Control (Ship of Nails: Part 1)

[coldsong]

In the days after Harley’s ordeal with the Joker, Loki is hard to live with. He was terrified of losing her, of course, and he’s given up trying to pretend otherwise. But that is an emotion so big and overwhelming he can’t cope with it on top of everything else in his head. The past pushes aside the present and the potential of the future, love crushed beneath the weight of something dark and sickly.
There was a wound in his mind still, from what Thanos did to him. He’s known that all along, known it was festering, and there were times he tried to express that, but for the most part, he failed.



Maybe he didn’t want to succeed. Maybe he wanted to keep suffering, somewhere deep down. He doesn’t believe in atonement or penance or forgiveness, but he does believe in vengeance.

Now the frail scab of functional behavior he’s built over the wound has broken, been split and torn away, and all the necrosis, corruption, infection it held back, has spilled free. It’s drowning him. He wants to hurt and be hurt again and again and again...

He pays Mrs. Hedgeworthy extra to stay overnight. He’s afraid to be alone with the children.

He’s afraid to be alone with the children.

Brushing out Sigrid’s hair before bedtime, he’s always so delicate, untangling elf-knots without pulling, and she trust him utterly, but when he looks into the mirror of her vanity, her face is going grey, eyes bulging, mouth gaping; her hair is tangled around her throat and he’s pulling it tight, tighter, tighter, grinning a slasher smile as she struggles--

No, no, no! He springs up and backs away so wildly he falls over one of her shoes left behind on the floor.

“Loki??” She’s fine. She is untouched, he was hallucinating, but now she looks horrified by his unexplained panic. “Loki, what’s wrong?”

Mrs. Hedgeworthy appears in the doorway in a fuzzy yellow bathrobe with a duckling print all over it. Her eyes are sharp as she looks him over. He feels like prey, pinned down, seen through. He feels like a predator, ready to spring and snap and break necks. It’s too much. His stomach heaves and he has to cover his face with both hands, fighting back the need to vomit.

For a moment he’s not there, ears ringing, vision gone, and when he becomes aware of the room around him again, Sigrid and Agnarr are both there, with Mrs. Hedgeworthy, all standing around him with wide, frightened eyes.

“...call Thor,” Sigrid is saying, words rapid-fire, anxious. “Or maybe Kelly's dad, or Harley but she’s sick, or the other Loki, the one with the bar--”

“No!” He grits out. “No. Not now. Nighttime. Call in the morning.” He gulps air, pulls himself back together so forcibly his teeth rattle. “Mrs. Hedgeworthy, if you would please get the children ready for bed, I--th-think I will take a bath.”

As if water could wash him clean of the Black Order.

He rises, shaking head to toe but able to walk the few steps down the hall to the bathroom. He closes the door, locks it, turns the water on in the shower as high and hard as it will run, then puts his back to the wall and curls up in the smallest knot he can.

He’s not sure how long he stays there, insensate. Eventually he becomes aware his back is against the full-length mirror on the bathroom wall, and he turns his head to look at himself, fearful of what he’ll find.

Did you think you could quiet me forever? The figure in the mirror asks softly. Ivory skin, inky hair, green and gold armor, it regards Loki with a mocking smile, peering from beneath a twin-horned helmet. But his eyes-his eyes are very, very blue. Scepter-blue.

There’s no point talking to a hallucinatory vision of himself. Loki doesn’t bother. Just stares into the glowing cyan of his reflection’s eyes and waits to hear what it wants. After a long moment, its confidence wavers; its smile fades.

Say something! it snarls at last, frustrated.

“Something,” he answers. And then, “Go away.”

It’s just like himself to want to have a moment, here, he thinks. Give a grandiose speech about the inescapability of one’s dark nature, utter a breathless ode to the Mind Stone, perhaps. The only voice from the dark that ever truly understood him.

(The Mind Stone's voice in his head was always female, exquisitely soft and sweet, a music he could not ignore or deny. It's all right, Loki, my sweet little Loki--nothing matters. Freedom is life's great lie.

But he is the god of lies, and that is the only thing that saved him.)

But maybe Loki is learning from Thor. He’s not willing to play along. He lies where he is, dull eyed, watching his doppelganger, his anti-conscience. No protestations that this is not him, that he’s changed. Just: “Go away. Leave the children alone.”

Oh. Your children should remain untouched, it says. How many did you slay with the Order? How many deaths have you held a candle to?

He knows the answer, or at least a rough estimate, but he won’t give himself the satisfaction of saying it.

Your greed for peace and comfort will tear apart the people you purport to love. And after they are dead and gone, you will forget them. You have no heart. You only have me. Get used to it.

He doesn’t think that’s true, but he can’t muster the strength to argue. Remembering Thor throwing objects through his illusionary bodies, he gives a quiet grunt, lifts his hand, and touches it to the mirror’s surface. The steam collecting there from the hot shower suddenly starts to condense, coalesce, slithers between the glass and the silver backing, and the whole thing cracks and shatters, cascading down upon him in a glimmering shower.

A few seconds later, Mrs. Hedgeworthy is pounding on the door. He doesn’t feel like answering.

She’ll probably call someone.

He doesn’t care.


((OOC: Musical Inspiration))

Comments

[pirateangelbaby]

The Bifrost roars down on the snow outside the cottage, its lone passenger already charging forward before the rainbow light dissipates, glowing axe held in a white-knuckled grip. Thor's heart is pounding in his chest and in his ears, eye darting over the peaceful tableau in search of a threat, and not seeing any.

This is not reassuring.

The door opens before he can reach it, hand raised to knock fit to break it down, and Mrs. Hedgeworthy hastily steps aside to allow him entry. "Where is he?" he demands, only vaguely aware that he must look a fright, his hair loose and unbrushed, his T-shirt and pajama pants too little protection against the winter. But there had been little time to prepare himself, awakened from sleep by the housekeeper's urgent call, that he did not even pause long enough to summon his armor, alarm wiping the drowsiness from his brain in the span of a heartbeat. He'd paused only long enough to pull on his boots, and even then, the laces are only half tied.

He forces himself to let go of the axe, dropping it at the door, though his hand itches for him to keep hold of it in case he has need. But this is no external threat, and no weapon ever forged will be able to help him here.

The bathroom door is closed, and the sound of the shower droning away on the other side. Thor listens, but he cannot hear movement, cannot hear anything but that uniform hiss of water against the shower floor. "Loki?" he calls out loudly, and raps on the door with metal knuckles a little harder than he intends. "Are you all right?"

A stupid question, and he hates himself for asking it immediately. Of course he's not all right. Thor would never have been called in this manner, at this hour, if he was.

[coldsong]

The children are all gathered in the bedroom at the end of the hall. They could not fail to be kept awake by the activity, and while Mrs. Hedgeworthy has done her best to shelter them, pulling the door mostly closed, Sigrid and Agnarr are watching through the crack, eyes wide and scared. It's a new, weird kind of scared for them, because it's not like knowing a mad queen might kill you, or a fire demon is tearing apart your planet, not like feeling the hull of a ship crumble apart under your feet. It's a quiet horror, something eating their caregiver--their adoptive father--from the inside out. It's scarier, because he's scared.

But Thor is here, and that has to mean something. If anyone can fix Loki...

There is no verbal response to the knock on the door, but there's a grunt and a small incoherent mumble. A moan? A swear word? Hard to say. The sound of movement follows, the scrape of glass on tile as Loki drags himself a little further from the door.

He's not trying to let Thor in, he just doesn't want to be pressed against an object being pounded on with a metal fist. Too loud.

"I don't know what happened," Mrs. Hedgeworthy's voice is a little shaky, but she's otherwise steady, her usual no-nonsense persona. "He was brushin' Sigrid's hair. She says he panicked and she doesn't know why, but he got up from next to her and just collapsed on the floor, and she yelled for me."

"Me and Aggie both came running in and he was curled up whimpering and kind of...rocking. But he came out of it again when Sigrid said your name and said he was okay and not to call you 'till morning. Then he went in there. Been in there almost an hour and I was about to call you anyway when I heard the glass break."

[pirateangelbaby]

If Thor was not already on edge, the noise that comes from the other side of the door would put him there in short order. Is Loki injured? Bleeding? ...dying? He feels frozen at his core, dread settling in as he wonders what he will find on the other side of the door, unable to chase away the memory of his brother’s broken body beneath his hands as the Statesman had burned around them.

He does not want to see that again. But he cannot simply walk away. Not when Loki may need help. When there might be something that Thor can do.

He listens impatiently to Mrs. Hedgeworthy’s explanation, chafing at the delay even as he needs to know what happened, to prepare himself for what he may see. It sounds so achingly familiar, a thing he would not have understood only a year ago - small, unexpected things that hurl you into the depths of panic and despair with little warning, a fear and pain that you cannot reason your way out of, even if you had the capacity for rational thought. Isolating yourself as if it would save you from the agony of your own thoughts, only to find them amplified in the silence.

He cannot even begin to guess what would have brought Loki to such a state from something so simple, but it doesn’t matter. It happened, and his brother needs him, even if he can do nothing but assure him that he is not alone.

Loki had done the same for him.

“I’ll... handle this,” he says, not sure if he truly can, all too aware that no one can be rescued from the torment of their own mind, something he still struggles against day by day. He barely knows how to begin to manage his own demons; how can he hope to help with Loki’s? Still, he has to try. “Don’t let the children see.” They have seen enough of tragedy already. Whatever lies on the other side of this door, Thor is certain it will do them no good to witness.

He tries the knob and finds it locked, as he’d expected, though he’d hoped it wouldn’t be. He can break down the door, but will violence do more harm than good, if Loki believes someone is coming to harm him? Thor is paralyzed by indecision, until the thought rises above all else that he must get inside, and anything else can be dealt with after. “I’m coming in,” he announces, before he can delay further when his brother could be in urgent need of help. Steve once showed him a technique for breaking down Earth-built doors with one’s shoulder and body weight; now Thor must put it into practice.

[coldsong]

Don't let the children see. Mrs. Hedgeworthy presses her lips in a thin line, not entirely sure how to handle that order, but understanding the need for it. "I called a friend of his, too," she says, backing up. "Dr. Malcolm. I'll let Miss Quinn know, too."

She will. But she'll phrase it less like an emergency when she texts Harley. Just a heads up that Loki is unwell and Thor is with him, more details as events warrant. She retreats down the hall as Thor eyes the door with evident destructive intent, bustling into the children's room and closing the door firmly behind her.

Loki, meanwhile, is only half aware of activity beyond the door. The steam from the shower has gone cold. He's stretched out on his side on the floor now, head facing away from the door, caught in a state of deceptive stillness. It's stasis, not calm. He's blank, he's trapped, he's dead. On the floor around him there are mirror shards--

seven years' bad luck? he'd find that bitterly funny if he could think straight

And they reflect dozens of blue, blue, glowing eyes. Mocking, pitying, loathing.

His cheeks are wet, and in his state it takes almost no leap to make the mental connection to eyes weeping blood as his arteries were compressed. In truth, he has a number of small cuts from the burst of glass, and blood streaks one side of his face, but he's escaped any major injury. Most of the moisture is just normal tears.

The Mind Stone has stopped whispering to him. She's gone elsewhere, or maybe she has silenced herself in preparation for Thanos' arrival. That's how it worked, in the end, after he was physically broken down as far as he could be and keep breathing. A cycle of psychological torture, whispers in solitude, and then the Titan's peculiar brand of persuasion: sweet-talk coupled with crushing pain.

Soon, he will--but that can't be right, because Thanos is dead. Thor said so.

Reality blurs in his brain. He is dead, crushed in the Titan's hand. He is alive, on the floor of his cottage in the Nexus. He is bound in the bowels of the Sanctuary II. He is in prison on Asgard, and Frigga is begging him to come out of the corners in the back of his mind that he keeps hiding in.

"Just giving the people what they want," he tells her dully, and then his whole body jolts as the god of thunder slams into the door.

He's a mess, cut and drawn and pale, clothes clinging to his back smelling of fear-sweat and clean steam. It looks almost like he decided to lie down on the floor and then the mirror fell on him, except that's ludicrous. Loki does not sleep on cold, hard floors--and there's a thin layer of ice on the side of the door where the mirror was.

He doesn't look at Thor as he breaks in, trembling, eyes focused straight ahead--but blinking passively. Not dead, but not really here, either.

[pirateangelbaby]

Thor takes in the state of the bathroom at a glance, processing nearly none of it, his gaze fixed on Loki the moment he sees him. And for a moment, it’s as if his heart has stopped, seeing his brother lying limply on the floor, empty eyes staring at nothing, and all Thor can think is he’s dead. That maybe everything since the Statesman has simply been a hallucination in his own final moments, waiting for the ship to blow apart around him, crawling on hands and knees across twisted debris to cling to his brother’s corpse as he awaits the end.

But then he sees Loki blink, and Thor forces his lungs to take a breath, ignoring the broken glass as he drops to his knees at his brother’s side. “Loki,” he says, voice low and thick with relief and concern and dread, and he reaches out hesitant hands to touch, to ensure that his eye is not deceiving him. Loki is here, and breathing, and alive. But not out of danger.

Is this what Thor had looked like in the moments he still can’t remember? He can’t think about that right now, focused on his brother’s safety, both physical and otherwise. “Loki,” he says again, clearing his throat, one hand on his brother’s cheek in an attempt to draw his gaze. “I’m here.”

[coldsong]

So many eyes on him, all cyan blue, so many piecemeal reflections of the worst of himself. Dagger and garrote, blood and ice and darkness. They're not eyes, they're stars, and he's falling, falling, falling until he loses awareness of his body, of time, of pain, numb and nothing in the blackness of the Void.

He's aware of the creak of floorboards, twitches and shudders as Thor kneels down, curling up tighter, but then something happens. The room tilts, shifts, and all the little shards of glass reflect not his own eyes but Thor's, the one that remains. A kinder shade of blue. Sunshine and clear skies after the end of the storm.

He swallows hard at the touch to his cheek and squeezes his eyes shut, clawing his way back from the edge. Thor's hand is callused and warm, and after a slow, still, excruciating moment, Loki shifts and puts his hand on Thor's forearm.

"Is Sigrid all right?" he asks in a rasping croak. "I thought...I was choking her--"

There's a sudden flicker of motion, then, as he sits up and rocks forward. In the next moment, he's buried himself against Thor's chest, trembling like a leaf in a high wind. When he sobs, it sounds like something's dragging the nose out of him and it's tearing up his insides on the way.

[pirateangelbaby]

Perhaps in hindsight, Thor should have suspected something like this might happen. Brothers they may be, but where Thor cannot help but wear his heart openly in joy and agony both, Loki has often kept his hurts from the light of day until at last there are too many to keep contained and it all comes boiling out in a spectacular eruption. But this is not anger or sorrow. No, this is something far, far worse.

He opens his mouth to assure Loki of Sigrid's safety when suddenly his brother lunges upward, and for the briefest of moments, Thor flinches as if he expects a blow. But then Loki is clinging to him as if he is a man drowning, and Thor's arms are around him, holding him safe and secure, wishing against all hope that he could take this horrible pain from him and knowing that he cannot, not any more than Loki could have taken Thor's.

"She's all right," he murmurs, one hand cradling the back of his brother's head, the other rubbing small soothing circles on his back, as if they were young boys again seeking comfort after a nightmare. "You didn't hurt her. She's safe."

CW mention of needles and much existential crisis.

[coldsong]

"I hurt--I--!!" Loki begins, but he's too overwrought to get the words out, choking on his own tears, dissolving into the acid mix of emotions. I hurt everyone else, why not them too? is the thought he would vocalize if he could. Perhaps it's for the best he cannot.

Loki has, despite all his best efforts, always been more inclined to physical tears than Thor. Nine times out of ten his eyes fill up and spill over with rage, not grief, but today only the Norns know where all the tears are coming from. They're cold, icy, dripping onto the shoulder of Thor's shirt, and the keening wails that accompany them are awful to hear. It's a breakdown that's been a long time coming, and all the more intense for the delay.

It takes several long minutes before the petting calms him enough to speak again, and his arms are locked around Thor now, an unbreakable death-grip. "He choked her and I thought she had died," he manages to get out, trying to explain, although Thor has no context whatsoever to know he's referring to Harley and the Joker now.

"Watched her die, and there are so many...needles in my skin down to the bones and I'm on fire, Thor, there's not enough ice in the universe for that burning, there is no balance. It's a lie. Gods are nothing but dust in the end, like everything else." He knows exactly what he's saying, exactly what he means, but whether any of that makes sense to Thor is doubtful.

[pirateangelbaby]

Every cry is like a dagger in his heart, a desperate frustration that he can do nothing to soothe this away, nothing but be someone willing to hold tight to Loki and not let go. There's a guilty pang at the thought that he is glad this did not happen sooner, uncertain if he is prepared to handle this even now but knowing in his heart that the Thor of six months ago would have been worse than useless here.

He's trying to understand, he really is, but it sounds like the fevered ramblings of a madman until the end. Then his own veins seem filled with ice as the specter of the Mad Titan looms over them both, and for a moment it's as if the universe was never set right, that he might return home to empty streets and empty planets and billions dead, and the need to drown himself in drink snares him as strongly as his brother's arms.

He just holds to Loki all the stronger, shakily reminding himself that Thanos is dead, that his universe is slowly recovering, scarred and damaged but not irreparable. But Loki's... Loki's is not.

He'd forgotten.

Too lost in his own pain to help anyone else, Thor hadn't noticed Loki still suffering, or perhaps he'd chosen to turn his blind eye to it to save himself from further madness. Maybe he'd hoped that the Avengers in every universe might find a way to restore the dusted, or he'd begun to fool himself into forgetting that there was ever a difference between this brother and the one that Thor had lost. It hadn't mattered, except it does, and now he reaps the blighted bounty of what he'd unwittingly sown.

"I know, brother, I know," he murmurs, knowing all the while that he doesn't, struggling to find the words that Loki might need to hear, desperate not to lose him too. He may not understand the roots of his brother's torment, but he stands now where Loki once stood, reaching out a hand to keep his brother from slipping into the abyss. "We're... we're not forever. But I'm here, now. I won't let you go."

[coldsong]

With all the things Loki might blame Thor for, justly or unjustly, the inability to comfort him in the midst of his own turmoil isn't even on the list. A man bleeding out from a cut to the heart is in no position to be a medic, and even Loki, with his talent for being selfish and greedy for attention, is aware of that. No word of blame will ever pass his lips on that count--although that in itself might make Thor feel worse.

The truth is, Loki makes himself as hard to comfort as he does hard to forgive. Maybe it's deliberate, a form of self-loathing or punishment of his own. Maybe he was taught too well to man up, when he was a boy, a youth, desperate to fit himself to standards ill-designed for him. Maybe he's afraid those closest to him will not find his companionship worth the burden of the sheer volume of maintenance he actually needs.

Probably all the above, but no matter what, it takes a meltdown of this caliber to make him truly vulnerable; he has to break to let someone try to heal him.

Thor's murmurs are ambiguous. He doesn't know in full detail what Loki means, but for whatever reason the sound of his words, low and gentle and affirming, sink under the younger brother's skin. Like the comforting coos of a mother holding a child after a nightmare. That robs the crisis in Loki's heart of some of its momentum; he remains a mess, shaky and weeping, but the anguished cries ease away into an occasional whimper or moan.

"He hurt me," he half-whispers, "hurt me so much. I can't shake it, Thor. I'm trying, for the children, for you, for Harley, for Ian, but it hurts, it hurts, it hurts...and if I lose, I...I can't lose. I can't."

Because if he does, he becomes that gutted, unfeeling, hollow psychopath in the mirror.

There's a soft tap on the door, and Loki twitches but otherwise doesn't move or loosen his hold on Thor. Mrs Hedgeworthy has a blanket in her hands, which she crouches to toss over Loki's back, then bustles past both Odinsons, picking her way through the glass to turn off the shower.

"I won't pretend I know what's going on," she says, "but you'd cope with it better on the sofa, or in his room." Pause. "The children are watching the Muppets and having brownies and warm milk. You just...sort yourselves out and let me know if I need to get someone else in here."

Loki gives a hiccuping, watery giggle, trying to turn his face so she can't see it, but says nothing.

[pirateangelbaby]

Thor tenses in turn at the sound of someone approaching, but relaxes - just a little - when he recognizes the intruder. Just Mrs. Hedgeworthy, who's far more put together than either one of the brothers at the moment. But she has a good point, and after a moment's hesitation, Thor nods. "Right."

Between the ice and the broken glass and the cold tile of the bathroom floor, this is no place for comfort. "Can you stand?" Thor murmurs to Loki, ready to help him to his feet or carry him entirely, if it comes to that. Whichever the case, he struggles to recall the layout of the house, remembering where he might take his brother where he can be warmer and more comfortable, and maybe clean some of the blood from him so he looks less of a fright. "You're safe with me," he repeats, more firmly, in case Loki might grab it as a lifeline to keep himself from sinking.

[coldsong]

There's a good chance Mrs. Hedgeworthy is always put together than either one of the brothers. She's got a past--she must, or Loki wouldn't like her--but she is reliable and steady in the extreme.

And right now, she's eyeing the mess on the bathroom floor with the resigned, dry annoyance of someone who knows she's going to end up cleaning it up, no matter what anyone else claims. Actually, the sooner she gets a jump on that, the better, so she hastens to help the both of them to their feet. The better to get them out from underfoot.

Loki gives a little grunt in response to Thor's question and loosens his grip on him just enough to gather his legs under him. "I can walk."

His breath, still hitching erratically, and the full body shakes he seems to have, put that claim to the lie, but he at least seems to be able to push himself off the floor. Probably a good thing; the doorway of the bathroom is narrow enough (built for mere mortals) that a Thor carrying a Loki might struggle to get through it. He's going to have to lean on his brother anyway, though, still visibly weakened. If either of them was in any state to notice and be amused by it, it's very much like the 'Get Help' routine.

[malcolmeffect]

Ian had dropped what he was doing when the text came in from the nanny, or he thought that is what she was. He wasn't sure. A normal person would react calmly to a text that someone was "sick". However, Ian knew well enough what that could mean from his own reluctance to say anything about his condition. It was one thing he and Loki shared to the point that it almost seemed a joke between them.

He'd had to find a sitter for Kelly, with how many times he'd taken Lex and Tim for their mother was easy enough, but then he's out the door. Dr. Malcolm would like to pretend he isn't worried for Loki, and the fact that he is only increases the anxiety over the situation.

Getting to the cottage turns into a blur. He'd been sleepless for so long that he's not in the best condition either, sick would be applicable but none of it was physical. A glance between the location he was given and the cottage to confirm it is the right one before he comes in the door. Normally, he was polite but under the kind of anxious panic he was prone to formality was forgotten.

"Loki?" He's not sure where until he hears the people in the hall. He's furious over the encumbrance of the his leg brace more than ever. All the frustration and exhaustion falls away when he enters the hall to see the condition Loki is in. Ian freezes, staring and distressed. It takes a moment for his mind to process. The response is instant, he drops his cane and leg brace be damned he starts down the hall to help.

A few days later....

[malcolmeffect]

Ian had resisted the children as long as he could to give Loki time to get back on his feet, and calm the tension between Thor and himself. However, it wasn't long before they insisted and started talking about get well cards and such. He made sure to warn Loki long before agreeing and contacting John to have the kids brought.

That left him early one morning out front if the house watching a classic Jurassic Park jeep coming down the road. Of course it was Muldoon who got roped into this drive. Still he was glad to see the man and hear that he was keeping things out of the crazy zone in Ian's absence. He had proclaimed Robert his voice at the InGen board meetings while. 'Family emergency occupied his time.

The kids fell from the jeep, nearly bowling Ian over. He would have thought months, not less than a week, had passed for thier reaction. Malcolm took it in stride.

"Now, kids. We need to be quieter inside. Loki isn't feeling well." He instructed after Muldoon pulled away. It left each of the kids with a day bag and an enormous card, easily as tall as Timmy, that was clearly meant for Loki.

"Like when you were sick Dr. Malcolm?" Lex asked.

"Yes. When I was real sick." He confirmed. Immediately the children quieted down and prepared to follow thier father, or pseudo adopted father, into the house for a visit with thier newest, adopted uncle.

He paused and looked at the card. "Can I see?"

He didn't think the kids would put anything bad in the card, but maybe triggers. Ian didn't know exactly what would be triggers but some things were obvious. What he got was a cacophony of all three children talking at the same time. There were drawings of Loki's children with them at what he thought was the beach in Costa Rica, and the requisite near stick figure dinosaurs from Timmy, drawings of thier pets, but it was the drawing of Loki in his usual attire and a baseball cap playing catch with Lex that had him laughing. Among the drawings were various get well messages and he saw they roped thier family into signing the card, and some of the Jurassic Park staff too.

"You've..uh.. been working hard." They probably had John pulling his hair out by the time they were done. Card cleared he led them in to find Loki. Ian had warned/explained to Loki's children about get well cards too. He wasn't sure if they made any, but if three kids with wishes was good, more would be better. At least Ian thought so after his own hospitalizations.

[coldsong]

Loki has been reflective the past few days. He's conversed with Ian and Thor and others via emails and texts, but he hasn't been terribly active otherwise, letting friends help get the children to their appointments, letting Mrs. Hedgeworthy do the bulk of the housework, and saving his energy to expend on cuddling and play with the children, to reassure them. Truthfully, he cannot recall ever being so tired--but that's to be expected, after a breakdown of the caliber he just had.

In quiet moments, he opens up a leatherbound journal in his lap and writes, a slow, steady stream of consciousness, all the thoughts upon which he can bear to linger. Sometimes it's just idle observations about the children and their growing strength, sometimes it's something resembling free-verse poetry, about the seasons or the sky or the sea. Sometimes it's a brutal accounting of his feelings about the things he's done and been through. He locks the book magically when he's done writing. The children might inherit it after they're grown, but for now, no one needs to see what he's written, at least not without preparation beforehand.

He's actually wrapping up a page of text when Ian and the children arrive, the peaceful moment purchased only thanks to Agnarr's willingness to wrangle his own excited siblings. They know already that their human friends are coming, and while they have friends amongst the Aesir, and a few Nexus acquaintances, these are their favorites. In the kitchen, Sigrid and Ein are putting the finishing touches on a snack tray that Mrs. Hedgeworthy started for them. Agnarr and Una are waiting by the door.

Thus, it's a little blonde child in a sparkling purple dress and striped leggings that flings the door open when they get close. Una comes running down the walk to meet them--intent to hug written all over her--and Agnarr trots after her, laughing silently.

There's a moment before Loki appears in the doorway, dressed in what is probably the Asgardian equivalent of a kurta, an asymmetric green silk garment that reaches his knees, beneath which his trousers are equally soft and loose until they button at the ankles. He's barefoot, which may be why he doesn't step outside, or maybe he's just tired. His hair hangs loose around his face, but neatly washed and brushed. It's not the most reassuring way he could appear, but it's a vast improvement from a few days ago.

[malcolmeffect]

It's Lex that snatches Una, picking her up off the ground in a warm hug. Distracted, it is Timmy and Kelly who see Loki first. Despite all of Ian's warnings they dash up to him and hug him, giant construction paper card fluttering behind Tim as he runs. After the quick hug the boy all but shoves the card in Loki's face.

"We made this for you."

Lex and Ian are slower to come along, though Malcolm gives Loki a helpless shrug over the behavior of the children. Lex puts down Una and offers Agnarr a hug. If he doesn't take it she will just pat his shoulder and walk up to join the others with Loki.

[coldsong]

Una giggles happily as she's picked up, returning the hug, and calls out hellos to everyone, with her usual enthusiasm. Loki looks amused by the exchange, but his eyes widen as the children make a beeline for him. Even if he were physically weaker than normal at the moment, he'd be able to withstand it if they ran into him full force, but that's not what they do, exactly, merely charging into him with hug-mode engaged. He still looks shell-shocked for a second, then his eyes go misty and he bends down to hug them back. Each gets a light kiss on the top of the head.

He has to lean back to avoid getting smacked with the card at first, but then he gives a soft, genuine laugh and accepts it. "It's enormous! That must have taken a lot of work. Can I take it inside to read it?"

It's madness, really, these innocent human children concerned about him of all creatures, but it's a breath of fresh air.

Agnarr returns the hug from Lex without any hesitation (but perhaps a slight blush; he's about that age), and waves in greeting to Ian. Una goes running inside to get the other kids, which gives Loki a chance to smile at Lex and Ian and offer them each a hug, as well. There's something subtly mischievous when he reaches to hug Ian. It's a different dynamic between them than with the children, of course.

[malcolmeffect]

The kinds are all loud and hugs; all the hugs they can get.

"Yeah!" Timmy exclaims and then pushes his way past Loki and inside. However, Kelly tucks her arm in Loki's to walk with him like they did when they first met. Lex smiles shyly at Agnarr's reaction. (She's about that age too.) However, she hugs Loki with a big, strong squeeze.

Ian returns the hug with a laugh. "You're too tired to create your own chaos right now... uh.. so I invited some to fill in for you." Malcolm is joking, of course and trying to keep up Loki's spirits by reminding him he has support in whatever, even causing chaos apparently.

[coldsong]

"I'm never too tired to create chaos," he says, slightly rueful. "It just sort of happens. But I'm most certainly too tired to manage what I create right now, so I'll just let them all run amok and enjoy the results."

He looks exhausted, despite his words, but the smile he has for them--Ian especially--is warm. He lets Kelly lead him inside, thinking privately that once again he sees her father's reflection in her. A determined little caretaker, despite her tender age.

They're going to have to dodge around the other children, because now that guests are here, Sigrid and Una and Ein are hurtling around the living room fetching snacks and drinks and making sure everyone has a place to sit. Loki settles on the couch and opens the card across his lap, taking his time inspecting the words and drawings in it, like any parent would exclaim over their child's artwork. "This is remarkable! Did someone draw a snake? Is it me as a snake or a normal snake? I'm usually bright green when I turn into one, but I can be other colors."

[malcolmeffect]

"Should I start calculations so I can manage it?" Ian smirks at Loki, self amused but not serious.

Kelly leads Loki all the way to the couch before sitting beside him, and purposefully putting herself between Loki and her father. Ian doesn't mind and just sits down close to her. He knows why she does it, lack of his attention, and lack of people being invested in her too often. Whether the choice is to keep her father to herself or get Loki's attention Ian doesn't know. Maybe both. Timmy piles in on the other side when the card opens.

"That's a titanoboa." Timmy is about fit to burst from the excitement of his drawing being recognized. "Are you a big green snake? Titanoboa is... it's giant!"

[coldsong]

"I suppose you had better," he tells Ian with a grin, and blinks as Sigrid pushes a plate of snacks in front of him. Separate from the tray they've made for their guests, it appears to have been designed specifically for Loki, and after a glance around, he sets it in his lap with a murmured thanks and a gentle ruffle of his daughter's hair. It's mostly sliced fruit and dips--sunflower butter, nutella, and honey--and after a moment of vague confusion he takes a slice of pear and pops it into his mouth.

He's equally baffled by the way Kelly places herself between him and Ian, and part of him regrets it a little, because he'd really like to lean into the man right now. Still, he understands the way a child's mind works and it's not too hard to switch track, so he gives her an easy smile.

Timmy's exuberance is impossibly to deny, though, so it's him he speaks to first, shaking his head. "A titanoboa, I see! I'm almost that long but nowhere near so bulky. About the color of an emerald tree boa, but with ridges like an eyelash viper. I can be small too, though. It's easier to escape attention that way."

"Pity I can't teach you all to shapeshift, then you could all sit on the sofa with Ian and me like ducklings in a nest."

[malcolmeffect]

Ian smiles at the plate being pushed at Loki. How many times had he been treated that way by one of the children? It's a comfort to know that they look after him, easy to recognize the love of children for a sick parent. The look given to Kelly is one Ian knew too well. Loki wasn't the first person that Kelly wedged herself between because of jealousy. He knew his daughter too.

Ian grabs her around the waist causing a squeal of 'dad!' to erupt from Kelly as he pulls her into his lap. He wasn't sure what Loki wanted from him but he knew his own mind when he was exhausted from nightmares. Thankfully, he was sound enough of mind and sleeping well enough lately to be someone else's support.

"You should show us!" Timmy had very little control over what he said or asked for and Ian tries to hide the amused, snort of a laugh behind his hand. He glances at Lex who is busying herself with the older children. He knew the girl was probably sick of being the adult type with her brother. She deserved a break to be a kid.

"Uh.. the three of them used to all climb into my hospital bed." Ian remarks. he's sure if all the kids wanted to pile on the couch with them, then they would find a way.

[coldsong]

It's a funny thing, to be surrounded by so many people, all of them friendly with him. That most are children only makes it more surreal. Loki looks around the room, taking in what each child is up to in turn; Agnarr showing Lex some of his drawings shyly while Una and Eindrid look on, Sigrid watching him to make sure he eats, Tim all but bouncing beside him, and Kelly--

It takes an effort not to laugh at the antics of father and daughter. Loki smiles and leans his shoulder into Ian's for a moment, taking reassurance from that proximity. "You know, I'm afraid I'm not up to going anywhere further than the yard right now, but we all ought to do something together while you're here."

He'll have to think about what. Movies are a possibility, but some of the littlest ones might get restless. He laughs at Timmy's request. "Perhaps not my full repertoire just now, but I could show off a little."

He thinks a giant snake would be the wrong thing to confront Ian with, actually, but he has other forms. Gulping one last piece of pear, he sets the plate on the floor and gets up. "This is a little disorienting to watch the first time; humans might want to close their eyes or look away." The kids, he assumes, probably won't, but it's worth saying.

He takes a couple paces across the floor and seems to crouch down--except green and gold energy courses over his skin as he does so, and therefore by the time his fingertips touch the floor, they're no longer fingers but paws. He hasn't been a wolf in a long, long while. It ceased to be stealthy for a time, particularly in populous countries. He's relatively ordinary-looking, as wolves go, with a coat patterned in shades of taupe and dark grey and white. The one distinctive feature is his eyes: one is a pale blue that looks arctic green when it catches the light. The other is a caramel brown with a reddish cast at the center, around the pupil.

[malcolmeffect]

At the comment about doing something together, the kids that came with Ian instantly look to Loki's children for suggestions.

As soon as Loki tells them not to look because it might be disorienting, Ian turns to stare. When else is he going to get to see someone transform, though to be honest in the Nexus probably often enough.

The kids react differently to the change. Timmy charges Loki for a hug as if a giant puppy has just walked in. Kelly is a little more reserved but once her father nods she walks over. Lex, however, panics and all-but throws herself at Ian, crying about how she's going to get eaten.

Ian has to turn his attention away to deal with Lex. He knows why she is screaming and holds her tight. "It's still Loki." He's whispering to her because the trauma they have is for the same reason. Lex was as close as Ian was to being eaten by a Rex. All he can do is hold her and continue to reassure her. He does glance over at Loki and shake his head a little to let him know that it is ok, or at least expected.

[coldsong]

Loki's children immediately suggest puzzles and board games, of which apparently they have quite a few, but they fall silent again when Loki gets up to transform. Sigrid watches very closely; it's possible she's trying to learn by observing her parent.

Once fully shifted, Loki sits up, and his tail wags at Timmy's enthusiasm. Clearly hugs are very much permitted in this form, and he looks rather hopefully up at Kelly, as well. Lex's response is unexpected and alarming, though, and his ears go back at her crying as he lowers himself slowly down onto his belly in the least-aggressive posture he can muster.

Agnarr moves to Lex and Ian's side, reaching out to reassure her silently, giving her arm a couple gentle pats. Eindrid makes a fussy noise, startled by the emotional reaction, but a hug from Una soothes him.

Meanwhile, Loki can still speak in this shape, and does so: "Lex, it's only me. I'd have used the horse form but it wouldn't fit in the room so well..."

That, and actually the Mare is more dangerous than the wolf form. "I would go vegetarian for you, älskling, if it'd help."