Open-ish, for Nexus_crossings

[coldsong]

There is a sensation that Loki knows, for which there are no words in any language he has ever heard. It’s a feeling particular to a shapeshifter, the sense of something caught, pinched or wedged or wrong-side-out. He felt it in his earliest days, when he was first learning to shift—true shape-changing, not illusion; there is no such risk with illusion—and he would get the bone structure slightly wrong, or some thin, obscure internal membrane would get tangled. Pain, deep-inside pain, and restless agitation that cannot be ignored. Wrongness.

It happened more and more rarely as he aged, grew to understand his body, what it could do and what it needed. Mostly, for the last few centuries, the deep-inside pain only happens if he keeps a shape too long without shaking out his body and unspooling his seidr. Like a cramp. Like a reminder he is not beholden to one body. He doesn’t really even belong in a single body.

Today, he feels the discomfort. He is out of joint, bent up inside, and shifting doesn’t seem to help.



It’s too warm for the Jotun shape. Another few weeks will be the time of year he used to get summer fevers, as a child. Age has made him hardier, but he’s still not looking forward to the beat of heat on his skin, the sear of angry sunlight. But he’s missed stalking the snows in this shape. Ironic how the form he hated and eschewed for so long is so much a part of him now.
Even oversized, eight feet tall and wandering barefoot in the woods, it feels like him. But the pain only eases for a little while.

He steps into the water of a little lake in the Wilds, sinks to his knees in it, and the coolness washes over him, but there is still something inside him that will not ease.





She is a good shape for the Plaza, a pretty woman, dressed in flawless, tailored dark clothing, green-eyed, with inky hair that lies straight and smooth around her face only to ripple and coil into waterfall-waves as it nears her shoulders. She walks from shop to shop, peering in windows as if she’s looking for something.

More often than not, it’s her own reflection she’s looking at, gauging the stress and tension around her own eyes. Her skin feels like it wants to shiver and writhe and peel away from her body.





Loki has never tried the shape of a Jotun woman before, and in the quiet by his frog fountain, the ruined playground where he has made a safe house, he tries.

Bare feet slip into the green water, heedless of the algae, circling around to touch the frogs’ heads each in turn. North, South, West, East. It takes several cycles around the stagnant water before the algae clears, and the surface lies dark and clean. Another moment before it stills.

Loki was not expecting the face that looks back at her. The skin is not cobalt but white, white as bone, the eyes shadowy and dark, the long, thin fingers tipped with dark claws. It’s not a normal face for a Jotun woman. Loki has seen few of them, but she knows that much. There is something else here. This, this is the face of an aberration, a predator, a blade.

She likes it.




The pinch inside is unfading, the agitation maddening. An animal shape is a last-ditch effort, and Loki chooses the Mare because all she can think to do is run and run and run until she exhausts herself, shakes out the pain through sheer force of will.

She is magnificent, as close a match for Sleipnir as Loki could devise, a dark blue-dun fjord horse with a white face and mane shading near to black. She is small, not much larger than a pony, but when she runs the ground trembles, and she roars and neighs out her frustration at the edges of the meadows beyond the Plaza. The sound cuts through the air, stings the ears up close, and from a distance it sounds like a woman screaming in rage. In way, that’s what it is.





The sun sinks. His energy fades. The pain inside does not.

Loki brings himself to the yard beyond the cottage where the children dwell, sinks into the grass, and calls for Fonn. She brings him a hot drink, painkillers liberally poured into it, but he knows it will not work.

“I’m tired,” he says softly. “I’m so tired.”

But he will not come inside. The idea of being kept, boxed in, trapped under a roof, makes him sick. The grass shivers around him.

She brings him a blanket. “Can you rest?”

He doesn’t know the answer.



[[Loki is Loki in every form, but they may respond differently to other characters depending what form they're in. The Mare, especially, may be aggressive and wild. Tags may be slow.]]

Comments

[totallyadog]

Bob sees the woman, and her behavior intrigues the shapeshifter. He isn't as cautious as he might otherwise be, at least in revealing himself for what he really is. He's been wearing dog-skin for a long time, for others' safety and his own, and it's starting to feel heavy on him. He misses his natural state, although he knows that would cause a scare.

A large black-and-white dog approaches her, panting. He speaks to her in dog-language, though he knows she might not be able to understand. There are enough people in the Nexus with a passing knowledge of Dog that it's worth a try. Bob is big for a dog, though his mental patterns are very different than a dog's would be. Not necessarily human, since Bob is an alien, but more complex. Hiding what you really are wears on you, even if it's to protect people and yourself.

There are suspicious people in the Nexus, and Bob is, he fears, too dark for their tastes. He may be their enemy because of what he is. There are also Kinner and Palmer, who have personal issues with Things. Things spread paranoia and distrust by their nature. If you are not accepted for what you are, you have to reinvent yourself, and being a shapeshifter makes the job easier.

Hello. It sits back, observing his own reflection in a puddle. Things aren't vampires - there's a big Malamute looking at him, not the alien creature that's underneath. Are you looking for something? I have the senses of a dog in this form. If you wish, I can try and sniff it out for you.

Dog form still has its advantages. His senses are stronger, for one thing.

[coldsong]

It's a weird life, being a shapeshifter, that's for certain. Loki used to consider the male, Aesir form his default, but the longer she spends in the Nexus the less certain she is that she has a default. She knows she cannot be confined to any one form in comfort.

Right now, she is in pain, anxious and twitchy, and the shifting isn't helping for very long, which means this isn't something physically wrong. This is something deeper within her psyche. Emotional state twisting the physical body around. Grief and anxiety polluting her magic.

For all that, though, she can't be hostile to Bob, who she recognizes at once. The smile she gives him is faint, tight, uncomfortable, but it's not unkind.

"You don't recognize me, I take it? There's something ironic about that." She crouches a little to give him a better look at her green eyes. "I'm not looking for anything save a distraction."

[totallyadog]

Well, poking around in somebody's thoughts without permission is bad manners. You're Loki? The dog gives what its equivalent of a respectful bow is. It has been a while. I'm pleased to see that you returned safely from your trip into the Wilds.

Bob doesn't go further into discussing the Fallen, since he can tell that Loki is stressed. He doesn't want to make the strain worse, so abandons the subject completely in favor of coming up with a distraction for Loki. A distraction. What kind of a distraction can he provide?

Bob's powers come from his biology, not magic, so he doesn't really have any tricks he can show off but one. However, it's a fairly potent trick. Things have a more limited set of abilities at their disposal, even if their transformations are on the more visceral side.

I was wondering...I promised you some time ago that I would show you what I look like when I'm not being a dog. You were curious. Would you like to see? The dog-Thing sits up, ready to shapeshift into his natural state if permission is given. Loki doesn't seem like the type to be disturbed by strange things or eerie-looking aliens. He trusts Loki not to judge him by what he is.

[coldsong]

"Bad manners, indeed," she says with a faint smile. "And likely to create ill-feeling. You're wise to be cautious. Yes. I am Loki. Sometimes I also go by 'Rowan' in this shape."

"Yes, the trip went well enough," she agrees, but if Bob doesn't have any immediate questions for her, she's happy to leave that discussion alone. There is so much on her plate right now, the Fallen are honestly the least of it.

Loki isn't quite aware that Bob is trying to offer her a distraction by displaying his own shapeshifting, which is a kind thought. She is curious, though, and after casting about briefly for a place to sit, she nods and perches on a wide windowsill nearby. "I'd like that, yes."

Nál

[sweetcandygirl]

Harley makes visits to the safe house often. And the movements near the playground catch her attention.

She sits in a swing, watching as the several cycles are made. Not saying a word. It is a little strange to see another woman with skin white as the bone.

For all her life experience, Harley knows a predator when she sees one.

But she does not flee. She is not prey, after all.

"Hey ya." She calls out from her swing.

[coldsong]

Harley. Oh, thank the Norns.

It might be just a little unnerving, the way that peculiar pale-shadowy face lights up in a smile to see her. "I did not know you were here," she says. "I didn't see you there."

She steps out of the fountain and shakes off the hem of her dress. Loki will identify herself to Harley before too long, but first, first, she wants to see how she will react to this shape without knowing who wears it.

Crossing the grass, she leaves one swing between her and the other woman and sits, digging her toes into the mulch beneath them. "I'm having a bad day," she says. "Are you?"

[sweetcandygirl]

A pale-shadowy face and a big smile? Yeah that might be unnerving. Especially for Harley. And her past. And the mysterious gift she recently received.

But this is not Joker. So she stays calm. And observant.

And besides, she is confident enough in her ability to defend herself, if necessary.

"Not as bad as others I have had. So... on a scale to 1 to 10 of bad days... it is only a 2." Harley starts swinging slowly.

[outpostcook]

Kinner's taken to spending more time in the inhabited areas of the Nexus, except when he goes out to fish, and always with an eye out for the tell-tale symbols and banners that warn his presence would not be welcome. He's found some replacement spots that are a safe distance away from Fallen-claimed land, so in the end he didn't lose anything. There are people who've lost more, between Thanos's scheming and the House of Winter lurking in the Wilds, and the cook counts his blessings.

He watches for a moment, observing. The woman isn't human, but that doesn't surprise him anymore, though he can't decide what kind of being she is. It doesn't matter, anyway. He approaches the woman, a satchel with fishing gear slung by his side. Kinner smiles, leaning on one of the frogs. He's recently returned from a successful fishing trip, judging from the slimy creature wrapped under his arm. That night's dinner, probably. He hasn't decided yet.

"Hello." He's careful, as he often is with strangers, but friendly. He's polite, if in a blunt way, on principle unless he's given a reason to be rude. "Those frogs are nicely made. Never got too much time to get a close look at them, but someone did good sculpting work there. I don't think we've met before. I'm Joseph Kinner."

[coldsong]

She looks up, eyes both bright and dark in a pale face. Loki knows Kinner well enough, and the memory of his kindness when she was in a child shape reins in her desire to be too spooky. She's not in a hurry to reveal herself, though.

"They were here when I arrived," she says truthfully, of the frogs. "I claimed them, but I did not make them."

She pats one with dark-stained fingers. "Joseph Kinner, you may call me Nál. What have you caught?"

[outpostcook]

"Oh. Hello, Nál." Kinner's smile widens as he continues to admire the frog. He's none the wiser about who exactly he's speaking to. "There's a lot about the Nexus that I don't know or understand. It's a strange place compared to Missouri, but as second homes go it isn't so bad. The folks are decent, for the most part, and I make a good living here."

He shifts the package, showing Nál the wrapped fish that he caught. Kinner's a bit proud of himself. It's a pretty big one, too.

"Oh, the fish? That's a salmon. It's going to be tonight's supper once I've gutted and cleaned out the bones. I've gotta eat, y'know, and the fish in the Wilds are a good meal if you can get them."

[chiron_survivor]

It is a nice day, the kind of day that begs for a picnic. A solo picnic, in Adia's case, as Caspar has been called back to Atlantis unexpectedly. She spreads her blanket out on the soft meadow grass and sets down the simple lunch she purchased from a café in the Plaza, content to soak up some warmth before returning to her errands.

The woman's scream has her jerk her head up in alarm.

But that is no woman. Instead, her vision is greeted by a wild horse running in distance. A horse like no other she has ever seen. A horse like one from an ancient mythology, and strangely familiar to her, besides.

She watches silently, in awe, her lunch forgotten.

[coldsong]

The last time Loki wore this form was long before Thor's failed coronation. She wore the Mare for tricks and games, but more than that she wore her for the sake of running alongside Sleipnir. Odin's mighty horse only tolerated Loki in his Aesir shape, but in the Mare's shape he wold play and run and show her how to leap distances too immense and harrowing for any normal animal.

In retrospect, Loki wonders if Sleipnir knew that beneath the Aesir skin was a Jotun body. It was hard to tell what that majestic animal was thinking.

It's less hard to tell what the Mare is thinking. She's racing up and down the meadow at a stunning speed, kicking and bucking as if trying to throw something off of her back. One pass, two passes, and then the third pass brings her close enough that she either catches Adia's scent or sees her where she sits.

She pauses, sides heaving. The eyes that focus on Adia are pale, green. A strange color for a horse. There's a moment of silence, and then the horse neighs again, loudly, a wild sound that makes the grass shiver.

[chiron_survivor]

Though Adia would not call herself an expert on horse behavior, she spent enough summers riding them that she can tell that this one is agitated. Restless. It makes it no less magnificent, but it does alight a spark of concern in Adia's heart. What has this wild horse so frenzied?

When the horse turns its attention to her, she freezes, an instinctive response. Her gaze drops when the horse neighs, not wanting to stare directly into those pale green eyes and provoke it further.

You know her, her moon rune whispers. Not so much in words as in a feeling, and it gives her the courage to speak.

"I hope I wasn't intruding," she says apologetically, wondering belatedly if the Mare had perhaps wanted some privacy. "I've never seen a horse like you before."

Helblindi

[brother_alone]

There are Monsters that roam these woods.

When he was human--blind, deaf, and dumb of scent--living in this shack he felt safe. His own little hide away where no one save for one or two trusted souls could find him. Where he could flee to get away from the Stares, imagined or otherwise. Where he without even a second's hesitation built fires long into the nights to stave off the worst of the cold.

This place is not as safe as Joshua used to think.

The Fallen are still here though they've marked their territory well. Joshua doesn't venture anywhere near it; shakes anytime he catches a hint that they're near. They did this to him. There are nights he still dreams of the giant one's massive hand around his throat and the sense of falling. But there are Other things too. Things humans are not meant to notice. Or perhaps are overconfident in their safety from harm in a place like this. But the magics that govern the Nexus are weaker out here. It's why the predators come.

A place to hunt.

Something Big has been stalking through at the edge of Joshua's little self made turf. He doesn't have it marked well, in fairness to the trespasser. Joshua doesn't want to be noticed. Doesn't want to be found by a predator stronger than he. He's still got the scars Alistair left him with and that was just a fellow wendigo. While Loki may feel as though he's being watched at first there is nothing that will stop him during his pensive walking.

Not the first time, nor the second. Today however, the Jotun will hear the distinct sounds of someone hammering breaking through the closeness of all the trees and brushes. Joshua's on edge himself. Every reverberating blow a signal for anyone to hear. But there's not really any other option. There's a splintered two-by-four laying in pieces in the grass nearby. It had literally split apart when he'd tried hitting it himself just once to get the damned thing over with.

Re: Helblindi

[coldsong]

Loki has no need to hunt right now, and compared to a Jotun raised actually on Jotunheim, his instincts are relatively dull and gentle. He has a sense for that which is smaller than him; anything he could take easily in a fight, anything that's afraid of him. Over the winter, he hunted for food and sent the furs back to the Plaza for warmth for the mortal residents, but it's still a little foreign for him to think in terms of prey. A normal Jotun would be so much more aggressive, willing to take sapient beings as food without a second thought, and prepared to fight for territory he wanted.

Loki is not that kind of monster. But he is a monster, a very different sort and possibly far more dangerous in some ways for it. He doesn't claim hunting ground, but his magical senses pick apart the energies in the quiet woods around him. He knows there is something that lives here, something terribly dangerous to mortals but not really a threat to him. He also knows it's dodging him.

Good. Perfect. He's not going to take its food, anyway, but he will walk where he wishes to walk unless interfered with directly. He keeps an eye out for creatures like the blighted tree spirit he saw in company with Ghost, but a wendigo, one that's holding territory rather than spreading, is not a problem in his eyes.

It's a little weird for one to be building something, though. Cricket hasn't breathed a word of his and Joshua's meetings in the forest. Loki is none the wiser to them, so he has no idea his mortal ex-roommate has a friend out here. Still, the sound makes him curious in spite of his restless discomfort, and so he tracks it down, circling slowly closer to the source.

He can be supernaturally silent. He can even cover his scent with illusion. Sooner or later the raw power of his presence will make itself known, though, as he watches Joshua work from a spot at the treeline, leaning sideways against a towering oak with arms folded across his chest.

"Well. Good morning?"

[brother_alone]

Loki might have heard stories about Joshua Washington from his friends in the Nexus. Passing remarks from Harley, or Adia and Caspar, or Cricket. He's never been the most social of people but he tried his best. Some people just aren't good at being good. Joshua's always been doing his best even though his best isn't good enough.

That hasn't changed exactly, with his altered body, but the definitions of 'good' have been considerably changed. His priorities are vastly different than they were when he was nothing but human. The half-wendigo raises his head sharp enough that it's a wonder he hasn't given himself whiplash. Immediately his shoulders are raising defensively, the hammer dropped in favor of getting up as quickly as possible.

The man's a paradox. Walking around in new clothing that looks as though it's never been worn until today but with his hair an unruly mess of unwashed curls that's gone and tangled slightly.

"What do you want...?" Joshua wants to shriek loud enough to shatter every glass in a mile radius He's managing not to but only just. He doens't do well with surprises much anymore.

For Rowan

[to_the_wolves]

Shopkeepers around the Nexus don't seem to mind any gawkers, since the amount of foot traffic is vast and customer come and go quite frequently. Today is a day that Marie has pried herself away from any office-related work in favor of chatting with different store owners, getting a feel for how businesses are recovering from the past few months. It's during that time frame that she spots Rowan staring into storefronts, but not actually going inside.

It's an abnormal action that gets the redhead to start subtly following the woman for the next few minutes, constantly confused by Rowan's actions. Another few minutes pass before she finally approaches, one hand tightly grabbing into the strap of a leather purse around her shoulder. Her tone is calm, not overly emotional, but naturally curious towards the woman.

"You've been standing there for quite a while. Is there something in particular you're looking for?" She's unaware of all the recent drama surrounding the superheroes of the Nexus and hardly has any concerns about the Fallen. As someone who enjoys figuring out what physical means a person wants, Marie is simply intrigued by the enigma in front of her.

Re: For Rowan

[coldsong]

Normally, Loki would be keenly aware of being followed or observed in any manner other than casual. And normally she would take advantage of the attention to lead the follower astray. She is no less the god of mischief in this shape, inhabiting it as fully as the body she usually occupies. It's her. It's always Loki.

Today she is unwell, though, and in environs she generally knows to be safe, that makes her distracted rather than hypervigilant.

She's not really aware of the strange woman approaching until she speaks, and gives a slight start, turning to look at her. Rowan's eyes are very, very green right now. She sees the red hair of the other woman and for a split second thinks it's Natasha--but no, thank the Norns.

No, this is someone she's spoken to before, storytelling. She's forgotten her name, if she ever knew it, but at least their previous acquaintance was something like friendly. She huffs out a sigh and looks skyward, not an eye-roll but a glance as if she's hoping the clouds have a better answer than she does.

"I'm having a difficult day," she says after a moment. "I think I am looking for distraction, and having a hard time finding it."

"We have met, have we not? Forgive me, but I'll need you to remind me of your name."

Re: For Rowan

[to_the_wolves]

"We have met before? My apologies for not remembering." She could say why, whether it is from the absurd amount of people she meets on a daily basis to her own ability to forget details of importance as of late. Marie straightens herself, focusing her attention on Rowan before the metaphorical light bulb goes off in her head. The day where she asked about stories. Fables and tales. Back when things were simpler in her life. Can she even remember this woman's name? Clearly not, because if so she would have mentioned it already.

Instead it's easier for her to place attention on the words Rowan has said. She's having a difficult day, spent looking for something. Marie visibly winces, knowing this feeling all too well and the struggle of finding an answer amidst the infinite Nexus landscape. "I understand that feeling. Maybe not the circumstances that generated it, but I see and meet with a lot of people who seem to be searching for something."

To be fair, she hasn't been following Rowan long, but enough to know that whatever's being offered at the local shops isn't enough. "I'm Marie. And you are?"

(Rowan)

[rogueinladysclothing]

Amelia's time on the streets of the Nexus may be more limited these days, but her eyes are always open for those she knows and is friendly with. Seeing Loki staring so intently at herself in the windows of every single shop gives the rogue time to notice the pattern, and to approach with care. She shifts her messenger back to a more comfortable spot on her shoulder then steps up next to Loki as she stands in front of a tiny bookshop.

"Looking for something in particular?" she asks, her voice soft and edged with concern. She's had enough of friends down on their luck and struggling this year. "Maybe I can help, if you're willing to let me intrude."

It's an out offered only because she can see the lines around Loki's eyes. Whatever is weighing so heavily on the trickster must be a hell of a thing and Amelia knows that sometimes being alone is the only way to make your way through those feelings.

[coldsong]

Look, Loki is always struggling with something. If she's waiting for a year where she's not having some kind of crisis, she may have to give her a few decades. It's something to be recognized, though, and to recognize the recognizer. Loki glances sideways at Amelia, almost shy about it because she is feeling just that out of sorts.

"My face hurts," she explains, and rubs her forehead. "Right around my eyes. Like there's something that didn't shift right."

She sighs shakily, pressing the heel of her hand into her temple. "I'm...I'm all right. I suppose. I'll get by, anyway."

She doesn't know Amelia that well, though she has a positive impression of her. There's a pause, and then she asks, "Do you drink tea? Would you join me?"

Company may not help, but it can't hurt. At least, it can't hurt Loki. It might not go so well for the company.

[rogueinladysclothing]

It's like hearing her own responses out of someone else's mouth. 'I'm fine' has always been a favorite of hers, and Loki might as well be saying exactly that. The corner of her lip tugs into a frown, though she desperately tries to hide it. How awful it is to know someone's feeling the same depths of misery and confusion that you've experienced yourself.

The questions bring the ghost of a smile back to the rogue's face. "I do, and I'd be honored. In fact, I know a quiet little place we could go, if you're willing to let me lead you there. I can also listen and follow while you lead if you'd prefer."

She offers her arm to Loki, allowing the woman to take it or not as she pleases. There's no real telling what will or won't be helpful right now - other than a spot that's far more quiet and private than wandering by all the shops on the busy streets of the Nexus.

For Rowan.

[liverfree]

Prometheus is window shopping, as well, in particular any store that specializes in whimsy, be it toys or games or simple gifts that can put a smile on one's face. He can't help but spoil the Asgardian family staying with him, a mother and her three children, wanting their stay to be as pleasant as possible, especially given the circumstances.

He has his eye on a make-your-own slime kit featured prominently in a craft store's display when he nearly bumps into the pretty, young woman. "Oh! Pardon me, Miss," he says, turning to smile at her apologetically, before he raises an eyebrow. Something about her seems terribly familiar. More importantly, she seems troubled. "Are you all right? Something I can help you with?"

[coldsong]

If she were feeling better, Loki would absolutely take the opportunity to flirt with Prometheus, just to see how it would go. Not that she has any idea what his preferences are, or if he has any, but she does enjoy flirting in this shape, regardless of whether she gets a response.

But because of the ache that won't go away, she lets the opportunity pass her by, tilting her head up to blink at Prometheus and give him a weak little smile. "Good morning, Prometheus."

The tone and cadence of her voice is identical to Loki's in his male form. It's only the timbre that's different. "I'm afraid I'm somewhat...unwell. How are my people?"

[liverfree]

It would certainly be an amusing prospect, under different circumstances. As it is, Prometheus merely watches her with patient concern. When it clicks that this is Loki, his expression only shifts a little, his smile turning a touch amused. The concern remains, as patient as ever.

"Good morning, Loki. Sorry to hear you're unwell, though you look lovely, as usual. Your people are well-cared for and deeply loved by the entire neighborhood. In fact, the reason I'm out right now is because I wanted to buy a few presents for the family staying with me. Hertha and her three children. They've been such good company for me." He gestures to the shop in front of them. "If you're feeling up to it, can you help me pick out a few things? I'm used to shopping for Earth children, and not even toys of this era besides. It's been a while since I've lived with kids."