The Wild, Wild Sea (Ship of Nails, part 5)

[coldsong]

I saw it again this evening
Black sail in a pale yellow sky
And just as before in a moment
It was gone where the grey gulls fly.

If it happens again I shall worry
That only a strange ship could fly
And my sanity scans the horizon
In the light of the darkening sky.

Loki leaves The Scarlet Hooyim early, before crowds gather, with Eindrid in his arms. He’s had a glass of wine, far from enough to affect his senses, but it’s relaxed him and left him contemplative. He takes the long way around the outskirts of the plaza, avoiding the crowds, humming some of the shanties they overheard in the tavern just to entertain the toddler. Not that Eindrid is fussy; he’s far more buzzed on fruit juice and sea songs than most of the tavern patrons can get on liquor, and he babbles and signs about fish and boats as they go.



It’s dusk, the sun dipping down, but there’s still light lingering in the sky. It’s one of those cloudless Winter sunsets that begin with orange and yellow at the horizon, melting into darkness overhead as if Night were a big, flat palm pressing down on the world. Loki stops at the top of the hilly path that winds down toward their cottage. It isn’t a great altitude, but the view of the meadow beyond is extensive. For a moment, he thinks he sees a big, dark shape at the horizon, gliding over the long grass like a ship on the waves.

“Ein, look!” He says, nodding toward it, because honestly there are stranger things in the Nexus than an inexplicable sailboat caught by the wind. But the toddler follows his gaze and quiets, confused.

Whatever it was Loki thought he saw is gone. But the lights are coming on in the cottage below, and he seizes upon that, recovering himself. “They’re waiting for us,” he says, and kisses the boy’s head, noting how his face is gilded by the waning light. “Sailors have to come back to port some time, hmm?”

Eindrid giggles and gives Loki a light shove--already starting to protest against kisses, the precocious bratling--and starts singing loudly as they make their way down the path to their door.

---

He falls asleep early, almost as soon as the children have been tucked in, which is an unusual mercy. The wine, perhaps, or the walk in the cool evening air. Either way, he is only half-aware he is dreaming when he hears the sound of waves washing up against his window, a sea that isn’t there in the waking world intruding upon the domesticity he’s built around him. In the dream, Loki rises and presses palms against the window, and finds it so cold it almost sears away his Aesir illusion. The water looks like moving, sapphire-blue glass, and when foam licks the windowpanes it leaves a trail of glittering frost behind it.

“We need to leave,” he calls to the children, “everyone put on your coats and boots.” Because even in a dream concern for his charges wins out over curiosity.

But no one answers him, and when he scrambles out of bed and hastens to their rooms, he finds them empty. No children, no Mrs. Hedgeworthy.

They left without me, he thinks, torn between relief and aching loneliness.

When he returns to his room to look out the window once more, the water has risen to cover the house, blue deepening to the color of wine.

Methodically, he begins to strip off his nightclothes, because the water is going to come in before long, and when it does it will be so cold, and so heavy, his Jotun form has the best chance of survival. He’s still taking off his pajama bottoms when the walls start to crack and leak inky fluid. Unlike the glass-clear water through the window, this is cloudy, like old blood, but it has no foul scent, only the chilly smell of salt-spray.

When the tension breaks, it comes through in a burst, and he can see almost nothing, the fragments of the cottage tumbling around him in a vortex of icy water, spinning and buffeting him. It’s dark, and debris glances off his body no matter which way he turns. Sheets and fabric tangle his limbs, pulling them tight against his body. His eyes burn, stung by the fine bits that cloud the water. Something winds around his neck and he panics, entire body jolting and thrashing.

Drowning holds less fear for him than choking.

The dark water around him slowly goes white and stills, and he realizes that now it’s ice. He’s encased in it, frozen and bound and slowly being throttled. It’s a dream, he tells himself. A dream, a dream, only a dream, and he wills himself to wake, to take control.

There’s a thunderous crack overhead, and the ice around him quivers. His first thought is of Thor, hammering on his frozen prison to help him, but when a second blow rings out, he sees the point of a spear pierce through, dangerously close to his chest. When it’s wrenched free, the ice crumbles, collapsing and spilling him onto his back, on an expanse of solid wooden planks.

“Breathe,” says a familiar voice, one both loved and loathed. “You are not yet dead, my son.”

It’s Odin, standing over him. One hand is occupied by Gungnir, but the other he holds out in an offer to help Loki up.

Loki stares up at his adopted--well, no, his real father, when it comes down to it, as tempestuous and damaged and unhealthy as their relationship may have been. This is the man who taught him half of what he knows, and all of his ruthless cunning.

“Is this a dream?” He asks, eyes narrowed, suspicious at once, and moves away rather than take the proffered hand, slipping on the ice as he stands.

“Where do dreams come from?” Odin asks, with that smug knowing smile that Loki used to hate until he saw it in the mirror.

“Even in death you are insufferable,” Loki says, finally stabilizing himself on his feet. “And I do not forgive you--but I love you, too.”

The way he says it is loaded with quiet defiance, and the fact that Odin looks stunned, maybe even touched, by the words is both satisfying and telling. No, Loki would not have dreamed the Old Man reacting like this. Not on his own.

“You’ve grown,” Odin says quietly. “And I missed it.”

“Much of what I hate in myself, I learned from you,” Loki tells him. “But it’s made me strong. And I know now that we are the same.”

He becomes aware that he is still in his Jotun form, cobalt skin coated with ice, eyes red, wet black hair freezing in twisted locks, and some of his bravado fades. He starts to pull up his illusion, call his armor, but Odin steps forward and claps a too-warm hand on his shoulder. “No. This is the son I plucked out of Jotunheim.”

The Frost Giant you thought to tame to your leash, Loki thinks, the political pawn you developed unwanted feelings toward and tried to push away. And he doesn’t say it, knowing he’s right, but also knowing this is not a time to rehash the past, and that he is loved in spite of all this. But the truth, like lies, changes nothing here.

He puts his hand over Odin’s and leaves it there. “Why are you here?”

The Old Man smiles, and Loki sees worlds of wisdom and folly in the twinkle of his one eye. “Look up,” he says. “Look above.”

He does. Over their heads stretch canvas sails, flapping in a silent wind, glinting with all the translucent colors of the Bifrost. The boards beneath his feet are the deck of a ship, Loki realizes. But above the billowed cosmic sails he can see a sky dark and turbid with dust.

“Could you have stopped it?” Loki asks the barbed question that’s been digging hooks into his soul since Odin’s death. “If you had lived?”

“My time was already running short by the time of Thor’s...attempted coronation.”

“You knew he was not ready.”

“I hoped the three of us could steady him.”

“Perhaps we could have,” Loki says. “At least for a time. And bound him into the role we called a birthright.”

“It’s irrelevant now.”

“It’s not.” Loki shakes his head. “Not to Thor. That’s the thing we forget, you and I, when we justify our means to an end. The destruction wreaked on the way will linger. But I think Thor is not what you came to me to discuss, though perhaps he should be.”

Odin gives Loki that long, thoughtful, heart-touched look again. “I have many regrets,” he says after a moment. “I would give you one fewer.”

“You mean for me to go back and fight.” Loki feels himself tense up, fear creeping into his spine.

“No,” Odin says, “You mean to go back and fight. You always have, though you have been distracted by many things. I only wish to show you a door.”

Loki’s lips curl into a defensive snarl, searching for words to deny him, but the ship bucks in the wind, and there’s a sound of ropes straining to hold the canvas. “You should take in the sails,” he tells Odin. “The wind is too strong.”

“The sails will simply need to be stronger,” he answers.

The hand that whirls the water in the pool
Stirs the quicksand; that ropes the blowing wind
Hauls my shroud sail.
And I am dumb to tell the hanging man
How of my clay is made the hangman's lime.

The next few moments go by so quickly, a haze of motion. A rope snaps, a sail tears, and Loki rushes to try pulling it in. The ship wheels in the wind and dust rains down on them, stinging his eyes, making Odin cough and sputter in the maelstrom. But the sails simply must be stronger, and he reaches up with his magic, trying to mend, to reinforce the rent canvas.

It’s too late. Water crashes over the bow, the ship shuddering as it travels backwards to the stern, and there’s a horrific splintering sound as the hull itself starts to break apart.

“Odin! Father!” Loki shouts, looking frantically for the dream-figure, not sure whether he’s crying for help or seeking to help him.

He spies him clinging to the wheel, trying to steady it though there is no point with the ship already breaking up and sinking. Loki lets go of the sail and struggles across the icy deck toward him.

The ship pitches again, waves looming up to swallow it, and Loki grabs Odin’s arm as they both tumble. And then they’re in the water, both sinking into abyssal blue, and Odin grips his arm in return and smiles.

“Let go, Loki,” he says. “You’re strong enough.”

He’s not, though. He knows he is not, and he knows his priorities never were and never will be Odin’s, and there is no reason he should trust the judgment of a dead man who proved to be so flawed when he lived...but he looks into the his father’s eye and sees the same sunny-sky shade of blue as Thor’s. That’s enough for him to try just once more.

He lets go.

Odin sinks into the dark ocean, and, buoyed up by some invisible strength, Loki soars skyward.

---

He wakes, gasping and sweat-drenched, and Sigrid is at the door to his room, looking worried.

“You were talking in your sleep,” she says softly. “Are you okay?”

He blinks muzzily at her for a moment, then sits up. “...I saw my father.”

“Oh,” she seems reassured at once. “That happens to me when I sleep sometimes, too. And my mother. Is he okay?”

Loki is silent for a long moment, trying to make sense of the dream, what it may have meant, what Odin might have been trying to tell him. He thinks of the sea. And he thinks of the Winter, when Sif came up out of the ocean's ice at the edge of the Nexus.

There’s a door, he realizes. A portal he might yet be able to pass through, without a flesh-and-blood proxy to carry his spirit. Without crossing through Hel. He breaks into a bittersweet laugh and holds out his arms for his daughter.

“You know,” he says softly. “I think he is. I think he’s just fine.”


((Musical inspiration))

Comments

[coldsong]

The dream leaves Loki with a sense of undeniable urgency, a kind of thrumming anxiety in the pit of his belly. He's frantic the next morning, tidying, cooking for the children, making plans, packing little bags for each of them. They will have to go to Asvera to stay with Thor--or Solvi, if Thor cannot take them, but Loki thinks he will. There's no shortage of babysitters in the Nexus--Harley, Ian, probably Amelia or Adia or Prometheus would take turns if needed--but Thor is their uncle, so he has first dibs. Loki will send them with a list of instructions, a calendar that shows all their appointments for the rest of the month, a list of the aforementioned potential babysitters, and Mrs. Hedgeworthy, who does not want to stay outside the Nexus overnight, but who will willingly commute during the day for a little extra pay.

"I need to go to sea," he tells the children gently, when it comes time to explain to them what's happening. "And it must be soon. I'm afraid if I wait until Spring, it will be too late."

Why is the Winter essential in this? Perhaps because he's a Jotun, perhaps because he is dead. Either way, he feels as if time is slipping away from him fast.

He sends out several messages over the course of the day, asking people to meet him, explaining he has something important that must be done.

Thor gets the first, Harley gets the second, both pared-down, calm requests to meet him in a place of their choosing. Ian next, with a bit more explanation, as well as Thor's PINpoint information and Mrs. Hedgeworthy's. These are the people he will entrust with his children and his secrets.

The Indoraptor is next: Good morning. I have a favor to ask, Prince to Prince. Where can I find you?

The alternate Loki gets a face-to-face visit at the Viper's Pit. "There's no time for a pre-crisis wake," he tells him softly, "but I have a better chance of surviving this than you did, so that should be all right. Time to go face the music."

While he's at the bar, he opens up a tab for Reynard North, "with Loptr's compliments and hopes for an endurable season". He does the same at three other bars in the area, hoping the Spirit will find them and manage not to drink himself to death. Hazel may not thank him, but he has no other kindness to offer the man.

And last, he sends a formal(ish) letter to the manor where Runa's family, with the backing of the Durants, is still caring for some of the refugees of Asgard:

May this letter finds you and yours well. Once again, please accept the compliments and gratitude of the Aesir for your care for our children.

Due to circumstances not previously foreseen in detail, I am compelled to return to my dimension of origin on an errand, which may result in my absence for an extended period of time. It is my hope that this will not be a permanent absence, but as I have been wrong about such things before, this note is to inform you that should I not return, I pass along the privileges and obligations of our previous contract to my brother, Thor Odinson, King of Asgard.

Should supplies or emergency care and/or protection be required, and Thor found to be unavailable, notice should be directed toward Harley Quinn, whose PINpoint number is enclosed. Failing that, my alternate, Loki Laufeyson, who runs the Viper's Pit, is my appointed designee.

Norns willing, I will return soon. Thank you, once again, for all you have done.

Regards,
Loki

[hybriddino]

It's been a while since the Prince has heard from Loki, and the message he receives is of interest to him.

It works by me. The best place to meet me would be in my cave in the Wilds. My mother and Blue are out hunting, so it should be okay to talk there. Is something going on in your world again?

He doesn't know the story of Thanos, but he knows something has happened in Loki's home world, something big. He felt it in both Loki himself and in Thor. There's someone who disappeared and he never saw again. Change is coming, and the Prince doesn't know what it's going to be. But his concern for Loki and the children is real and true.

[coldsong]

Loki's not sure he remembers hearing about the Indoraptor's mother, but that's a detail he can't afford to ask more about right now.

I will be there shortly. And...yes. There's always something going on, isn't there, for good or ill.

He's there in only a few minutes, having ridden the wind. He lands outside the cave, feeling it's proper protocol to not enter without being invited, as if it's a house. "Hello?"

[hybriddino]

The Indoraptor comes out, not accompanied by anybody. Blue and the others are out hunting, leaving him to watch over the cave alone. He lumbers to meet Loki, sitting on his scaly haunches.

Hello! I got your message. What is going on? I hope you and the children are okay.

The dinosaur's grown to care about the Asgardian children in his time as their bookmobile, and his animal instinct tells him they are involved somehow. That, and whatever's going on it's important.

[coldsong]

Loki looks tired, actually, and has a subtle scent of fear-sweat clinging to him, but he has a smile for the Indoraptor, too, and even offers an arm clasp, fearless of the claws.

"The children are well," he says, dodging the question about his own state of health, "and they ask after you. Agnarr keeps trying to draw you, but he's never satisfied with the results."

"I came for two reasons. I am...returning to my world shortly, on an errand. It will be...dangerous, so the children will not be going with me. They are going to Asvera to live with Thor until I return. If you would be willing to visit them there, I know they would be happy to see you, and Thor would welcome you."

"The other request I have is much more personal, and I want to preface it by promising that I understand how much I'm asking. It's for a friend."

[hybriddino]

The Indoraptor picks up the scent of fear - his sense of smell is far stronger than a human being's. He wonders what would frighten a god.

You're returning to your world?Thanos has no meaning for him yet. I wish you safe travels and good hunting, Loki.

He figures the situation with the Baroness is also in hand, or at least Loki trusts the tense truce between the Guardians and the Fallen not to turn into a war in his absence. He hopes for peace, himself. He bears no ill will towards either side, and the things they fought about are too abstract for him to understand.

I am happy to visit the children there, yes. The hybrid raises his scaly head in an answer. He's proud to be of service to Asgard, even if he's not of Thor and Loki's world. He considers himself their friend and ally. What is your friend's request? I'm happy to help as much as I can.

[coldsong]

The Fallen have been quiet, and everyone has kept to the truce so far. Loki has to hope they continue to behave themselves without him there to...really do almost nothing but carry messages to and fro on rare occasions. Even if he were more active in maintaining the peace, he would still have to go now, and do what he could for his world. One simply doesn't receive prophetic dreams from one's dead father every day.

"I have a fight to finish," he says with a grim little nod. "Thank you. Your well-wishes carry more weight than you may know."

"I don't know if you've met Ian Malcolm. If you have, he may have been less than friendly, though I'm sure it was nothing personal. Please understand I tell you this in the strictest of confidence."

"He was injured by a dinosaur. A tyrannosaur. And bitten by several smaller ones while he was unconscious. Because they were genetically engineered, creatures not precisely native to his time and his world, the injuries aren't healing well. There's an infection that human medicine cannot resolve, and he is in constant pain."

"My hope is that what humans can't fix, the Aesir can. Fonn is willing to work on a cure, but they have little to go on. If you could allow her to take a few small samples--blood, skin, saliva--it would help."

He meets Indo's eyes seriously. "I know you were raised in captivity and you've probably been poked and prodded by purported doctors more than any living thing ought to be. I understand this is...a lot. And I promise you, if you agree, the samples you give will be destroyed after study and will not be permitted to fall into the wrong hands."

[sweetcandygirl]

Harley was upside down in a silk cocoon when her phone alerted her to the text message. She finished her warm-up, as she had been practicing for a more intense performance. And glanced at her phone.

There was not a lot of information to make any assumptions. Harley didn't know what exactly was going on, since most texts from Loki had been short and simple recently. She was worried, and just wanted to let him know that she was there for him.

So she changed into a simple spring outfit and headed out to the Nexus.

She texted him back. Viper's Pit? I will be by the bar

And put on her rollerskates to head towards the place she had chosen. It wouldn't take her long to get there. And so she would sit and wait for Loki.

[coldsong]

Ten minutes, dearest. I'll be there.

Oh, good, and as soon as that text is sent he has an immediate attack of anxiety. What does that mean? Granted he and Harley have been...giving one another some space, and maybe they should have been holding on closer rather than that they've been doing, but it's not as though they've had a fight. So why is he on edge?

In the end, he takes a swallow of brandy before going to the bar.

When he arrives, he studies her for a moment from the doorway and finds himself recalling how close he came to losing her entirely. That explains the mild panic, he tells himself wryly, takes a breath, and comes to sit next to her, reaching out his hands for hers. "Kjæreste...hello."

And then the words just tumble right out in spite of the timing being questionable, in spite of it not being remotely what he needed to talk to her about: "I love you."

The look of mild surprise on his face at what he's just blurted out may be gratifying, or just confusing.

[sweetcandygirl]

Giving Loki space was one of the hardest things Harley had to do, in the long time. But considering the fact that they both were broken... it was for the best. She would have been no help to him. And she was not in the right mindset to be helped by anyone. She had to fight her own demons. And put her own past to rest.

Seeing him now is like seeing the first beams of sunlight in the early mornings of spring, after months of dark, depressing summer. It is like the sweet taste of a piece of bubblegum being popped into her mouth. She feels like she can breath again, after holding her breath. She feels like she can smile for real again, after wearing a false smile for so many.

And she gladly takes his hands, when he reaches out to her. There is nothing better in her life than this moment, of being his Kjæreste. And she feels safe.

What he says next is completely out of left field for her. All her life, Harley has waited for someone to say 'I Love You' to her. To accept her. To embrace her. To accept her as who she is. And even with how deep her connection and bond has gotten with Loki -- still she did not expect these words.

These words that make her heart flutter. That make her tear up, in worry and anxiety and joy and love. These words that mean so much, and have come as a surprise for Loki himself, judging by the surprise on his face.

And there are many things Harley is wondering. The most concerning is why now? Is he sick? Is he dying? Did something happen where he must say these words now, else they may never be said again?

The space they had given each other seems like a mistake in a flash. Like Harley has missed something. Something very important.

And her eyes are wet, as she reaches forward, and pulls him in for a kiss. A kiss to reassure herself that he is not a figment of her imagination. That this is not some dream. Or hallucination. A kiss to tell him that she is here, no matter what happened, or what else he has to tell her. A long, deep passionate kiss that betrays every emotion, every inch of her heart that belongs to Loki.

"I love you too." There is confusion on her face in the moment. Worry. Concern. Not as much surprise, in the fact that she can speak what is in her heart. And she kisses him again. Trusting in whatever must be said will not break them apart.

They have come this far. They love each other. She must have faith.

[coldsong]

Harley is so strong, and she has so many layers of defense, sometimes even Loki forgets there is a wounded and sensitive woman beneath them all. The look on her face when he takes her hands--the way she lights up at the sight of him--reminds him not to take her beating heart for granted. He's worried; he's been worried. They're potentially a dangerous combination to one another, and seeing her hurt drove that point home to him in an agonizing way. He's not sure he can bear watching that, or anything like it, ever again.

But running away and hiding, that may have been a bad idea, too.

To his credit, he makes no attempt to dissemble, soften the words he's just blurted out, or take them back. He knows a lie when he speaks it and he knows a truth, too, and it was time for this one. He just wasn't aware he had it in him.

He can read her worry and confusion and it's not unfounded, but when she pulls him in for a kiss, he returns it with gentle, fierce determination. No, no, he didn't expect to come at her with that confession, but he meant it, and he wants her to know that.

When they part, he's about to speak again, but as always she gives as good as she gets, and it takes his breath away. He holds her tight, then, and...sort of wishes they'd met in a slightly less public venue, but fuck it, this is happening now. Besides, if anyone tries to catcall them, Cricket or the other Loki will kick them out on their ear.

"I'm sorry, shh, I'm sorry," he murmurs close to her ear, "I should've been there, I just...I was afraid you had died, and I couldn't handle it. That's the thing the gods fear most, you know, losing the mortals they love to the void...and there is nothing that can be done. None of us can stop Death, nor should we try."

If Thanos' disastrous attempt at righting an unbroken universe has taught anything, it's that.

"But I do. I love you, and I needed you to know that, and I'll take my chances with my heart."

[sweetcandygirl]

Harley is slightly less concerned about how public of a venue this is. For her, this little private bubble with Loki, is all that matters. So she holds him tight, half out of fear of something happening to either of them if she lets go, and the other half out of knowing they have just spoken a dangerous truth.

Harley buries her head in his shoulder, and gives a half sob when he speaks about how close she had come to dying. He was so broken because of how close it had come to her being taken away from him. And she can't imagine how damaged he would have been if Death had truly claimed her that day.

And that lifts away those parts of her that are still trying to storm into danger without a plan. Without a care.

"I missed you so much..." She admits. Softly. "But I was so scared that I had hurt you too much. Of seeing the pain in your eyes."

"And at the same time I feel that I have missed something. That the light I had in the darkness has diminished. I don't want that. I don't want to lose you. Loki."

"I want to take my chances with you."

[coldsong]

The strength of her grip on him is reassuring. He's always liked strong women; the kind who could best him physically and/or mentally. She certainly fits the bill, there. And even if they were not lovers, she's a part of his providence. The outcast, the wounded person reinventing herself with an unbreakable grasp on the core of her identity. An echo of many qualities he identifies with, a vision of many others he aspires to, when so often he cannot be certain who he is, himself.

"Hellequin," he murmurs, "My dearest. It wasn't you that hurt me."

There's no denying the affair with the Joker hit him hard, though, and that the way he's isolated himself since is a consequence. He never meant to hurt her, though. He nuzzles into the crook between her neck and shoulder, breathing in the scent of her (roses, bubble gum, blood) and marveling at the warmth of her in his arms. "I am afraid, and I think I may continue to be afraid, but I rather think that's what life is about. Risk, fear, reward."

"You're more than reward enough."

If only he could just sit here and let that be the entirety of the conversation he has to have with her. This feels delicate and new all of a sudden, for all that they've been growing slowly closer over the last year.

"I had a mental break, I think," he admits after a moment. "Hallucinations. The worst of that seems to be over. I called Thor, and my friend Ian--"

No, technically, that's not true. "Er, actually, Mrs. Hedgeworthy called Thor and Ian, knowing you were in a bad place to be bothered. I'm not sure how I'd have felt for you to see me like that. On the one hand, perhaps no one else in the world could understand so well."

[pirateangelbaby]

Though he has yet to venture out as often as he once did, it's no longer as difficult as it once was for Thor to leave Asvera for a short time, particularly as the days lengthen as the Wheel turns towards eventual spring. Nor is this the first time Loki has asked to meet, either.

But Thor also hasn't forgotten the last time he'd been summoned to Loki's aid, and how frightening it had been so see him laid so low by his own mind. This does not seem to be that, calm and innocuous, but... Thor still worries a little, as he tends to do these days. It's rather hard not to.

I'll come over. See you shortly.

It takes him a few minutes to get ready, tying his hair back in a simple ponytail and pulling on boots that have yet to be well broken-in. Stormbreaker is a familiar weight in his hand as he heads outside to summon the energies to take him between worlds, unless he hears back otherwise.

[coldsong]

...Oh. Well, he was expecting to meet him in a park or something, but this works, too. Loki shouldn't be surprised by Thor's immediate reaction and hastening to his side. After the breakdown he suffered not long ago, it's not abnormal for his big brother to be protective. Really, the wonder of it is how strange and sweet Loki finds that reaction.

He's waiting on the porch when Thor arrives, looking worn and tired but calm. There are a couple backpacks sitting in the doorway, which is a clear sign something's up. If the children are packing...

Loki stands and offers an armclasp, mixed warmth and apology in his eyes. "Thor. Can you look after the children for me for a little while? I need to return home."

Can of worms: opened.

[pirateangelbaby]

By now, Thor knows the way to Loki's home by heart; he could (and has) found his way there while so drunk he could barely stand. He's not nearly in such dire straits this time, striding across the grassy meadow of the front lawn with steady footsteps, the concern creasing his brow only deepening when he sees the backpacks and his brother next to them. It's a sight that's simultaneously relieving and worrying; there is no immediate danger but something is wrong, and Loki looks as though he needs more than simple sleep to put himself to rights.

He reaches out to accept that armclasp on autopilot, his eye searching his brother's face for some sight of what might be the matter, reassured only that he sees no sign of a breakdown like before. The words pass him by almost entirely before they seem to hook back around and sink in, perhaps the last thing he'd expected to hear, and a request that holds a wealth of implications behind it.

His hand tightens on his brother's arm, a low dread snaking its way under his ribs. "What? I-I thought... you couldn't."

No, that's not his biggest concern at the moment, but it's what manages to make it past his tongue.

[coldsong]

Despite the weariness, there is a sense of direction, action over passivity, that Loki hasn't had in months. He does always prefer to play the defensive, but when he has no endgame or goal in mind, reacting to the world around him starts to feel like endlessly running away. Now, he is not running away, but toward.

It might be a terrible idea, but it's an act of regaining control.

"I had a dream...the kind that is not really a dream," he explains. "I saw our father. I know what to do now; I can tell them what your world did, and more."

He's watching Thor's face in return, aware this is going to be beyond alarming, and he holds onto that armclasp as if concerned his brother will spin away from him and be lost if he does not. "I need to do this."

[pirateangelbaby]

It's that intent that Thor fears most. A determination to act, to push forward, grasping for any last shred of hope no matter how slim. It's what he'd seen in the mirror when the Avengers had finally come to his door, asking for his help in a mad scheme that had saved the universe and nearly destroyed it, and had cost the lives of three friends and heroes.

But how long are the odds that such a feat could be pulled off again, when all the worlds had come to the very brink? None of them had truly understood the danger they'd faced that day, not until the Avengers complex had blown apart around them and unleashed a nightmare as terrible as the one they'd survived six months before.

And Loki has already died at Thanos' hands once before.

Maybe it's unfair of him, when he'd only sent his brother a message to serve as his goodbye, should the worst come to pass. Loki has done him the courtesy of breaking this news face to face, putting his own decision to shame. But panic heeds no common sense, and Thor holds on all the tighter as if he could stop his brother from slipping away like water from his hands. "Don't go," he pleads, a chill that has nothing to do with winter shivering in his bones. "Please. Maybe it was just a dream?"

It's a weak excuse, and he knows it as well as Loki does. But he cannot erase the sight of his brother's neck clenched in that meaty purple fist, nor the way he had crumpled to the floor like a broken doll after, and the stillness of his chest under Thor's head as he'd waited to die with him. Involuntarily, Thor's gaze goes to Loki's throat now, knowing that those bruises still remain no matter how hidden, an indelible mark on his skin as much as it clings to Thor's soul. He could not see that happen to his brother again.

But worse still is to see him off, to say goodbye, and leave him to face this evil alone.

There is a tremor in his hands, stronger in the one that remains flesh and blood, and he shakes his head as if he could deny the reality of what might happen if Loki leaves. It could be fine. Maybe nothing bad will happen, and the Avengers of Loki's world will fix the devastation without facing the final cataclysm that nearly lost them everything.

But maybe it won't.

[coldsong]

Thor's grip on him is getting increasingly tighter, and Loki feels a chill of regret suddenly that he approached his departure this way. There was no other real option, though. It was either this or dump the children in Asvera and flee, and that would have been unconscionable. He takes a breath, feeling his lungs fill and expand in his chest. He puts his hand over Thor's despite the fact that he's convinced his brother is leaving bruises on his arm at this point, and squeezes his wrist.

"If it was a dream," he says, "then it was a part of myself telling me something I should have been aware of all along."

"I cannot ignore this, Thor," he says. "I won't pretend I have a solid plan, other than to share what I know with those in Midgard who may listen. But there is another Thor there who is as wounded as you have been, and perhaps with less support. I cannot abandon him."

"...and I cannot abandon myself."

[malcolmeffect]

Ian isn't surprised any longer to see a message from Loki wanting to meet. Over time it seemed to happen more and more often, not that Malcolm minds. Even the content doesn't cause anxiety, though maybe it should. Chaos was everywhere and while he still couldn't get his head around Loki as a god, he definitely could accept him as an agent of chaos in the world. Ian sends back a quick message that he will be some time because the children need to be taken to a sitter and then offers to meet at one of the quieter coffee shop in the Nexus.

It's several hours after the message that Ian finds himself with a cup of coffee and waiting for his, whatever he and Loki might be.

[coldsong]

If it makes Ian feel any better, Loki has a hard time predicting how he'll react to things, too. The calm response is not quite what he anticipated, but after his other tempestuous conversations, it's appreciated. He texts him back that later is fine, it isn't an emergency, and thanks him.

He's a little more dressed up than usual when he arrives at the shop, though. His Asgardian armor is on, and while he's not wearing the helmet, he has it tucked under his arm. He comes over to sit across from Ian and sets the helmet on the spare chair at the table (one doesn't put one's hat on the tabletop, that's unmannerly).

"Hello," he says softly, and there's warmth in his eyes. "You look good."

But he didn't ask him to meet to flirt, either. "I have to go back to my world for a bit. I wanted you to know. Thor is taking the children, but if you'd like to visit with yours, it might be good for them."

[malcolmeffect]

Ian isn't troubled, but curious about the change in attire and the statement of intent.

"Uh... I thought you couldn't return to your world?" That part was confusion but then when didn't something chaotic break the expectations? His eyes fall on the helmet and then to the armor. "Is everything ok?"

He's more concerned about the situation than the children, though he would be sure to bring the children by to see Loki's while he was away.

[coldsong]

"There is a chance. A window, which is narrowing rapidly. I cannot stay long. I saw...I saw Odin, in a dream." That's going to sound crazy, perhaps, to a man of science, and Loki realizes it, but he's always dwelt in the shadows between reality and dreams, conscious cunning and subconscious wisdom.

This is something too big to be reasoned through; it must be felt, instead.

"I have unfinished business," he says quietly, following Ian's gaze toward his helmet. "I am taking what you have written for me to my world, but I expect there to also be a fight. A big one."

There's a thoughtful pause, and then: "I'm not sure I can actually die again, though, so there's that. I mean, I think I've filled my quota and then some."

[malcolmeffect]

Ian listens and though he wouldn't reason a dream is something to follow in reality, he's also not a god. If the myths held any truth a lot of them had premonitions and portends. His mind was open enough to let someone else believe it.

"Why do you think..uh.. everyone's going to fight?" It was a more sound part of the conversation and one that gave Ian a small jolt of anxiety.

The mention of dying changes things and creases a frown into Malcolm's expression. Not just worry for Loki, but also memories of how many times he had died. He has a way of pushing things aside though and manages to pull his eyes away from the helmet. "I'll get a place here in the Nexus... in case the children want to see Kelly."

And put himself closer to information. Besides Hammond and the university could survive without him for a few weeks.

[coldsong]

Loki rests his arms on the table between them, interlacing his fingers fitfully. His body language speaks of tension, preparation, determination--and fear. His eyes are calm, though, and when he answers the question, it's halting but steady.

"Because of what happened in Thor's world. Thanos destroyed half of all life, with a handful of items of immense power, called the Infinity Stones. Each of the six gems purportedly existed at the beginning of creation, and has the capacity to control an aspect of existence: the Space Stone, the Mind Stone, the Power Stone, the Reality Stone, the Time Stone, and the Soul Stone. Obviously the names are a heinous oversimplification of the aspects and powers of the items themselves. The important thing is that when united they have the ability to rewrite the entirety of existence in the universe, at the command of the holder, if they do not annihilate that individual first."

"This is what Thanos did to destroy half of all life, attuning the gems to his will. And then, with the work done, he did his best to destroy them and effectively put them out of reach of anyone wishing to correct his mistake."

"I say he did his best, because I am sure you realize, as I have, that infinity has no beginning and no end. If it's a term properly applied to these gems, they cannot be destroyed. To have existed at all is to exist forever, beyond the bounds of linear time, beyond that which a timebound, non-infinite being can comprehend. Thanos, for all his power, does not exist outside of time or reality as he understands it. He missed some vital details about the tools he chose."

"And so, I think, did Thor and his friends on his world. They succeeded in traveling into the past and retrieving the gems from earlier points in the timeline, before Thanos destroyed them, and used them to reset the damage he had done. But somehow he was alerted to their actions and came in force to attack them. This is the battle I expect. I believe it is inevitable, because once you lay a hand on the Infinite, you are part of its story, rather than it becoming part of yours."

"He will always come to fight, and they will always stand in defiance. I need to be there. I have held two of the gems in my hands, and stood within an arm's length of two others. I'm a part of this tale, and I would see this chapter of it at least to a conclusion."