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

[malcolmeffect]

Ian doesn't get in the way of Thor putting Loki in bed. It isn't that he doesn't want to help but that he is aware of his own maneuverability limitations. If the brace has taught him anything it was that sometimes others might be better for a job than he is.

However, by the time Loki is situated in the bed Ian is already sitting on the side of it. He's been to places like this himself from infections, and illness, trauma, and his own brand of self abuse. He doesn't ask, only reaches out and takes Loki's hand in his. He isn't sure how much comfort to offer yet but his concern won't let him sit back and do nothing.

"Lex and Tim's mother has Kelly. I can... stay as long as you need." It was a serious offer weighted heavily with anxiety and worry. Ian would stay bedside for a close friend in this condition, and here there was something more, though still vastly undefined. With all the focus on Loki's condition, Ian has all but forgotten Thor's presence even if he had just asked a question.

[pirateangelbaby]

Loki does not specify who he means by he, but Thor needs no explanation. He can't guess if Ian knows, if he understands the gravity of the demon that haunts his brother, dead or not. Doesn't know anything of their shared history, in fact, other than the incredibly disconcerting resemblance to a man that Thor would never trust in a million years, and he can't tell if it's that or simple jealousy that makes him bristle at the liberties that Ian is taking with Loki's person.

Even so, he knows he should be grateful that someone else is here - that someone else cares about Loki - but it is difficult not to see this stranger as an interloper, someone whose history with Loki pales in comparison against centuries of brotherhood. But Loki wants him here, that much is clear, and Thor bites down on the harsh words that want to spring from his mouth. The storm he's called above the cottage has not abated, and a long, slow roll of thunder rumbles overhead toward the horizon. "He won't touch you ever again," Thor says, his voice as low and wild as the thunder, even as his hands tremble at the thought of facing Thanos a fourth time.

But he would do it, if the Mad Titan came for Loki. Thor would rather die than watch that happen again.

He's going to pay for this later. He knows that already. He'd been doing so well - still nightmares every night, but hazier ones, or so familiar that he knows how to brush aside the horrors in his waking hours, and it's been maybe two weeks since his last serious panic attack - but tonight's nightmares are going to be especially vivid ones, of that Thor has little doubt. But he has built himself up enough that he can face it without crumbling at the first breath of wind, fragile like a sapling in a storm, tested against strong gusts that may shake it to its roots or strengthen it until it can withstand even the harshest storm.

Thor sits on the other side of the bed, close enough that perhaps Loki may even feel his body heat, and runs his hands roughly through his own hair, trying to collect himself. "He won't touch you," he repeats, as much to Loki as it is to himself. What a ludicrous image he must make, sitting here in his soft cotton T-shirt and lightning bolt pajama pants, fingers tangling in his hair. Hardly the image of a king, nor a god, not even a warrior. Yet his resolve to protect his brother is no less for it.

[coldsong]

He does not deserve this attention; Loki knows it. Having them both hovering protectively by his side feels so good and yet utterly strange and wrong. Knowing that he can't help but make Thor's issues worse by exposing his own--and quite possibly Ian's, too--makes him feel small and dirty and sharp, like a used needle. But they're not going anywhere. It's his prerogative to be selfish, isn't it? If he's stuck being what he is anyway. Yes.

Ian's voice is nice. He'll have to mention later how much he likes it. Same vocal cords as the Grandmaster, maybe, but he uses them differently. Smoother, lower, sometimes a purr. He pulls his hand closer and kisses the back lightly, then lets his own arm go slack, just holding the clasp loosely.

Even that is a sign of improvement. The reality of people he can trust surrounding him doesn't entirely mask the trauma bubbling up, but it's a vital counterpoint.

Meanwhile, Thor's determination to protect him from Thanos is heartening. For the first time, though, Loki finds himself picturing the scene of his own demise from his brother's perspective, and it's awful. Having watched Harley's struggle and thought she was dead--Norns, if that has him so unbalanced, imagine poor Thor.

"I didn't realize," he says distinctly to his brother, and grips his forearm. But he doesn't clarify what he didn't realize, merely adds: "I'm here."

He's here. Not dying, not being tortured, not killing the innocent, not watching the innocent being slaughtered. And if the Mind Stone still whispers to him, at least she is a long distance away and no longer under Thanos' control. There's a lull of quiet for just a moment, then, and the sound of thunder and rain lashing the roof filters in through the white noise of his own mind.

"That's nice," he says. "The thunder."

He takes a deep breath, shivers, calms, and looks over at Ian. "That's Thor doing that, you know. I know you don't exactly believe in gods, but he does call the storm. I used to be afraid of it, but not now. Not any longer."

Absurdly, as if his brain has latched onto the distraction of having the two of them there, he squeezes Thor's arm, hand shaking, but there's a lighter look in his eyes for the moment. "Ian studies chaos," he tells him. "He's brilliant. And our children play together."

There. That's everything you need to know about one another, right? Right.

[malcolmeffect]

Ian didn't know who they were talking about staying away from Loki, however, he knew someone had destroyed half of all life. There had to be dangerous things for him to face, death at least, and Ian had thought dinosaurs were bad. He might have gone down a dark mental path with these thoughts, but the kiss to his hand distracts him in time. It seems that Loki has some grasp on reality and his own thoughts. That is good. Ian was already evaluating Loki's mental state. Malcolm wasn't a doctor, but he'd been through a breakdown, more than once, enough to know the good and bad signs.

The mention of thunder clears Ian's mind, if only a small percentage. A smile and a snorted laugh follows the explanation. He knows Loki's heard that laugh brought on by finding yet another shared fear or trauma. It's only now that he realizes Loki didn't know the details about the Rex attack, the thunder and rain. Now isn't the time for these discussion. Not now, but maybe sometime over his stay which he can now see will be a long one, if Loki is anything like he was.

The discussion, or rather Loki addressing them both, finally brings back the idea there is another person in the room. Thor receives a critical look as he studies him. The attire really isn't a surprise. How many times had someone come to his aid without time to prepare for him or visitors?

His mind on the children he gives Loki's hand a squeeze. "You know... I had to bribe Kelly or ..uh.. she would be here too."

[pirateangelbaby]

Didn't realize? Thor has no idea what Loki means, but he doesn't care, anchored by that grip on his arm to the reality of the here and now, and he curses himself a little for needing such reassurance when it is Loki who is in such need. He's quick to put his other hand on top of Loki's, for his brother's comfort or his own, he's not sure. I'm here. "...so am I."

What a fragile and delicate thing it seems, for the both of them to be together. Thor had thought he'd passed the worst of his heartbreak when Loki had affirmed his presence aboard the Statesman, a sign that his brother had returned to him of his own free will, a step in the right direction. A step toward healing, no matter how long the path, or if they both would eventually stray from it. That moment is still a treasured one, but overshadowed by the worse tragedy that followed, a horror so deep that Thor will never be fully free of it. But there are echoes of it here too, now, a promise that for this moment at least, Loki is here with him. It is a gift that Thor will never take for granted again.

He squeezes Loki's hand lightly, and finally looks back at Ian, still a bit on edge with just how closely he resembles the Grandmaster. He did not deliberately ensure that the human is on his sighted side, but he is grateful for it anyway. "A man who studies chaos," he repeats quietly, thoughtfully. No wonder he drew Loki's attention, then. Though Thor is not quite sure how one would study such a thing in the first place. But then, humans have some funny ideas, sometimes. And occasionally more insightful than Asgardians, their minds quick and sharp to make up for the brief time in which they have to use them. Is it any wonder that they they might try to know the unknowable, even if they fail?

And with children, besides. Loki's children are numerous enough that they probably don't hurt for playmates, but maybe it's to their benefit to have friends that do not share their same traumas, even if they are no doubt far older than their human companion. But that said, Thor is not sure it'd be a good idea for this Kelly to see Loki in such a state... why do these things have to be so complicated?

What's done is done. Thor must deal with what is, not what could be. He's been told this often enough to know better. Still holding onto Loki, and being held in return, he looks over at the man, aware that he is hardly making a good first impression but completely unable to care about that. "Does he know?" Even Thor is not certain what he is asking about. Ragnarok, Thanos, Loki's fall from Asgard? So much has happened in the span of only one short decade, and it has all left its scars on Odin's sons. Some more than others. One who matters more, in this moment.

[coldsong]

Oh? Oh. Yes, Loki recognizes that wry chuckle in Ian, the same way he recognizes the soaring tension in his brother. Norns, they're a triple-disaster waiting to happen here, three fields of plentiful landmines trying to keep one another from experiencing an explosion.

Why is it that feels reassuring? Maybe it's nice not to be the most damaged one in the room sometimes. Or, at least, only equally damaged as compared to one's companions. He's calming in minute increments, watching both men in turn as if he's not 100% sure he believes what he's seeing, but wants to keep trying. "Mustn't bring impressionable children to watch gods have episodes of PTSD," he murmurs to Ian. "But you can bribe her with an outing with the children later maybe, they want to go sledding and ice skating and the hills in the Wilds aren't a good place for it."

The children. The children. His eyes close and he shudders as he pushes away the mental image of what he thought he saw himself doing to Sigrid. He would never. He would never. But it's a picture that's hard to shake. His ears ring with the screams of children ripped from their parents or siblings in the culls he witnessed. A hundred thousand awful, awful memories. He's sinking under again, but Thor asks him a question and he comes back up, blinking at him blankly for a moment.

"He knows..." What has he told Ian? He's bitched about Odin, but has he mentioned the details of his icy revelation? He knows why Loki has the children, knows he resembles a man he knew once, but perhaps not the full story of Ragnarok, and little enough about Sakaar.

And Thanos...well, he certainly knows about the Decimation--

Fuck. Loki's eyes widen and his hands tighten their grip on both men abruptly. "He helped me with maths and figures," he says, the words spilling out in that same high panicked voice he used to tell Thor Ian was human. "To help our worlds recover after the...the dust. The stone, the snap. Turns out yours didn't need that which is good but there's still mine and of course with infinite worlds there are bound to be infinite disasters and then I thought perhaps worlds with less dire apocalypses could use the data rather than terraforming via technology to recover, Thor, you know I'm not an altruist, really, but if it's something that costs me so little why not do it?"

He's usually such a good liar, maybe Thor won't recognize he's lying really badly right now. He has to stop for breath, fortunately, panting a little and looking over at Ian as if in a plea for help.

[malcolmeffect]

Ian isn't sure what to make of the situation at hand. He knew some of Loki's life in the recent past, hints about his family. Curiosity of a scientist left his mind eagerly trying to piece things together from the scarce words in the three way conversation.

"No, seeing mine was enough for her." Ian was comfortable with Loki knowing just how broken he was, though he never understood why. Maybe he had seen the way Loki was fractured too, some little pattern than his subconscious picked up on even when he didn't realize it.

If it didn't require letting go of Loki's hand Ian would have crossed his arms in his usual haughty manner, though the absent gesture is clear in the lightly prodding and humorous tone. "Well, uh, I'm no good for either of those with this brace, so, unless you're getting up to keep me company from boredom while they run about screaming it'll have to wait."

It was unintentional how the affection appeared in those words, but Ian was incredibly fascinated with, and fond of, Loki's company. Maybe it was for the best that he hear it now when he was so incapacitated? Now that it was said it was too late to worry about what Thor might think of the situation. Malcolm had a poor track record for caring about the opinions of others, even if they might be gods.

The way his mind wanders is cut short by the grip on his hand. It's near painful, though he doesn't wince or show it. Panic rising so quickly around Ian sends him into his own jittery spiral. Death followed that high pitched voice one too many times in his recent past. Anxiety causes a barely perceptible trembling in his hand that is folded in Loki's. A panic attack was the last thing this situation needed.

"Don't worry about it now." Ian isn't sure how to soothe panic, after all he's a disaster with his own on most days. He hazards a glance at Thor before he shifts, rather precariously, to get closer to Loki on the bed. Irritation with his brace doesn't help the panic. One hand still in Loki's he places the other lightly on his chest. Of all the things Ian remembered helping with his own spirals, contact and people talking to him had been most beneficial. "We can talk about this some other time."

He's not sure what Loki expects him to say but he sees the pleading gaze, keeps his eyes fixed on Loki's with confusion in his expression. Ian couldn't help feeling a little out of place, or out of the loop concerning the topics.

[pirateangelbaby]

Something's set Loki off, Thor can tell, even before the panicked rambling begins. A reminder of something horrible, made suddenly real and present in the moment, even though it is nothing but shadows and memory. His concern only skyrockets when his brother grabs hold of him and begins babbling, and the words are no more alarming than the way that Loki is speaking.

It's not quite the same as the panic that sometimes sets its barbed hooks into Thor, stealing away his breath and words in equal measure, a crushing weight that makes him feel as though he may die at any moment. But something about it seems similar enough that before he is conscious of the decision to, Thor is already holding even more tightly to Loki's hand, the other reaching up to soothe that wild dark hair back from his brother's face as their mother did when they were still boys. "Shh, shh, it's all right. Just breathe, Loki."

He's not quite sure what is going on either, but whatever lies his brother is trying to frantically spin, they're not more important than this horrible distress, nor his guilt at unintentionally provoking it. He should have known better. Even now, Thor has a hard time just hearing the Mad Titan's name, particularly when he is not prepared for it. What must it be like for Loki? "We've got you. Just breathe. In and out. That's it."

[coldsong]

He's listening, dimly, to Ian's wry comment about Loki keeping him company while the children run and play. That could be arranged. It could be cozy, sitting with hot coffee and letting the children run amok in the snow. Maybe in Asvera. He could ask Thor about that; he's right here...

Unfortunately his own alarm disrupts that more pleasant train of thought, and all he can think is that if they tell Thor how bad the situation was based on Ian's calculations, how close they came to losing literally everything, he'll break, no matter that the disaster is averted in his world. And in Loki's world, there is still much to be done, and a greater chance of failure than success.

We can talk about this some other time, Ian says, and that's more or less the kind of help Loki was actually looking for. Steering away from the lethal topic that he thinks they've strayed onto. He's got no perspective right now; that's the source of the panic. A stray word, the wrong phrase, and that which he's tried to hard to hide, he fears, could be brought to light in a millisecond. It's not really giving Ian due credit for sensitivity, though, to worry about him giving things away, and Loki will realize that later.

At the moment, the tone in the human's voice, the movement closer to him, the pressure of his hand on his chest, speak clearer than words.

In almost the same time, Thor, too, is coming closer and smoothing his hair back and something in Loki's brain clicks back into place from where it had come dislocated. We've got you. For a split second he looks spectacularly confused, from one to the other, but then, obediently, he breathes, eyes falling shut. And he can hear the rain on the roof, the sound of their breath and their heartbeats, the faint music coming from the childrens' room ("'Well he don't know Nellie like I do!' said the saucy little bird on Nellie's hat.").

"Oh, Norns," he murmurs. "I'm tired. I'm so tired."

The panic is fading fast, though. He can do nothing but trust the both of them, anyway, especially since he's not sure he can trust himself. And so he does, consciously putting himself in their hands. After a few breaths, he starts to uncurl, muscles relaxing, heart slowing to a normal pace. The grip he had on them eases, and he puts his hand over Ian's hand on his chest.

There are several moments of quiet, interspersed with a flicker of green seidr coming and going in the tiny space between Loki's cheekbones and his lowered eyelashes. "I thought I was doing all right," he says at length. "But then I saw myself in the mirror, hurting Sigrid."

"I've seen such awful things. I've done awful things. Just when I think I've found a way back to myself, another shoe drops and everything falls apart again. I know...I know what I am. I don't know who. How do I know if I'm looking at an echo of what was done to me, or if I'm looking at something I might do?"


((Just as a matter of curiosity, this is what the children are watching.))

[malcolmeffect]

"Then rest." Ian comments. "I..." his eyes shift over to Thor before coming back to Loki. "We'll uh be here to watch."

How many people had watched over Malcolm since the island? He couldn't remember but if memory served it was everyone he knew at some point or another. The revelation of what he had seen in his mind draws a long sigh from Ian. Waking terrors were a horrible thing. Sympathy and understanding was all the human had for the god and that came through in touch and expression.

"I..uh.. ask myself these questions all the time." It wasn't Ian's way to expose his mental state or vulnerability, especially with a stranger in the room, but this was for Loki's benefit alone. Thor could think what he wanted, if it became something negative it would not be the first or last time it happened in Malcolm's life.

[pirateangelbaby]

This would be so much easier if they were alone, Thor thinks, and yet having the human here does seem to be helping Loki get his runaway panic under control. It's absurd to be jealous over such a thing, though Thor can't exactly help how he feels, but Ian's presence is grudgingly accepted for the good he's doing here. Thor spares him only a small glance, most of his attention focused on his brother, giving his hand a squeeze of reassurance.

"It's okay," he says quietly, worry in his eye, his own fears and anxieties shoved aside for Loki's sake. It's his turn to be the strong one, the shoulder his brother needs to lean on, finally rallied enough to bear the weight for a time. "We've got you. You're safe here."

Vaguely, he gets the impression that Ian is not quite in his element here, missing context perhaps despite whatever Loki has told him. Thor does not entirely understand either, because he knows that there are things that Loki has not shared with him, only hinted at through words or actions. It may even be so that Loki does not have the words to speak of any of it, his silvered tongue no match for the near-eldritch ways a mind can twist in on itself in defiance of all description or explanation, unmoored from any sense of reality. And truthfully, Thor is afraid to understand what abyss his brother has gazed into, to truly grasp the horrors that live not in imagined dreams but agonizing memory. His own are nightmare enough.

But even if he does not know the exact shape of Loki's dread, he knows enough, and understands too well how this sort of madness can break even the strongest man. Even gods.

Thor, too, is reluctant to expose any weakness on his part in front of a stranger. His own struggles are public knowledge in Asvera, and it's quite possible that the Midgardian gossip channels have picked up on it by now, but it is a very different thing to speak of it himself in front of someone he doesn't know. And yet Thor's pride has been bruised enough that it does not sting so much more to admit to such things if his brother may benefit from the sharing. "I don't know either," he admits, tucking a strand of black hair behind Loki's ear, though it needs no smoothing. "No one... no one can tell you who you are. I'm learning that every day. But you need not do it alone."

[coldsong]

"You do?" Ian is the first to respond verbally to his fears, and Loki's gaze flits over to settle on him. He's genuinely surprised to hear this, but maybe he shouldn't be. He's caught subtle glimpses of rage buried deep in the man's heart. Wounds beget wounds.

He wants to ask more, but he's equally conscious of Thor's protective presence and stolid reassurance, and that neither of them really needs to pour out their secrets in front of a man they've just met. He wants them both right where they are, but he also wants the freedom to talk with them each freely alone. How frustrating!

Well. Not so frustrating that his weariness and their gentle touches can't combine to wash the flicker of discontentment away. He manages a wry smile and tells Ian: "I'm sure you haven't actually killed as many people as I have. I'd bet money on it."

It's a weird sort of joke, but if Loki's getting any semblance of humor back, that's an improvement.

His eyes flutter closed when Thor strokes that stray lock of his hair, battle-calloused fingers that he fancies still smell faintly of the greenhouse. Loki lets out a long, quiet sigh, sinking into the blankets as his body loses its tension, slow but sure. Words are usually his preference, but a friendly touch, he thinks, might be underrated.

"I don't always know which of my memories are real and which aren't," he admits, more for Thor's benefit than Ian's. "Sometimes I think I'll turn around and the Mind Stone will be right there talking at me all over again, and all of this will turn out to be a dream."

"Reality is weirdly malleable," he adds. "Especially here. All three of us are proof of that, with alternates and with faces shared with people we'll never meet."

He opens his eyes, brow creased, and looks from Ian to Thor and back. "If you do meet someone here who looks like you except older," he tells the human, "try to get away from him expeditiously. Or call me or...something."

He's not sure what the Grandmaster would think of Ian, except that he'd probably be curious and interested and that would be anything but safe for all concerned.

[malcolmeffect]

"Yes." Ian confirms but doesn't say more. He didn't mind talking to Loki about his darker past, but it was something he hid deep and didn't want to find its way to rumors.

"Uh.. with my own hands, no..." He gets a little self-amused chuckle from the human. There have been deaths because of him, some bore guilt from people not listening to him when they should. Others had been vicious and underhanded but not physical deaths. This was not the time for it to be talked about but the thought keeps the smile in Ian's expression.

Ian doesn't know a lot of what Loki is mentioning, but as a Chaos theorist who now knows there are many, many universes he can accept anything at this point. With enough iterations, in enough universes, the improbable should be common place. Reality had truly become malleable.

"The Grandmaster?" Ian asks, remembering when he first met Loki. Hindsight gave him a lot more insight and pushed home the idea that leaving in a hurry was for the best.

[pirateangelbaby]

It's Thor's first reflex to assure Loki that this is real, that any such fears would manifest only in hallucination or dream, and that he need not fear a sudden waking to being the Titan's thrall. But that is what a hallucination would say, wouldn't it? How can he give Loki the anchor to reality that he needs, when the falsehoods created by his own mind would be just as convincing? He can't. Thor of all people knows that words alone are not always strong enough to break through the barriers that your own mind raises, whether to your benefit or to your detriment.

All he can do is be present, solid and breathing, a listening ear to share his brother's deepest fears. And say the words anyway, as many times as Loki needs to hear it to believe it. "I'm here. I promise you, this is real. And if you find you cannot trust your own memories... ask. I will help you, if I can."

It seems such a small, paltry effort to uproot this deep-seated poison in Loki's mind. But Thor would offer anyway, even if it's all he can do.

He continues the repetitive soothing of combing through his brother's hair with careful fingers, and gives Ian a wary sort of look out of the corner of his eye. "Ruler of a planet called Sakaar, with a taste for cruelty. I was sold into servitude into his rigged gladiatorial games for a few days."

[coldsong]

Loki is dazed, still coming up from the crisis, but not so out of it as to miss that expression on Ian's face. That is very interesting, indeed. Chaos and mischief do often go hand in hand, but until now he rather assumed the man was more or less upright. Maybe not? They'll definitely need to chat later.

For now, he'll just refrain from calling attention to that, and hope Thor doesn't notice.

His brother's physical presence and soft, cajoling words are nice, and he closes his eyes again, with a fleeting smile. "Some of it should not be spoken of, especially not now...ohh, but if you have more stories about when we were boys, perhaps? I remembered the snake story, I never forgot that one, but I couldn't help smiling when you told it to Banner and Brunnhilde, because it was good to hear it confirmed."

He's quiet a moment, letting Thor explain the Grandmaster, but feels the need to add his own perspective, then: "Not cruelty. Just complete amorality. He's one of the Elders of the universe. I'm not sure he sees anyone around him as important or even immediately real, except inasmuch as they can entertain him. He told me we were all like fireflies, once. Blink, and then gone."

"I could have gotten you out of the ring entirely, you know. He liked me. Would've gone bad eventually, but I could have bought us time." But it's probably not worth arguing about, not right now.

"I made myself part of the Grandmaster's entourage," he explains to Ian. "Only cost me a little dignity. But I had it under control."

[malcolmeffect]

Ian falls into intent listening as things go beyond his knowledge. However, he is a quick learner and can start to piece things, fill in gaps, as he goes.

As the two brothers counter about the Grandmaster, Ian's expression begins to pull with worry. Not only because there was some being of questionable character with his face, but the nature of the being was too close to home. How many times had discussions passed between him, Sattler, and Grant about whether Hammond was cruel or just uncaring. It certainly wasn't on a cosmic scale but the content was entirely too close to home.

Instinctively, he starts stroking Loki's hand still in his thumb over the back. For the moment he can't say who he is trying to comfort. That point driven home when the concept of joining someone at the cost of dignity, by the sounds of it to keep an eye on them and potentially stay safe drew the parallel to even closer. A cosmic level, amoral, John Hammond running rigged gladiator games sounds like more madness than Ian can process.

He does manage a small smile and humor despite how unnerved the concept is. "Uh.. so I have an older, evil twin like a comicbook hero."

[pirateangelbaby]

“You could’ve-!” No, no, now is not the time to get upset over something done and gone more than a year ago, not when Loki is so vulnerable. Not when he needs Thor’s love, and not his ire. They’ve fought, and bickered, and gone round and round and Thor is so tired of it all. The secrets, the manipulation, the way even now perhaps Loki is trying to drive him away to protect himself, consciously or not. A younger Thor would’ve allowed himself to get upset, to unleash his hurts and grievances, never realizing just how petty and useless they were.

So he closes his eye a moment and takes a breath, before he opens it again and gently lays his palm against his brother’s cheek. “Admit it, you just wanted to see Hulk throw me across the arena for a change,” he says instead, the sides of his mouth quirking up in a little smile. As if he hadn’t also caught Loki in the act of trying to resell his own brother back into that same servitude. There is no point in bringing that up now.

He glances over at Ian, resuming the slow soothing caress of Loki’s hair and half-wishing he was in a better position to braid it, as their mother used to do for them. “Something like that. If you never meet him, consider yourself lucky.” Idly he wonders if the Grandmaster might take a stronger interest in someone sharing his face, and finds that he pities Ian if that were to ever happen. Finding oneself under such a being’s scrutiny is someplace no one should have to be, especially with any reason for him to take a special notice of them.

[coldsong]

Loki genuinely wasn't expecting a vehement response from Thor. Perhaps the things that have actually hurt his brother and the things Loki assumes have hurt his brother are not one and the same. From his perspective, he offered to help him as soon as he could, and withdrew when Thor refused to listen. As far as reselling him into servitude, well, Loki has always been willing to do whatever must be done as a means to an end, and was relatively convinced Thor would die fighting Hela, let alone Thanos, therefore betraying him was saving his life. Was it solid logic? Maybe sort of. Was it manipulative and morally questionable? Absolutely. It was Loki.

From Thor's perspective, he realizes suddenly, he threw him under the bus repeatedly, as he has done so often in the past.

Clearly they have a lot to hash out here, still; Loki thought that work was mostly done, the more fool he, and the flicker of anger in Thor's voice prompts a flash of bewilderment across his face, tinged with fear, not unlike the look he had when they fought on the transport on the way to Svartalfheim.

The fear fades when Thor touches his face, although the confusion lingers. He manages a faint laugh at the joke, aware that's what it is, although he's not sure even now the Hulk is all that funny. "No, I didn't know it was him until he stepped out into the arena," he says. "But I admit I did enjoy it a little."

"Ancient," he says to Ian, curling his fingers around his carefully. "Ageless, unkillable, evil twin. You're definitely the good twin. I wouldn't let the Grandmaster anywhere near my children."

"Thor, I think you'll find Ian is a better man than I am. Maybe just as abrasive, but better." He gives his brother a smile just weak and shaky enough to suggest it's in part an apology.

[malcolmeffect]

Ian nods to Thor's warning. He's out of his league talking about infinite beings. He's only human, and until recently hadn't met anything beyond mortal. The comment that he is the good twin does get a laugh from Ian due to his reputation in his own realm.

He's still sorting through the information he's getting from the two. It is fragmented with so much shared history that it is hard to get any connection between comments. What little he knows of their past, He can imagine that some of the darkness Loki faces is related to this being. Both of them, despite differing opinions neither speaks of anything positive.

His hand tightens on Loki's as his fingers curl. Then the self-deprecating, snorting laugh comes. "Uh.. setting the bar low?"

Ian's not serious, and is honestly flattered to be called a good man. He can't remember anyone ever stringing those words together to describe him, and mean it.

[pirateangelbaby]

The anger is short-lived, at least, a flash of lightning that is there for a moment and gone the next. Whatever happened, whatever Loki did or could've done, there's nothing that can be done to change any of it. If only Loki did not have such terrible timing when it comes to revealing such things, sometimes.

There's concern and a sort of fond, brotherly exasperation in Thor's eye when he looks down at his brother, and shakes his head slightly when he sees that confusion still lingering in Loki's gaze. As far as unexpected revelations go, this one is perhaps one of the easiest for Thor to dismiss. "Reminds me of the first time I fought a bilgesnipe. Do you remember?" He turns slightly toward Ian, now, as if telling the story for his benefit, as if he did not need to worry that Loki may genuinely not recall the incident. "They're these huge, brutish beasts, kind of a pest on Vanaheim. They'll trample your crops and half the village without even knowing you're there. We were... six hundred or so, I think?" He glances to Loki as if asking for him to confirm the tale, but really watching to see if this is one of the memories his brother can trust. It seems foolish perhaps to protect Loki's pride at this stage, but the least he can do is afford his brother some of his dignity in the face of this catastrophic meltdown. A safe harbor of sorts, sheltered in his older brother's tales of more innocent days.

"Anyway, we heard there was a particularly ornery bull terrorizing a farm and I got it into my head that we should go hunt it to save the fields, be a hero, that sort of thing. It wasn't too hard to follow its tracks, but when we found it, it wasn't very happy to see us. I tried charging it head-on and it flung me into a pond with its antlers. Lost my sword, took me several minutes to swim back to shore. By then it'd chased Loki up a tree, and I had to resort to throwing rocks to get its attention, only to realize I had no weapon. If not for so many trees in the way I don't think I would've been able to outrun it long enough to hide. Got out of it with a broken arm and bruised pride on my part, plus Father was furious."

[coldsong]

Loki's weak smile softens into something more genuine as he looks up at Ian, amused by the self-deprecation. "Remember who you're talking to, friend. I can only set the bar as high as I can reach, myself."

He looks back to Thor and calms at the shake of his head. No, there is definitely more to be discussed here, and Thor may have misunderstood Loki's comment, but he's right. This isn't the best time for either of them to go in-depth with respect to past injuries.

For a moment, Loki is caught between delighted laughter at the memory being recounted and worry that the idea of battling dangerous beasts will tread too hard on Ian's traumas. Perhaps it will help that Thor hasn't described them as scaly? His hand squeezes the man's gently, thumb stroking across his knuckles.

"I remember," he tells Thor, "but clearly you have forgotten some details, including why I ended up in that tree in the first place. My idea was to trap it, which would have been easy enough either in a pit or by getting its antlers tangled in the trees. I was sure the thing must have been in a late musth, so I figured we could lure it with the right scent. I bought half a waterskin of female bilgesnipe urine from a hunter, and I was looking for a place we could lure and trap it, but you had to go and charge it like the great oaf you were, as soon as we spotted it."

"And then," he looks at Ian, "he goes and gets himself dropped into the pond while I have the bilgesnipe scent more or less in my pocket, so of course the damn thing comes right for me. It did not want to fling me anywhere, I can promise you that. Thank the Norns I'm a good climber."

"So, here I am clinging to a tree limb with a bottle of bilgesnipe piss in my pocket, and that is the time Thor decides to use ranged weaponry rather than rushing in like normal. I should have just thrown the waterskin at him."

[malcolmeffect]

Loki is right to worry, though Ian is able to keep a poker face as the subject comes up. Though, it's when the topic of being thrown comes up that the fingers holding on to Loki's hand tremble and the human's palms start to sweat.

He listens to the story with interest but it does bring up too many memories. They keep bringing up being thrown and he starts to shift, the weight of his leg brace becoming uncomfortable as thoughts of the Rex return, Grant's stories about the kids in the tree. It's enough that Ian has to stare pointed and focused on Loki's face to keep panic down. Obviously, they didn't suffer the same effects from the encounter.

He does laugh at the image of some raging deer-like thing; Ian is imagining something like the cross between a moose and a bison at this point; treeing Loki over a pocket full of urine. Even so the laugh is nervous, revealing the discomfort. Another laugh comes but more to dispel his anxiety than to be humorous. "I've.. uh been thrown. I don't recommend it."

[pirateangelbaby]

The way that Thor tells the tale is like an amusing anecdote, something you might've even laughed about at the time, rather than something traumatic or frightening. For a few moments, he even gets caught up in both the telling and in hearing Loki's rebuttal, some of the tension still holding tight around his heart loosening at hearing that this is one story of misadventure that his brother remembers quite clearly.

"It's not my fault it saw us so soon," he says with a deliberately casual shrug, knowing full well that it actually was, tromping through the brush in the beast's wake. But he'd been impatient and eager for glory, and utterly overconfident that brute force would be enough to take down the creature without tricking it into a trap. But then he'd been the only one actually injured by his misstep, so clearly he fairly paid the price for his error, right?

But something about it is clearly bothering Ian, though Thor cannot even begin to guess at why. He doesn't notice at first, too focused on Loki's reaction to see it, an old fear creeping up quietly until suddenly it's there and has been all along. The human is handling it pretty well, whatever it is, though Thor can't help but feel a little guilty for causing it in the first place. However that happened. Thor has learned the hard way that sometimes fear can spring forth from the most innocent of sensations, and he wishes that on no one.

Perhaps the aftermath might not be so bad? "I had to muck out the royal stables for half a year," he laments, but lightly so.

[coldsong]

Loki holds Ian's hand firmly through the tale, stroking the backs of his fingers. Calling a halt would, he assumes, make for an awkward moment for Thor and probably not help the backsliding into darkness for Ian, and so he doesn't interrupt the flow of the telling. Just remains attentive and prepared to interrupt if it becomes dire.

It's also, in its way, a pleasant memory for him. He was furious at the time, but Thor was the one who got more severely punished for it, so Loki got over it quickly. Now it just seems hilarious, boyhood antics worth remembering.

"Mother had me tending the garden for the same length of time, as I recall," he tells Thor with a smirk. "Spreading what you were shoveling out, to fertilize the plants. I got the better side of that, but I think the message to get our shit together was quite pointed and well-designed."

Hm. There are a lot of scatological elements to this story.

"Mother always said we were difficult children to raise, because you couldn't just tell us not to do something. We both took it as a personal challenge. You had to let us foul up and discover the consequences on our own."

He's still a little shaky, but the reminiscence seems to have him mostly stabilized, enough so that he's watching both their moods now. The whisper of the Mind Stone, or the echo thereof, is quiet now. "No," he says, turning his head toward Ian and meeting his gaze gently. "Being flung about is never fun."

It's almost tolerable when doing 'Get Help', but only because it's Thor doing it, and he gets to complain about it loudly before and after. Upon reflection, that's probably why Thor thought Loki enjoyed it. Because he got to kick up a fuss about it.

"You, of course, were a perfect angel as a child, I suppose," he squeezes Ian's hand softly. "All equations and quiet research."

No, he doesn't truly believe that, but it's an opening. So's this: "But don't tell me Kelly's never gotten herself in a fix. She's a bold little one."

[malcolmeffect]

It takes time for Ian to force his focus away from his own memories and onto the story being told. It's not easy, it never is, but the small offers of comfort help bridge the gap enough to bring his thoughts away from the rex.

Loki does manage to pull a muffled snort of a laugh from Ian. "Ah.. well that is why Kelly likes you so much. She does the same." He gave up telling Kelly not to do things at a very young age and started focusing on only voicing the effect just because of this reason.

However, the talk of his childhood fades any humor he had found. His lips pull tight as he fights the instinct to scowl. Memories of his father were not pleasant despite caring for the man in some odd way. Ian's interests were always at odds with what his father demanded and they rarely got along. He's glad the conversation immediately turned to Kelly. " She's a thinker more than a doer.. uh.. she'll con you out of everything if you aren't careful with your words."