"Not usually one for public drinking, my friend, just a night cap now and then." Which didn't rule out drinking. Just not here!

He nudged at one of the knots with a long, sharpened claw, clearly interested in the idea of it.

"Well, I don't see why I can't have a little fun over here! Why not? Gimme some cherries, Loki, lets see what I got."

[coldsong]

"Nor am I, normally," Loki agrees. "Although I find my physiology prevents me from taking any ill effects from all but the most powerful spirits."

He's small, tiny by Jotun standards, but he's still got a tremendous resistance to poisons. "Every now and then, though, everyone needs to indulge, don't you think?"

He chuckles, legitimately delighted by Alastor's willingness to make an attempt at stem-tying, and rises without protest to sweep across to the counter and order another bowl of cherries from poor beleaguered Ice Bear. He returns a moment later and sets them in front of Alastor, taking one off the top for himself.

"If this establishment has any cherries left by the time we're all through, I'm going to look for the magic tree they must have in the back."

[nomoreroom]

"I'd sure think a God would be able to take a couple shots better than a mortal would, ain't at all surprised to hear it, friend! Might stick around to see if you do get smashed, might be fun!" Would be fun rather, he was sure.

Loki was wonderfully put together after all, it'd be interesting to see what would happen if it was all pulled apart.

Alastor snagged two for a set of four, all of them vanishing into that fanged maw at once. "You should try soaking them in that faery liqour next time! Makes an awful nice drink when you're through, and you can get a little somethin' from the cherries. Somethin' I had to learn after dyin' of course, wasn't legal until after the accident."

[coldsong]

"Are you quite sure of that? What if I'm a mean drunk?" Historically, Loki is actually more giggly when intoxicated than anything else, but he's avoided the experience for a long time.

It occurs to him that being vulnerable around the demon, even if merely tipsy, it a risky proposition. He's not going to let that disrupt the evening's plans, though. He'll just make sure to keep a protective eye on the other Loki.

"Soak the cherries in liquor? That...sounds delicious, actually." Loki seems to be making another attempt on the cherry stem, tucking it into his cheek. The expression that results from it all is a blend of concentration and half-guilty amusement.

"The accident that resulted in your death," he says, inferring from Alastor's speech. "Dare I ask how that happened? No need to explain if it's a bring-down, but I can't help but be curious."

[nomoreroom]

"Won't know until we see it, now will we?" Mean, giggly, sleepy or hungry, it didn't really matter to Alastor. For a short time, the mask would be tossed aside, and he was all for seeing what could possibly be under it.

Whether or not he'd get his wish though, well. That was another story.

"Absolutely delicious, sir, wish I'd had some of it when I was alive!" And four more vanished in, without having even bothered to spit the stems of the previous set out.

"Nasty affair, I'm gonna be honest with you! But I think you can take it, don't seem like the fainting type!

Afraid I got caught up in an errant blast of buckshot!" Among other things, the demon's mortal death on earth was a bit more grisly than merely getting shot. But there was no need to get into that.

[coldsong]

Loki has several layers of masks resting on top of a labyrinth of personal issues, so how many of his metaphorical inner demons will come out to play, and which ones, is hard to predict. Time will tell, although at the moment he's just terribly focused on making sure his alternate has a pleasant time.

But that may say something about what's going on in and of itself.

"You're doing quite a number on those cherries," he comments mildly. "Are you eating the stems?"

The prospect of a gruesome story distracts him from wondering where the demon is putting those cherry stems. He raises an eyebrow and gives an attentive nod. "I'm not impossible to shock, but very difficult. Buckshot, is it? Was it very painful?"

Loki, why are you asking these questions?

[nomoreroom]

It would be telling! Certainly would reveal to Alastor a soft, warm, squishy part of the otherwise cool persona he'd seen so far of the other man.

He'd answer the cherry question, but there seemed to be another one being asked that was obviously far more interesting than where the hell all the stems were going.

"Well from what I remember of it! Good thing is, you only got so much blood, so everything's on a timer." Must have gotten hit bad, but not bad enough where he'd be so lucky as to die instantly.

Bled out fast though.

"But it's been eighty five years since I died, memory's gotten a bit fuzzy! What happens to dead folks where you are, Loki? There a heaven and hell over there?"

[coldsong]

He has a soft spot for his alternate, his brother (though that's better hidden), and some of his human acquaintances. What he does with that on any given day can vary. It's not impossible that he would manipulate or even lash out at the people he likes best. Depending what he needs from them, whether he can see any gain from it, and how they might react.

"I have never been a great fan of physical pain," he says. "Not even in other people. There is something undignified about the faces they make, and the sounds. It's unseemly. Grotesque. A quick, sharp death is less so. A shame yours was so messy."

That's not quite sympathy, but it's a polite concession to something near to it.

"I've had my neck broken of late, in the interest of full disclosure, but I am not convinced I actually died of it." More like he just fucking refuses to be dead, maybe. Hard to say. Gods are susceptible to will, and story, and magic.

"We are told that the afterlife is either Valhalla or Fólkvangr. Odin's hall, or Freya's, where those who died a noble death may heal and dwell and celebrate. Then there is Hel, over which my sister once claimed rule, apparently. The less noble end up there. The way it is described in stories makes it sound more tedious than horrific. Cold and dark and dull."

He shrugs. "I have visited none of these places, and do not expect to be welcomed into Valhalla under any circumstances, but as to whether there are more complicated options...well, I should hope there are. It all sounds a little black and white for my taste."