Interesting. I am, in fact, given to mysticism and occasionally religiosity, but knowing so little about your kind, it would be insulting for me to speculate.
I am a Trickster god, and thus I am nothing but filters, to the point where I occasionally misdirect myself. It's an occupational hazard. But I do tell the truth more often than I am believed, particularly when I'm interested in the outcome of a conversation or seeking friendly acquaintanceship.
I'm also a shapeshifter. Appearance is not necessarily a reliable way to tell one Loki from another.
I'm a shapeshifter, too...but I turn into a tank. I am sceptical of gods, although I certainly believe that you exist. There are a lot of beings that people call gods, and they're different in their powers and abilities.
I'm not given to worshipping anything. I haven't ever found humbling myself and letting it be known exactly how helpless I am in a given situation to be advantageous in any way, and the 'gods' of my people seem reliably to favour people who are not like me and mine. I do hope you won't hold that against me.
Despite my general lack of filters, I share with you that issue where I tell the truth more often than I am believed. People expect me to lie, and I rarely bother. I have told people exactly what I intended to do, and they have still been shocked that I did it.
Do you want to sit down somewhere and talk, or do you enjoy texting?
Divinity is impossible to quantify, as it should be. Sometimes, to understand something too well is to lose one's awe in the face of it. I have dear friends who are atheists or agnostic, and accept me as a sort of alien being without troubling themselves overmuch with the potential cognitive dissonance. I don't mind that. If it is impossible to view me as both a deity and a person, then I will always choose to be a person.
But now, I am curious to compare notes on shapeshifting. Where would you like to meet? I live in the Nexus, but I'm capable of travel.
I bet I could get to the Nexus. Ravage and Soundwave live there, don't they? I can't stay with them, because we have a bit of history, by which I mean that Ravage lived with me for the better part of a year during their "break", but I could visit you for a chat.
I'm more capable of travel than people here realise. This frame was built with multidimensional capabilities.
It would be easier to go to the Nexus than to get you on board the Lost Light.
It didn't occur to me to wonder until now, but how much space do you require to sit down for a chat? The plaza is mostly designed for human-sized individuals, with some small variation. I have a couple places of my own I could offer, though, and outdoors is an option failing those.
My own height is not superhuman, but I have been known to take a size closer to that of my biological forebears. Roughly eight or nine feet. I have a meeting hall designed for that form.
I can compress myself quite a bit before the stress on my frame becomes too uncomfortable to ignore. Thanks to an intriguing encounter with a human vampire, I discovered that I could still enjoy physical congress at a little over two metres' height, though I had to be careful not to build up so much heat that contact with me could cause damage. A conversation at eight-to-nine feet in your meeting hall should be fine.
However, the others of my kind cannot necessarily do that without the use of an unusual matter displacement technology which was built into this particular frame, so you should keep that in mind when dealing with other Cybertronians. I also have a human holomatter avatar, which I can use to speak with people while my physical form is parked elsewhere.
[Congress. Well, that's a more detailed response than Loki expected, but it also tells him a lot about what he might need to anticipate from Megatron.]
Mass compression is always more difficult than expansion. I can be, and have often been, as small as a Midgardian spider, but it took almost twenty years to learn it properly.
I'll keep the information in mind. I am...somewhat sensitive to heat in any form. Biologically, I am a species known as Jotun, or Frost Giants, in my universe. But I can tolerate any temperature a human can.
Shall I meet you in the Nexus, or will texting you the appropriate coordinates be sufficient?
Well, I do not anticipate getting close enough to you to burn you! I've never attempted to expand myself, but if it's really easier, perhaps I should try sometime.
The coordinates should be fine.
[Now Megatron's wondering what to expect from Loki! He's unfiltered, but his propositions are generally unmistakeable for anything other than what they are, and that was not one of them! ^_~]
Switching to prose format, if that's all right with you!
Maybe that was a little Freudian. Loki can't deny his extreme curiosity. The shapeshifting, Ravage's ability to project images, and the general durability and versatility of these mechanical beings remind him of some of his own gifts, and yet they are vastly different.
On the other hand, he has some truly traumatic memories associated with hot metal too close to vulnerable skin, and the commentary was at least halfway born of anxiety. It's his way to make light of these things, so he types: Certainly not on a first date, then erases it before he sends the text, opting instead to simply send the set of coordinates.
This accomplished, he makes his way to the meeting-spot himself, riding the autumn wind.
When he arrives, Megatron will find it looks very little like a 'hall' of any sort, at least from the outside. What is there is an open field, a tumble of bare rocks twice the size of a human dwelling, and a dead tree carved with the symbol of a reddened eye. If he is at all sensitive to the kind of energy flux Loki would call magic, though, he may sense there is more here than is easily seen. A cavernous space under the rock, under the ground, which will open only when Loki commands it.
Loki himself, is waiting, seated cross-legged on one of the boulders, already in Jotun form. The ridged cobalt skin stands out against the black of his clothing and hair, and his eyes, like the symbol on the tree above him, are ruby red.
"Well met," he says, and gives a graceful, seated bow, studying his guest in return.
"Well met indeed." The silvery mech bows. His eyes, too, are ruby red--like those of most Decepticons.
Megatron is not particularly sensitive to spirituality of any kind, but he is very aware of the electromagnetic force fields that surround living beings, and he is also keenly aware of the interdimensional interstitium, so he might be aware that there is a space below.
He might also just be aware of that because he was originally made to be a deep tunneller--beings who can create illusions designed to fool human senses do not always figure in the capabilities of different life-forms.
To those who can appreciate the craftsmanship, Megatron is certainly beautiful, and his chest armour in particular is decorated with elaborate red inlaid filigree.
If this is an actual date he isn't aware of it, but he sits down on another boulder, moving with a feral sort of grace born of the arena and the depths of the Earth.
Loki's first impression is that he is devoutly glad he's in his larger form, and roughly equal to Megatron's current height. The armored look, the broad shoulders and the bearing of the mech reminds him of Thanos at first glance; so much so that his throat aches and he can feel his own adrenaline kick in. Thus, there's a moment before he speaks again, eyes sweeping across the stranger, taking in details, consciously looking for visual reminders of who he is not.
Fortunately, the body language is very much like Lucifer's, and while he gets into discussions with Lucifer where they never quite see eye-to-eye, he considers him an ally and friend. That's reassuring, and the echo of red eyes doesn't hurt either. Megatron may notice Loki take a couple breaths before truly recovering, but then he manages a smile.
"This is the part known as the Wilds," he explains. "The Plaza is off behind you, to what appears to be the West today. Things change on a regular basis; were you to return tomorrow, you might find the topography altered. But there is a kind of magic preventing overt violence in the Plaza. The further into the Wilds you get, the less reliable it becomes."
"I'm assuming neither of us are planning violence, though, so that's only relevant should you decide to wander."
What this is, rather than a date, is Loki being a busybody. He has family in the Nexus, and when an unknown quantity appears, he always wants to know what to expect. Ravage struck him as subtly but uncommonly kind, a probable friend in the making, but the sheer versatility and strength presented here makes him reluctant to take that for granted.
That, and a group that calls itself 'Decepticons' is bound to catch at his interest. He prides himself on deception, after all.
He stands and taps the stones behind him with his fingertips, activating the doorway to the hall below. "You are welcome here; please enter, if you so choose."
The space beyond looks well-lit, and quite large. More like a ballroom or throne room than a conference chamber.
Megatron is briefly alarmed by the infrared and ultraviolet readings coming from the stranger, whose species he does not know. It probably helps a little that he does make an effort to smile and appear a little less threatening. He's used to people being scared of him, although he wouldn't know who Thanos was.
"Interesting. The anti-violence field explains a lot about what Soundwave and Ravage are doing here. I approve of it. I was once an extremely violent person, but I would rather not ever hurt another living thing, if I could avoid it."
He steps into the formally appointed room. "It's beautiful," he says, and nods. "Thank you for your welcome."
Megatron is actually more comfortable now. He's used to having relative strangers address him with fear, lust, or some combination of both--but that behaviour isn't logical, and rarely leads to any sort of worthwhile, lasting tie. Admiration sometimes is, but where there is admiration, there are expectations, and hero-worship can turn into bitter hatred in an astrosecond.
That Loki is apparently trying to assess him somehow makes sense. It shows that Loki is no fool.
Ravage and Soundwave will need more friends like this. And Megatron could use a few more himself.
Scared might be the right word, though it's not fear of Megatron himself. Even gods get PTSD sometimes. Loki has had some time to fight it, though, and support from Thor and others close to him.
What Megatron says is also good to hear. "Likewise," he says. "Though violence itself was a means to an end for me. Control was what I wanted, and that was a very dark time for me. I am by nature tricky and mercurial, but not warlike."
The walls and floor of the meeting hall are mostly pale marble, with clearer seams running through it; it looks as though it's meant to evoke ice. There's a fireplace at one end large enough to roast a whole bull, though it's certainly never been put to that task. By the hearth is a dark wooden table and chairs to match, wide and heavy and magically reinforced to bear the weight of Loki's Jotun form. They're decorated with furs and evergreen and holly.
Loki leads the way to the hearth and selects one of the chairs for his own, sitting with one leg folded up, body listing to the left. "I would offer you refreshment," he says, "but I'm not familiar enough with your kind to know what would be appropriate. Which is one of the reasons I'm curious to talk with you. As far as I'm aware, there are no beings like yourself in the world I come from, and yet some of your abilities are analogous to mine."
He's calmer now, himself, comfortable in his own territory, with the crackle of fire as background noise.
"We primarily use a substance called energon as fuel, which can be enjoyed as a raw mineral, or purified--it liquefies once purified--and drunk, gelled into treats, or refined into an intoxicant. Also various types of mineral oils, metals, rocks, occasionally gems, but not pearls. Fossil fuel derivatives are less nourishing than energon, but can be used for survival as well." Megatron smiles. "Honestly, a cup of fresh diesel fuel would not go amiss. It's not something most of us favour, but as a tankformer, I have developed a taste for it."
He sits carefully in the chair, testing it to make sure he won't accidentally break it. "Violence is almost always a means to an end. Those of us who develop a taste for it normally haven't found pleasanter means of getting their needs met effective. When I was very young, I had rather a peaceful nature, but after I was forcibly convinced that violence was the only way to solve our society's problems, I got very good at it very quickly, and people enjoy things they master."
He smiles crookedly. "I am actually an intellectual by inclination. I write poetry. Essays. Philosophical treatises. I am fascinated by medicine and mathematics. These were not career paths that were open to me when I was young. Anyhow--what is it that I do, that you also do, but believe you do differently?"
Loki listens thoughtfully, committing all the information to memory. He expects to have occasion to entertain Ravage at some point, and potentially some of the others he has not met. Knowing what to serve is valuable information. He was, after all, raised as the younger Asgardian prince, and diplomacy and entertainment were among his duties. "In the Nexus, I imagine any of that can be obtained, though I've never seen such a thing as energon. I will keep it in mind."
In Jotun form, Loki is upwards of 700 pounds, but he's made certain to engineer the chairs to bear more than that. He has at least one close friend in the Nexus that weighs upwards of a ton. (He has yet to have the Indoraptor in for tea, but it could happen.)
"People enjoy the things they master," he echoes thoughtfully. "Isn't that the truth."
"I was forced into a corner," he says. "By a terrible enemy. Kill or be killed. But that is a complicated and unpleasant story."
"I fear I have no gift for composing poetry," he says with regret, "but I enjoy reading it, and listening to it. I was educated in history, the arts, music and dance, and most especially magic. I was in a privileged position in my society, though my talents by and large made me a square peg in a round hole, so to speak."
"You mentioned shapeshifting," he answers the question. "And I've seen Ravage project images in much the same way I would shape illusions. What one culture calls magic may be a learned skill or innate ability in another culture."
Megatron smiled. "Mastery is, in and of itself, a powerful pleasure. Once your body has learned what to do, the action just flows through you, and it feels sometimes as though you succeed without effort. But I was a gladiator. Sadly, kill or be killed are far too often the only choices some people are given." His expression softens. "I am sorry that happened to you. It's happened to most of my friends. I knew nothing of privilege when I was young and all the education I have had, I sought on my own, and mostly learned on the fly. This is true of most of my friends; both Ravage and I were created as slaves, though Soundwave came from a family of privilege."
He thinks for a moment. "You mentioned shapeshifting. All of my people can change their shapes, but this is because of the way we are put together. There are only certain shapes that we can assume. To acquire a new alternate mode, one must either have one's spark transferred into the body of someone who has moved into a different body, or chosen to die; or go through exquisitely painful surgical procedures while conscious--which I have done. I can become a tank. With the use of matter displacement technology, I can also become a gun. But I cannot become a truck, or a jet, or a tree, or a bird. The components that make up my body, when shifted into a different configuration, can take the form of a tank."
Megatron stands up and points out the tank gun on his back, and the treads concealed in his upper arms and lower legs. "I fold myself into the other shape," he explains. "My transformation is more technically complex than most because I do make use of interdimensional pockets and mass displacement. But in its simplest form, Cybertronian transformation depends upon having body parts shaped in such a way that they can be folded in and out, latched together and separated, to take on the form of another object. If you look very closely at any of us, you can see clues as to what other forms we might be able to assume. I should, however, caution you that for many of us, this is a sensitive subject. Under the rule of the Functionalists, your alternate mode dictated the choices, opportunities and resources available to you, and changing it was difficult and/or illegal. This is no longer the case in many places, in large part because of the revolt that I led, and that Ravage and Soundwave helped me to lead."
He sits back down. "We can all capture images with our optics. Ravage is particularly adept at processing and editing images because one of his original functions was to record things. When he projects images, they are normally things he has actually seen. He does it in much the same way that humans use machines to record and project images. I don't know if you have ever seen that--the humans of the Earth I know have 'television' and 'movies' and 'video recording'. That is what Ravage was doing. He projects images from his optics--his eyes."
Loki listens to Megatron's history with somber attention. It's a harsh background to come from, and he has no doubt the details would only make it a darker story still. The overall impression he's getting thus far is of a sort of warrior-poet, no doubt extremely dangerous in his own right, but also a powerfully sympathetic figure to both the culture Loki comes from and to his own proclivities.
The word of compassion directed to him is a surprise, and something in his expression flickers. He reminds himself this person doesn't know the entirety of his story or the enormity of what he did, but regardless, it's a kindness freely offered. "...thank you," he says slowly, after a moment. "It's a complicated tale, but perhaps we'll have time for long stories sooner or later."
He smiles a little then. "Arguably, any shapeshifter is able to shift because of the way they are put together. I think I understand what you mean, though. I cannot take any shape I choose. I have set patterns that mean something to me personally; those I can take at will. I can freely alter any secondary sexual characteristics in this form or my smaller, more humanlike one. I'm also comfortable as a snake, or a mare. Less often, I'm a wolf or spider. I can create other forms, but for them to become as much second nature as the body I wear now, it takes a long, long while to make them my own. I can make up the difference with illusion, though, and I'm able to disguise myself as other people or animals."
He's fascinated, frankly, by the glimpse of treads and gun, and only barely manages to restrain himself from staring longer than would be polite. "It's funny, isn't it," he murmurs, "how a society can fall into such a nonsensical hierarchy and then cling to it like it's the only truth in the universe. It wasn't quite so rigid for us, I don't think, but the magic I learned and loved as a child was considered inappropriate for a man to pursue, particularly a prince of the realm. Deceptive and unbefitting a warrior."
His inclination is to sympathize with the revolt Megatron references, but he opts not to be effusive with praise or curiosity, merely nodding cautious approval.
"It sounds a bit like a hologram, the way you describe Ravage's ability," he says, understanding.
"When I project images, it's a magical illusion. Usually it's the mere bending of light to trick eyes that see in the spectrum humans and Asgardians do, but I've learned to build in more complexity as I've grown older, including wider ranges of light and the illusions of sound and scent."
He's quiet for a moment, thinking, then asks, "I would ask you what it is that Ravage and his companions seek here, in the Nexus, but perhaps that's a question better saved for him."
"I am always curious to interact with beings that bear similarities to my biological kin. My shapeshifting is hereditary, an innate ability, though I have enhanced it by learning other magics. Frost Giants are organic creatures, but--" he holds out his arms as if to display the runic lines on his hands. "they are most definitely extremophiles, and built unlike most other humanoid races. And aside from my alternates, I have had no one to consult about that. A piece of my identity is missing."
"I've made my own identity," Megatron says. "Most of us don't have parents, in the human sense of the word. Our sparks come from the Allspark and up through sacred ground, and are placed into protoforms made of sentio metallico, which are placed in frames. I had an unofficial mentor, Terminus, whom I deeply loved, but no father and certainly no mother. Sometimes you'll meet people who claim to be siblings, but they're either people who were created as a set, like Ravage and Laserbeak and Buzzsaw, or people who were taken into wealthy households and mentored together, like Soundwave and his brother Shockwave, whom you haven't met.
"The point I was trying to make, however badly, is that I don't know any magic, really. When Ravage and I were lovers we once tried a spell from an old book, but nothing happened. All the components of the other things that I can become are contained within me. And yes, we can project holograms. We can project holographic avatars of ourselves as well."
"I'll share what insights I can with you. But I've never had a mother or a father or a brother or a sister or a child. I've had to make my own identity. And everything that I can do, so far as I know, is purely material. Magic, on Cybertron, has never worked for people like Ravage, or me." He shrugs. "I loathe stupid hierarchies as much as you do."
After a moment's thought, he gives a response to the other question. "I don't know exactly what Ravage and Soundwave are up to here. But as someone who loves them, even if things are difficult between us now, and has been a friend and a lover to both of them, while I obviously can't claim to be impartial...I don't believe they are here to exploit or conquer."
That, too, is such a Lucifer sort of thing to say, a smile flickers across Loki's lips. As much as he asserts his own independence, he can only aspire to that level of confidence.
"I was raised by the ancestral enemies of my biological kin. Disguised so well I did not know, myself, that I was not one of them. Discovering that I was adopted from a different species, one I was raised to think of as evil, savage monsters, was a shock I was not prepared to handle."
"Family is to a certain extent what you make of it, even to those of us born from the bodies of our own species. But it's as tricky to deny genetics as it is to deny Fate, and often it results in backlash."
He nods. "I do understand, and I appreciate the clarity. I would still be pleased to continue to compare notes, inasmuch as you're willing to do so."
It says something about Megatron and his temperament, Loki thinks, that he's willing to answer the implied question in plainspoken language, without taking offense. It also says something about Ravage and Soundwave. "After speaking to Ravage, I rather thought not," he says with a smile. "But I've made it my business to keep an eye on some of the more powerful entities that arrive here. When I can."
He frowns a little, because one of said entities is still eluding him and he's grouchy about it, but that's not Megatron's fault. "Besides," he adds, "learning, and knowing things, is its own reward."
"You should actually talk to Ravage about some of this," Megatron says, with some surprise. "I wouldn't tell you this if it were an actual secret, but quite a few people know about this now. Ravage had surgery for an unrelated condition during the time he was living with me, and part of the treatment involved regrowing bits of him that had been broken. During that time he had to be gene-scanned, and we found out that he--and possibly his siblings--were made using genetic material from an old precursor species on Cybertron that very little is known about. There are unfortunately none of them left, but they were also rumoured to be monstrous and savage. I think he'd be able to relate to the confusion you must be feeling, and though he's irascible at times, he's very kind. I felt a bit inadequate at the time, because all I could do was reassure him that it didn't change how I felt about him, and it wouldn't matter to anyone else who cared for him. Were you at least able to speak to other Frost Giants about your situation?"
He leans back. "I very much agree that learning and knowledge are pleasures in and of themselves. What exactly would you like to compare notes about?"
Now, that isn't something he expected to hear, and he tilts his head, a flicker of interest in his eyes. He fully intends to do his best to make friends of the others, as well, but it's interesting to hear he might have something in common with Ravage, beyond similar haunting fears and mutual soft spots for children. "I...will mention it to him. That is a close parallel."
He shakes his head. "Not really. Had I made it a priority, I could have spoken to them, perhaps, but I suffered a sort of psychotic break. I killed my biological father--and I don't regret that. By all accounts, he left me to die as an infant. But I also attacked Jotunheim and that, in retrospect, was unconscionable. Bridges have been thoroughly burned, I fear."
"I have my own alternates to consult, but as they're from different worlds it's hard to say how much parallels my own. My twin is the best-versed in what Frost Giants are actually like, and he doesn't have much that's pleasant to say about them. But any people can suffer under poor conditions or poor leadership."
He smiles at the question. "What I should say, I suppose, is that I hope we will speak again. Your openness has been refreshing. Is there nothing you would ask of me?"
"Of course I have questions for you. But you had so many of your own to begin with. I'm sure that we will speak again. Here's a question for you: what, actually, is this place? Do you know?"
Megatron glances around. "I mean the Nexus, not this particular spot we are in. If my friends are doing what I think they might be doing, they're putting a lot of their trust into this place without knowing what sort of place it really is. Who made this place? Who set up the infrastructure? In our own universe, I've been placed in a position where there is absolutely nothing I can do to protect them now. They have become the leaders of a movement that I founded and left, and I cannot ever go back to it. I was not permitted to name a successor, but I could not have chosen better ones.
"But that doesn't mean that I don't care what happens to them. I have given a great deal of thought to how I interact with them in our own universe precisely because I do not want to attract any trouble or pain to them. In my heart of hearts, I wish they'd just give up the whole thing, stay here or somewhere else apart from all the old conflicts, and just be happy together. They've earned that. But they won't do that. I want to know they're safe here, and that nothing they're hiding from here while they work on their plans for the future can harm them here."
It's actually rather flattering to be asked that kind of question about the Nexus, as if he's some sort of authority regarding the place. It's fair, though; Loki isn't the god of the Nexus, but he's certainly observant, and the chaotic nature of the place meshes well with his own.
"The multiverse is, in theory, infinite," he says thoughtfully. "And the Nexus is purportedly a place where all or some of the quantum possibilities, the variant worlds within the scope of Existence Itself, can meet. If you think about it for too long, that's actually terrifying."
"As far as we can tell, this place was not made, at least not by any entity that is now present within it. It seems to be a kind of quantum bubble, a world unto itself that is not, precisely a world, and is beholden to no other universe. As far as the infrastructure, what exists here has been made by visitors and residents. It's overwhelmingly designed by and for humans and similar beings, but not entirely."
"There is some sort of automated translation matrix that assists with communications, as well as what the residents call the 'anti-violence field', which seems to dampen or subvert attempts to harm other sentient creatures, within a fairly large radius around the Plaza. There are occasional glitches in both of these, but the translation matrix in particular is very reliable. I've only heard of it going down once."
"I have never seen any machinery or magical source that can be claimed to actually generate these fields, though. They just seem to be here. And believe me, I've looked."
"It should also be noted that there are powerful entities that visit and dwell in the Nexus, and often they influence the infrastructure. I would say the most noteworthy at the moment are the seasonal Spirits. They don't always appear in a tangible form, but in this place the seasons go from fall to winter, to spring to summer, much as they would on Earth, and that is no coincidence. People complain about their power and high-handedness, but I personally doubt there would be plant and animal life here at all without their influence."
He smiles a little, touched by Megatron's clear regard for his friends. "In my experience, setting up a home here, even a large home for multiple individuals, is not a great risk. The population is largely tolerant and generous, and once you adapt to the weather patterns and occasional strange events, it's as safe as most planets, if much more bizarre. Now, if they mean to operate something more than a home or a safe-house, that could prove more complicated. It's not impossible that conflicts from one's home world can follow one here..."
He pauses and rubs the back of his neck stiffly, as if thinking of something personal. "...or call one home, whether one wants to go or not."
"There are no guarantees, but in this place, there are usually allies to be made, and friends."
Which dovetails neatly into Megatron's other question. Loki's smile widens a little. He's not sure whether this is a gentle build-up to a request that he keep an eye on Ravage and the other Decepticons on Megatron's behalf or not, but if it is, that's hardly a problem. He nods slowly, as if considering the ramifications before giving a verbal answer, but at length he says, "Yes. I believe I would enjoy your friendship."
"Good." Megatron grins. "You've given me a lot to think about, and you're pleasant to listen to--give me a moment, I'll have to go back to a few things you said before."
He pulls in air, almost as if he were breathing.
"First of all--yes. It is terrifying. Especially since there seems to be some sort of economy in place and something, somewhere, has to be running it. I'm not sure what a seasonal spirit is, but I'm going to guess it's a sort of noncorporeal sapient entity that's involved with the biosphere? How much do they interact with the inhabitants?"
He glances aside. "I expect them to go home to deal with conflicts there. I simply wish they wouldn't. They deserve to be free of that mess, but of course, they don't see it that way. I think they plan to make this place their home base, so that they can't be found by their enemies until they've dealt with them all. After that, or if they fail, which I don't think they will, it will be...a vacation home, I suppose. If Galvatron, Scorponok, Shockwave, or the DJD show up here, I don't think they'll stay, as long as the anti-violence field is doing its job."
Loki actually seems mildly surprised by the vehemence of that good, as if he wasn't quite sure whether Megatron actually wanted friendship, or something more like an alliance with occasional chats over tea and diesel. In all honesty, it's not especially common for strangers to go out on a limb to obtain his company, either. The surprise dissolves into a sheepish smile, and a cough to clear his throat, but he only nods his assent to clarifying what he's said.
"There are several business associations," he says. "And some of them trade across worlds in order to manage currency exchanges here. It's weird, but I believe the economy is something the residents here have managed to build naturally, over time."
"As far as the spirits, yes, you have the gist of it. Does your planet have weather that changes with its orbit? Asgard, where I grew up, did, though it was an atypical planetoid. The spirits interact rarely; they're not hard to avoid speaking with, really. I've spent a fair amount of time with both Autumn and Winter, and spoken with Spring once."
He hums thoughtfully. "They're not the first to use this place as a safe-house or planning ground. I would advise care and considerable warding. No fortress is impregnable, the Nexus included. I'll mention it to them personally. I think I like Ravage anyway, and an alliance would be to my advantage, as well."
"I...have children, you see. Adopted. Four of them."
"Children." Megatron smiles. "I've never taken a sparkling to raise. I can't imagine that I wouldn't be a terrible parent."
He doesn't know how to explain--at least, not in any kind of dignified manner--that with Ravage gone from the Lost Light, he's suddenly and starkly aware that the closest friend he has on his own ship is his second-in-command and former defence lawyer, who wanted him executed but did the best he could for him because that was the right thing to do. He's lost most of his old friends, and the truth is, he lost them long before he noticed he lost them.
"I'm not sure what that has to do with Ravage and Soundwave; but I do appreciate your willingness to help them. They would be excellent parents. Tell me about your children, though. What made you decide to become a parent?"
"I couldn't swear to it that I'm a good parent," he says wryly. "But I do my best."
Loki has a number of friends in the Nexus, some very close, but a socially isolated childhood (Thor's friends let him play with them, but they were Thor's friends nonetheless), and multiple traumatic events in the last few years have left a mark. He's always waiting for the other shoe to drop, and for the people who call him a friend now to realize what he really is. Thinking of relationships as practical, quid-pro-quo alliances makes them feel safer. If they weren't talking about his children, he might flounder a bit at this point. But they are.
"Peace in the Nexus, inasmuch as it can be achieved, is important to me while my children are young and vulnerable. Any alliance I can make and any goodwill I can earn puts them in a safer position. And myself, as well."
"I keep an eye on things, as much as I can, and if a potential danger appears on my radar, it will not be ignored."
Unfortunately, how he got the kids is a bit of a downer story. He takes a breath. "There is an alternate of my brother Thor here, with whom I have become very close. In his world, as happened in mine, Asgard was destroyed by a cataclysm. A necessary loss, but a heavy one."
"The remaining living Asgardians were placed on a ship, hoping to travel to Earth for asylum. The ship did not make it there. They were attacked by...that would be too long a story. A very cruel enemy, whose like I hope does not exist in your universe."
"Thor was able to evacuate a few hundred refugees from the failing ship into the Nexus. Most were children. When they came through, I was here to catch and house them, with the help of some friends. I kept a handful of the worst-traumatized in my own home to give them the extra attention they needed, and four of those have remained with me, since they are without other living family."
"The rest of Asgard's refugees are settled in Norway, now, with Thor, and some of the adults did escape the destruction of the ship via escape pods. A few of the other refugees live near Prometheus, in the Nexus itself, and I check on them frequently, but my four are...special, because they're mine."
"The oldest is Agnarr; he communicates primarily through sign-language as he is unable to speak. He's become very skilled in tracking and hunting in the wilds--though he hunts his quarry with a camera right now, as we don't need to kill our own food. Una is the younger girl, and she's a small warrior. Extremely outgoing and a bit wild. And Sigrid and Eindrid are blood-siblings. Sigrid is the elder, and she's interested in theater and performance. She's been practicing poetry readings, of late. Eindrid is the baby, and he loves the ocean."
"You've got a poet in the family? We can be trouble, you know. We think too much, and we want even more." Megatron laughs. "They sound delightful, all of them. I've been teaching, on the ship where I live, but there are no sparklings, only adults. Teaching is interesting. Our society used to treat education, above and beyond programming in basic skills, as a thing for the elite. What a thing it must be to train someone so young that they're absorbing everything around them."
"She's not writing poetry yet, just performing it. But I wouldn't put it past her to write, either, given a few more years to experiment." His smile is fond. "She sings well, too. She actually played a baby version of me in a play a few years ago, before Asgard was destroyed, so it's partly an ego boost for me to see her succeed."
"Any way, if it turns out that she thinks too much, she'll be in good company. Such things have been said of me, many times."
He nods. "Teaching is a valuable occupation, regardless of the age of your students. Knowledge should be available to all who will use it responsibly."
Megatron nods. "Well, if they don't execute me at the end of this round--or I decide not to let them, as Ravage has entreated me--I suppose I'll have to do something with my life. So perhaps I will be a teacher.
"My sentence was commuted temporarily so that I could lead a quest to find the beings to whom I am entitled to appeal. But I'm starting to think that maybe they don't exist, or if they did, they don't any more."
He sighs. "Maybe Ravage is right and I shouldn't be willing to let people judge me who haven't lived what I've lived. And then again, maybe I am starting to believe that because I want to believe it. But I could also let them think they've killed me and move here, instead. Couldn't I? I think I could."
"Execute you?" Loki is startled by this revelation. It certainly seems that Megatron was able to freely bounce on over to a different dimension for tea, so it's a bit strange to think that he's potentially awaiting execution. "I'm afraid to ask what for."
Sounds like it might be a long story, particularly with the reference to beings he can't find to appeal to.
He shakes his head a little. "I find that people in general are not shy of passing judgment on others, whether they are willing to accept it or not. Even without knowing the whole story."
That is clearly personal experience talking, and there's something a little grim in his face when he says it, but then his lips twitch into a small smile. "You could, yes. Easily. You know, I never actually faked my death on purpose, but I have succeeded in fooling the entirety of Asgard twice. I might be able to assist."
"War crimes, atrocities, shoplifting," Megatron says, clearly trying to be funny and not quite managing. He sobers up pretty quickly.
"I did do a great many things I regret and wish that I hadn't done. I have in fact killed a lot of people, most of whom almost certainly didn't deserve it, in addition to those who did. I agreed to be tried for it, and to accept the sentencing, because I had come to understand that what I did was indeed wrong. In point of fact even Ravage will admit that I became a terrible leader for quite some time. After having been sufficiently oppressed, and getting hold of power myself, I'm afraid I went a bit mad, and then when the old government called us monsters for defending ourselves, I'm afraid I determined to show them what a monster really was. Ravage was the calmest of my council and the only one who could talk me down from the worst things. But I stopped listening to him when I didn't want to, and listened to what my old companions from the gladiatorial arena said instead."
Loki gets it. More often than not, he's flippant about the worst things he's experienced, and only slightly more decorous about the worst acts he's perpetrated. Steeling oneself against crushing guilt is a thing.
"I was determined to prove to my father that I was capable of more than he believed," he says quietly. "I was also tortured and mentally altered, but how much of my behavior was my responsibility alone and how much was coerced from me is hard for me to say even now. Once you cross a certain line, I find, it's easier to keep going without weighing morality or consequences. To keep doubling down until you become your darkest possible self--or until some outside force stops you."
"It's something I think cannot be fully understood by people who have not been there."
Megatron winces visibly, and closes his optics briefly, then ex-vents nearly all the air in his system.
Loki gets it. Gets him. In a way that even Ravage can't.
"Thank you," he says, very quietly, and opens his eyes, to see someone look back at him who knows.
After a moment, he goes on. "I can't fix anything if I just let them kill me, though." As Ravage has conveniently told him only at least fifty times.
((OOC: the icon is taken from a comic panel in which the characters are presented with their own statues. at the base of each statue is one blue flower for every death they have caused. Megs' is surrounded by flowers as far as the eye can see.))
How strange, to meet for a casual chat with an alien being, only to find you're speaking the same language. Loki's gaze doesn't shift when Megatron winces, though the expression on his face softens some, while somehow losing none of its grim sobriety.
"I am the god of mischief and lies," he says. "My providence is the outcast, the guilty and maligned. You need not believe in my power or any divinity at all, but I will extend to you the same promise I have to many others: I will not judge you."
He lets those words hang in the air between them for a moment, before nodding a little and sitting back in his chair, folding his hands behind his neck. "Death is rarely the solution to these sorts of moral dilemmas."
"For myself, I reject the notion that I am reformed, or somehow a different person than I was at my worst. I caused death and suffering, but my actions came from a place of pain and terror, as well, and no one, until recently, asked me why. Until it was almost too late to profit from my answer."
"I would not deny my victims their rage by pretending that I can make up for my sins now. The moving finger writes; and, having writ, moves on. The best I can do is to move forward and do what good I can. Our story is the sum of all of our actions, whether they are done in the darkness or the light of day."
"Some will never forgive you, no matter what you say or do, and that is their right, but that doesn't mean you need to submit to their judgment, either. If I were you? I would not stay to be executed."
"I wanted to live enough to kill every day for fifty thousand days in the arena. All those deaths would mean nothing if I just let go, now..."
He looks at Loki with an expression of deep gratitude, sincerely felt. "It isn't in me to worship anyone or anything, because I believe too much in people becoming everything they can be, whether or not they are gods. But if I did want to worship a god, it would be someone like you."
"I don't know why I did some of the things that I did, exactly. There's a place in the middle of it all where everything stops making sense to me now, but it all made some kind of sense at the time. The opposite of the eye of a storm. I was the storm, but at the centre, some incomprehensible violence. I was never intended to breathe free air, but I fell in love with the sky. My first love died because they thought he wasn't worth repairing. My second one betrayed me because he couldn't understand why I thought we would have to kill to free ourselves. Posh little whore couldn't see we were already dying all over the place all around him, even after he stood with me on Ravage's roof during the riots in Stanix. Fragging cop. And I thought he loved me.
"I've been an idiot. I tried to break Ravage and Soundwave up because Ravage is the only other person who doesn't judge me, and I wanted him to go on my quest with me. But they're as much in love as I ever was with Terminus or thought I was with Orion. I don't think they believe in me any more, but they believe in what I taught them.
"I don't feel fear the way other people do, but I don't think I've ever awakened from recharge fully believing I'd be alive until I needed another defragmentation cycle. Is that a place of pain and terror, or do I simply just see the world as it is, Loki?"
"Fifty thousand days," Loki echoes softly, gaze going distant as compassion mixes with some of his own dark memories. "I was not captive for so long, but it was more than long enough."
There is no need to compete for the title of King of Pain, either. There's always plenty of suffering to go around. He takes a breath and gets up slowly, circling around the table to be closer to Megatron's seat. Once there, he simply sits on the table itself, folding one leg under him, and offers his hands. Touch may or may not be something this person would find comforting, but it's available, should he wish for it.
And in return, that's a high compliment Megatron offers to Loki. He has come to realize that his providence is one that is full of people who do not wish to acknowledge a god--angry, mistrustful, wounded people, but those are the ones who need something on their side the most. He doesn't need worship to listen without judgment.
Which is what he does now. He doesn't have all the context to empathize with everything Megatron says, but the emotions come through loud and clear. "And sometimes you have lashed out at those who were kindest to you, because you did not want an ally to soothe your hurt, lest they also dilute your rage."
"I think the answer to your question is 'yes'. But the horror you have witnessed is not all that there is. The multiverse is too wide and wild for that. Fate, or nature, or reality transcends our expectations, no matter how dark or bright they are. Here you are, unconquered. Keep looking."
Megatron takes Loki's hand, gently--even shrunk down to this size, his grip can be hard--and nods. He is in tears. "I was awful to Ravage sometimes," he acknowledges, "although at least I never struck him, the way I did Starscream. And I was worse to Soundwave, because he could never stop being kind. It was wrong of him to send Ravage to kill me, which, yes, is a thing that actually happened once, but I forgave him for it, because I know what I have done to them. Ravage's sib Glit was so kind, not just to me but to everyone, that I hated him for it. And broke him. Those things...I wish I could undo them all."
Then that one word sinks in.
Unconquered.
Yes. That's what he is. They won. But they didn't conquer him.
They didn't even destroy what he started, even though they tried (Orion tried!) to make him do it--Ravage was too strong to let that happen. Strong enough to come here. Strong enough to ask for help, even.
"The multiverse is also full of beauty," he acknowledges. "Sometimes...sometimes I even write about that."
Asgardians and Jotnarr have much denser tissues than humans, and Jotnarr in particular are made for harsh temperatures and winds strong enough to shred tender skin. In this form, he's very sturdy; more so, probably, than Megatron expects. Still, gentleness is never a bad thing, and Loki's fingers curl around the other's with similar care. (He's cold. That probably doesn't harm metal, but he's painfully aware of it.)
"I tried to kill my brother more than once," he says. "Even after he begged me to come home with him." He squeezes his hand gently. "Once you meet Thor, you'll see, that's like kicking a puppy."
How many times has Loki told himself all he really wanted was just a little bit of compassion? And now here he is, with the opportunity to give--to be what he needed, himself. There's something strangely satisfying about that. Something's come full circle.
He makes a small gesture in the air, pulling a cloth towel out of the pocket dimension where he keeps things. It works out to about the size of a handkerchief in his current shape, and he presses it into Megatron's hand gently.
Megatron doesn't care; he's able to tolerate outer space, though the lack of gravity and pressure don't do him any favours and it takes him a while to recover from long exposure.
"I have not," Megatron says, with the faint beginnings of a genuine smile, and opens the towel, not sure if there's something inside or what he is meant to do with it. It ought to occur to him that maybe he is meant to wipe the optical lubricants off his face, but the only other person who has ever seen him cry at any point during the past four million years is Ravage.
He doesn't really want to look away from Loki's face, from those bright green eyes that somehow manage to be purely glad of his survival, without judgement or reproach.
Loki has seen metal armor cracked and shattered under Jotun magic, but that's a cold that has to be deliberately applied, and in any case living metal is not the same as hammered Asgardian steel. It's likely this is safer than either of them believes.
"It's a phenomenon that happens in early winter, on planets like Earth, and the one I came from." It takes him a moment to realize that Megatron isn't sure what to do with the towel, at which point he takes it back and pats his face dry with it.
(Frigga would be proud)
"Even after leaves fall, plants contain sap in their stems, and when a cold snap hits, the water in the sap can turn to ice, which expands and creates splits in the bark or flesh of the stem. The ice is extruded through these splits as the remainder of the sap behind it freezes and presses onward, and the result is a delicate ribbon of frost that curls and loops in on itself, like a flower."
"It's a symbol I've taken for my own, because I too was broken open by external forces touching something inside me. Beauty can come from terrible pain."
Megatron laughs softly. "I doubt that the stains will come out of that," he says, but allows himself to be cared for, even as it occurs to him how strange it is that he doesn't know how to be comforted. He does know how to give comfort; he was endlessly gentle with Ravage after his surgery, and there have been other times...but when it's his turn to accept it, does he really not even know how?
"Roses of ice. How lovely. I don't think that I am beautiful, though I once was. But I have tried to write beautiful things about pain and war. Sometimes I do it too well, though, and all they see is the beauty." He lowers his voice, which he knows is hilarious because they're absolutely alone. "I wrote a poem about holding Ravage while he fell asleep after we victory-fucked at the end of a siege...and some people think it's about adopting a war orphan."
"It's only a towel. I intended to let you take it with you, anyway. I wouldn't have anyone accuse me of keeping your tears to use magic against you later." Which is totally something he could do, and thus something he has likely been accused of before, but he has no reason to do so now. That, and turning on a guest would be breaking the law of xenia, which is one of the few rules Loki truly respects.
"From what I understand, it is the curse of the artist to have his work interpreted myriad ways, most of which miss the point he was trying to make. I would say let it mean to each reader what they wish for it to mean, and keep the true meaning for yourself, but I am not a poet."
He lets his hands drop again, holding Megatron's hand in both of his lightly. "I had often thought, when I was coming out of the worst of things...had often hungered for just a little gentleness. Sometimes I still feel there is something I need just out of reach. But I'm better now; well enough to try to give what I wanted so badly."
"It's my providence, my identity, and my privilege."
"That's a thing you can do? Thank you, then, although I don't, not for a minute, believe you would ever do that." Megatron quickly folds the towel away into a subspace access, then slips his other hand into both Loki's hands as well. "I didn't know. Should I be worried about such things? Now I'm curious about how such a thing would work. Will you tell me?" That brings a brighter smile to his face.
"As for the poetry, you're right, of course, what it means to the reader is theirs. Except when they have to tell me about it. Also, someone told Ravage that once, and his reaction was in fact hilarious."
He sighs, his optics shining now. "This is exactly what I needed. And I didn't even know." He smiles again. "If you feel in need of that, again, you may call on me. I would be glad to do the same for you."
"I'm a Trickster and a mage," he shrugs and gives a smile that's blended slyness and softness. "There are many things I can do that I rarely have cause to try, and it's wise for people to be cautious of me. But I'm always pleased to receive the benefit of the doubt."
Especially when he's offered kindness. To have it returned is reassuring.
"Some of the magic in my universe operates on the principle of as above; so below. In that vein, what happens to one small part of the world affects what happens to the cosmos. More to the salient point, what happens to one part of an individual--tears, clippings of hair, sometimes even their shadow--may affect the rest of them. Theoretically, I might be able to track your movements, or see what you see through your eyes, for a short while. But it might work very differently for you, since you're a species I haven't attempted magic on before."
Also, given Megatron's ability to sense energy, it might be super-obvious. But Loki isn't fully aware of that yet.
"I can imagine Ravage's reaction, now that you say that." Loki grins. He barely knows him yet, but he has enough of an impression to hazard a guess.
For a moment, Loki looks a little awkward, almost shy, but it passes quickly into a warm glance. "Thank you. I won't forget that offer. I have my brother, lovers and friends around me now, though few of them can relate to my experiences on quite this level. But the fewer excuses I have to feel isolated and misunderstood, the better for everyone, most especially myself."
"I think that's probably true for both of us. And also that I isolate myself too much, because I am afraid of what I'll do to people if I don't." Megatron glances down, thinking of all the times he's said exactly the wrong thing to Minimus. And he's absolutely sure that Glenn is the wrong person for him--too vulnerable, too young--but he's also suddenly crystal clear on why he's sought out people like Remilia, who basically embodies almost everything that he's against.
There's also a glimmer of hope there, too. Ravage has told him far too often that his tendency to have a group of lovers, rather than one, and to enjoy the company of those who are bonded primarily to other people, is his way of avoiding real intimacy. The second part of that might be true, but if Loki has more than one partner, perhaps he doesn't have to give that up to really get close to people. When he and Orion were spark-bound (even though they never admitted it), Orion still had Ariel and Dion, and he still had Soundwave and Ravage. And there was a time when he hadn't yet tried to cull Starscream out of the trine, when that was all right as well.
"So. Yes. You need never be alone if I can help. And thank you for explaining the magic. I need to know what to be careful of in this world. The rules here are different. I should imagine the energon from my circulatory system, or the internal lubricants for any number of my components, could also be used against me."
(This is a little concerning. Latex and similar materials contain absolutely nothing when wrapped around durasteel and titanium.)
Then he allows himself a similarly warm smile. "It was," he says, "hilarious. Do you know the game of poetry rounds? It was a rich mech's game when we were all young, but I taught it to all my Decepticon friends after Orion and Ravage taught it to me. The game itself is simple. You either quote from a poem everyone knows--Decepticons have been known to use popular song lyrics--or you make up your own on the spot. Both are allowed unless only poets are playing. Ravage and I play by ourselves using only our own words, but we wouldn't expect that of others. Anyhow, I gave a poetry reading one night on the Lost Light which was badly attended, because we had all just been through a literal battle through time, and most of the crew preferred to attend the loud, noisy dance party afterward. So one of the players decided to use that particular poem, with the wrong implication, and Ravage had the following turn."
Megatron chuckled. "And he won, because everyone other than me was dumbstruck when he provided the context for the poem very neatly in one couplet: 'The little one who purred in his arms was two million years old / And had opened the lost city’s gates from inside.'"
Those words make Loki think of the breakdown he had months ago, in the waning winter. The vision of himself he saw in the mirror; pitiless, unfeeling, psychotic. Dangerous even to his own children. His expression is very serious, but he nods his understanding. "I keep my demons close to my heart, lest they escape my control entirely."
Loki is a mercurial being; it's part of the essence that makes him what he is. Sometimes he's a shaman, a dangerous godling that rides with the dead. Sometimes he's a trickster that stumbles clumsily into traps of his own making. Sometimes he's a tender mother, or a playful lover, or a protector. He relates to Harley and to Ian very intimately indeed, loving each beyond his ability to express, but in very different ways. Should he ever take another into his heart, that love would take a different form, as well.
Of course, while they're dependent on him, the children will always come first, before romance, before Loki's need to fully express his own wildness. But he understands one thing about himself now, which he did not until very recently: that is that to deny any part of his identity to himself is death.
"Oh, definitely," he says to the comment about magic. "Although because you are not an organic being, the rules may apply very differently to you. And there are other methods of magic-working, as well. A comprehensive discussion would take days, but we can make time for that some day, if you like."
Listen, even if he hadn't already decided he likes Megatron, Loki enjoys hearing himself talk. He's okay with giving lengthy explanations to an audience of one.
"I've never heard of poetry rounds, but I've played similar games with music, both with and without lyrics. My eldest daughter would be fascinated." His smile widens at the conclusion of the story, and he gives an appreciative laugh. "There's little more rewarding than winning a verbal sparring match with a few simple words. Well done, to him."
"It was very well done. I rewarded him for it, as he rightly deserved." Megatron smirks a little. "I'd love to play the game with you, and your daughter. With appropriate stakes, of course, and not the stakes I used to put up with Ravage."
He sighs. "I've just come to appreciate how much I need to be around people who know the scent of my demons. I may be older than you, but you've been working at controlling yours much longer than I have been. It's been...barely a year, maybe two? --time at that scale means almost nothing to me, it's moments, like this one, and eons, that matter. I want to be known, but I don't want to hurt anyone, any more. I was once in a field of flowers. There was one flower there for every life that was lost because of something I'd done, and the end of them all wasn't visible. I know I can't avoid causing pain, no-one can--but I don't want to do it on purpose ever again."
He shrugs a little cavalierly, as if trying to pretend what he ust said wasn't some sort of stupid confession.
"And yes, I want to learn about magic. I made one or two attempts at it with Ravage, during desperate times, to no avail. I want to know about things that can cause me and those I love harm; I want to know how to protect and defend them, and protect and defend myself so I can go on doing that. I don't like being ignorant of anything with strategic uses, or anything of importance. In fact, though I don't know at all what I want to do with the rest of my life...I know that I want to spend it learning. I started all this, all the madness, because they denied me that."
"I cannot tell you how pleased I would be to see her become a poet as well as a performer. Of all of them, she is the most attuned to my nature and abilities. She will be a mage some day, I think, and quite possibly a shapeshifter."
The talk of endless fields of flowers sobers him visibly. There is something that flickers in his face and eyes, a glimpse of a shattered soldier's thousand-yard stare. After a moment he says, "Your philosophy there matches mine. I am...not sure how many flowers I would have. Some of my memories are still missing and distorted."
He hesitates, lips parted, as if he's not sure whether he should elaborate, but the way he struggles to focus on Megatron's next words, regarding learning, which he would normally heartily encourage, tells him he needs to explain.
"There was a cult I fell in with," he says. "After being exiled from home. The Black Order. Their leader was called Thanos, the Mad Titan. It was his belief that the universe has too few resources for the life forms contained within it, and that to prevent an eventual apocalypse of death by starvation and dehydration, the one foolproof solution was to kill half of everything, everywhere."
"I had nowhere else to go, and they would not have allowed me to leave if I had tried, and so at first I played along, thinking it was impossible for him to act on his designs. But it wasn't impossible. The first planet I attended the Cull on was small; its inhabitants knew nothing of space travel or other worlds, and they had nothing beyond projectile weapons to defend themselves. It was...quick. And it was awful. And I was punished afterwards for not doing my part, because I froze."
"I think almost two billion souls must have died in that Cull alone."
Megatron's other hand takes Loki's hand, and his hands slide up to Loki's wrists, as if to tug him into his arms, but awaiting permission. He knows that horror all too well. And he's been the one to punish the ones who froze, more to his shame.
"I'm so sorry--"
He looks up, shaking his head. "I am really, sorry." And he is. Not just for Loki. But desperately sorry to people like Glit, and Thundercracker, and Soundwave, and all of the others he pushed well past their limits for cruelty. He wrote of going on past one's heart, but he shouldn't have ever been the one to take people's hearts and force them on past them.
"Don't worry," he says, though it sounds rather empty. "I've been that sort of charismatic leader, more to my shame. I know the signs. I won't fall in with anyone like that, I promise you. No. I want to learn from you, and from others like you. I would not study such a thing with anyone I did not trust."
And, after a moment, he settles.
"I would be willing to mentor your daughter on such a path, if she chose. Once you know me, of course, well enough to trust me with such a dear being."
Loki doesn't resist the touch to his wrists or even seem alarmed, but he does look a little confused by it. Thor has always been quick to embrace him, and so was Frigga, so he does know when comfort is being offered, but to his mind he's just made a dreadful confession of his own guilt, not a plea for reassurance.
He blinks at Megatron, further surprised by the message he seems to have taken from this confession, and after a moment he reaches up and pats his cheek. "At first glance, you reminded me of him, but not because of anything you've done to me. Just the silhouette. Broad shoulders, strong jaw...it took me a moment to adjust, but I do not mistake you for Thanos now."
"And he's dead in my world anyway, and in many others. Though he got to me first, and--that's not relevant. What I meant was that I have a lot of innocent blood on my hands, as well. I didn't ask to participate in the Culls, but I didn't stop them either, and when I visited Earth, I did terrible things as much on my own behalf as the Order's. That was when I was a monster. But it is a matter of some reassurance that they had to break me first."
After a moment, he leans lightly into Megatron's shoulder, recognizing the offer of touch, if somewhat awkward accepting it.
"I've been the warlord who expected his followers not to balk at doing horrible things," Megatron says almost airlessly, stroking his hand, "and I've always regretted it, but I've never regretted it more than I do, right now."
"You need not feel that way on my account," Loki's body temperature is a little lower than a human's would be, where he leans against him, a consequence of Jotun blood. "You've done nothing to me, and what I said before, stands. No judgment, not here."
"I thought perhaps it would be best to explain, since my mind started to wander. I am much improved, but I still bear scars."
"And I still stand unconquered." He glances up and takes in the expression on his face, then moves into a full embrace, perching on the arm of the chair he's in. "It's all right, truly."
"Here we are, unconquered," Megatron muses, holding him.
That sounds like the first line of a poem, and he considers running with it. But this is not a poem he wants to write on the fly; this is one he wants to put some thought into writing. It's not like he'd be writing it alone. The words are initially Loki's words; he just wants to see where they'll wander.
It would be so easy to kiss him; a stray thought, but one he's sorely tempted to feed and take in and shield from the cold. But even if that happens, this isn't the way he wants it to happen.
For here, for now, this is enough: that someone can truly know all the things he has done, and could do, and is capable of, and can still want to be where Loki is now.
It's after nightfall, and the children are indoors, asleep. Mrs. Hedgeworthy, Loki's housekeeper, is staying the night, but he is grateful to find he is less desperate for the backup than he was before he left.
Outside the cottage, the meadow is all long grass in shades of tan and fawn and brown, and every breeze makes the seedheads whisper together. Loki likes this weather; he is sorry to have missed spring and summer, but the promise of winter is reassuring.
"Hello," says Ravage lightly. "Soundwave would like to join us, with your permission. He's protective of me, and we don't know you well. Is that all right? I have no secrets from him. He's a telepath. I can't. I understand if you decline, and you are well within your rights to say that what's between you is for you two alone. But I am concerned, because the relationship between myself and Megatron is called amica endura and it's my job to take care of him if he's hurt again like he was before, only I can't do it the way that I used to."
[Not that you're supposed to help your amica THAT way, Ravage.]
Edited (saw this post before I saw the reply that preceeded it LOL) 2020-12-01 01:33 (UTC)
There's a moment of hesitation, because Loki wasn't really prepared for a third party, and a less-known quantity, but it's a reasonable request and it's not as if the information he's prepared to discuss need to be kept from Soundwave. "Actually, I did rather want to meet him anyway. He may wish to block out as much of my mental energies as he can, as I am an alien mind and...complicated. But you are both welcome."
"I cannot invite you inside, though, as the children are sleeping." But there's space outside in the yard, where a miniature playground sits quietly, with a low wall nearby, an unlit firepit flanked with heavy logs for seating, and what appears to be the start of a construction project.
"And I don't possess energon at this time and cannot offer you refreshment; I apologize for that."
Soundwave smiles wryly. "Organic minds: all alien. Yours...is less unsettling than many humans. But more so than elephants, who are not yet sapient, but may become so. I am on your side of this particular equation, Loki. And more so for your own sake, than my own, now that I've met you. I want him to be happy. I want him to be happy, too, with someone who is not my conjunx. It isn't just that I'm jealous, although I am. It's that they're terrible for one another, and for everyone around them, when they're lovers. I hope you never see it for yourself. I was not so jealous a mech when we met him."
He gives Ravage a look that even through the visor clearly dares him to deny it. Notably, Ravage does not, and they are both still smiling.
"I cut my teeth on diplomacy and entertaining foreign guests, in my homeworld," he says with a little smile to Ravage. "To offer refreshment is the least of things that can be done to set guests at ease. But another time, perhaps. And yes, I have sparklings."
He likes that term. They are sparks, for certain. "Four of them."
He gives Soundwave a thoughtful look, and a shallow bow of greeting. "My species are extremophiles, designed to live in low temperatures. The physical structure of my body and brain is most likely innately different from most organic life, but I've never investigated it fully."
"...which, incidentally, led to some very pleasant surprises with Megatron, but I'm not sure that's quite the matter at hand." Or is it? He felt energy from the mech's spark and was fine, so maybe it's exactly the matter at hand.
"I feel as though we should be allies, you two and myself. You fall under my providence, you're close with a friend of mine, and there are...parallels. I am willing to work to make that happen, alliance or friendship or both. But my culture is not so open with emotion as yours seems to be."
"You're dealing with Decepticons." Soundwave says it as if the one word explains everything, then chuckles. "Not sure how we fall under your providence, but it would be good to be allies, or better yet, friends."
The comment about pleasant surprises draws a very knowing laugh from Ravage, even as he leans into Soundwave's arm round his shoulders. If Ravage has a One True Love (and he definitely believes that he does) it's Soundwave, and everything between them is pretty damned magical, even when they're both dead tired and can barely manage ten minutes alone. But Megatron was always fun. Even if everyone else thinks they're obnoxious together.
But then he gets down to the question that Soundwave has spectacularly failed to answer. "Decepticon culture, when it isn't toxic, is a culture of honesty and loyalty. There's military decorum, sometimes, and professionalism, sometimes, but everything's out in the open. In the early days of the movement, we were so committed to not owning each other that there were no formally committed relationships among us, even if everyone knew who was essentially married. Keeping up appearances was considered 'bourgeois' for want of a better term. We liked to think we were an army of lovers. Of course that bred its own kind of toxicity. People who disliked each other but had to pretend they were comrades, and then we stopped doing that, but then all the infighting was out in the open as well. It was exactly the sort of social mess that you'd expect to get when you put a bunch of people who were rebelling against social and class restrictions together with a bunch of people who never had the freedom to develop or maintain good boundaries. Anyhow, with the two of us I'm afraid you're dealing with the true believers. I wouldn't tell a stranger everything we've just told you, and neither would Soundwave, but if we're meant to be allies and hope to be friends, dissembling won't help."
Ravage shrugs. "He gave us our freedom. He is our closest living friend. Soundwave and he were enemies briefly and while I won't say those were the worst days of my life, because I wasn't a slave or a prisoner of war, they were worse than almost anything else. When he talks about you, which he doesn't, much, and that in itself makes me think this is serious--it's clear he's fallen in love. If he hasn't already given you his spark, it's only because he can't figure out how. I have only ever done that with Soundwave. He only ever did that with someone who hurt him terribly. I don't ever want to go through that with him again. And he'd be furious if he knew I was telling you this, but I don't care, because you need to know what a big deal this is, not just for our species, but also for him personally."
"I am the god of lies," he says to Soundwave with a shrug, not exactly apologetic, but with a facial expression that suggests he knows this may not be what they'd like to hear. "I believe honesty with oneself is essential, except in extreme circumstances, but otherwise I may not be capable of embracing your philosophy. Respecting it, yes; but not accepting it as my own."
He listens thoughtfully to Ravage, then wanders over to the low wall nearby to sit. "It's good that you acknowledge your movement's previous missteps. That will build strength, in the long term. Not everyone starts from the same place, nor travels their path at the same pace. Candor can be a social lubricant or a roadblock, depending how it is applied."
There is more in his head, explanations for his behavior that he feels may be necessary, but he's diverted by the talk of Megatron. That may be telling. There's a flicker of a soft smile on his face, and he nods. "I don't believe I've ever been with a lover so openly romantic as he is. I am bonded to two others, and he is well aware of that. Because this is so new, I am deeply concerned about being fair to them. Harley, in particular, has been patient with me beyond my wildest expectations. She took me into her home when I arrived here, with no questions asked, and was the first to offer to defend me from my enemies."
"Loyalty to a cause or a nation means little to me, but loyalty to individuals is...a quality I seek to cultivate in myself."
"I am still finding my feet, seeking a balance. My children must be my first priority until they are old enough to care for themselves. My brother is unwell and needs my support--actually two versions of him, from two different worlds. I have Ian and Harley and I owe them both much, and for the first time in my life I appear to be surrounded by friends. I have often been accused of selfishness, justly; if I were alone, without children or dependents, I would have no hesitation in answering your question in the affirmative. I would drop everything and follow him anywhere he asked, whether I believed our chemistry to be eternal or a fleeting fancy, because if I were to fall, there would be no one harmed but myself."
"I am very serious about this. I can promise you that; enough so that it frightens me. And there are...injuries, in my background, which make me wary. Unwilling to disappoint, unwilling to be tamed, waiting for some catastrophe to flip everything upside down. So what you ask, do I love him, is not a simple question to answer. Not to me. And he knows that."
As Loki speaks, Soundwave's expression grows softer, and even though he is wearing a mask, his smile shows through somehow, perhaps in what shows of his eyes through his visor.
"I believe that everything will be fine," he says--probably more to Ravage than to Loki himself, though he looks carefully at them both--when Loki finishes his explanation.
"I know what you feel while you speak to us. Not being Megatron, I have no reason to care what you call it." Soundwave shrugs, then shakes his head.
"Ravage did not ask if you were willing to follow Megatron wherever he chooses to go. Please, even after your children are grown, even a thousand years from now, if you and he should find yourselves alone--do not promise to follow Megatron wherever he chooses to go. We made that promise once. We do not advise that anyone else makes it. He does not need followers. If you ever do go away with him, take his hand, and don't be afraid to pull him back from the edge of a precipice if you have to. Because you will. I think it's better, at least for now, if he follows you. And I think you can get him to do it."
"Wait, he's romantic?" Ravage grins, bemused and amused all at once. "That isn't what I would have called him when he was with me. Even the poems he wrote for me weren't exactly...romantic."
Ravage hears Soundwave's snort and looks up at him, shrugging. "I heard that," he says with a grin.
Then to Loki he says: "I think you might worry too much."
Loki makes a small oof noise under his breath and gives Soundwave a rueful look. "You're an empath," he says. On the one hand, that makes him nervous, because he often relies on deception for survival. On the other hand, he doesn't envy him the sheer chaos the Nexus is capable of inflicting on a mind attuned to receiving thought and emotion. Luckily, he is not trying to dissemble now, and they meet as friends, so he does not feel defensive.
He grins a little. "I did not mean follow in quite that sense, but your point is well taken. It remains to be seen whether we will steer one another safely or egg one another on, which is another concern I have, but I'll see what I can do."
To Ravage, he says, "You are also a poet, and I am not. Perhaps I am more impressed by his choice of words, because I do not understand quite how he knits them together."
Either that, or he somehow brings out Megatron's hidden soppy-sweet side, which is a nice thought, but one he chooses not to voice, as the mech himself might not thank him for it.
"I know I worry too much," he agrees, voice blithe and lilting now that he's expressed his doubts and been heard. He feels better, anyway! "It's part of what I am. There is a voice within me I call my anti-conscience. It tells me, in any given situation, several options I could pursue, as well as weighing the potential reactions of those around me, and the suggestions it makes first are invariably the most destructive. I have to fight it into submission to get anything friendly from it."
"It's very useful in a conflict, but much less so when talking with potential friends or adjusting to a new love intererest."
"Oh, I appreciate his talent. He's a better poet than I am," Ravage says with a wry smile. "But...he is courting you, isn't he? He never courted me. I was claimed before I ever met him, Loki." Ravage leans into Soundwave, and looks up at him with blinking eyes. "I don't think you are going to egg each other on. That's what we were like, each of us pushing the other that little bit further."
"You are not alone," he tells Soundwave. "And not to offend, but I am deeply grateful that your talent is not one of mine. Take care, though--there are minds here that are more profoundly unlike yours than mine is, and might be harmful if not thoroughly blocked. Demons, angels, cosmic entities--ah. If you ever run into a man calling himself Grandmaster, avoid him at all costs. He looks human, but is very much not."
And Loki still rather likes him, but he's a terribly dangerous wild card. He should probably warn Megatron to dodge him, too, come to think of it, but he doesn't appear often.
He blinks at Ravage thoughtfully, surprised to hear that he was not courted. Yet another cultural difference, perhaps. Because he was bonded to Soundwave? But Loki has other lovers, himself, even if their claim is not exclusive.
"Well," he says mildly, "he did ask for permission to court me first. I am glad to have heard your perspective, now. I already understood I am...a rare occurrence for him, but the additional information is good to hear."
Ravage nods. "Courtship is serious. In asking to court you, he told you that he does not want a casual, recreational relationship without the possibility of any commitment. Soundwave and I once had an open relationship, but there was never any pretence that activities with other parties, even our dearest friends, would be other than recreational. He does not view your relationship as recreational.
"I was always Soundwave's consort and have never been open to having a second one. I refuse to share my spark with anyone else. I believe the humans call relationships like ours 'friends with benefits', except that amicitia is closer than human friendship by far and does not properly include the 'benefits' in polite non-Decepticon society."
"I've met the Antheans. I actually feel safe around them. But I've encountered unpleasant people as well. My own counterpart, for one. I will certainly avoid the Grandmaster. And I always take care. I worked for Megatron for...a very, very long time. There were frequently minds around that I didn't want to contact. Scorponok, Tarn, Helex, Vos... perhaps less powerful, but no less unpleasant?"
Soundwave shrugs. "As Ravage says, it is meaningful that Megatron is courting you. It is also a very good sign. Before he had his...revelations," Soundwave says, with a little distaste, "I must admit, he would probably have just tried to win you away, if he wanted you for himself. Or chosen you because there was no chance that he would have to open his spark. He did once attempt to court Ravage, when Ravage and I were very much at odds. But Ravage doesn't see it that way, because he never asked permission to court him. I, however, think 'come away with me, leave the Decepticon cause, including your entire family, and join the Autobots' was not particularly ambiguous. I forgive it only because it was also completely hopeless."
"I think, when I began flirting with him, I was envisioning something more like friends with benefits," Loki admits. "Though the chemistry was there even when we first met. Best that he was forthcoming, really."
Despite the uncertainty and mild alarm the love confession brought out in Loki, he has to concede that if they had not had that talk and had woven their energies together so intimately in lovemaking, he would feel far more disoriented about it all.
"Of the Antheans," he says, "I have only met Ziggy, and we did not get along well, though I wish him all the best."
He smirks a little at the thought of Megatron attempting to win him away. It sounds rather courtly in itself, though trying to break him away from Harley and Ian would be a disaster. His amusement only rises at Soundwave's arch comment about Megatron and Ravage's relationship, and he laughs quietly. "Right, well, I definitely like the both of you, and you're obviously meant to be together."
Soundwave laughs. "I literally did fall in love at my first sight of her," he admits. "Sometimes with us, it does happen like that. The spark knows its mate and they call to each other. I saw her spark light up her entire field and I was so disoriented at that time that I could see nothing else when she or he wandered my way. I remembered Ravage's name when I was too ill to remember my own. We were both in a bad way when she decided to take me in. When I opened my spark to him, he was mine, and we have hurt each other terribly a few times, but we know each other better now."
He thinks for a moment. "That is probably a strange thing for me to tell you, but maybe it will help you understand things. We saw this happen with him once before. He had us, and a few others. The other party had a few other people in his orbit as well, but they chose not to join us. In the end, the other party left us as well and ended up with no-one at all, but I think he deserved it, and I take a certain vindictive pleasure in seeing that he still wears a mask and helm crest that look almost exactly like mine. I hate him so much," Soundwave says, laughing with a soft, melodious and utterly vindictive tone that somehow also drips with love, though the love is for Ravage, and maybe also for Megatron, too.
"You have no idea how much pleasure it gives me to see that he doesn't even know how much it shows that he thinks of us all. Ravage wrote an angry poem about him that got posted to an Autobot website and he ordered it taken down within hours. Of course I have no idea how that got there. But since someone who had an account there decided to humiliate Ravage and me by posting something that Ravage had written about me, I thought it was only fair."
After this not-quite-confession Ravage almost completely forgets what he'd planned to say and breaks down into helpless laughter. "You? Oh, I love you so much, Soundwave..."
Ravage's face would be glowing if his paint were not black and velvety. Finally, he looks up at Loki, a little embarrassed. "We know Ziggy's parents," Ravage says, "and we consider them dear friends. Ziggy is very extra. Soundwave loves his music, and we're definitely friendly with Ziggy. But Ziggy surrounds himself with relentlessly enthusiastic and positive people that make it difficult to get close to him. One of them spent a good deal of time trying to explain to Soundwave, of all people, that 'spite' is not an appropriate motivation for things. Soundwave sometimes runs at least as much on spite as he does on energon."
"I have a solid guess," Loki says, "who the other you refer to must have been, based on what Megatron has told me. Everything I know is secondhand, but if you say he deserves the misery he has found, I believe you."
"And you are extremely dangerous," he tells Soundwave with a little grin. "I like that. It's easy to make assumptions about empaths and telepaths based on stereotypes, but I promise you, I know better."
The ones that seem soft and gentle are the ones you have to be careful not to run afoul of. That, and his sense of mischief and petty vengeance seems to be equal to Loki's. He's so very glad now that he opened himself up to the conversation.
"Personally, I'm a fan of spite. Really, it's only a slight twist of the innate desire for justice and balance, and those are noble pursuits."
Soundwave is beaming and he has to actively turn his optics down so that he doesn't hurt Loki's or Ravage's optics. But the way the two of them are looking at him, for different reasons, is entirely adorable and makes him feel just a bit fluttery.
"Exactly so. Let me tell you about dear little Orion. He tried to blackmail me because he had figured out that I was the one who killed one of my men whom I knew for a fact was about to betray us and ruin our chance to get out of a prison his people had put us in, a prison I never believed we'd get out of alive. This, from someone who lay with us all! I put a stop to it by explaining that I never delete an image from my memory banks, even a painful one, if it concerns someone who has betrayed me or my own."
"He liked your spike almost as much as I do," Ravage said sweetly, with a delicate snort. "He wants you to defect because he knows that you and I are more dangerous to him as leaders of our faction than Galvatron or your brother could ever be, because we know him, and you in particular know how he thinks. Not to mention how difficult it will be for him not to acknowledge our right to recognition as a legitimate political party with its own sovereign territories. He probably won't grant us the right to take outliers from the spark harvests, assuming that ever starts happening again on a regular basis. But he can't forbid us to open our borders to anyone who chooses to denounce the Primacy."
Loki is keen enough to recognize discomfort with eye contact, for whatever reason it may come, and lets his smile linger for a split second before turning his attention to Ravage, instead. "This all sounds justified, to me. I never claimed not to take slights personally, myself."
He is equally pleased to hear how they've considered their political maneuvers, and gives a hum of approval. "I am not a joiner, as I told Ben not long ago, and frankly I would be more of a liability for a political movement than an asset, but please consider me at your disposal as a sounding-board, should you require it. And I do have some connections within the Nexus that might be more helpful than I, in specific situations."
"There's no reason for you to join us," Ravage says with a shrug. "It's always a surprise to me when someone who's not Cybertronian, and not a resident of any of our sovereign or disputed territories, wants to join us, but it usually comes from some combination of a difficult personal history, an appreciation of our principles, however badly they have been observed, and affection for at least one or two of us personally, so Soundwave and I have chosen to accept those who want to be part of our movement even if they have no intention of ever residing in our universe."
He smiles. "That you're willing to help us is more than enough. Especially since Megatron left the movement, so it's clear that you're not doing this for his sake."
"Thank you," Soundwave tells Loki, more than happy to look him in the eye now that he's managed to get his high-beams turned off.
There are so many thoughts and feelings jumbled around in his mind right now.
Loki is almost certainly feeling the spark-call, just as Ravage felt it from him, even though Loki is an alien being and hasn't a spark of his own.
Which is interesting to think about, but leads to dangerous paths, because Loki is everything dear sweet Orion once promised to be but was wholly unable to be.
Which is dangerous, because dear sweet Orion once terrified Soundwave, until he gave in to that cloyingly bright fascination, knowing better each step of the way, not failing to notice that Ravi was often too much of a challenge for Orion to ever have meant some of the things that he said, and then the betrayal came.
And he will not think about how things could be once more what they never really were before. No, he will decidedly not think about that, even though Ravage and Megatron were kinder and gentler and not at all toxic together when Orion was there in the middle beside him.
Let it stay as it is. Two and two do not have to be four, especially not when the other two are not yet done with being one and one. He has Ravage all to himself now, and he's wanted that far longer, and he'll savour that as long as he can have it, which is, hopefully, forever.
It's rare for him to be attracted to anyone other than Ravage, but if Orion taught Soundwave anything, it was that being attracted absolutely did not mean he had to act on it, no matter how rare it was, no matter what Megatron or even Ravage said.
"I wonder," he says conversationally. "Do you think that when we finally sign the treaty, someone will tell dear sweet Orion he needs to stop dressing like me, because with two of us on the opposite sides of a table for posterity, and Ravage beside me, people other than Ravage and Jazz will finally notice?"
After all, if he can manage never to kiss Jazz again, he can certainly manage not to kiss anyone else that he shouldn't.
"It also strikes me as amusing. Even though Orion didn't take Megatron back after Megatron joined his tribe of idiots, Megatron tried to court Ravage, and Orion tried to blackmail me into joining them. I wonder what Orion would have tried to do if they had actually got both of us to stand with them under that banner."
Soundwave would curl his lip in distaste if he could. Instead, he just laughs.
"From what I've heard, I do approve," he tells Ravage with a wry smile. "I may be the god of lies, but I don't like it when they're used to uphold the status quo. The status quo, more often than not, needs to be disrupted."
That is what a Trickster does, and the Trickster nature is even more fundamentally a part of Loki's identity than divinity is. "My tendency is always to take the side of the underdog, the outcast, and the disrupting influence. That's why I feel you are part of my providence, at least in part. It's my duty and privilege to offer my congratulations, even if you never require my assistance."
He is not aware of Soundwave's mix of thought and emotion, which is just as well, because attraction is nothing he is prepared to deal with right now, when his bond with Megatron is so new. But he would be immensely flattered. His sympathy for Soundwave is already significant, in part because of the parallels he knows exist. He does not dare mention them now, because that may be more information than Soundwave would ideally like for him to know right off the bat, but it's fascinating and pleasing to meet what seems to him like a brighter mirror of himself from an entirely alien species and culture.
"...wait," he says thoughtfully. "He dresses like you? Surely there's some amusement to be had there, at his expense. Is it a coincidence, or does he do it deliberately? If you made a subtle change at peace talks, would he echo it?"
Fortunately Soundwave has finally managed to shut off the offending process. He needn't be thinking about kissing anyone other than Ravage (not Loki, nor Jazz either), not when he's finally accomplished the lifelong, and far more emotionally important, goal of getting Ravage all to himself. It's also confusing to him, since when he was organic himself, he found the prospect of organic sex grossly unappealing. But then, he didn't have his telepathy properly working under that spell, and that's always been a huge part of his attractions.
"Loki," he says, with amusement, "the mask is adaptive technology. It's not a part of me, nor is it part of him. Most people only wear them during battle, or when there's some kind of airborne infection about. He wears one all the time, like I do, and has done, since the four of us were an item. I think at one point he meant it as solidarity, or so that I wouldn't feel odd about it, although I never actually did feel odd about it, because unless I'm eating or drinking, or kissing or making love, it makes me more comfortable. And he still wears a helm crest that's only subtly different from mine. Megatron bought both of them from the same jeweller. He had just won a whole lot of money and paid for everything the three of us, Ravi included, had tried on and liked without telling us, and gave it all to us later. His accounts are all frozen now, or you'd already know how much he likes to give presents."
He glances at Ravage and drops to one knee, with an expression that somehow manages to be demure and thoroughly wicked all at the same time. "You should commission me a different one, Ravi-brightspark. After all, neither he nor I are in service to Megatron, now, and I am in service only to you. And perhaps we'll wear our wedding capes to the peace talks."
"That does seem like the appropriate course of action," Ravage says thoughtfully, and leans over to kiss Soundwave's helm, since his face is completely covered.
"And," he says to Loki when he stands, "in that respect, we're absolutely in your providence."
"Well, I've never seen him," he tells Soundwave with mild amusement. "I've no way of knowing in what aspects he dresses like you. That, and you all seem to have variant shapes, which is fascinating."
He cannot avoid looking sheepish and just a bit soft at the talk of Megatron giving presents. He can imagine, already, but he gives a little shake of his head. "That's probably for the best. I've always preferred handmade and heartfelt gifts more than pretty luxuries. Though I would be lying if I pretended I don't get such things for myself more often than not."
"But all of that sounds like a good idea, for the sake of yourselves and not just to troll him. There is a very good tailor in the Nexus. I'm not sure whether he would be capable of creating a mask or helm himself, as he seems to work primarily in fabric, but I'm sure he'd know someone who could. I always take the children to him for new clothes."
"The only clothes we ever wear are capes and drapes for formal occasions. Anything else interferes with the transformation process, should we need to be able to change. We'd need to have helms and the like made by people who are familiar with our requirements, also because of the transformation. But simply changing the helm crest would dispel the illusion."
Ravage makes an amused little chuff. "I have plenty of images of Orion in my mental banks, if you'd like to see one. I swear I'll spare you the sight of his dripping valve; it's irrelevant to the subject of how he looks currently, as there's a piece of god-ridden metal stuck in his chest that's changed his whole body, and that just makes everything worse, because now he's a little bigger than Soundwave instead of barely being a little bit bigger than I am right now."
"Megatron," Soundwave says after a moment's deliberation, "derives a great deal of pleasure from seeing people he cares about wearing his gifts. If he gives you jewels, you should probably wear them. He's not good at making things with his hands. The only gift that he could make himself would be poetry, and if you haven't gotten that already, it will not be long. Sometimes he will find rare gems underground and give them to people, but he doesn't know how to make jewellery out of them. Anything he gave you would, I think, be heartfelt. And also...he is not possessive, but he likes to see tangible signs of his favour on all of his favourites. I'd call it 'marking territory', but it's not meant to warn anyone off--the only warning in it is that this is someone he has feelings for, and you had best not harm them."
He sighs. "I did very much want Ravage to get rid of a collar, but Laserbeak took it and tore it apart and used the jewels on a jacket for somebody else, because she knew I wouldn't say that. But that was the only extravagant thing he gave Ravage when they were living together apart from me, and I couldn't stand the sight of it. The rest of it, I honestly don't care about. I just know how he feels, because he feels a lot."
"There's no reason I need to see images of Orion," Loki chuckles a little at Ravage. "And especially none where he is in flagrante delicto with any of you."
He makes a thoughtful sound at Soundwave's explanation. "Don't worry, then. I enjoy gifts as tangible expressions of affection. A handful of dandelions is as good as a polished emerald in that regard, but as long as the feeling behind it is the same, I'll love anything he gives me."
"...although I could always have the children teach him to make friendship bracelets or pot-holders whenever they do meet him."
"Let him give you whatever he wants to give you," Soundwave suggests. "I believe his gifts say something about his feelings for people, and neither a pot-holder (whatever that is) nor a friendship bracelet would be truly appropriate."
He ex-vents, irritated. "That is the other reason I disliked that collar so much. I never like to see Ravage in collars, even if they are made of jewels. I am sure that he would not put one on you."
After a moment, though, his expression goes wry and fond. "You may, however, wish to start thinking about who you would ask to make a cape for you, if that cape had to be made by your dearest friends. One you already have will not do, if it comes to that."
"Perhaps I should say it differently. The children absolutely will attempt to teach him to make friendship bracelets and pot-holders whenever they meet him, whether he wishes to give the results away or not." Loki's lips quirk playfully. He knows his kids. Agnarr will be wary, and Sigrid will be curious to interact with a poet and may in time be willing to be mentored, but in the interim she and Una will be perfectly content to instruct a new adult in their lives in the matters they believe are most important.
He raises an eyebrow and makes a thoughtful sound at the mention of a collar. "...well, it's not as if I wouldn't wear a collar, but--nevermind."
The connotations would be different. He gets that. And yet it's the cape that makes him blush slightly, only because they just mentioned their own wedding capes. "If that means what it sounds like it means, I hope he's not in a rush. I'm still not quite ready to introduce the children yet."
"Soundwave is being the hopeless romantic he always is," Ravage says, laughing softly. "He likes being married, so now he thinks everyone else ought to be, too."
He looks up at his husband in deep amusement. "Really. You shouldn't have said that. You'll scare the poor deity."
Ravage is a brat. And he knows this.
"I'm sure they'll teach him to make things. And he'll probably give the friendship bracelets to the children, so that they know they are his friends, and the pot-holders to Esmeral, in the vain hope that she'll stop banning his BC accounts."
"I've never been married, and I'm not sure I expected to be at this point in my life, but stranger things have occurred. At least I'm not actively serving as Prince of Asgard so there are few political implications to worry about." He's amused, fortunately, instead of terrified. A formal bond is something that must allow for his other lovers and the comfort of his children, and is likely a long way off in any case, but there's something sweet about the enthusiasm of the newlyweds.
"The look on Thor's face would be memorable, though." He wouldn't be Loki if he didn't like the idea of trolling his brother. But that is not a reason to rush into anything!
"But back to children and handicrafts, I had thought it might do them good to meet the two of you or some of the other Decepticons before being introduced to Megatron. Your species is unfamiliar to my universe, and adapting to a different culture without the complication of wondering how close their father and his new friend are, and whether said new friend will stay, might be easier for them."
"Megatron isn't a Decepticon any more," Ravage says after a moment. "I feel like I have to keep saying this. I had to say it to Lucifer...well, it was only once, but that's not what it felt like."
He scratches behind his ear. "I have to admit it feels a bit strange to think that we're the people you'd have your children meet first to warm up for meeting Megatron. Misfire or Esmeral or Clobber or even Suckerpunch are better examples of average Cybertronians; at the same time, I can't think of anyone who's a lot like Megatron, other than...Megatron. I mean, there's Galvatron, who is a tenth-rate imitation of Megatron, but we're going to kill him, so we can't use him. Is it because you want them to meet Cybertronians, or because you want to talk with us personally, or because you want them to meet Megatron's friends?"
"Oh! No, I am well aware of that," Loki looks mildly apologetic. "By 'other Decepticons' I meant other than you two and Ben, who the children are well acquainted with."
He shakes his head, then. "Perhaps I am being unclear; let me try again. These children grew up on a planet that no longer exists, and while they have known of other sapient species from other realms before leaving home, visits from them have been few and far between. In the Nexus, they are gradually becoming accustomed to beings other than their own kin, but they are also...injured. Traumatized. And sometimes they are frightened by new people and experiences. I'm not asking in order to smooth over introductions for his sake, but for theirs. I just don't want them to be overwhelmed."
"I want them to meet Cybertronians, and I want them to talk to you two if you are to be my friends."
"I don't know about Ravi, but I knew it was for their sake," Soundwave says. "What confused us was why us. But if the reason is because we are friends, that's a very good reason. Of course, we'll be happy to meet them."
Loki is standing outside his hall when Megatron arrives, and he is wearing his Asgardian form, ivory-skinned and green-eyed, with inky hair back in intricate braids and tied, incongruously, with a glittery purple ribbon.
"I have something for you," he says with a little smile. "I told the children I had a new friend, but that they will not be able to meet him for a few weeks. They're curious. They sent you a picture."
Because Asgardian kids are kids nevertheless. He holds out a large piece of construction paper, upon which is a riot of crayon and marker sprinkled with glitter glue. There appear to be four figures on the page. The tallest has medium-brown skin and black hair, and a green jacket. The second is in a blue dress, with honey-brown curls and a halo of musical notes around her head. The third is the smallest, and only identifiable as a person by the two eyes and the pink-marker smile, but there are little fish and shell stickers all over him. The last is very glittery, with blond braids and a sword bigger than she is tall.
Several different hands have written "HI!" across the top. And there are additional stickers, including flowers, horses, and rainbows.
"You're going to let me meet them that soon?" Megatron is delighted, and grins at the drawing. "One of your sparklings is extremely sparkly," he observes. "Did she give you the ribbon? It's almost Decepticon purple. And the one in blue, that's Sigrid, isn't it?"
Megatron has actually never seen anything of this nature before and keeps looking at the paper like it's a rare artefact from a world he's never imagined, mostly because, well...it is. He never got to be a child.
Cybertronians are small for only a very short period of time, and most of them are raised in creches and post-natal facilities. In the days of Megatron's youth, there were powerful 'houses' where wealthy people who could afford to forge bodies especially for the newsparks of their choice were able to choose the heirs they wanted for their households, but even then, only a small minority of sparklings were taken into homes of that sort. Most were cared for in groups and given some degree of education appropriate for their function before being assigned a place in society.
Megatron didn't even get that. His spark was rare, but it was also not the spark that had been intended to go into that particular frame; he was treated like any other cold-construct at initialisation.
It surprised him that he was even interested in helping to raise children this small; he had promised Loki that he would protect everyone he loved, and he had offered to mentor Sigrid, but he had never had the slightest desire to work in a post-natal facility or handle sparklings before.
But they were people--tiny people, but people, and they wanted to be his friends. All they knew was that he was their father's dear friend, and they were welcoming him into their lives. He was beaming, and he was sure he looked ridiculous.
He was also very resolutely not going to think about the very strong likelihood that he had taken many lives as innocent and open as these. Except it was too late for that. But he refused to dwell on it. Someday they might learn this about him, and he'd tell them the truth, he supposed, and hope they forgave him.
"I have never seen anything like this before, Loki. And I will protect them," he says, "as if they were mine. And if this is how they see themselves then I am sure they're just as adorable as their father is."
He looks up at Loki, and dabs at his eyes with the towel Loki gave him days ago; he left it in his subspace. "I don't deserve this, but the universe doesn't give us what we deserve." He smiles. "So, I'll do my best to become someone who does."
"There is no definite timeline," he says. "They are very good children, and strong, but they have experienced excessive trauma, and I was absent from the Nexus for months not long ago. We need to re-align our bonds properly before introducing a new person into the mix, but I am a better parent when I take some joy for myself, as well. And people are not meant to be secrets, or lies. So I told them a bit about you."
"It'd be best if I have a talk with Thor, as well," he adds. "He's their uncle and he's been caring for them; he deserves some forthcoming behavior from me at this point."
"But it won't be too terribly long to wait, I assure you."
He is not privy to Megatron's mixed thoughts regarding innocent children and his own clouded past, but he would be able to identify with some of them. In the dark hours, he has often looked into the mirror and accused himself of claiming peace and tenderness he denied to so many others on so many worlds. He has satisfied himself as best he could with the knowledge that what he does not deserve, the children certainly do, and he will give them what he can.
He's struck by both the presence of the tears and the towel he gave him, and his smile is all soft amusement. "Just be patient with them. Agnarr, the oldest, is the most uncertain, but I don't think that's personal. He is nearing adolescence and torn between clinging to his parent and asserting his individuality apart from him. He may be mercurial. But the others, I think, will take to you well enough. Eindrid would be more interested if your alternate shape was a boat, but he'll cope."
He offers his hand. "Come. We should talk a little as we walk. There are many things we don't know about one another yet."
"That's certainly true." Megatron takes Loki's hand, slipping his fingers through his. "There weren't many forests on Cybertron even when I was a newspark, not that I would have seen them even if there had been. As for the children, it may help that I don't know anything at all about children, and have no expectations. Sparklings don't stay little very long, and they're usually brought up together by people whose job it is to give them whatever training and programming they'll need. Families of the sort that humans and Asgardians have aren't really a thing in our world. Some very wealthy people used to take newsparks out of the creches and raise them up to be heirs to their Houses. But that wasn't always a good thing. There were often expectations for sparklings raised privately. Soundwave ended up in the street as a young mech for failing to meet them."
Megatron looks around, taking in everything. "One doesn't see sparklings often these days. They used to rise from the ground in great numbers in sacred places, but not very often nowadays, and it has been so long since lovers struck a spark that some believe it is a myth. That's one of the reasons I'd keep it, if we did, even though this is a terrible time for it. In addition to being a hopeless romantic. There are so many spark-bound partners I know and I've not seen it once. Not with Ravage and Soundwave, nor Knock Out and Breakdown, nor Strika and Obsidian and Lugnut, nor Chromedome and Rewind..."
"Clever of you to hit right upon one of the things I wanted to ask," Loki tells him with a playful smirk. "I wondered what your planet was like. Landforms, flora and fauna, that kind of thing."
It's a good, peaceful topic to discuss on a walk, after all, and Loki enjoys discussing his own memories of his youth on Asgard. The talk of children catches his attention, though, and he nods, having gathered that reproduction was a matter of dependence on the planet itself rather than the bodies of individuals. It seems a shame to him to essentially raise them in group homes, but then--
His eyes widen and he looks startled by the comment about Soundwave. His hand tightens in Megatron's for a moment, and he murmurs, "That's awful."
There's a pause, and then he says, "I was adopted, and also failed to live up to my father's expectations. It's complicated."
And he's gotten past a lot of the hurt, but not all of it. "There was a war, you see. Between the Frost Giants of Jotunheim, and the Aesir of Asgard. Asgard won, but in the seige upon Jotunheim, Odin, the King, found a baby in a Jotunn temple. A runt of a giant, naked and alone. And from the ridged markings, he could see that I was the son of Laufey, the ruler of the Frost Giants. They're hereditary patterns."
"I don't know now whether I was abandoned out of contempt, left there as a test of my will to survive, or some sort of war-sacrifice in hopes of victory. Either way, Odin brought me back, and he always believed I would have died if he had not."
"My true species was a secret, even from myself. I grew up thinking I was Asgardian, and the biological younger child of the king and queen, the brother of Thor by blood. Finding out otherwise was a shock I did not take well, particularly because Odin admitted he had selected me as a political pawn, planning to install me on the throne of Jotunheim when I came of age, to ensure a government friendly to Asgard."
"That's awful," Megatron says. "You are beautiful as you are. There is no need for you to hide who and what you really are under illusions. Hiding it from you like something shameful..."
He thinks for a moment of Minimus; he only knows that Minimus is a turbofox hiding in armour because Ravage found out. Minimus was also adopted into one of those great Houses.
"I'm glad that you were found and cared for, but Odin cared only for what he saw as your function, based on your form, and not the person inside. He thought of you as a tool. I won't say that this illusion isn't pretty, but it isn't really even an illusion you chose, is it?"
Megatron smiles softly. "I do prefer your true form to this one, though I'd love you no matter how you appeared. And the illusion doesn't completely hold for me, either, unless I offline the infrared and Kirlian frequencies in my optics, and then everything else looks all wrong."
He lifts Loki's hand to his lips and kisses it.
"Soundwave disappointed them when he reached the age where his empathy and telepathy manifested, and he couldn't properly function. Their precious genius overwhelmed by the world around him, unable to focus on anything, no longer able to spy on everything for them, because all he wanted it to do was stop. He was an adult, but just barely. Ravage was also an adult, but just barely. She took him in and fell in love with him."
Megatron ex-vents. "I don't think Odin was any better than his mentors were. Thor at least has been kind to you. I'm glad he hasn't suffered what Shockwave did, for daring to love his own brother."
"Mmm." Loki makes an uncomfortable little noise of acknowledgement. "Frost Giants are the monsters and boogeymen in Asgardian bedtime stories. Raising me to think of my own kind as savages, little more than beasts, was a very poor choice on my parents' part."
"I have come to understand Odin's thought processes well. In the end, he and I are very alike, always planning several steps ahead, thinking of all the angles from which to manipulate a situation. And he was convinced he was working for the greater good, but when you use a person as a tool and leave them dirty, it sits ill. His real problem, I think, was that he began to love me as a son, and pushed me away out of fear that that would spoil his plans. Whereas I knew there was something wrong, instinctively, and was desperate for his approval."
"Some of his last words to me were to call me his son and tell me he loved me, and I believe he meant it. I do not forgive him, but he was, nonetheless, my father." It's Complicated.
He smiles, then, touched that Megatron prefers his true shape. "It unsettles some humans, otherwise I would wear it more often. Thor has mostly acclimated, Norns bless him."
"Frankly, 'kind to me' is an inadequate descriptor. He has been through Hel, figuratively speaking, to reclaim his little brother. He had to learn who I actually am along the way, is all. And vice versa. And now he is the King and Allfather of the Aesir, and I could not be prouder, though I know how it weighs on him."
"To make you think of your own kind as dangerous savages? That's beyond a poor choice and what it is, is downright cruel," Megatron protests. "I told you you should speak to Rav about this. Being a Frost Giant seems not entirely unlike being a Predacon."
Megatron takes Loki's hand in his other hand, so he can slide his arm around Loki's shoulders. "Listen, I didn't mean to diminish your brother in any way by comparing him to Shockwave. There are things for which kindness is just an inadequate word--but I don't know exactly what Thor has done for you, and even if I did I might not understand what it meant. And I have no idea what it is like to have a father. I only know that no-one should ever be made to think of themselves as less than a person because of the way in which they were made, or the shape they take."
He drops a kiss on the crown of Loki's head. "And yes, your true form is to me the most beautiful, because it is yours. If you wanted to change it, I would also view your new form as beautiful, because it would be the one that you chose for yourself, and I believe that people should have the right to choose the forms they take. But I mislike the idea of you twisting yourself around to meet anyone else's standard of beauty, even my own."
Norns, but it feels good to have someone so firmly on his side in this matter. Loki has been over all these thoughts before, has questioned Frigga's ghost and come to terms with Odin's, and he is relatively convinced that Asgard had a strong monarchy with a toxic family structure, and that's all there is to it. Even if his was the standout dysfunction, it wasn't the first one to occur. He leans into Megatron abruptly, almost crashing clumsily into him, and sighs with relief.
"Mmn. I don't know anything about Shockwave, and so I did not imagine Thor was in any way diminished by the comparison. I just want you to know that my brother is nothing like our father."
He squeezes him lightly. "You will see more of the Jotun form over the winter. I prefer it when the weather is cold, and the power it has against the bitter elements."
"Careful, my love." Megatron squeezes Loki's shoulders gently, steadying him.
After a moment, he sighs. "Shockwave is not who he once was. They shadowplayed him. But when we were all young, he was the only Senator worthy of the name. He put up the funds to ransom Ravage and the birds from Ratbat. If he'd managed to become the head of the House, he could've bought them outright and brought them and Soundwave home, but even though he couldn't get them free, he made it so that Ratbat could never lay hands on Ravage again. He tried to make the world a better place without the use of violence, but they took him away, and then they took his face and hands by empurata, and then they put their needles into his neck and brain, and he became completely emotionless. He remained a Decepticon, but he wasn't someone we could trust any more, because he valued almost nothing. He no longer felt love for his brother or for Ravage, but he felt no resentment because he felt freer without emotional ties. Yet he was once among the best of us."
Megatron sighs again. "Are these the stories you want to hear, on a beautiful day like this when we are together?"
Loki's heart does a flip-flop at 'my love', and he tells it silently to behave itself.
Shockwave's story makes him shudder, though. There are to many dark parallels here, too; alarming could-have-beens. "Ravage mentioned shadowplay once, when we played the word association game. We could both tell we'd wandered into territory we did not wish to tread, and opted to turn back together."
"I understand better now. But no, absolutely not, these are not stories for a pleasant evening." He takes a breath and pulls back. "Shall I show you some of my other forms as we walk? I can be a snake or spider even in cold weather."
Megatron gives him a squeeze when he shudders, and leans over to kiss his cheek. "Certainly, but warn me to stand still if you are turning into something much smaller and more delicate than you already are while we're walking out here. Or stay in contact with me, if you can, when you change, and I'll carry you."
There are plenty of dark things in both their pasts that will continue to come up in conversation periodically, but for the moment, Loki is in control of his own traumas and able to focus on better things. He smiles at the kiss.
"I would do that even if you were as light and soft as a human. I don't care to turn into a spider and get stepped on. But just for that delicate comment, I'm going to learn to turn into a bilgesnipe and knock you over some day."
No, he's not. A, he's not offended, just amused; and B, he would never want to be a bilgesnipe.
But there is a shimmer of green-gold that courses over him as he walks, and a moment later, Megatron is arm in arm with a more feminine-appearing version of Loki. "This is my usual form when I wish to appear as a woman. Most of my friends recognize her now, so she is not a secret nor a surprise."
"Well, I've been told that it's important for the people around me to hold me accountable for my misdeeds," Megatron says mildly, and realises that he would never want Loki not to be able to tell him lies at all, even if there will someday likely be one that he will find as annoying or upsetting as he finds this one charming.
Megatron grins at Loki and kisses her lightly. "I am," he says, "really glad that I'm not one of those mechs who just can't appreciate femmes. Which, apparently, is most of them." He rolls his optics. "Cybertronian homonormativity isn't as toxic as human heteronormativity because it doesn't take forms that are murderous, but it's still stupid. Because you're very appreciable, and someday soon I hope to have you like this, as well."
"Accountable, yes, but also when you say something like that to me, I'm liable to take it as a challenge. I am as delicate as a frost-flower, as hard as the heart of a glacier, and as wild and changeable as the wind."
Those bits are certainly true, though they are not always all true at once! She smiles up at Megatron and arches her back a little to lean into him. Her body language in this form is almost identical to that of the other, but it comes across as more coquettish now, for whatever reason.
"You may absolutely have me like this some day," she says in a soft purr. "In any shape, I am Loki, though there are aspects that come through differently in other forms. But I think that is an asset. I need never be boring. There is always more Loki to explore."
A bit egotistical, but that's the prerogative of a god, perhaps.
Megatron's tone is a little more serious this time, but not too much. "I think you're at least pretending to forget that you're my beloved, and that I never mean anything insulting by what I say to you," he tells her firmly, pulling her toward him as she presses herself into him.
"It may come as a surprise to you that I find softness and delicacy highly erotic, but I'm personally very glad that I do, because I have never had the slightest desire to fuck Overlord, Astrotrain, Trypticon, or Omega Supreme, and my attraction to Ultra Magnus is partially fuelled by the fact that Ravage told me how tiny the bot that's under that armour actually is. And that's an incomplete but illustrative list of the options I'd have if I didn't."
He grins at her. "I love your true form best because it's yours. I'm sometimes concerned about your habit of using a glamour in your everyday life, because I'm afraid you're not as proud of your beauty as you should be. Most of my lovers have been anything but acceptable under the Grand Taxonomy and they have tended to have very unwarranted insecurities about themselves and their desirability. But things that transform enjoy doing it, and I also told you truly that I'd make love to you in any form you took. And I would, no matter how creative I had to be. For that matter if you want to attempt to take on a tank, you can do that, but you'd have to use your magic unless you take the shape of something that has the appropriate ports and/or cables."
"Oh, elskan mín, I was never insulted." She beams up at him; her height is the same in this as in her usual male form, but Megatron is still taller. "It is in my nature to take a word game and go running with it, when I'm in high spirits."
"It's true that I've never thought of myself as soft or delicate, though. And I was considered too thin and weak by Asgardian beauty standards for men, growing up, but I think that had I not been standing next to Thor most of the time it would not have bothered me at all. He's always been a golden-haired slab of muscle."
Still delicate by Cybertronian standards, though, which amuses Loki just a little.
"That is a sweet thing to say." She kisses his cheek. "I have only known my Jotun form for a few years. Less than a decade, and discovering it was a terrible shock. Had that not been the case, I would like it better. But you can thank the Winter Spirit, if you ever meet him, for making me open up to it as much as I have. Before, I could scarcely wear it without feeling panic, but now there is such a feeling of joy in it, to wander bare-chested and bare-footed in the snow like it's a part of me. I look forward to the season now."
She laughs a little at the talk of creativity, but there's a thoughtfulness there, too. "I would not be opposed, but perhaps more practice in these forms is in order first. I am not such a consummate shapeshifter that I can easily construct a form like your own, but it may be possible, with time and work."
"As for my own, I think we can set aside the possibility of lovemaking in my spider form, and the serpentine shape has possibilities, but they're quite pornographic. The Mare is dangerous, far more so than any other shape of mine save one. She has a mental and emotional state all her own, as if I've channeled my anger into that form. I do make a nice cuddly wolf, though, if I say so myself."
Megatron smiles at her. "I just wanted to make sure," he says quietly. "I can only read your mind when we're joined, and even though that will not always take the better part of the day, we still have a great many other people we love and a great many other things that we need to do."
He leans over to kiss her. "I don't need to have you in every form that you take. Having known Airachnid, though thankfully not intimately...we can certainly forget about the spider. But I want you to know there is no form in which I'd reject you. And if the wolf wants to cuddle with me, I will be happy to cuddle the wolf."
He laughs, softly. "I've cuddled a cybercat often enough, and I'm fixing to cuddle a turbofox...if I can only even get him to notice I'm flirting. My feelings for him aren't half so extravagant as they are for you, but it wouldn't help if they were. If I said the kinds of things to Minimus that I say to you, he'd run until his energon gave out. Or perhaps until he hit a singularity."
"I appreciate it," she murmurs. "That you're gentle with my heart. It is both stronger and weaker than it seems...but soft handling never really harmed anyone."
She kisses back before starting up the walk again. The comment about spiders makes her laugh out loud, though, the sound bouncing off the rocks and trees around them. "It wouldn't be fun for me anyway," she says. "The intercourse of organic spiders is all about pedipalps and egg sacs, there is no opportunity for pure physical pleasure, except perhaps for people with very specific kinks, which I do not share."
"That, and I'm a very small spider. I could sit on your shoulder and whisper sweet nothings into your ear, but I think that might be the limit of intimacy in that form."
Wolf cuddles are clearly a go, though. Loki tilts her head thoughtfully. "I have never seen a turbofox, but I think I already approve. My alternate here, who calls me their twin, often takes the form of a fox. I suppose I've developed a fondness. Presumably, Minimus is not someone you plan to introduce to the Nexus any time soon, but should that ever happen, I will make him welcome."
"Thank you for that, beloved. We'll see if anything ever happens."
Megatron shrugs. "Minimus has actually been here once already, but he doesn't know I know about that. He can't yet know I know about the Nexus, or he'd try to stop me from coming here; we haven't yet established trust, and sometimes, I'm afraid we won't. He came here to see Misfire. But the real issue with telling Minimus about you at this point in time is that he'd assume I was warning him off me on your behalf. I probably should leave well enough alone, all things considered. I think he may actually believe that Ravage and I have always had a platonic relationship."
He kisses Loki again. "I want to be gentle with your heart because I don't yet know where all of the weak places are, and at this early stage in a relationship--even one as intense as ours--pointing them out to a new love just isn't easy to do. Rough play is only fun for me if you enjoy it, too."
Loki raises an eyebrow at Megatron as he relays what sounds like a complicated attraction to this turbofox friend of his. "...I fear this might sound hypocritical coming from my lips, but establishing trust would seem to be of paramount importance in this instance."
To that end, it's best she leave well enough alone and let Megatron handle his own emotional affairs, but it's strange to hear the contrast. That he is dancing around this other potential lover so delicately, when they fell in together as if a magnet drew them close. It reinforces the idea that Ravage was careful to place in his head--this isn't just Megatron being passionate. There is something to this beyond anything either of them expected.
She smiles and clasps her arms behind his neck with a little hop in the air so that he's supporting her off her feet. "Just don't flirt with Thor, and we'll be all right. Most other things can be negotiated or smoothed over."
That's only half teasing. Generally speaking, Loki is fine with the idea of sharing a lover with anyone except her brother. Thor is not looking for a partner anyway, right now, so it's a moot point, but there is just enough jealousy in Loki's heart to make it worth mentioning.
"I agree with you that establishing trust is probably a good idea in any relationship," Megatron says quietly, "and that's why I may choose not to pursue it further."
He leans down and kisses her forehead. "I shouldn't be telling this to you of all people, but everyone else I know knows him and Ravage has opinions about it. And besides, I want to know more about Harley and Ian."
Megatron laughs again. "But I don't know if he will ever trust himself, let alone trust me. He's horrified by the fact that he likes me. He was my advocate at my trial and took the position only because he felt it was necessary to preserve the integrity of the proceedings. He devoutly hoped that after he had done the absolute best to defend me to the best of his ability, I'd still be executed, preferably promptly. And then they made me co-captain of the ship where he is second-in-command, and him my parole officer. If he knew I was leaving the ship on my own and going to another universe, or that I've decided not to be executed, he'd be...well, first he'd be horribly disappointed in me, and then in himself, and then I'd probably just have to move here immediately, because even though he knows this place, it's not his jurisdiction.
"Anyhow, I set out to seduce him because he is very alone, we do like each other, he already knows what I've done, he smells nice, and I thought it would be good to secure his favour absolutely, which you've got to admit I could probably do in a couple of hours, because even without all the magic we make together, he's got all the connections any other of my species has, and I'd be surprised if he's been laid at any time in the last million years, because nobody ever sees him out of his armour. And Ravage only knows he's a fox because he identified the body of one of his alternates and figured out the smell. But now, I like him enough to want him for himself, even though he's completely obtuse and has no idea that I want him at all. I think I could write him a poem and he'd think it was for someone else entirely. If he knew about you, he'd almost certainly withdraw.
"My evil plot was to make Minimus fall madly in love with me, in case they decided against me, in the hope that he'd decide to go against his principles and help me if I decided I didn't want to die. But now I really want to see him fall apart on my spike for his own sake, and also because I don't think I have ever known a person who needed it more."
When Loki jumps, he catches her and holds her fast. "I promise not to frag your brother. That would be in very poor taste. I cannot promise not to engage in wordplay with him, but I will never flirt with him in earnest. I may not be able to avoid telling him he's pretty, but I will always make sure he knows I think you're prettier, and that will always be absolutely true, because even if he has your green eyes, which he almost certainly doesn't, there won't be any dazzling mischief dancing in them, and he will never be the one who gave me back my heart." He kisses Loki fiercely.
"We're supposed to be spending more time talking about our lives. But I could rut you up against a tree in less than half an hour if you used your magic, and I wouldn't leave you wanting. I know you, now, in ways that your shape won't much alter." He raises an eyebrow. "But I know. We should talk. Maybe after, though."
"You have so much affection to give," Loki observes softly. It doesn't escape her that Megatron appears to have considered seducing Minimus with slightly questionable intentions, but it also doesn't escape her that he is clearly genuinely fond of him. That, plus the comment about never knowing anyone who needed it more. "You often want to fix things for the people you're fond of, don't you."
She nuzzles into his neck as he holds her up. "It's a human meme, but it sounds like you're trying to bed a Lawful Good when you're a Chaotic Neutral. Always a tricky proposition. It will not be me that stands in your way, in any case. I hope for his sake that you succeed."
That last comment is delivered in a playful purr. Loki, at least, has been thoroughly convinced that sex with Megatron is not an experience to be missed.
She chuckles a little. "I think Thor has a slight preference for feminine lovers, anyway, but that may be his awareness of the expectations placed upon him--to produce an heir to the throne--rather than just his own tastes. But no, I wouldn't stop you from wordplay with him, as long as it isn't in earnest."
Harley has flirted with Thor often enough, after all, and there was only one time it made Loki at all uncomfortable, which turned out to be a misinterpretation on Loki's part.
She breathes out a vehement huff of air at the offer to rut her up against a tree. What is this madness? It's like flipping a switch; all he had to do was bring it up and she's immediately turned-on. "I'm going to need you to be careful about making propositions like that," she laughs. "Apparently I've regressed into a hormonal teenager."
She wants. "...but lets get to the top of the bluff first, at least. There's a view that is not to be missed."
"Mmmm, yes, you are absolutely right about me, I do want to fix things for everyone I care about. That's why I started a revolution, you know." Megatron chuckles; he loves it when she cuddles up to his throat and lets him cradle her head, like he is not so coincidentally doing at the moment. "Well. Lawful Good is an exact description of Minimus Ambus, but...you're not talking me out of this, are you?"
He leans down to kiss her a little more, and listens to her explain about her brother. He has no intention of flirting with Thor. From everything he's heard so far, he'd rather flirt with Harley. Especially if there's a chance of having both of them. He doubts his feelings for any of Loki's lovers will be as strong as his feelings for Loki, but there's not a better way to establish he's willing to share and be shared than to actually lie down and do the sharing.
"Do you think saying that you need me to be careful about making propositions because you want to say yes is going to get me to stop?" Megatron sighs. At least he knows how to avoid getting a spike-ache from having it try to go right through the panel! (Mostly by shifting her weight so that her open legs aren't quite so exactly close to his pelvic panels.)
"The problem, my dear, is that nobody told my protoform or my brain module that I was ever supposed to grow out of being hormonal. We don't have exactly the same life stages as Asgardians or humans do, but I do hear that other mechs get over it to a greater degree than I ever did."
He sets her down very gently. "If we're going to walk to the top of the hill you're going to have to stand on your own two feet till we get there, because if I hold you like that any longer, walking will become uncomfortable." He laces his fingers through hers.
"I can't believe I was celibate for so long after my trial, and again for almost a month after Ravage went back. That says quite a bit about my mental health, and nothing at all good, either."
"You have come to the wrong person if you expect to be talked out of anything," Loki laughs. That might not be a fair assessment of herself; she certainly spent a lot of her youth trying to talk Thor out of some of his more reckless shenanigans, and she's not beyond offering reasonable advice to those who will listen, but when it comes to matters of love and mischief, she's more likely to encourage than otherwise.
Case in point, her willingness to be talked into semi-public lovemaking with minimal provocation.
Still, she lets him put her down and links hands again without complaint, humming happily. There's a moment where she swings their clasped hands idly as they go, like a child walking with a playmate, but when the path narrows and they need to walk single-file, she takes the lead easily. It's a little steep, but the rocks are well integrated into the dirt; there is no danger of even a being Megatron's weight dislodging or slipping upon them. As for Loki, she moves up the path with a light, almost silent step.
"I used to walk the mountains in Asgard like this," she says. "Especially in the early winter when the snow was still shallow enough to walk through. I used to know every path through the rocks, even the ones too small for anything bigger than a serpent."
"You know, I think I was a little undersexed when I was younger. I wasn't celibate by any means, but I was choosy about my lovers and I spent more time in study than anything else. But I do understand what you mean. After my exile from Asgard, I didn't let another person near me sexually for a few years. Not until Sakaar, and that was...an unusual set of circumstances, even for me."
"It was sort of a garbage-fire of a planet, Sakaar," she explains, with a blend of wry fondness and embarrassment. "And I was determined to work my way into the upper echelons of society there, which meant attending a great many parties, most of which devolved into orgies."
Megatron shrugs. "Did you enjoy them?" he asks, raising an eyebrow and smiling. "There was a time when most Decepticon Conclave parties ended that way, and if you ask me, we should probably not have stopped. More to the point...when we stopped, it was because we'd stopped trusting each other. I do think that the way we used to do things went over the line a few times. There were those of us who believed that monogamy was a form of subtle enslavement, but there were also people who hadn't been allowed to set boundaries and probably needed to." He sighs. "Even Soundwave wasn't so jealous back then. It's my fault he's like that, but Ravage is the one who has to pay for it of course."
He kisses her hand. "I like watching people enjoy themselves, especially if I care about them at all. Once, while we were all paired off, eight of us had all of our cabling daisy-chained. That was actually Soundwave's idea. He thought we should all have the same experience he was having. Orion had two lovers at home he did that with and he seconded the plan."
Megatron shrugs. "I don't think I would do that again, it's dangerous; and the only people I've ever opened up to as far as I do with you were Orion and Terminus--and it certainly didn't happen that fast. But I'm not going to judge you for lying with more than ten people in a night, because that would be utmost hypocrisy."
"It's complicated," she says, with complete honesty. "Diplomacy and less-benign games of social manipulation are enjoyable for me. I can attend a party, work a room, and more often than not if I want all eyes on me, they will be on me. But Sakaar was under the rule of a dictatorship that wished to be viewed as kinder and gentler and more fun-loving than it actually was, and games are less fun the higher the stakes go."
Her tone is light; she's not looking for pity, but she is trying to be clear. "You spoke of gladiatorial battles; aside from the orgies, that was the primary preoccupation of the ruler and his court. And I can hold my own in battle better than most, but..."
She trails off, searching for words. "I have negative memories associated with battle, with training. And I doubted my ability to win against the alien beings I would have faced in the arena."
"No one ever said to me 'fuck or fight', but I cannot pretend there was no element of coercion or fear underlying my actions."
"But there was also an element of..." She pauses, lips pursed, and lets out a sigh. "In mortal circles, humans in particular, there is a subculture of power exchange and bondage games, as I think you well know. There is a condition some refer to called 'frenzy'. Overwhelming, desperate enthusiasm in the face of novel experiences. I've heard it likened to addiction. I never moved in such circles on Midgard itself, but I've had time to reflect and learn since my time on Sakaar."
"I liked it a little too much, I think, in a way that could have gotten out of control and led me down some unpleasant paths, had circumstances been just a little different. Yet another thing I owe Thor, I suppose. Had he not come in and ruined my fun, I might have just stayed there for the rest of my life."
"But that is a secret I won't be telling him. He definitely doesn't want to hear about my sexual misadventures."
Megatron gathers her into his arms and holds her closely, stroking her hair. "I saw that frenzy during my arena days. Some of the fans..." He shakes his head and kisses the crown of her head. Suddenly the motivation behind some of Soundwave's behaviour becomes painfully, cuttingly clear.
Ravage will always go out to the knife's edge to prove that she can--that he's not in any way lesser than anyone else, that his size and shape don't limit him, that her dancing and love affairs are proof of her freedom, that he cannot be owned and no-one controls him, that even when she gives herself away to plead or soothe, it is her choice alone.
Of course Soundwave wants to protect him. Not just from Megatron but from herself.
"Loki," he murmurs, and looks down into her green, green eyes. "I've been told I'm 'hypersexual' and 'manic', even. I've whored myself out when I've needed to, without shame. Was prepared to do it again, even. And I do enjoy a wild party, now and again, but now...only with people I trust, and there's not as many of those as their once were, and even fewer are willing to play. But I never want you to do anything you don't want to do with your whole heart, body and mind. I won't let that happen again to you. We're attuned; I will always know, as long as you're honest and open with me. And as much as I want to have you in all kinds of places, as glad as I'd be to share or be shared, it must only be if you wish it."
He kisses her lightly. "I want so much, but only if you're happy. And I think I owe Soundwave and Ravage another few thousand apologies."
He'd let Ravi, who'd been used as a whore in his youth, behave like one again for his pleasure.
"Every time I come up with what I think is some terrible confession, you pull me close and comfort me instead of being shocked," she says quietly, marveling at this. "A few years ago, I might have resisted that, unwilling to accept kindness because it feels too close to pity. I'm glad I've grown past that."
Instead of condescending or stifling, this feels safe. Even if she didn't mean to ask for sympathy or comfort this time, he gives it so freely and sweetly, how could she refuse?
"You said before you heard me cry out for what I need," she almost whispers, as if admitting a secret. "I believed you then and I believe you now. I trust you."
She holds onto the embrace for a moment, quiet, then leads the way up the last switchback to the top of the bluff with a warm smile. "I am certainly not above attending a party with people I trust. Lucifer's angels have invited me before, in fact, though I get the impression that's less of an orgy than an intoxicated mass cuddle pile that frequently ends in sex between two or three or more of them. I've yet to take them up on it, but I wouldn't be opposed as long as I had someone along to anchor me. I can and will lose myself if I walk into something like that alone and find myself surrounded by overwhelming elemental energies."
"Harley and I talked about it once, actually, though we didn't come to any conclusion." Loki wasn't sure if the group intimacy interested Harley in particular, but she knows she'd be capable of reeling Loki back in if necessary.
"There are very few sexual games I'm opposed to playing, as long as all participants are informed and amenable. I've just learned that some are riskier for me than others, and I am more vulnerable than I want to believe I am when I enter certain mental states. It just...feels so good to let go."
"If orgies are a terrible confession then it's one more thing we have in common. But, seriously...I can't pity you. You are immensely strong. You are strong enough to drag me out of anguish and despair." Megatron kisses her hair again. "That's why I'm not afraid to love you, Loki. By the time I went to bed with you, you had already had the chance to destroy me, and you chose to give me back my heart, instead of tearing what was left of it to bits. I will always give you what you need if I can discern what it is. And I think that most of the time, I can, but if you find that I don't see it, don't you ever be afraid to tell me plainly. You saved my life that day in your Hall."
He follows her up to the top of the hill. "I'd go with you to be your anchor, to any event you liked. But I should warn you--I don't think Lucifer likes me much. In some ways, he reminds me of Orion. He hates the violence in me, but it's part of my nature. Still, I would follow you there to protect you."
He slides an arm around her shoulder. "From what you've said of Harley, I already find her attractive. I suspect that you could have us both at once, if she were willing, though I cannot say for sure until I meet her for myself.
"You are also...a great deal like Ravage, in some ways. I think that one of the things that Soundwave is angriest at me for, aside from trying to steal her for my own, is that I let her go out into things like that on her own. I believed her when she said she could handle anything that came up for her. And yet I once I saw her walk out of a berthroom that belonged to a femme who'd done nothing but demean her up to that point. That did stop, after that, though...so maybe that was how they made their peace."
He sits down at the top of the bluff, and gives her arm a small tug to beckon her down with him. "The view is incredible," he says. "Tell me about the things that I'm seeing, here."
"My Hellequin, my Valkyrie," Loki murmurs with quiet affection. "Harley is utterly unique. There is more to her than she shows; I'll be very surprised if you do not like her, whether attraction is a part of that or not."
"And you may have to like Ian from afar, or by reputation, but if you had heard some of the sweeter things he's said to me, you would understand why I want him so much. He is a chaotician. He compared me to the Butterfly Effect, and I was so touched I could scarcely respond."
Her eyes are misty, and it's hard to tell exactly what's set off that sentimental streak, until she sits beside him. Part of her is tempted to just settle directly into his lap, but she has a feeling that would divert them from conversation. Instead, she curls against his side like she's unwilling for there to be a molecule of air between them.
"I don't think I realized it meant quite that much to you," she says. "That conversation we had. I could feel it was important, but..."
She rubs her hand over her forehead, pushing back some of the loose, inky locks around her face. "I didn't do it for that. I was only being myself."
There is something akin to a minor existential crisis going on here, if such a thing can be an utterly positive experience. Loki looks dazed. It's a strange thing to have spent so much of her life struggling to earn love she thought she had to prove herself worthy of, to give up on the task utterly in the most violent way possible, and to come out the other side determined to be the best Loki she could be and damn the consequences--and to hear here and now that that Loki, that simple instinct to sympathize with those most like herself--that Loki is worthy of all this lavish affection and protective tenderness.
Part of her wants to burst into tears.
"I never get cold," she says, "but put your arm around me anyway?"
And she looks up at the sky overhead, searching the glittering stars. "Sometimes you can see whales going past, in the Nexus skies. Some of them fly here. They're beautiful."
She scrubs her sleeve across her face and tilts her head against him.
Megatron slides his arm around her, gently. "You were only being yourself," he says, looking up at the stars, "but that's why I love you. I love you because you are you. In all the millions of universes, and here in this place where there are at least three people named Loki, there is only one you, and I love you because you are you. My spark was a flickering ember and you came along and blew hope on it."
He watches the sky, waiting for a flying whale. If he had a cloak he would throw it around them both. He doesn't often wear a cape. He thinks he could probably wear one for Loki, though.
They've told each other almost all their deepest, darkest secrets. They are sitting in a place that is special to Loki. They have certainly been intimate. No gifts have been exchanged, but she gave him back his life. That's probably devotion, though, not profference.
No. He is not going to think about this. Ravage will tell him he's lost his mind, and Ravage, as always, will likely be right.
"You are a butterfly effect," Megatron says with amusement. "Ian is right. He will need to meet me, eventually. If he's going to dislike me, he can dislike me for myself. I think that's fair. It doesn't have to be right away, but someday. I will protect him, you see. Even if he never cares for me, because he is yours, and something inside you would break, if you lost him."
Then he winces. "Orion once told me that I should have been the Lord Protector of Cybertron, when he was very, very drunk, and it was very, very late, and we were not supposed to be talking. He wanted me to fuck him and sparkmerge through that damned thing he let them put into his chest and I told him to go pound sand, I wouldn't abandon our people for fancy titles like he did. But it had a ring to it, somehow. I only know that I'd do anything to keep the people I still love, who still love me, safe in this world that has reason to wish them ill just for loving me."
Loki has to take another moment to rub her eyes and tame the urge to cry, but it gives way to a bright smile as it fades. The feeling that this is getting serious more quickly than is healthy has not left her, but the fear of it being too good to be true is fading like frost in sunlight. Good things do happen sometimes, whether the recipients deserve them or not. But maybe they deserve one another.
"This feels right," she observes, calming as the breeze whistles past them, and nods to herself. "The Winter Spirit warned me once not to allow myself to be tamed, or reduced into a single, simple self that does not acknowledge all aspects of Loki. I've thought about it a lot since then. I am a parent now, and a sibling, and a lover, and I can be all those things. I am fire and frost and wind and darkness, and I can be all those things, as well. I can be both the serpent and the victim of its dripping venom. But the turn of the Wheel, the cycle of lives and seasons, occurs outside of us and inside of us. I do not have to be the terrible herald of apocalypse and the tender mother of monsters all at the same time."
"My nature is changeable, but I think that you will understand that, even as you see it occur in front of you. I think you will still love me. That is a faith I did not expect to find."
"I trust you, with myself, and with the others I love." And that is a more momentous confession, to Loki's mind, than an I love you. After all, she never stopped loving Odin but she wouldn't trust him as far as she could throw a small planet.
"I don't know what the title of Lord Protector would even entail," she says wryly. "But you are, at least for me, a shelter from the cold both within and without."
"...and I'm sorry, I was trying to be sweet but you mentioned getting drunk and now I need to know what sort of spirits you drink in case we do have a party to attend at some point." Aaaaand there's the familiar glitter of mischief in her eyes.
Megatron is listening and he has about a million sweet things to say and then.
That.
Scrap. He hasn't told her that yet. Well. At least he can try to be cute about it.
"The only thing I can still get drunk on is you," Megatron says, and kisses her. But then, he vents in, and looks down past her eyes.
"I had a problem, Loki, and it got...pretty bad. It got so bad that Scorponok took over the fleet and hurt people, and I had to oust him. I had to get it taken care of. I didn't have time for discussion groups or religious nonsense. They modded my FIM chip, you won't know what that is, but no energon-based intoxicant has any effect on me now, nor ever will again."
Well, Loki's ability to kill a sentimental mood is still intact! She winces, not sure whether to apologize or backpedal or neither, but the kiss eases the flicker of worried guilt, and she finds herself thinking instead about Thor. Who also has a problem.
But it's not her place to tell Thor's business to someone he does not know, even someone she trusts.
There's a thrum as magic cycles through her energy fields, and then the form nestled against Megatron's side is Loki's masculine Jotun form, enlarged to be closer to him in height. It becomes clear why he's done this a second later as he simply gathers Megatron into his arms and squeezes him close. "Then I will have all of your attention at any parties we attend," he says in a voice that's still teasing but manages to be gentler nonetheless. "A silver lining in every cloud."
Transforming may be the strangest reaction Megatron's ever got to this confession, but the embrace is one of the best ones, and he closes his optics and leans into it. "Yes. You will. And I'll be happy to tell you what to get for other Cybertronians. It's just wasted on me."
He nuzzles Loki's throat. "I don't know what the title of Lord Protector entails exactly, either, although Soundwave's started calling himself Lord Protector of Destron. I think that might just mean 'Lord Protector of Ravage', though," he says with a chuckle. "I just thought it was funny, I guess. Your trust means more to me than anything. To shelter you is an honour. And now, here you are, sheltering me."
He tightens his arms around Loki. "And I will. Love you. Regardless. Man, woman, Jotun, Asgardian, wolf, spider, mother of monsters, herald of apocalypse--although I hope we do not have one soon--fire, frost, wind, light and darkness. I will hold you close through all your transformations and be endlessly grateful, not just to care for and protect you, but that you also do the same for me."
He ex-vents, quietly. "And I know. This is crazy. I hear it from Ravage whenever we speak. The suddenness frightens him. But I'm not being manic, and when he tells me this, I remind him that Soundwave fell in love with him at first sight. I'm using my circuit-stabilisers, and...mania makes me feel invincible. This is quite nearly...humbling. Spark bonds come on suddenly sometimes; sometimes, people just know. Thank you for deciding to be mad with me, Loki."
"I thought a hug would be more comforting if I were a bit bigger," he murmurs in explanation, and tucks his chin lightly over Megatron's head. "I certainly enjoy the reverse."
The moment of immediate concern passes, but Loki will remember this conversation, both as a potential sore point and as a matter that may need to be discussed again some day, in more detail. He doesn't say so, but now that he thinks about it, it's no wonder that Megatron suffered a substance abuse problem. Leadership is a very heavy burden, and more so to someone carrying baggage from his own past.
"I will love you, too," he murmurs. Which is cheating, in a way, dodging his own uncertainty by making what sounds like a future promise rather than a current confession. Is this caution or cowardice? Either way, it's not a lie. He could say I love you now and it would not be a lie. He's just not quite ready.
He takes in a deep breath and lets it out again in a soft, drawn-out sigh, drinking in the affection while giving back what he can. The mention of mania and circuit-stabilisers prompts a pensive little hum from his throat. Context makes this sound very much like medication, and some part of him is relieved to hear that, even hopeful. Thor has been treated by Eir for trauma and depression, and the children have their therapists and doctors, and Loki...wouldn't even know where to begin with his own issues, but despite being built of very different materials, perhaps there is common ground between them all.
One hand comes up to stroke Megatron's head and upper back in a few slow, smooth passes. "Circuit-stabilisers," he echoes. "Will you tell me more? I do not believe you are being manic, either. I know the feeling too well, myself, from the inside."
"My culture, the culture of Asgard, has never dealt well with mental and emotional wounds, or innate differences in the inner worlds of its own people. That is one of the reasons I think the children are better with me, and why I am protective of them." He kisses his forehead. "There are changes being made in the new Asgard, slowly but surely, but I have no patience when it comes to the welfare of my little ones."
"My brother struggles. There have been times in the last two years when I watched him break and scrambled to pick up the pieces, and times he did the same for me. If I'm interpreting context correctly, your insight might help."
Edited 2020-12-09 05:02 (UTC)
warning: this may not be as comforting as you expect it to be ...
"You should know that Cybertronian psychiatry has been thoroughly weaponised and has been used as a means of social control since long before I was kindled. So if you're thinking I have a prescription for this, I'm about to disappoint you terribly. This is a hack. Soundwave told me that modified circuit-boosters could be used to correct extreme mood swings, and I discovered that it worked. Unfortunately, I did not learn this trick in time to avoid becoming a genocidal tyrant, and since this particular brain-hack is slightly illegal, I had to stop doing it while I was on trial."
Megatron smiles wryly. "Ravage got me to go back to it; it was one of the promises he extracted from me before he left the ship."
He frowns. "I've survived a shadowplay attempt, Loki. They call it 'personality adjustment' when it's done to someone disposable, which I absolutely was at the time. I was fortunate not to lose my intellect or creativity, but it left me with a phobia of needles, because I woke up while they had needles in my spinal circuitry and brain module, and a propensity for manic episodes that got more and more severe as the stress on me increased over time."
He lets himself slump against Loki and cling to him, resting his head on Loki's shoulder, face pressed into the curve where neck and shoulder meet. "I'm a piece of work, and also a work in progress, but you knew that. That's only one of the things that happened to me during the first worst day of my life. Right after that narrow escape, the mines began to collapse. That's when I lost Terminus. I've told you bits about him, here and there. He was my first real lover, and he was already dying. I would rather have taken his life myself, out of love, than left him to die like that. I decided not to go to my next assignment, since someone had already decided I needed my attitude managed, and went to the arena instead. That's when I really started to drink. We all did. But while I was in the arena, and later, when we were actively in revolt and they were hunting us, we had to be careful about it. After the revolt got well under way, though, and I had my own flagship, the others cut back, and I didn't; it seemed safe for me to get worse, and I did. It took Scorponok's betrayal to make me realise how fragged up I actually was."
Megatron closes his optics as tightly as he can, but he's going to cry anyway, no matter what he does. "There are so many things I want to tell you about those days. Good things, even. Not everything was unrelentingly awful. But even when we were happy, there was usually a body count."
He presses a kiss to Loki's throat, where the pulse surges against his lips.
"I may be of more use to your brother than your children, in this respect. A lot of people drink when they have gone to war. But I'll do whatever I can to help."
"Elskan," he murmurs gently, "I wasn't asking for you to fix anyone, only for sympathy. Though I know you would, if you could." He's already made it clear that whoever is important to Loki is important to him, after all.
He thinks it better not to go into excessive detail about Thor's problems, not until he can check with his brother and see how receptive he might be to empathy from a stranger, but he dares to hope a different perspective--even one as dark and painful as this one--might be supportive.
The unfolding tale takes his breath away, and for more than one reason. His clasp around Megatron's shoulders tightens a little, protective, and simultaneously the temperature of his own skin and the air around them drops, an instinctual Jotun reaction to fear or pain--or the memory thereof. Undirected as it is, it's not the searing chill that can destroy Aesir armor, but the energy flux is noticeable.
"The Black Order had microsurgery needles," he says quietly. "Which could be heated to burning temperatures inside the body."
There's a lot more that could be said there, but Loki absolutely will fall apart if it's discussed in detail; he can still hold himself together and be comforting right now. But he understands the horror being described to him, intimately.
The tragedy, on the other hand--the talk of Terminus and being forced to abandon him--that is somewhat beyond his personal experience, but it hurts to hear. His hands are restless, stroking over Megatron's back as if looking for some sort of physical wound that could be healed or comforted.
"If I could change that past for you, I would," he says. "But if it will give you any comfort at all, I will light a candle in honor of your lost love, when next I burn one for my mother, and the children for their dead families."
He did not mean to prompt such painful revelations, but the kiss to his throat tells him he is forgiven--or perhaps that there is nothing to forgive. "I'm here," he adds softly, a whisper of reassurance he's offered to Thor and the children in the past. "I'm here."
"Beloved." Megatron sighs. "I didn't think you wanted me to fix anyone. I'm not...I'm not in that line of work, and the fixes I know won't work on organics. It's just that you asked about insights. I have plenty of insights into the problems of soldiers. But as I told you before, children are outside my experience; I'm prepared to love them, and I'm sworn to protect them; but I haven't the first idea how their minds work. You've got my sympathy for all of them anyway."
He kisses Loki's throat again. "The candle, though. Yes, that is a comfort. You would have loved him, too, I think. He was sly and funny and ruthless and brilliant. He used to proofread my earliest writings. We fell in love because we both loved books, living in a place where most of the people we knew could barely read. He was the first person ever to read my poetry. Some people I've known would disapprove of it if they knew, because he was so much older than me. But he understood me, and was proud of me, and I don't remember the first time I ever interfaced, but I remember the first time with him as if it had happened yesterday. It took me such a long time to convince him, even though he wasn't ill yet, then, that someone as young and beautiful as I was then could want him.
"I often wonder what he'd think of me now. He told me often enough in those days that I was too idealistic, and too forgiving, and that Orion--who at that time was only a friend, a correspondent I'd never met--and I were going to have to understand that the changes we wanted to see would mean war. I wasn't ready to accept that until the day they nearly destroyed me, and he died. I can't believe I ever thought I wouldn't have to be a murderer. But I found out that killing was a whole lot easier than I had ever thought it could be after that, and that in fact, I had a talent for it."
He's calmer now, though suddenly feeling quite tired. "You know as much about this, now, as Ravage does, and he's my amica. More than Orion did." He needs to lie down, for a moment at least, and lies back on the ground, tugging Loki down with him with quiet pleading in his optics, and then he kisses him: thoroughly, but not with fierce hunger or urgency, more for close comfort and to anchor himself in the present than anything else. Here, they are together, and everything's as fine as it will ever be. Here, in the Nexus, under different stars. Here, where he doesn't have to be or do anything other than love and be loved.
He'll go back to the ship, but he doesn't want to. He finds it strangely hard to care about the Knights of Cybertron or their justice. The people there don't need him. Except for Minimus, he's alone there, really.
"The trauma the children have experienced is not unlike what a soldier sees, I'm afraid," Loki murmurs. "But without them having blood on their own hands. But I know that you will care for them, and I think that given time to know you, they will trust you as I do."
When Megatron lies down, Loki is quick to follow, stretching out atop him with his legs half looped over him and half stretched back into the long grass. He doesn't hesitate to accept that kiss--accept isn't the right word; he encourages it, taking all the affection and reflecting it back. "I would have loved him, too," he confirms when they pause, looking into Megatron's eyes. "And I will remember him with you."
Shifting again, Loki's shape dwindles back into the softer, paler feminine form, and she stretches her arms across the span of his chest, resting her head close to the panel behind which his spark lies. The cuddling, the star-watching, this is what she had hoped for, but the conversation, painful as it is, was important.
"I think we will have a number of these revelations in our first weeks and months together," she says. "Because we are still learning where one another's scars are, and because we began and mean to go on with openness about our pasts. But I'm ready for that, if you are. There's joy to be had here, too."
Megatron cuddles her, resting his hand on her head. "Given how long we have lived, I think 'months' is a conservative estimate, dulscintara*." There's a warm humour underneath the ache in his voice. "I feel...light. Like I could float with you into the stars. I'm grieving all over again, but I'm not alone, and I'm happy, somehow. I did not want to make you sad, but you're grieving with me anyway, and for a mech you never knew. I feel...he would have loved you, too. And that he would be happy, for us. Even though, in many respects, I failed to do what I meant to do then. I did make things better than they would have been otherwise."
His arms tighten around her. "I don't think joy is ever far away when we're together like this. It's not the same joy I felt when we were in bed...but I feel more whole than I did this morning."
____ [OOC: "sweetspark (loved)", because I can google Icelandic but I make up Cybertronian words myself out of the languages they used for the canonical words we already have, and they're all portmanteaux from those languages...]
"Mmm," she sighs contentedly at the touch to her head. Her hair is soft and smooth, like brushed silk. "Months or years, then. We have the time, do we not? An Asgardian lifespan is thousands of years. A Jotun span is longer than that, though I couldn't say by how much. But I have already died more than once, and returned stronger. I think I will be here as long as I am needed, or wanted."
She nods a little without lifting her head. "It's different, to recount old hurts to sympathetic ears. It's different when you can trust the person you are with to hear you with understanding."
One of her hands reaches out to find his and thread her fingers between his. "This is beautiful."
((ooc: that is lovely. Loki always tries to use unique endearments for each lover and for each of his children.))
"I thought gods were immortal?" Megatron's voice quavers slightly. Losing her in a few thousand years isn't something he's ready to face. "I'm not going to worry about it. Somehow I've got out of the habit of expecting to die by the end of the day. I'm starting to think like a person who believes in a future. When did that happen? The war hasn't been over that long..."
After a moment, he realises this might be ridiculous. Even if he never leaves the Nexus again, there are plenty of people who still want to kill him, and the anti-violence field is not perfect.
"I'm going to believe you're right," he says, "especially since you've come back once already. I'm going to believe you'll be here as long as you're wanted and needed. So. Probably at least three million years. I've somehow managed to reach an age where mechs start to feel older rather than younger, but I'm not on the downslope yet. Most Cybertronians don't die of old age."
He lifts their joined hands to his lips and kisses her fingertips. "What's beautiful? Us? I agree." He smiles and looks up at the sky. Planets and stars move. A million years from now, when they are lying here, what will the stars look like, then?
"Do you realise that you're subconsciously planning to spend the rest of your life with me?" He kisses the back of her hand. "I want that too. I don't care if it's crazy. I've decided we get to be happy, now."
Oh, Norns. That little quiver in his voice seems to vibrate right through to her heartstrings. Loki squeezes his hand gently and reminds herself to explain, but later. She neglected to mention to Thor that she had been killed by Thanos until the worst possible moment to reveal it, and that did not help his shock any. "There are many types of gods," she says simply. "But I dare to believe you need not worry about it. I have a long, long while ahead."
Maybe even a few million years, between one trick and another. Which is an insane length of time to Loki, but not inconceivable. What in all the Realms will she have seen, and been, in millions of years? "If I am not permitted to get old yet, neither are you," she says and chuckles softly as he kisses her fingertips.
And then she nods. "I did realize that. That's why I was frightened at first. I do think in the long term sometimes, where others are concerned. For Thor, for the children, for my lovers. I always planned to watch over Harley and Ian for the duration of their lives, even if they cease to desire me romantically. And then Ian's children, after that."
She rests her head again. "I failed my own offspring in centuries past. I had a half-human daughter once, and she had children...but I lost track of the family line, and I regret it bitterly. I may have found one of the descendants. Him, too, I plan to watch over, though I don't think he really wants me to."
"What's a long time to you and a long time to me are two different things, but I'm not going to worry, because I know that while people make promises, the universe doesn't. When I was younger, I thought that meant people should not make promises, either. But Ravage taught me there are two ways to be truthful--one is not to tell lies, and the other is to make the lie true."
Megatron ex-vents slowly. "Don't worry about me getting old. I feel at least a million years younger than I did last month. Also, I do the same thing. Look at the way I fuss and fret over Ravage and Soundwave sometimes. There were others, but they're the ones who were always loyal to me, even when I gave them reason not to be."
He shifts his weight under her, gently, trying not to dislodge her at all, so he can comfortably wrap both arms around her and flatten his back by bending his knees on either side of her and flattening his pedes on the ground. That's more comfortable. Her hand is still in his, his other hand stroking her hair.
"The other thing I said to Ravage, when he told me this was crazy: I told him that he should be glad, because wanting a future with you means I want a future, again. A very different one from my past. A quieter one, with smaller revolutions and a lot less violence. To be sworn to people, not causes. I want to be woven back into the fabric of the universe, instead of constantly slashing at the wrongness in it trying to make things right. I want to be the mech that Terminus loved, and protect what I love, not throw myself over and over at the things that I hate until they either knock me out for a while or they fall down."
He looks up at the stars, hoping they witness this. "Someday. Not now. It's not time. It won't be an exclusive relationship, it won't exclude anyone else in your life or mine. There will always be other people we want, but you are the only one that I want like this. I don't want you not to go out, but I want to be the one you come home to."
"We have forever," Loki tells him with strange, calm certainty. "We just can't hold all of it at one time. Every moment is eternity."
...really, though, she's not a poet.
She blinks when he stirs, but she can tell by the way he moves that he is not trying to dislodge her, and so she lets herself stay where she is, a relaxed, dead weight. Not unlike a cat settled on a warm lap. But he ought to be used to that.
"Already, you're spoiling me with your affection," she tells him. "But you have the right of it, I think. It's a trick to hold another person close while letting them run free, but we are not the first to accomplish such things."
She laughs a little as if struck by something. "You know, I've given Ian and Harley magical tokens--weapons and warded jewelry--but so far you've only received a towel and artwork by the children. But perhaps that suits you best if what you look for is peace and connection."
Sorry this took forever, went to the dentist today and then I rewrote this a lot
"Cybertronians don't wear jewellery or clothing except for special social occasions and private times, when we can reasonably expect to be safe and not have to transform. Otherwise, those things get broken or lost, or they catch in your seams and gears and slow you down. I've given jewels and silks to my lovers, but that's either an intimate gift or a message to all concerned at a social occasion that someone is under my personal protection. If you give me jewellery I'll wear it in bed, or at parties, and love it, and let you show me off to your friends if you like; I'm scarred, but I know I'm still pretty. But if there's any chance I'll have to turn into a tank, it's best left at home. As for weapons..."
Megatron tries to close his eyes, because the tears have come back, but he can't. It's just that she's so perfectly right about that, about him. "I am a weapon. I'm tired of being a weapon. If there's something after us and our own that can only be killed with a rose-golden dagger that's sprinkled with my dearest lover's tears and given to me at the stroke of midnight at the site of some battle on Asgard, then yes, Dulscintara, give me a weapon, but otherwise...don't?"
He pulls her in close. Like a mech with his lover, but also like a child with a doll. Like the way he did Ravage after he had her the night they took Kalis, a day when they both nearly died.
His voice cracks. There's faint light seeping out through the seams of his chest, and the filigree on his chestplates lights up red. The metal isn't hot, just warm, but something inside him feels like it's breaking and he just wants to let it.
"The towel was a kindness. The children's drawings are hope, for them and for us. If you want to give me a present, give me something you think is beautiful, or something that makes you think of me, or something that will always remind me of you, not that I ever forget--but hope and kindness are things I will always need, because sometimes I'm not very good at them. I want a life. And I want it with you, and the people we love, and the people we're going to love. The outcasts, the fallen, the broken, our own. And the Voice and the Protector of the Decepticons, neither of whom, thank providence, is me."
"No swords," Loki murmurs to him and curls against his chest. "Only plowshares. That is where I am in my life as well, I think. It may change, if a challenge arises and I feel the need to face it, but for now, what I want is peace for my children and loved ones, and a chance to piece myself back together from the hurts of the last few years."
"Just before I met you, I had returned from a battle, one that was a long time coming. I'll tell you the full story sometime, but what really matters is that I have respite now. And so do you, as long as you are with me."
The light shining through his chest-plates only makes Loki hold onto him more tightly. There is something about this visual sign of emotion that's incredibly endearing, and that makes her feel protective. "So, when it snows, we will build snowmen, and in the spring you will help plant our garden. I will teach you to braid my hair, and the children will teach you all the horrible ear-wormy songs they've learned from movies, and you will revel in the domesticity of it, as I do."
"And we will reach out to others, as we find them."
"I am never going to leave you, Loki. Even when I'm on the ship...and I'll have to go back and forth for a while...I will always be with you." Megatron holds her closely, but carefully, not because she is fragile, but because she is precious to him. After a moment, he laughs. "You know, a ship with two captains can probably do without one. Minimus won't like it, but Rodimus will be happier when I leave, and Minimus knows the way here if he cares to take it."
Megatron strokes Loki's face. "Something inside my head broke tonight, dulscintara, but it makes me feel like I just got out of a prison I didn't know I was in. I only hope I'm even half so good for you as you are for me. But I will do whatever I can to make you and the children happy. I'll braid your hair and maybe I'll teach you to polish my plate, and if you want to put wards on me, I'll show you where they ought to go, so they never come off. I'll write and study and teach, and I'll teach the children whatever they want to know, and show them how to build things that last. We'll build a safe haven for ourselves and the children and our lovers and friends, and we'll fill it with music and laughter and learning and love."
"I trust you to know your own affairs," she says, smiling at the way he cuddles her. "You will leave the ship when it's time for you to do so, and you know I will welcome Minimus, should he come here."
"Breaking things is not always my intent, especially within those I care about, but it does seem to happen around me whether I mean for it to or not." She kisses the palm of his hand, lips curled into a gently teasing smile that belies how touched she truly is.
"But elskan mín, tonight you have told me that not only am I loved, I am worthy to be loved. There are no words sufficient for the good that does me to hear."
"You are immeasurably worthy of love, and I felt that way before tonight, I assure you. I felt that way when I asked permission to court you, and when I took you to my bed, or rather my pillows--" Megatron smiles-- "and I will feel that way as long as I live, dulscintara."
It's strange, how much his life has changed in the past month or so. He's gone from looking back at his life, thinking it nearly over, with a heart full of regrets, to falling in love, and feeling hope, and looking forward to a future very different from his past, a home full of love, in a strange place between the worlds, with someone so perfect for him and yet so different from him that he couldn't ever even have begun to imagine her.
"I'll be ready for this life as soon as it's ready for me, I think," he says, stroking her hair. "There isn't much you can do to clear the way for me on my end; just tell me what to do, and when and how to do it, to make things right for us with your lovers, so that they understand I don't want to take you away from them, and that they're welcome in my life as well, and to ease the way for you and your children, so that they will see me as a friend, and a protector, and someone they may rely upon."
"I know you felt that way," she says. "But I...rarely do. I know I am loved, by many, but...I think it's habit. I play tricks, I am a Trickster; some part of me feels I've tricked people into loving me. And I have disappointed those who wanted to believe in me more than I would like."
Her words are halting and awkward. This is a struggle to admit, and a struggle to put into words.
"I try not to measure my worth by others' standards. I know that even for the best of us, that's a fool's errand. But even a god has a beating heart."
She closes her eyes and smiles at the stroking. "I will work on all of that," she promises. "Yule is coming. I think perhaps a holiday activity would be a good way for the children to meet you. Though I will have duties at night-time, between the Solstice and the sixth of January."
"You may at some point in time disappoint some minor expectation of mine. You are not perfect and neither am I. And I may at some time disappoint some expectation of yours. We may even find ourselves arguing, perhaps even loudly." Megatron sighs. "But it will not stop me believing in you, nor do I think it will stop you believing in me, my love. It will not stop us loving each other. It will just be a...what do they call it? A 'teachable moment'?"
Megatron takes her hand and lifts her fingertips to his lips. "I have no heart, but I have a spark, and it knows you are mine and I'm yours. And I suppose I'll have to visit you during the afternoon if I wish to see you on any of those days, unless there's something I can do to help you with your duties. You should tell me what's expected on the holiday anyway. I don't know anything of your holidays."
He smiles. "Come up and kiss me? I don't think you're seeing a whole lot of stars with your face on my chest, and I've not seen anything like a whale in the sky--is it not the right season? Anyhow...I'm trying right now to figure out what I might have in my subspace, or within easy reach, that I could give to the children. I feel one gift deserves another. But also, I want to kiss you."
"Would you believe that's something one of my children had to point out to me?" Loki's voice is soft. "That love does not stop--even temporarily--when you've angered or disappointed your loved one? 'We still want you when you're not perfect' is what he said. I'm so grateful to him, to all of them, for that lesson."
If she had never tried to love these children, she might never have recognized all the places where she herself was lacking.
She sits up and leans over him for a kiss, closing her eyes to savor the touch. "We celebrate the turn of the seasons," she says when the kiss breaks, though she keeps her face close to his and peppers other kisses against his cheek. "Natural cycles. Winter is the time of darkness, and the wall between the worlds of the living and the dead is thin. We share and rejoice in defiance of destruction a hair's-breadth away, at Yule. We burn lights in the darkest hour of the year. And then, when those lights are extinguished, we honor the very forces that threaten us, because there is no light without darkness."
"Last year, the children and I led a procession around the Plaza with the Mari Lwyd, and I know they will want to do that again. It's playful, though the Mari Lwyd is itself a frightening sort of puppet--a skeletal horse with ribbons and a shroud. But the children like the singing and giving out sweets."
"That's for the daytime, though. At night, I will lead the spirits of the dead of Asgard in the Wild Hunt. That's far more serious, and I'm not sure whether it would be better for you to avoid it or not."
"I can absolutely believe that your children had to teach you that." Megatron smiles at her with all the tenderness he has in him, because he also has an idea why that is, and of course that's how it went. Of course.
"If you were perfect, dulscintara, you wouldn't want me. I don't want you to be perfect. I know we'll get angry with each other. Terminus and I used to have screaming debates about my pacifist ideals and the realities of revolution, and if it had been allowed and he had lived, he'd have been my conjunx endura. Sometimes I laugh thinking of how he got the last word on that without meaning to. Ravage once told me in a fit of rage that she'd bite me if I ever tried to lay hands on her again, and while our relationship is and always has been a mess, she is my amica still. I don't think I could ever fight with you like that, especially not around newsparks, because we're better people than we once were...but because of those fights, I am sure that we'll survive the inevitable disappointments and arguments. And I might be disappointed by something you've done, but never by you yourself, because I cannot be and do not want a perfect lover."
He laughs softly as she kisses him over and over while talking, returning a few of them. "We have celebrations like that, for the seasons, and for those who've passed out of our reach. Not for a long time, but they're probably doing them again now on Cybertron. We had rites for newsparks, but they haven't been doing a whole lot of those. The procession, we don't have anything like that, but we also don't have children in any sort of numbers anymore. As for the Wild Hunt, you tell me. Will it call me to do things I would regret, or will it show me what the violence that I never wanted is actually for? And is there anyone else who expects to be there, who would not want me there, at least not yet?"
He wants to kiss her again, but he doesn't. They're not done talking yet, and he wants to have her, too, but that will keep until the talking's done, because apparently she's not like Ravage, who is like him, and sometimes has to be sated before she can listen.
She loves this, every moment, every kiss, every reassurance. Some day, maybe it will all sink in and make her a better person, but if not, she will be loved nonetheless. That is the true promise of the words Agnarr gave her, and the ones Megatron echoes now. Blessed are the failures, because they can pick themselves up and try once again.
She would revel in just that, the tenderness, the kissing, but it's important that she explain what the procession and the Hunt are--to her and to her children. And so she pets lightly along his cheek and shoulders, gathering words before beginning:
"It may be hard for you to understand, because so much of it has its roots in the mortal, human people of the Earth. Centuries ago, Asgardians came and went on the world as we chose. Some of us were worshiped as gods--and you could argue that belief changed us, or you could argue that we shaped that belief, and either way you would be both right and wrong. But some of our ethos has always been shared with the people we interacted with."
"Winter is a time of waiting, of breath held to see what the world will do next. It means deprivation and death for the unprepared, and for those who brace for it best, it means a clean slate, awaiting a rebirth. An understanding of that is important, even to those more impervious than most to the danger of the cold."
"Now...the Mari Lwyd is a story, among others humans tell, of a supernatural horse that heralds the season. In this particular tradition, Mari Lwyd was a divine horse, the mother of sacred foals--in a way, that is not unlike one of the stories of my exploits, though that tale was never literally true in my case. But it's close, close enough that I can claim a part of it."
"Mari Lwyd, as the folktale goes, was heavy with foal but was thrown out of the birthing stable in preference for a human mother, a different Mary, carrying the prophesied child of a different creed. An old religion cast out, in favor of a newer one."
"The debate between one belief system and another is of no interest to me. I simply don't care anymore, who worships who and how many. But the idea of the outcast, the mother still carrying unborn young and desperate for the security and glory that was taken from her--you can see, I think, why I'm fascinated. She goes door to door in the winter now, seeking warmth, and food, and welcome, but if she is allowed within, she will take what she wants, without mercy, as none was afforded to her."
She sits up a little to sing the next few words, a low, melancholy tune in a sweet, clear voice:
"And now I am Nightmare, I am rattling womb, The Uffington Wraith I've become, Forced into darkness, you've made me a fiend, Bridled with shadow, saddled with scream. From window to window, traversing the night, My face in your glass in a shudder of light, Seeking the deep of welcome befitting a Queen, Let me in once again, let me in!"
Loki threads her fingers through Megatron's; her energies are rising as she talks about this; it's something she feels strongly about, evidently, but those energies are not reaching out to him. She has control. "In the procession, I will carry the horse's head, and hide beneath the shroud, and the children will lead me door to door, singing carols. Because it's only a reminder, and not the Nightmare Herself, we will play chase with the inhabitants of any home that lets us in, and leave them nuts and fruit and candy. I'm not about teaching my children to actually terrorize mortals, but it's important for all of us, mortal or not, to remember that we create our own monsters."
There's a momentary pause, and then she adds, "Ben thought he might ride with the Hunt this year. I'll...explain that, as well, but I think I've been talking a lot just now."
"Cybertronians do not give live birth, but if we did, that would be a Decepticon story," says Megatron thoughtfully. "Deny the desperate at your peril, for when they fight for what they need, they will take whatever they want."
He blinks his optics slowly at her, a gesture he learned from Ravage and would probably be mortified to realise he's doing.
"We rewrote one of the old political songs about the beneficence of our government during a riot. The song was about how the government provided for us all. Our song was about how the government provided for itself by stealing from the rest of us, and started by entreating them to keep their promises, but ended by threatening to tear the walls down and take whatever we liked."
Megatron sighs. "These are important lessons for children to learn. Not to steal from and terrorise mortals, but that when people who think themselves better than everyone else deny others the very things that they need to survive, the vengeance will not be pretty.
"I may have taken the Autobrand, but I'm not sure I don't regret it right now. At heart, I am still a follower of the philosophy that came from me. I'm just not fit to lead those people anymore."
He shakes his head. "If you tell the 'cons what you are doing they may join in as well," he says with a wry smile.
"We're truly well matched. You and I, but also myself and the Decepticon ethos, in many ways. I know you are not formally a part of that any longer, but the ideas seem to have begun largely with you. I hear you in them, and not just because you're the one explaining most of them to me."
It doesn't occur to her that that slow-blink is feline body language, but the softness and affection of it registers, and she leans to kiss the bridge of his nose. "Does the Auto...whatever...belief system suit you so ill? Perhaps there are elements of it that you may take to heart, and discard the ones that mean less to you."
"If you take what you wish, ideas are available for the taking, as well." There's humor in her smile.
She looks thoughtful, then. "I could have the children draw pictures to share with other Nexus residents, to explain the story a little better. Coming from me, it's more easily accepted as a spooky prank than a serious message."
"It doesn't matter so much how people will interpret the Wild Hunt, though. It is what it is. It's the march of the Dead, and those that join in willingly had best be prepared to honor the spirits of that accompany it. But it isn't solely about death, either. There is an element of mysticism inherent in it. Óðr is the word we used to describe religious frenzy, divine ecstasy, or artistic inspiration."
"I don't know if you have that same concept in your culture. The Fire in the Head."
Megatron grins when she kisses his nose, and then kisses her, but lightly.
"I joined the Autobots in a moment of crisis, because I couldn't think of a better way to express the pain I was in over the death of someone I initially disliked and came to consider a friend, and the pain I was in over what I knew people had done in my name and my cause," he admits.
"It was in no way a philosophical decision, and I am also unsure that my feelings for Orion had nothing to do with it. I don't know if I regret it or not. It ended the war, but I completely betrayed my people. My ideals have not really changed much at all. I had come to believe that the Autobots had adopted some of our ideals and were living them better than we were. I don't think that's true anymore. I think that they were influenced by our ideals, because Orion was once a Decepticon, but Orion became a Prime. I thought I'd done the right thing for a very long time. But Ravage came to live with me and was treated badly, and Minimus has spent his entire life hiding something that no one should ever have to hide, and he is the most devoted Autobot I know, and the better I come to know him, the more unimpressed with their Code I become."
He considers the procession and the Hunt. "I don't know if we have that concept, or not, either. But I wonder. I do have fire in my head, sometimes, and it might not cause me so much trouble if I knew what to do with it. And I'm not just talking about mania. It's related to the mania. If I can't figure out what the fire in my head is telling me what to do, it builds up and becomes the mania. But sometimes, I've come out of the fire, and done things that had to be done, with a certainty that I couldn't explain. We are a materialistic culture, with the exception of the Camiens and a few other lost colonies, in which priesthood and spirituality and anything that could rightly be called magical is the provenance of the elites and is used for their benefit alone. I used to think magic and religion were only tools to manipulate people--like Soundwave does. I'm not so sure any more."
He grins at her. "I think if I learned to do magic, there is no telling what we would be able to do, together. As for the procession. It depends. If you just want it to be fun for the children, that's fine. If you want to share the story and the ideals with other people, that's fine, too. But the Decepticons would want to know why you were knocking on their doors to prank them, and some of them might join in, if we told them."
"It sounds to me," she says thoughtfully, "like you have outgrown both of these codes, in much the same way that I have outgrown being Asgardian and being Jotun. There is more to be learned from both Asgard and Jotunheim, but neither realm can truly claim me any longer. I will always protect the people of Asgard, as long as I live, but I am not truly of them."
"The way you moved on from the Decepticons may have been impulsive or ill-considered," she adds gently. "But maybe it was right for you, even if it hurt others. That is a question only you can answer, I expect, but I'll always listen if you want to talk about it."
"As far as the Autobots, though, any place where a person must perpetually hide their true self is not a good place." So says Loki.
She strokes his face and cups her hand under his chin. "You are a poet. That Fire is your birthright. It belongs to anyone who dares to reach out and claim it, though sometimes the journey to reach it can be perilous."
"Magic and spirituality are the same as education. Keep them to the elites and they become tools of brutality, to suppress the masses. Share them with all and do not gate-keep, and they are the greatest of equalizers."
"I've offered to show Runes to Ben. I will do that, and more, for you, if you ask for it, but know that if it works for you, you will be a terrifying force with that power. Your spirit is a fire in your chest. Anything might be possible."
"I had meant to introduce the children to the Decepticons anyway. Perhaps the excuse of explaining the Mari Lwyd is the ideal reason to do so."
"I think you're right on all counts, dulscintara." Megatron kisses her. "And I think that if I claim the fire...I can use it, instead of allowing it to use me. I want to learn everything. And I think I was wrong to leave magic to the Council, and to people like Orion."
He blinks at her again.
"Besides, if I am to be a fit mate to you, I cannot fear my power or yours. I am not afraid of dangerous journeys. I've seen already what comes of resisting them: madness. I may always need circuit stabilisers to alleviate what they did to me when I was probably not old enough to be considered an adult in your culture, even though I had a lover and work and had written dangerous words. But they were afraid of me, and they made me afraid of myself, and I still hurt everyone anyway. I might be able to heal myself, and others, and undo some of the damage I did. A healer was what I wanted to be when I was that angry young mech."
He smiles.
"Yes, take the children to meet the Decepticons. Only know that one of them hates me, and justifiably so, and he's the one with a child of his own, more's the pity. We have an anti-violence field, so I'm not afraid he will kill me. He's Ravage's brother, a white cat, small the way Ravage was small when I named him parvilla. Please don't be angry with him if he does not wish to speak with me. I will say nothing to anger him unless he decides to try and enforce his differences with me upon our-- upon our family, your children and his son."
"It's a little of both," she says. "With that kind of power. Using and...well, being used by it makes it sound coercive, and that's not quite right. Moving through it, and allowing it to move through you, perhaps. There is a kind of pleasure to it, almost akin to the emotional exultation involved in sex, but without the sensual component. It's hard to explain in words, but I think you understand me?"
She smiles. "There is a human song with a lyric I rather like: don't ever tame your demons, but always keep them on a leash. It is applicable. It's important that a wild creature know what they are capable of, for good and for ill. What you choose to do with the power you have makes you who you are. I do not always have full control, but I'm trying. And so are you."
Tucking herself against his shoulder again, she adds, "I'm not angry with the people who hate me for what I've done. I won't be angry at him on your behalf. I accept who you are and what you have done without condition, but I don't require other people to do the same. They have freedom of thought."
"And I urge you to keep the same in mind, should you meet enemies of mine in the Nexus. The ones with the best reasons for mistrusting me are dead--not by my hand--but I never blamed them for hating me."
"As long as my children are treated with kindness, I will have no complaints."
Megatron listens when she talks about magic, but he doesn't know enough to have much to add of his own.
"My only concern with regard to Glit is that he doesn't come between your children and his, if they want to be friends."
Megatron hugs her close. "I won't be angry with people who are angry with you because of something you did. But you are mine, and I will defend you if you are attacked with intent to do bodily harm, because I need you whole and alive as much as they believe they need you otherwise. Does that sound fair?"
"I hope that he will not. It may be more complicated than it should be, but we will see how things work out if and when they all meet."
She kisses his cheek lazily and stretches, not unlike a cat herself. This place is more comfortable with a person to snuggle against. Sometimes Loki forgets she actually likes company.
"That is fair. I think it's unlikely to come up here, with the antiviolence field active. There are potential conflicts, constantly, but bodily harm seems to be a rare event. There is something else I ought to mention. It may never be an issue at all, but two Winters ago, there were some peculiar goings-on. Ben has probably told you about the Eliksni. They are at peace with me and mine, but I have reason to believe there is a secretive goddess that was somehow involved. One who uses crows as her eyes and ears. I do not know her name, nor am I clear on what her motivations were or are, but should you see talking crows and fall into conversation with them, be wary and assume there is someone who will hear whatever you say later on."
"I don't think she is my enemy, to be clear. Only that there are parallels between us and that could eventually result in conflict."
We called it the Odensjakt, in Asgard. It is wild in the way any venture into the world beyond the material is wild. The dead ride through the wilderness, and sometimes into town. Anyone in their way will be taken up to ride with them.
A person such as yourself may find it a positive experience to join it. It can be spiritual, but at its heart it is a reminder that not everything can be under our control. Not even ourselves, sometimes.
You know, I think you're right. It might do me good to have an experience like that - I seek to master myself, my emotions and my darkness, but I know that it's work that will never be done. I wouldn't be opposed to joining the Hunt of my own will. As you told me once, the line between life and death is thin, and I have stood on both sides.
I'll see what happens when solstice comes. I don't believe you've met my friend Morrigan - she's a Pokemon called Corvisquire. She looks rather like a raven, in her appearance as well as her habits.
You may decide on the spur of the moment. I will ride, every night, and I will lead more often than not. Join us if you like, but keep in mind I will not recognize you. In order to lead properly, I have to blind myself to everyone I know, lest I treat someone I care about with undue favor.
My brother is the only one I will recognize, and him only because he is also the son of Odin and has as much right to lead the Hunt as I do.
Aha...Morrigan is an apropos sort of name for a carrion-bird! I look forward to meeting her.
I'll take the invitation and think about it. The rules are fair enough - the wilds look on all of us the same. That's the way of nature.
Thank you. She's never too far from me when I go out. I can call her, either through my powers or through a whistle. It appears my abilities have an effect on animals, too, and it strengthens her bond with me.
I named her after a goddess from Galahad's world. Dark, and unpredictable, but not evil. Not someone you want to be on the bad side of, though.
It is important even for gods to remember that the ways of the natural universe are vast and implacable, beyond ourselves, our desires and whims and needs. These things we do, they are to remind ourselves and our followers and to honor the turn of the Wheel. Winter Itself watched us before.
Morrigan is a goddess of war, is she not? I think if you mean to honor her by naming your companion after her, that's fitting.
I look forward to the solstice, then. I'll pay honor to it the way I choose - I, too, value the passage of time and change. Reynard has spoken with me before, and wished me well in mastering my emotions.
She is a goddess of war, among other things. War, battle, fate, and possibly fertility as well. A guardian of the land. I chose her name to honor the goddess and the home culture of my friend Galahad.
Megatron chuckles. "I forget that you haven't met Laserbeak. If I were talking to birds, I would absolutely expect that the conversation would at least be repeated, if not overheard or recorded. That might be unfair to talking birds in principle, but I'm too used to using aviformers as spies myself."
He cuddles her close. "I'm glad you think that's fair. The anti-violence field doesn't operate equally well everywhere. And honestly, if someone came out of nowhere and started shooting at me with live fire, I doubt you'd sit idly by, either. There'd not be time to consider whether I deserved it or not."
Loki gives a little laugh. "That's not always true of organic birds, but you make a fair point. I'm partial to corvids in general, but I wouldn't say they're always trustworthy. I'd probably like them less if they were."
"You're correct." She closes her eyes, comfortable in his arms. "I'm more likely to face aggression with trickery than shoot back, but you would not be undefended."
"I...like it, you know. I never expect friends or lovers to take my side or protect me, but it feels so good when they do."
"You can expect it from me," Megatron says, gently. "We are planning a life together, and that means I want and need you to be in that life. I know we haven't known each other long, but I'd be devastated if I lost you. I will make other friends here, and if I know myself at all, I will have other lovers, but even then, you will be..."
He sighs. "Whatever you want to call yourself, when the time comes to think of a word, I suppose. It is my nature to take care of those I care for, but you most of all. And of course your children are most important to you, so they must also be protected and defended. If we are going to plant gardens and make snowmen together, you have to be here for it. I don't know how." He notices her closed eyes. "Are you tired, dulscintara, or just cosy?"
We are planning a life together. There is no lie in that statement, and Loki is getting less afraid of it all, but it still feels momentous. She gives a shaky sigh and smiles a little. "I was afraid for a very long time. To afraid to explain what I was afraid of. I'm still getting used to being defended and having that which I feared be gone."
"A word will come to us in time," she says confidently. "But lover or partner will do until something more apt comes along, I think."
But she does understand what he means. That she has made a sudden and profound difference in his outlook, that she has been a touchstone, and what that means to him.
"Mostly cozy," she says with a smile. "I like being held. There is something primal in that physical comfort."
One eye opens, sparkling with mischief. "I think you promised me something earlier, though."
"I also have old fears," Megatron whispers. He has words, but they are Cybertronian words, and the words aren't just names for relationships; they are names for longings he gave up on in the name of his cause. Now he wonders if that was a mistake; if having had those longings fulfilled would have made him a better and kinder leader. The point might be moot, though. He has loved many people and will love many more. But she may be the only person in the multiverse who could ever take that particular seat in his heart.
He smiles at the mischief he sees in her open eye fondly. "Any promise I have made you, you are always free to claim. Or is it I who should be claiming something, here? Because I can be ready to stake my claim with the least provocation from you."
[OOC: this post says "safe" edition, let me know if you want this conversation to move elsewhere]
"Of course you do," she says gently. "You would not be the person you are, otherwise. We have time, elskan mín."
This love affair has been a headlong rush from compassion to passion, and sometimes things do just happen that fast, but that doesn't mean they need continue to happen all at once.
Still, at that playful question there's a subtle little squirm in her hips, and the blossoming smile on her face promises trouble. "I think you'd better find a tree for us, then, my dear."
[[Yeah, I'd like to keep things SFW on here, so if you'd like to continue on your journal I'd be game, or I could set up a continuation on the NSFW post.]]
[[there you go, also, just trying to keep the order of things straight in my head, I went and looked--this is before Loki meets Ravage and Soundwave, and before Loki falls down the stairs and Meg meets the kids, and that's the night before Loki drops the ILY, and the Dawning is after all three of these scenes...]]
I need to get a clearer idea of your hierarchy one of these days. Honestly, I was just going to offer to tell them off verbally, but it has been a while since I exercised my power.
How disruptive would it be if every time they picked up an intoxicant beverage to drink it, it simply froze in their hands?
That would just be hilarious. And it sounds like the sort of thing Soundwave would love.
I also don't think Soundwave or Howlback would specifically mind you telling them off, necessarily. Just that they ought to know.
I think the hierarchy is a work in progress. Class warfare is Soundwave's passion and speciality; he's trying to figure out how to balance having an efficient organisation with not wanting to establish anything even remotely like castes.
It's the sort of prank that's right up my alley. I'd need to get close to them to set it up, but given I can shapeshift into a bird smaller than a human hand, I suspect I can escape their notice easily.
I'll send Soundwave a message. I haven't met Howlback but I'm on good terms with Soundwave, unless something has changed abruptly without me being aware of it.
You're on good terms with Soundwave so far as I know too. Actually I thought the two of you were very civilised. I don't understand polyamoury and really I need to if I'm going to go on dating Tony.
Howlback is my other sister and she's cobalt blue. She was there last night. She'll want to be protective of me but she's also one of those people who wants everyone to know that she's fair and follows the rules.
Well, I thought I understood it well enough, but apparently there are nuances I've missed since I did manage to upset Harley. Best not to use me as your model. Or Megatron, but I hardly needed to tell you that.
I'm sorry, you just said 'Tony'. Not Tony Stark? Iron Man?
[Not that that would be bad, necessarily, but Loki might need a minute to adjust to that thought.]
Sometimes people who want to be fair and follow the rules are grateful for those of us who are happy to bend the rules to get shit done. I look forward to meeting her.
Sometimes Howler's like that and sometimes she's annoyed with us all. But I expect it goes the same with the other people like that that you've known.
Megatron as a role model. Excuse me while I laugh my tail off. I know your kids love him. But is he really helping you with them, or is he their co-conspirator?
Megatron? Thus far, a bit of both. I have no doubt he'd do anything in his power to protect them, but it's so obvious every aspect of organic childhood is foreign to him, it's objectively hilarious. I find it endearing, of course, and so do the children, but I would not call him a reliable babysitter as of yet.
But back to Stark...yes, we're from parallel worlds, much like myself and the Thor in the Nexus. In point of fact, we tried to kill each other at least twice, but we seem to have called a truce. I would warn you, he's quite a troubled man under that happy-go-lucky persona. You may need to be gentler than it seems you might, and definitely patient.
He has a playboy reputation, but his intentions seem to be noble enough.
[It feels weird to think of Stark courting someone in the Nexus at all. Even weirder to think of him dating one of the Decepticons, for reasons Loki can't quite put a finger on, but Glit is probably the best choice for him if that were going to happen.]
I figured he was an absolute mess given the state I was in when he decided he wanted me anyway. He's decided to help me stay sober though.
I was kind of like that with Naoko's kids, at first, but at least I understood how organics work physiologically. Had to keep enough of 'em alive at Grindcore, even if the powers that be didn't care what shape they were in as long as they told what they knew.
They're all grown now. In fact they're the ones who sent Rose here to find me.
The two of you have some things in common, I think. You might be just the right partners for one another, though I daresay it'll take a lot of patience on your part. He can be obnoxious.
I don't know why I'm telling you this, though. Maybe it's some sort of displaced guilt for having tried to kill him before. I'd like to see him stable and content.
Mhmm, we'll see. I think he's much more serious about Lucifer, whoever that is, than he is about me.
But I really like him.
I know Megatron thinks he's obnoxious, but for me that's kind of a positive.
If you think I could make him stable and content I'll give it a shot. I've been wondering how good he really is for me given how much he's into this other guy.
I have a hard time thinking of a relationship that's not exclusive as really being serious, because that's always been my experience. I probably give my sister a harder time than she deserves about how I wish she'd treat Soundwave right, because he's better than any of the rest of us.
Of course now I'm mad at him too for...
Well, for making out with your boyfriend. The one person whose lap Ravi needs to stay parsecs arway from.
I'm really not telling you this to make trouble. Decepticon drama, the gift that never stops giving.
I didn't know he was dating Lucifer. That sounds rather volatile. I like Lucifer very much (platonically), but that might be a bit of a moth-and-flame situation. And Lucifer is engaged to another angel, I believe.
Honestly, I don't know how relationships around the Nexus got so complicated. Unless it was always like this and I only just noticed.
I think you would be good for Stark, and I know he has a soft spot for children. But ultimately, it is up to you to decide how you feel about being with someone who's with another person. Not everyone is comfortable with that, and if it makes you unhappy, you shouldn't have to be.
Heh. You're entitled to be unhappy with all of those three as far as I'm concerned. I'm not, particularly, although I sort of wish I'd had a warning before the drama unfolded, but I'm skilled at putting other people in that situation so I'll take it as karmic retribution and let it go.
It would help if I understood what an angel even is. I don't, any more than I understand what you are--an organic who can form a sparkbond with a Cybertronian?
I'm perfectly comfortable dating someone who's dating another person, but I don't know how to tell if there's a commitment. Obviously for you and Megatron that's not a problem, because he spark-bonded with you. Most of my serious relationships have been with organics; it's been eons since I experienced sparkplay of any kind. I find Tony very attractive and I could commit to him if he wanted that with me. But if he's involved with someone a thousand times more powerful than me, and that person is serious about the relationship, I'm not sure I won't be redundant.
...ha. I'm not irritated with Megatron, I dislike him a great deal, as you know, and for very good reason. I just think Ravage and Soundwave should be more careful with each other, and I'm irritated that it's apparently not just Ravi who takes stupid risks.
Honestly for Decepticons this is incredibly minor drama.
There is no chance that Ravage and Soundwave will break up. If Ravage tells Sounders to keep his paws off Meg, he will do that. And Megatron apparently is feeling chastened enough to accept whatever my sister says, too.
Angels are a bit like gods. Elemental; connected to the energies and spiritual principles of the universe around them. I suspect if you asked Lucifer, he'd be better able to explain. Apparently where he comes from he's the source of creation itself, and that's a bit...bigger than I care to try wrapping my brain around.
As for me, I have an organic body, but that's only a small part of what I am. I'm a Trickster. I exist to upset the status quo, to trespass over boundaries and ruin expectations.
Power is...well, it would be wrong to say it's irrelevant in a relationship, but I strongly doubt it's a consideration for him with respect to who he wants to date. But afraid I'm going to muddy the waters if I keep talking about this, and I actually don't want to do that to either of you.
See, that's the thing, I don't really mind if they all go off and have an orgy together, I just don't want any of them hurt.
The relevance of power has a good deal to do with how comfortable I am being involved with someone. Sharing a lover with someone that powerful is daunting.
I'm nervous about being too close to too much power, unless I know the person wielding it as well as I know Ravage and Soundwave.
When I told my sister I was going to join the Decepticons, she brought me in at her own level. I ended up working with Soundwave and Starscream and Megatron because of my sister. I'd have been better off if I'd simply enlisted and joined a group of local recruits as their medic. But I'd been Ratchet and Pharma's apprentice and I'd been Ravage's brother, and that put me right under Megatron's optics with Knock Out and Hook.
I hacked off Megatron and ended up working at Grindcore.
What happens if I hack off Lucifer?
And I'm comfortable dating someone who's dating more than one partner. I'm not so sure I'm as fine with multiple serious commitments. There's a certain point at which it seems unwise, or dangerous, to be so committed without exclusivity. Obviously, that's not how it works for you, or for my sister.
Here's the thing.
Megatron and Soundwave and my sister have loved each other in various ways for over four million years. And they have hurt one another a lot, but I think they are treating each other better than they ever have before. The way they came into the world and the war they had to fight fragged all of them up. You already love them. You might as well trust them.
I didn't realise it myself until I thought about how big those dolls are and how big Una isn't.
Dazzlestar is a very cute character. She's a dancer and an acrobat. That may be why he picked her and not the Prince of the Mountains, who I dressed up as for Halloween.
She's heavier than she looks. She outweighs Sigrid, actually, and she's not as tall, but I'm pretty sure it's muscle from all the climbing things she does. One of these days, that little girl is going to pack quite a punch.
Is there any way to get access to old episodes of this show? I'd want to watch first to make sure the children would understand, but they might enjoy it. Most of the media they consume is from Midgard, and that's not a bad thing, per se, but I'd like to expose them to other cultures.
I missed Hallowe'en. I'd just gotten back and did not have the energy for anything festive.
What, did you seriously think that I don't have the entire series on hand?
CybercatsOfDarkmount_COMPLETE.zip
Megatron's not fond of it because he says that it absolutely doesn't challenge functionism (which it couldn't have or they wouldn't have aired it back then) but, uh...it actually was a series about people with beast-modes, which hadn't even happened before.
So. On Hallowe'en we all got turned into our costumes. I was wearing a holo-avatar that was a humanised version of the Rosethorn Knight. It might have been all right for me if I hadn't humanised the avatar because what we usually do with avatars is use them to spy on humans.
Soundwave was just a human version of himself.
It was extremely traumatic and I'm basically not ever going to use a holo-avatar in the Nexus again because it fragged. me. up.
The first thing that came up. Or rather didn't. Or at least didn't stay. Soundwave--he is completely SQUICKED by organic sex. He might have been able to get past it if he hadn't been turned into an actual human, meaning his telepathy was squelched. He could barely feel that I was me in my mind, and I was drunk too, so when we found our way into an empty room, thinking that it would be fun, once we got halfway out of our clothes, he was freaked out by all the messiness and also by the fact that we were missing half our arrays and we were both missing the same half, and so he was barely able to see to me and wouldn't let me do much to him.
Then afterward I ran into someone outside who said I'd trespassed into his realm and I gave him some of my roses, but then he said it wasn't enough and he was going to do whatever he wanted with me. I got away, but.
When I got back inside Ben and Furiosa had to talk me down.
Because Soundwave had run off with Misfire, who got turned into a car and was also traumatised, because flight-frames are like that, they hate being 'grounded'. And they were driving around the Nexus trying to figure out how far they had to go to get out of the effect range and be able to transform back into themselves. Although he was incredibly sorry when he got back and found out what had happened to me. And if he ever figures out who that was it will not be pretty.
I was very much hoping you had it. Thank you! I'll be sure to talk it over with the children. Can they ask you if they have questions?
I can see how all of that would be traumatic. I suppose I don't think much about alterations of form since I'm a shapeshifter with a wide variety of alternate shapes...it's different to have it done to you without permission, though. I'm sorry that happened to you. But I'm glad Ben was there.
Absolutely! Also we've been showing it to Lotor, and he likes it quite a bit.
Ben has been a very good friend to me, and also to Soundwave.
Does that kind of thing happen in the Nexus a lot? Should I be concerned about using a holo-avatar? I know Soundwave is sometimes annoyed that I won't, mostly because he knows that mass displacement isn't always easy for me when this frame is rather new to me as well.
The thing that was really traumatic about it was being threatened when I felt so vulnerable. I didn't know how to defend myself in a strange body with a different centre of gravity, no fangs, no claws, no barbed tailtip...
Disruption in general is standard in the Nexus. Sometimes it comes in the shape of a minor inconvenience and sometimes it's an actual crises. Sometimes it's something in-between, a quirk that seems like it ought to be harmless but is in fact terribly traumatic to those who run afoul of it.
I've found myself stuck in clothes I didn't ask for, and I've found myself in the midst of a blizzard that lasted months. I know there were darker things that happened before I ever arrived here, as well, though I'm unclear on all the details.
I've given the children protective runes to carry with them in the Nexus. I could make you one, as well, if you'd like. It wouldn't be much, little more than a luck charm with a shielding spell you can activate for a short time, but if it would give you an added sense of security...?
That...that would be very kind of you. To have a being of apparent power tell me that I was his to do as he pleased with, in a body that was not my own, which I could not transform...
I never want that to happen again.
Intellectually, I know that we do have an anti-violence field.
Emotionally, this is a situation I have been in before, and one in which resistance would have cost me my life at the time. One of the Senators treated me as a personal toy until Soundwave did...someting I don't quite understand to his mind, and made it impossible for him to tolerate even the sight of me. He still managed to hurt us after that, but he couldn't do it that way, and then Soundwave's brother got involved, and that is how Soundwave ended up in debt, but with legal title to me and to two of my sibs.
I have not heard the term 'emotional ecosystem' before, but it's very apt. That's my feeling, as well, that we are all connected, at least indirectly. It's a strange feeling for me. I do have friends, and lovers, and family, but there is a relationship here that is different from my past experiences. Your culture is more emotionally open than mine, and there are different connotations to varying types of physical intimacy with you. It's fascinating, and I...am still feeling my way, I think, but you and Ravage have become important to me in a very short length of time.
I have a history with mind control via a magical artifact, for lack of a better term. I was a perpetrator, but also a victim. Sometimes I think I still hear it, and some of my memories are...unreliable. Mostly the emotional context of them; I can sort out the actual events that occurred for the most part, but it still troubles me.
What was done to me had nothing to do with interrogation. It was half an effort to make a puppet of me, and half meaningless brutality. It's better I don't talk about it much beyond that.
When you say 'intrusive thoughts'. What do you mean 'everyone has them'?
We don't have to talk about things you don't want to talk about, but if you think of them when we're actually in contact, I will probably get at least flashes before I shut them down. Which I will do, most likely, unless something about them transfixes or triggers me.
I meant exactly what I said. Everyone has them.
Antheans don't often seem to have the really violent ones, but everyone has them. If you were thinking, as some people seem to do, that nobody else in the world thinks the terrible things you have thought without meaning to think them, you're absolutely wrong.
Being Cybertronian makes it easier to consciously delete them, but only if you don't get caught up in them and become anxious before you remember you're able to do that.
Your brain stores everything rather haphazardly and if you don't sleep or enter defragmentation cycles often enough, things that don't go together at all are stored right next to each other. Sometimes when you're not thinking consciously, you'll retrieve different concepts that don't go together and most of the time you won't pay attention because it's simply absurd. But sometimes the random brain stimulation means you generate something horrible, particularly when you're really angry or frustrated.
It doesn't mean anything unless you decide you like the awful idea. And even if you like it enough to entertain it briefly, but not enough to do it, it still doesn't count, because you didn't do it.
Unfortunately, I get to share these anyway sometimes, particularly when they're upsetting enough that the person who's having them pays attention to them. But yes, we all have them. I certainly do. I've had plenty of awful thoughts about people I love, but as long as I find them repugnant, I don't need to worry that I'll ever want to do them.
If we are ever in mental contact and you hear the voice of the Mind Stone, you are beyond welcome to shut it down, if you can. Just be careful. I'm not sure if it's the sound of my own memories or if it's still out there, aware of me, and trying to reach me.
But that's different from...
Those thoughts. That's what I mean when I talk about my anti-conscience. I've always had it, ever since I can remember. My mother was never troubled by it when she taught me mind-to-mind, but I always assumed that was just because she was my mother.
I've used it. Usually not the most horrible things, but it starts with the worst things it can think of and then I have to push it to de-escalate. You're telling me that's normal?
Not to make you go on discussing something painful, but will I recognise the Mind Stone when I hear it? We don't have to be in mental contact for me to hear surface thoughts. I wear external shields so that I don't hear everyone's surface thoughts. I know that frightens some people, and I'm sorry about it, but I can't help the way my spark came out of the ground, or what it did to my brain module during my forging.
Your anti-conscience sounds as though it is a bit more complex and insistent than most people's intrusive thoughts are. But being told all your life that you are bad and there is something wrong with you would make you pay attention to those thoughts, and give them more power than another person just as powerful might have given them; it doesn't mean that you are innately malicious.
I feel that if you were innately malicious, I'd know. I have had a lot of experience dealing with the minds of malicious people. You are nothing like Ravage's abuser, or Starscream at his worst, or Scorponok, or Tarn and the rest of that crew. Like me, you have been known to derive joy from the pain of others, but only those who have caused enough pain to merit it.
Your mind has twists and turns and tricks, but I like minds like that. They're interesting, and their ability to compartmentalise limits the amount of pain they're able to inflict upon me without meaning to. There are disadvantages--Ravage, when I first met her, was able to hide the source of her pain from me for quite some time, which was especially frustrating because when I first met her, all that I wanted to do, other than find my way back to sanity, was to take it away. But around people like Ravage and Megatron and you, I'm not constantly barraged by trauma I have no power to address, where the sufferer would only be further harmed by the knowledge that I, as a stranger, was aware of it.
I have no doubt you will recognize her, if it's actually the Mind Stone's voice and not merely nightmares my own mind is conjuring up. It's a force that existed at the dawn of my universe, and will continue to exist until the very end.
I would never expect you to apologize or regret your own gifts and nature. I'm admitting my own fear because I think...because you value honesty and therefore I wish to give you as much of it as I can. But individuality is something I value as much as I do self-determination.
I always thought I was inherently grey, and easily pushed into the dark. I have both indulged that darker nature and fought tooth and nail against it, with very little difference in the results except that the more I fight the more exhausted I feel. Identity and purpose is something I have struggled with since I was a child. It's taken so much work to get to where I am now...and there will be more work ahead of me, possibly for as long as I live.
But it means something, what you've told me. I'm not a monster.
I've met monsters. I've worked with them. I've served beside them out of necessity. I've worked for them.
I've served them unwillingly, their presence like acid bathing my processors, every moment a struggle not to snap in a way that would end my life and leave Ravage and her sibs undefended.
And I've broken them, and taken a sick, brilliant joy in reducing them down to their primal fears as they crumple in my grasp. I will break them again if I need to.
You've done terrible things. Just like Megatron. But neither of you is a monster.
You've just lost your way, here and there. And not without help.
I've met them, as well, and served them in spite of how ill it fit my own nature to do so. The wounds linger, but I still wonder, often, what separates me from one of them. I thought it was divinity for a time, and then I thought it was an understanding of sacrifice, and now I think it may be some capacity for love and compassion that they were too calcified to possess, but which I have miraculously retained. Perhaps a little of all the above.
There is something about being a god--at least, one of the sort that Thor and myself are--that leaves you halfway between individual and Elemental. I am a person with a window in my soul that opens onto something impersonal and implacable, but I will cling to both my personhood and my divinity forever, unless they pull me apart.
Knowing that this is the way you see me helps keep the balance. Others would tell me the same, I'm sure, but you have a gift of perception not everyone shares.
When I open my mind completely and take off all my external shielding in public, unguarded places...the vastness of the universe and all its information comes flooding through me. I lost track of myself for a long, long time, until I first saw Ravage, and focused on her. If it were not for her I doubt i would have been able to keep track of my personhood long.
I don't know if it's the capacity for love and compassion, or the fact that you can still want them.
Before I met Ravage I wasn't sure that feelings like that could bring enough joy to be worth all the pain.
It's not hard to believe at all. Thor's dearest friend Heimdall was the gatewarden of Asgard for millennia. If I'm honest, the whole place would have fallen down without him there. From his observatory, he could see all of the Nine Realms, and tens of trillions of people.
I don't know that he ever claimed any worshipers, but there is no doubt his gifts were divine. I'm not sure how he kept himself from becoming overwhelmed with them.
Who and what we love says a lot about us, in the end, does it not?</font?
I am having a moment right now. I've never experienced amicitia. I never thought that I would. But knowing that you feel the same tension between the infinite and the intimate that I feel gives me balance, too.
Ravage is my sparkmate but even she doesn't understand that, because she isn't shaped to contain it. She's a lens, through which the powers of goodness and compassion and creation were meant to shine. And she is everything there is to me.
But this discussion has brought me a peace that I don't know how to explain.
I am still in love with him. I don't even want not to be, any more. I was angry with him because he shut himself away from me when he started to go wrong, and then he tried to make her do it, too. They were terrible together by themselves. They weren't terrible when he didn't push me away, which he did because he didn't want me to know how fucked up he'd become.
She's his amica. I don't know if I'll ever have one, but it would have to be someone like you.
I don't even know what I'm saying here.
I know what she did, by the way. Or at least I've guessed.
But I'm waiting for her to tell me. I wish she would. It hurts me, and I can't forgive her until she tells me. They were stupid, but how can I be angry when they did it because they love me? I even think I know why it went awry.
It went awry because she was still cassette-bound. She couldn't fully consent to it. She couldn't give the Lady what She wanted. And if Solus wants what I think she might, she still can't, but not for the same reasons.
I don't even believe in this scrap line of thinking, so tell me how it is that I know how it works? I can see them together on that Pitbound beach I've never set a pede on, and the only reason I don't want to look is it hurts, and at the same time I hurt more for them than I do for myself.
We love a pair of idiots, you know. But I wouldn't with anyone else. They're alive in ways that nobody else is.
I won't strike him again. I promise.
I thought he didn't see me anymore. Ravage thinks I want from him what I didn't get when he shut me out and she was the joint between us, and she says it's not as much fun as I think it is but she loves me enough to want me to have it, and besides, she is wholly mine now. I don't deserve any of you.
And I swear I'm not fendered on energon wine. I know it sounds like I am.
[Some hours later:]
I told her I knew she had something to tell me, and please just to tell me, so we could get past it.
She fell apart on me and told me.
What happened after that was only for us to know about but I was wrong to say that she is a lens. That is not her function, chosen or otherwise. She encompasses a lens. I want to say that Solus has made a space inside of her for her to grow into.
But that's wrong. It has always been there. I saw it the day we met.
And none of this matters. I'd love her no matter how far from infinite she was. She's my anchor in the intimate.
Everyone liked Heimdall. Even me, and I fought with him bitterly more than once.
Sometimes, the people I love understand, at least from the outside in, or through their own experiences. Ian studies chaos. Harley dances in meditation. Megatron is a poet. I would pity anyone who truly has no contact with the infinite. But there is a difference between touching it for a moment with the tip of a finger, and feeling it rush through your body like the blood in your veins. I would not be myself if I were closed to the cosmos forever.
Perhaps sometime we could...'compare notes' sounds inadequate, but I would be honored to show you how I reach for the sacred, and what I do when It reaches back.
You know how it works because it operates on the same level as dream logic. There is an element of inherent irrationality, but there is also a pattern in the chaos, and that pattern is beautiful and terrifying. You know how it works because you are a part of that pattern.
We do love a pair of idiots, but I'm afraid we are also a pair of idiots, if in a different form. It's all right. You can tell me whatever you wish, and I will hold it as sacred as I would if a follower needed me as a confessional. We can be that much for one another.
[He assumes, when the texts trail off, that Soundwave needed a break from the emotions of the conversation, and opted to give him space, and not to worry. He's just getting up in the morning and making breakfast for the children when the next words appear on the screen of his PINpoint, and doesn't try to read them until all four little ones are safely eating their oatmeal.
He cannot quite grasp through text what Soundwave is trying to tell him, and it's too important to guess at, but he's relieved they've had the vital conversation at least.]
I want to understand, but this may not be the right medium. It sounds as though I should be happy for you, and I am.
Would you like to talk, either or both of you? The children are at breakfast but I can meet you in an hour or so, if you wish.
Wait...wait, I think we are talking of different things, with the same words, and that is creating confusion. I truly don't care who he has sexual relations with as long as there is no harm exchanged (except that I will never share a lover with Thor, for numerous reasons, but he's not interested in anyone right now so that is moot). But the level of intimacy that interfacing creates between two of your kind is more intense than a simple tumble in bed, friends-with-benefits situation. Up until now, I would have said I don't object to him sharing that with you, either, but the more I hear of your pasts and the more I learn of the way you interact with one another, the less I like the idea of the two of you together.
So in that sense you are correct. I would prefer you not interface if you cannot do so without being toxic to one another. I'm less certain of how he and Soundwave interact, aside from this most recent minor disaster.
But beyond that, I want to be a part of this. I don't mean that I want to be romantically or sexually involved with you or Soundwave. Just that there is a sense of...security or warmth or...something. Associated with you. The two of you, or the three of you...
I wonder if it's something I'm picking up from his spark?
Or maybe I'm just looking for more emotional connections now that the work I thought would be the end of me is finally done, and I have a chance to build something different.
I think you are part of this. And I am perfectly fine with that. I also think this is a conversation we should all be having together, and probably not via text message. It's a conversation that might go better if we were at least able to look into each other's faces. Personally, I'd prefer to have it in close physical contact with all of you--not in a romantic or sexual way, but in a comforting way.
I think Soundwave and Megatron ought to interface at least once without any funny business, so they can be absolutely clear how they feel about each other. And I said that to Soundwave when he was telling me he had to be a dreadful little tease because he promised me he wouldn't have sex with anyone else. I told him it was ridiculous of him to say they didn't have sex because nobody came and no spikes were touched, and also that I forgave him but I wouldn't if he ever tried that one again. They were in each other's ports. They didn't get into any of the really fun ones, but I don't see how frustrating each other is helpful. It was pure pettiness and I made him own up to it.
I don't consider this a minor disaster. I consider it positive. It would've been a minor disaster if they'd tried to hide it from us. Instead, they told us the truth, and we didn't let them get away with any foolishness.
A lot of this is about their pride. About Soundwave's wounded pride, in particular, and his consciousness of Megatron's pride. I'll feel good about whatever they elect to do once Soundwave finally has set his pride aside and cried his optics dry in Megatron's arms, and Megatron has had to apologise to him for hurting him, not hurting me.
[There's a pause as Loki reads the message, which lengthens as he has to take a break and analyze what's going through his own head. Maybe it's the heightened emotions of the previous conversation, but he feels a gnawing hunger for reassurance settle in his chest. The idea of continuing the conversation in close contact sounds both incredibly appealing and somewhat terrifying. Maybe more than somewhat. In close proximity, there are vulnerabilities that even the god of lies cannot hide.]
That might be acceptable. [Is what he finally sends, while sighing at himself, fully aware it's a stilted and inadequate way to express his thoughts.] A conversation in contact, I mean. Only I suspect it will be a lengthy one, so I would need to set aside time.
[And maybe have a drink beforehand.]
You're right, I suppose. Best not to let either of them get off on a technicality. Or fail to get off on one, as the case seems to be this time around.
I know this is scary; sooner is better than later, but uninterrupted is also better than potentially on call. So I understand that we will all of us have to set time aside. At least we can leave my sister and Esme in charge at the Embassy. Don't be afraid. I'm not trying to seduce you, and Soundwave definitely isn't.
And even though you don't want to control him...
Soundwave and I were forced to go through a procedure long ago that gave him more control over my decisions and actions than either of us wanted, and it took us a very long time to get that reversed. During that time he would often not tell me how he felt about things I was doing out of the fear that confessing his feelings to me would affect my ability to choose whether or not to do them.
This had an absolutely terrible effect on our relationship, because not telling me what he did or didn't like didn't stop him from disliking it and feeling bad about it.
You do not have the ability to control Megatron. He is a free agent. So you need to tell him if you don't like something he's doing, has done, or wants to do. He may decide to do it anyway. You may even have to argue about it. But he's not going to leave you. He's your spark-mate. Your conjunx in all but name. Give him the ability to make an informed decision about things that frighten you and things that upset you, so that you don't put him in the position of repeatedly upsetting you while being told that it's his absolute right to do as he pleases. It is his right. It's also his right to know if there are going to be consequences to his actions, and if you know he's going to make you angry, you should put it into words, because the spark-bond is difficult in that it isn't always clear who's having a painful emotion and it's never necessarily clear why they are having it, without a conversation.
Take my advice, please. I've been in a spark-bond for four million years and it's still very strong, despite the fact that we have both managed to screw up impressively and with great panache. I mean. I got caught fucking Skywarp because he decided to teleport with me and we both got stuck in a damn wall. Do you think I'd have let him attempt that if I'd known it would annoy the slag out of Soundwave?
We're still okay. Everything will be okay as long as you just love each other. I know you're a liar sometimes whether you want to be or not, and we all love you anyway. But please do try to avoid lying through a spark=bond; it always goes badly.
I'm not afraid of being seduced. If it weren't such a terrible idea in terms of emotional entanglements, I would venture to say I'd be interested in being seduced, but I can think of two or three reasons off the top of my head that that would be problematic, and I'm sure you can name a few dozen I've not thought of.
The trouble is, I'm as awkward with close friendships as I am with lovers, if not more so.
You all give so freely, so emotionally. I may always struggle to wrap my mind around that, and while I'm rationally aware that affection is not transactional, my heart often fails to comprehend what my brain understands. I don't think there is anything that will make me cease fearing that I will break what I have, except time and reassurance.
[And if Ravage were face to face with him right now, the expression on Loki's face at that last reassurance would speak volumes of blended bewilderment and hope. It's a shame text is such a cold medium. But there's a long pause, again, and then:]
I'd like to switch to audiovisual, if that's all right. I mean I don't want to catch you undressed, or using the fuel recycler, or...anything else embarrassing. Let me know?
But yes. I love you, not the way Megatron does, but as part of my concordia. You are conjunx to my amica, amiconara, and though I distrusted the relationship at first, because he went straight from suicidal depression to saying he'd met the love of his life, you are good to him, and you care for him, and I care for him, and we care for each other, and we have shared secrets.
What is love but not that? Do you think I tell everyone I meet these things? You came to us as his lover, asking to be our friend. That is an honourable request, and we chose to grant it, and since we like you, we have opened up to you and shared our truth with you. There are few things in life that are sure or safe, but those who do not take calculated risks gain very little. Megatron chose you, and we chose you both once again, but this time as equals and not as his subjects.
[Another momentary pause, as Loki rereads the messages several times, and then he enables the video feed on his PINpoint.]
Yes. Or if you want to visit, I am free for the moment.
[If Ravage accepts the audio-video feeds, he'll see Loki is outdoors at the moment, dressed quite lightly in a linen tunic despite how cold the night around him looks. He's actually sitting on the swingset he's put up for the children, swaying lazily on a tire swing. The lights of the Plaza glitter in the distance off to his right.
He looks sheepish and shy.]
Like I said, I'm even worse at parsing friendships than I am with lovers. And family is the most difficult of all.
The video flickers on, and then Ravage nods, and activates the coordinates; the catlike mech leaps down out of the shadows and walks over to the swingset. "Will the swings even hold me?" He sits down on the ground.
"Soundwave knows where I am. He may join us. I suggest less parsing and more acceptance, if that's possible."
Loki eyes the swings, then Ravage, and gives a little shake of his head. "I doubt it. They're rated for up to 700 pounds, but I'm not even sure your frame would fit in the seats."
"Something to work on for later, perhaps. A bench swing strong enough to hold Megatron, perhaps..."
He's going to have to work on that, as well as places for Harley and for Megatron, and possibly a studio for Ian so he doesn't feel left out...
"It's in my nature to overthink, I'm afraid," Loki says with a little shake of his head. "I can only try. Soundwave is welcome here, as well."
"Do you want me to ask him over, or do you want to talk about the thing I'm going to tell him tomorrow in private? I'm fine with either." Ravage smiles. "You and Megatron in a bench swing together would be adorable. But you'd have to find a way to balance his mass, or have him sit exactly in the middle, with someone else on the other side."
There's a sort of golden shimmer around him, there then gone. Like a wave from a very recent acquaintance, who's decided she'd like to be friends, but has places to be.
"I want...to be with a friend, and feel safe," Loki admits softly. "To that end, either of the above would be all right. I at least feel as though I can offer you some advice about the matters of ritual and divinity."
And that golden shimmer is strangely reassuring.
He snorts at the comment about balancing Megatron's mass, though. "Hello, I'm still a shapeshifter," he points out. "Matching his mass is something I'm consciously working on, but I'm trying to build up to it slowly so it doesn't hurt. He wouldn't thank me for injuring myself."
"Alternatively, I could just have him sit in the center and then myself in his lap."
Ravage pads over to Loki on four feet and lies down by the swing, putting her head on Loki's knee very gently.
"None of us wants you to injure yourself. Why do you feel unsafe?" She looks up at him with wide red optics. "If it's because of Soundwave and Megatron...you know Megatron loves you more than anything, right? And Soundwave loves Megatron, but I'm his spark mate. If you don't want them to do it you should tell them, because I think they really want to. It's okay if you're not okay with it yet."
That the car that hit him is not present--and neither are there any police or ambulance sirens--strikes Loki as irritating. Either Abner managed to get a fair distance with a non-functional leg, or it was a hit-and-run. If it was the latter, he might have to find the vehicle that hit him and take some subtle vengeance later. Although, since the man doesn't want to go to the hospital, it may be all for the best.
"Aren't you chilly, lying on the ground like that?" He looks down at him for a moment quizzically, hands on his hips, and then crouches beside him easily. "Going into shock is the last thing you want. Can you feel your feet?"
Florence Nightingale, he ain't, but he's done battlefield triage, and he at least has enough compassion to pull off his cloak and tuck it around the injured man rather than comment on his questionable fashion sense.
Abner is experienced and adept at being on the absolute brink of death and calmly insisting that he is fine. It’s just a rash. I just slipped. I was only dead for a little while.. A hospital is no place for someone like him. Even top infectious disease specialists wouldn’t know what to do with him. And the thought of anyone in a lab coat with an examination table trying is enough to make him break out in a cold sweat.
The people who hit him aren’t entirely to blame for moving along. He hadn’t laid down until their car was out of sight.
“Oh. A little, I guess,” he answers, as if temperature hadn’t previously occurred to him and he isn’t really bothered. He’s actually quite cold. He’s still in a sort of teenage experimental stage of dressing himself, having never gotten the chance before. But he does also hang out with Harley Quinn who is an…interesting sartorial influence.
He props himself up on his elbows as he suddenly finds himself cloaked. The chill had been a nice distraction. The cloak is also a nice distraction. It feels expensive.
“I can feel everything,” he reports, “and move everything, I just can’t put weight on it.”
His pain threshold must be unhealthily high. That already occurred to Loki, based on what little he knows about his affliction, his powers. You deal with that sort of illness for the majority of your life, and a motor vehicle accident probably feels like equivalent to a head cold. That doesn't mean he couldn't die from it, though. Mortals do that, even if they're unusual ones.
By Midgard standards, it's an expensive cloak, probably. Loki isn't sure they even have all the materials in it on the planet. It feels like satin, but warms like wool or fleece. Evidently he's not worried about getting blood or grass stains on it, though.
"Probably broken bones or dislocated joints, then. That's a relief; I can't do much for a damaged spinal column, but I can manage bleeding and fractures. I'm going to have to poke at you a little, and it's going to hurt, all right? Try not to lash out; if you hit me you'll only hurt your hands worse."
He doesn't want to know what happens if he fires polka-dots at him.
He tugs his gloves off and tosses them aside, placing one hand just over the injured knee, the other beneath it and pressing gingerly, using both magic and touch to gauge where the worst damage is.
"Oh! And warn me if you're going to pass out." He can do a painkilling spell in a minute, but diagnosis comes first, then easing the symptoms.
That would be ironic: managed to come back from being pancaked by a giant alien starfish, but done in by a Hyundai Elantra. Abner pulls the cloak a little closer. His cardigan does not warm like wool or fleece: it’s from Forever 21. He did not buy it.
“I know,” he says. He doesn’t even sound resigned to it: it’s going to hurt and that is a fact. “I’m definitely not going to hit you.”
He’s not wearing his gauntlets (they don’t go with the sweater), so it doesn’t even occur to him to assure the other man that he isn’t going to meet a multicolored end. Not unless one of them sticks their finger down Abner’s throat, and he isn’t planning on it.
“I probably won’t pass out either.”
That he sounds morose about. He’s never been that lucky.
Ironic, but not unheard of. How many assassins or war heroes have died from falling off a ladder while cleaning their gutters? More than zero, anyway.
The matter-of-fact acknowledgement actually makes Loki feel worse for him than if he'd complained. Generally speaking, he's not much of a bleeding heart, but it's hard not to feel compassion for someone who seems to have perpetually gotten the thin end of the stick for their entire existence.
"Well, just don't forget to breathe, all right?" he says, and there is a solid sixty to ninety seconds where he is pressing and testing the damaged muscle and bone, before he's satisfied that he knows what to do to it.
"The good news is your femur isn't broken. The bad news is just about everything else is." The green glimmer returns as he starts to cast a painkilling spell. It will be a few minutes before it takes full effect, but there should be the start of some relief right away.
"Just for the record, they don't call me the god of healing, and there's a reason for that. But I can handle this for you. You'll owe me a favor, but I rather like you so I won't make it anything too terrible."
He’s silent and still as Loki examines him; stares straight ahead. He’s long past any squirming or complaints or tears. Abner is a quicker learner than his mother ever gave him credit for, and he was quick to learn showing pain and looking for comfort would not get him anywhere. This is not to say that comfort isn’t something he yearns for.
“Oh. Great,” he replies flatly. That’s worse than he was expecting, but it makes sense. His gaze does flick down to the glimmer, which he watches with interest. A little of the tension starts to go out of his shoulders.
“That feels…” he murmurs, before glancing up at Loki, looking slightly startled. “You, um, rather like me?”
Abner has so little experience being liked at all, that he isn’t sure how to take that.
Loki is, as mentioned before, not a bleeding heart. He's someone who's experienced cruelty and torture, though, and even if he hadn't heard some of Abner's story already, he'd recognize the look. Understand what he's doing, and why. He's relieved when he's able to get on with the painkilling magic, and the tension in the man's back starts to ease.
"Better?" he asks. "It'll take a minute or two. I could just numb you completely with cold, but that's not good for human tissues. Don't move that leg until I've worked on the bones a bit more, though. I'll let you know when they're stable."
Everything else might have been a slight exaggeration, but there's some patellar damage that would take an orthopedic surgeon a long time to repair. Magic is a helpful shortcut.
Loki blinks at the question and looks amused. "I wouldn't be here at all if I didn't. You didn't even ask for help, technically."
Which would be a clever way to get around owing something to a trickster god, but Loki suspects in this case he didn't ask because he either didn't know how or didn't want to be refused.
"I have a soft spot for people who don't fit in the world. Especially the ones who've gotten themselves into trouble because of that. Con artists, criminals, misfits. You know, people like me." The magic glimmers brighter, strands wrapping around the injured leg. It might feel chilly or tingly or odd, but there should be no additional pain.
"I'll let you decide which of those you are. You don't seem to have much malice in you. Rage, maybe, but that's not the same thing. Where were you headed when you got hit by the car?"
“Better,” Abner agrees. He just barely nods his head, as if afraid any movement might ruin all of Loki’s efforts. Abner is very used to being told he has ruined everything, no matter how hard he has tried.
“A criminal,” he murmurs with a grimace. Misfit isn’t a strong enough word for what Abner is. Freak fits better. Failure. Abomination too. He watches the magic do its…well, magic.
“It’s…pretty,” Abner admits. He hopes that isn’t the wrong word, but he can’t think of another. Hopefully it won’t somehow insult the other man.
“You think I have…rage in me?” He asks, curiously. It’s not something Abner has ever considered. He has a black hole inside him; empty and gnawing and hopeless. And the virus, of course. That may be angry, being trapped in this dimension in such a useless creature.
“I was just going home,” he explains. “I don’t drive.”
"I can't judge," he says with a little shrug. "Whatever you've done, I promise you I've done worse."
He smiles a little at being told his magic is pretty. He's biased, and also a little vain in some areas, but he tends to agree. "We call it seidr," he says. "Mine always comes out that greenish-gold color. I suppose it's some sort of expression of my personality; couldn't tell you what, offhand."
Green for the presence of the otherworldly, perhaps, but the gold could be anything.
"I think you have rage in you," he confirms. "Though perhaps you're not even aware of it. You told me you can kill people if you see them as your mother. Maybe that's partly defensive, but I'd be shocked if there was no anger there at all."
There's a subtle grinding and clicking sensation as some of the bones resettle, but the pain is nearly gone by now. "...well." Loki frowns a little. "It's going to take a few hours for the inflammation to go down, but I think you'll be able to walk on it by morning."
"Do you want me to take you home, or would you rather I brought you to one of my safe-houses to rest? If you live alone, the latter might be the better option."
Abner’s eyes widen. He stares down at his own chest.
“Oh. I…understand what you mean. The virus does the same thing. In theory.”
And Abner vomits rainbows twice a day. His mother never questioned him or accused him of anything directly, but she certainly expressed distaste for flamboyance; for gentleness and softness, which she equated with stupidity. For anything that wasn’t stereotypically masculine, because that is what a superhero should be. Suffice it to say Abner did not measure up in several ways.
“I’ve never really thought about it like that,” he mutters. The truth is that Abner has never really allowed himself to be angry; has always been too busy hating himself to think about how he feels about anyone else.
He doesn’t love his mother, that much is true. But he feels guilty about that, and about what he did to her. Without that guilt and self loathing he doesn’t know who he is. He doesn’t deserve to be angry.
“Thank you,” he says, pushing himself carefully into a sitting position. “I owe you. And I do live alone, but I don’t want to put you out. My apartment is…really small. I mean: there are no stairs…”
Not wanting to put anyone out is basically the story of Abner’s life, but he’s also aware that the dots are beginning to form for the night. And the idea of slowly swelling into something hideous in front of a man who both is and looks like a god is deeply depressing.
"Is that how it works?" Loki looks curious, not repelled. "I wonder how similar the energy is. Generally speaking, the human body isn't the best conduit for magical powers, though I've known sorcerers, witches and mages to come from Midgard."
The parallels are intriguing, anyway, and when Loki gets intrigued by something, he's disinclined to let the matter go.
When he pushes himself to sit up, Loki reaches to put a hand on his back, steadying him. "You do, but we can worry about those details another time." Some decent chocolate might be all he demands in return.
He shakes his head. "Mnn. I don't much like the idea of you either stuck lying in bed all night or trying to get up for glass of water and falling over and re-breaking your tibia. Decision made. Congratulations, you're being abducted by an alien."
The green threads of energy unfurl again, but this time they seem to simply part the veil of the world around them and pull them through empty space, depositing them lightly on a pile of furs beside a fireplace large enough to hold an entire roasting bull.
The room around them is a long hall, mostly carved and polished granite, with a few ornamental columns and lamps here and there. There are storage chests and some large bookshelves, and a long, oversized dining table with matching chairs, but aside from that it's fairly sparsely furnished, high-ceilinged and airy.
Loki pats his shoulder gently and stands. "I want tea. I'll make extra in case you want some, as well."
Abner’s response to being abducted by an alien is something like:
“Huwha?”
And then they’re moving through…Abner doesn’t know, but it’s strangely familiar in a way that he isn’t sure he wants to think about. It would mean remembering who knows how many tons of intergalactic starfish slamming down on him and then…not being. Or being, in a place that isn’t. And he doesn’t. He doesn’t remember. Not even a little.
Abner also does not know what decent chocolate is, but that’s unrelated.
He takes a moment to take in the room around him. It certainly puts the small one bedroom ARGUS has parked him in to shame. He runs his fingers through the furs.
“Thank you,” he replies. For the tea. For the leg. For putting up with him. “You have a lovely home.”
Truly, the politest of all supervillains.
“You, uh, asked how it works,” he says, after a moment. “I don’t really know. No one does, not even… But it’s a virus, not energy. The…symptoms were different for all of us.”
Startled confusion is not the way to dissuade Loki from teasing, Abner. That may be part of the reason he continues to check up on you!
The hall doesn't look much like a place meant for day-to-day living, more like the sort of set-up a wealthy person might have to impress their business associates. What that says about Loki, Abner will have to decide on his own. He's certainly not a business associate. But, there are some books by the furs, and Loki is quick to locate and hang a teakettle on a hook near the fire to heat up. He must spend some time here alone, himself.
"You're welcome," he says, and looks very pleased. All compliments are good compliments.
He sits on the furs across from him, folding his legs under him in a half-lotus position, which looks a little ungainly just because they're so damn long. "It's a virus, but the...discs or balls or whatever it is you shoot, those aren't just bits of virus themselves, are they?"
Abner doesn’t know what day-to-day living spaces look like, really. Nor does he know how wealthy people impress their business partners. He has never been either.
Abner’s own long legs remain stretched out in front of him. He’s still not sure if he’s allowed to move them or not, so he hasn’t. He’d like to. He’d like to take his socks off and bury his feet in the furs that his fingers are still lightly stroking. The sensation is calming, not that he’s particularly nervous at the moment. Just his normal, baseline distress at existing in general and not being good enough at it.
“Dots,” he corrects, gently. “And no, but: they never really figured out what they were. At the lab. They called it a plasma, but it can’t be officially classified. Sorry, I’m not a scientist.”
But he can feel them beginning to bloom (although bloom is far too pretty a word). They’re small at the moment: one on his shoulder, one on his back, and one behind his ear. They pulse under his skin with the promise of becoming horrible. The one behind his ear may suck in particular, but he can never tell which ones will stop swelling at a reasonable few inches and which ones won’t.
"So then, potentially, your dots are some byproduct of the virus' processes. Like carbon dioxide being exhaled from human lungs. Plasma is...a kind of matter, by Midgardian definitions, I believe." He's not a scientist, either, and while he has extensive knowledge of physics--enough to bend the laws thereof in his favor when the occasion calls for it--the was Asgard describes these things and the way humans describe these things do not always meet in the middle.
"Forgive me. I am curious, but I'm certainly not going to harm you or do anything against your will; you have my word on that." He imagines after extensive captivity on multiple fronts, being studied and hurt and used, anyone asking too many questions might be alarming.
"Are you allergic to anything? I was just going to make chamomile tea." It won't be long before he notices the growths, if he hasn't already, but he's trying to keep him calm and relaxed to give him a chance to heal.
Good, good. Loki would have eaten them himself, but it would make for a lot of carbs in one sitting. He apparently had them in a pocket dimension, so he's quick to pull them out, still in the bakery box, and set them on the counter.
And he goes for the teacups rather than the mugs, since he's been given the option, then comes up with a kitchen knife, possibly from the same place the buns came from, and carefully cuts some of the leaves away from the stems.
"It's better if you bruise the lemon balm before steeping," he says. "I'm not actually much of a herbalist myself, but my mother taught me a few tricks. Lucky this was one of them."
"So, dare I ask what the glorious occasion was that prompted all this? Clearly you won the fight or you wouldn't be here." Once the leaves are prepped to his liking, he puts them in the cups, then helps himself to the hot kettle and pours the water directly over them.
He kept his hands tucked in the cape and watched. The lemon balm smelled nice. It was from some ancient plant in the garden. He thinks the way Loki speaks of his mother that he probably liked her.
"I told you, I was in a fight and it ... took a lot out of me. I can't just use magic without recourse, and it has to build back up before I - go do it again. I also wouldn't count ... what I did as 'winning'. If I did it's not - the sort of winning I like."
Stephen would rather not talk about it, it was better to think about the tea and the cardamom buns. "How else did your mother foster your magical skill?" Changing the subject. Not - did she teach you magic, it's the assumption Loki being what he was - he already would have had ability, but it would have needed encouragement.
Strange's answer actually makes Loki more concerned, but it's as good as a statement that he doesn't want to go into it right now. The godling gives him a sharp glance and a raised eyebrow, but only says mildly, "As long as it's not about to come back around on you while I'm visiting, I suppose. Do try not to die while I'm starting to think I might like you a bit."
Or at least try not to die permanently, is what he almost says, but opts not to. Neither of them has a good track record there, but Strange has been through it more times than Loki.
He puts the kettle away, fetches a couple small plates from the cabinet, and places a cardamom bun out for each of them. "She was a völva, raised by witches. She taught me most of what I know, everything that's not raw instinct. Up until I left Asgard, at least. I picked up a few things here and there, after that."
Mostly from Ebony Maw, and he didn't enjoy the experience, but he would so much rather talk about Frigga.
"Thor and I always had private tutors, growing up, but I got more study time with Frigga while I was learning magic. Even if I hadn't been any good at it, it would have been worth it for that."
"She made you feel like you were more welcome in the house you were raised." Strange untucked his hands from the Cloak and made a shaking motion to move the plate and cup closer to him.
His hands looked how they felt, like they'd had seven surgical procedures and functioning even with magic hurt, especially on this occasion. Looked like he might have taken a beating but he wasn't going to discuss it. He's not going to say that it hurt to carry his plate and cup like that, but it's not like he could physically hold it at this point. The Cloak fetched a chair for him to sit, which he did so he could sit his plate in his lap and only worry about his cup of tea. "Don't worry, unless they can magic themselves out of the Darkhold we aren't facing that anytime soon." He meant to make light of it, but it was clearly painful. He didn't like doing it and had hesitated. "I'll be fine in a day or so."
"That's...a fair way of putting it, yes," he says quietly. "I think after we lose someone they look even more saintly in retrospect, but she always did her best by me, and I'm sure it wasn't easy to balance the duties of Queenship with the duties of motherhood."
When Strange withdraws his hands, Loki gives them a cursory glance and winces inwardly. If magic overuse has caused even part of the pain, magic won't help ease it, more's the pity. Maybe a complete nerve block, but then his hands would be numb and completely useless, so he won't waste his time suggesting it.
"Well, I trust your judgment on that much. Shame I can't offer anything more than herbal tea and sympathy." Loki opts to hop up onto the counter and sit there, facing the doctor, crossing his legs at the ankle. "But I can provide endless Swedish baked goods. The proprietor of a shop I've found actually worships the Norse pantheon and quite likes me."
"Herbal tea and some company will be fine." Strange levitated the cup and sipped the tea again. He felt a little better. It smelled nice and warmed him where he'd felt very cold. "As long as you aren't offended if I retire to bed afterward similar to an invalid. Can stay if you want, though - I won't disdain the company." He might need actual physical help getting up if he laid down. It was annoying, and he hated it. Mostly he hated the fact that even though he hadn't been destroyed - a true risk this time - he still didn't like the cost of winning. He saw Loki wince, at his hands' appearance, but decided not to comment on it. He took a bite of the cardamom bun. "Might want to put one or two aside for Wong, he's always hungry." He continued sipping the tea and taking small bites. He felt a little better, but he would still definitely need some rest before the magic replenished itself.
"Rest is the best thing for you. My mother used to grow some herbs that might have more of an impact than these, but they went extinct, so far as I know, when Asgard was destroyed. That's the problem with the end of a world. It's not just civilization being crushed; that wouldn't be so much of a loss, but the animals and plants don't deserve it."
That's only partly tongue in cheek. No surprise that Loki thinks more kindly of animals than he does of most people. And yet, here he is.
He smiles a little, not mocking, but mild and friendly. "I've nothing more pressing to attend to. As long as Thor knows I've not vanished into the multiverse, I can stay a while. Wong isn't going to punch me if he comes home and finds me here, I hope?"
"I can't promise that one, Wong might be more amendable if you offer him a bun or have the Cloak guard the door." He took another sip of the tea, watching Loki a bit, not sure if he wants to talk about the extinction of worlds or not. If Loki did that was alright, but Strange wasn't going to contribute to that discussion.
It had been an odd enough day, and he felt very tired. At least the current threat was - no longer a threat.
"He can be bribed with snacks?" Loki grins, knowing that's not remotely what Strange meant. "Good to know. But yes, of course he can have cardamom buns. Now that I know there are fans here I might bring them around more often."
"Just don't expect me to make any. I can cook a fish over an open fire but baking is far out of my league."
He might be able to make things out of boxes, but if he tried to make something from scratch, everyone would be sorry.
"Also, you'll have to have the Cloak do the guarding if you want it to. I don't tell sentient objects what to do. Learned that lesson the hard way with Mjolnir. Unless they like me specifically, it's hands-off." He...he halfway seems to be addressing that comment to the Cloak, just to make sure it knows he's not going to invade its personal space.
"Tuna melts and liquor are his favorites, but I'm sure he won't mind cardamom. For his part, Wong can make even extra-dimensional food taste decent, though he's usually too busy with his actual duties to cook." He wasn't going to finish the bun even though it smelled good and tasted good, he couldn't actually eat it at present. Maybe if he slept and let his magic replenish he might be able to.
Strange sipped the last of his tea and slowly stood up. "I'm going to retire to bed for now, just - try not to make any messes that I'll have to clean up later, or interfere in the library. You could unleash a multiverse-level destruction that not even you can survive, and I can't currently prevent it, so you would have to deal with Wong and the other sorcerers. I would rather have your company and if you would like to brew more tea, that should be acceptable." He got up slowly and the Cloak moved the chair back to it's place before moving back to Strange's side. There was a small alcove off to the side that led to a wider bedroom. Strange wasn't going to bother with undressing and just climbed into his bed. The Cloak positioned itself near the foot of the bed, standing watch.
[Almost anything Clint can say about Loki is bound to be true on some level. He knows him better than most. It's just that his knowledge is colored by an understandably uncharitable opinion. Loki would argue he was having a psychotic break at the time, which is true, but he wasn't as far from his baseline as he'd like to think he was, either.]
If I had a nickel for every time Thor said those words to me, I would have a sack full of nickels I could hit him with the next time he comes to me with a stupid plan.
But no, like Thor, you're an intelligent person who occasionally lets emotion cloud your ability to strategize. [Her second plan makes much more sense.]
Full disclosure, I don't want to do that either. But for you, I will.
[It was probably another mistake, bringing Clint into this. Because while Kate knows Loki won't hold it against her, she's trying to prove to him - and even herself - that he's not as bad as the world believes him to be.]
Well, jokes on you and Clint and my mom. Because I actually don't need anybody's influence to be a mess.
[Maybe in her mom's and Clint's eyes a little of a disappointment, even. How could they understand she- She enjoys hanging with Loki of all people?]
Well, maybe you just need to be a little more patient with Thor and his plans. Strategy sometimes takes time. You can't just come up with the perfect plan at the first go! And better keep your bag of nickels to yourself.
[See? This is it. The guy is openly saying he doesn't wanna do this, but he's making an effort. Just because she asked. Kate re-reads his last text a couple of times, the flutter in her chest something she is only starting to actually acknowledge.]
Good. Because I wanna hang out with your more and I'm not gonna hide it to keep my mom from texting me while she freaks out.
That attitude is precisely why I like you, do you know that?
Don't worry, no nickels for you. Dimes only; they're lighter and worth more.
[Possibly the other reason he likes her is he can say dumb things like that and she somehow still thinks he's funhy sometimes?? Positive affirmation is all he wants out of life anymore.]
All right. Should I change into a suit or some other type of Midgardian clothing? I'm assuming if I appear in full Asgardian armor, it won't go well.
Am I supposed to be represented by these nickles or just glad that I can take them as some sort of consolation prize after I hit you back with them?
[She's glad they've reached this point, being so comfortable around each other to come up with all these ridiculous things. To say he is imaginative when coming up with them would be a mmisunderstanding. Somehow, he has the power to always make her laugh.]
A suit will probably do. Leaving the daggers back at home would probably be smart too. Or close the pocket dimension where you keep them? I don't even know how that works. OH my mom's boyfriend is probably gonna be there. He's got a bit of an obsession with swords, so don't show off as tempting as it might be? I feel like that could backfire too.
[Even though Kate naturally takes pride about many of her qualities or is even eager to fish for compliments from time to time, she doesn't quite know how to feel when Loki describes her that way. She used to wonder if he meant his compliments, given his trickster reputation. But... Kate believes him.]
I guess I'll have to start encouraging Thor to come up with stupid plans. Because I want that sock to be real full.
For some, I guess? People are obsessed with all sorts of weird things and Jack, he is pretty unusual himself. A heir, so he doesn't do much other than spending money and his time on impressing my mom.
I don't know, empathy or something? You project arrogance but there's some real underlying humility about what a disaster you can be that I find relatable.
Also I'm actively trying to establish a cease-fire with Thor's friend group for his sake.
Let me help you then. Calling someone a disaster, even if relatably so, isn't really the best way to stop animosity. Not that I'm feeling particularly prickly.
I think you just need a little work on the honesty angle. In that it's not so honest it's hurtful. Try passive aggression. Hang around planetside enough, you'll start to get it.
Are you, by the way? Hanging around for a while?
[Complete and total ignoring of this whole admitting of mistakes thing.]
Oh Norns I'm supposed to not hurt peoples' feelings too? I'm only just now getting used to not stabbing them conversationally. I think I need a life coach.
[Loki can take a hint. Tony's not denying it; that's enough for now, and they can change the topic.]
Yes. For some reason, Thor wants my assistance in establishing New Asgard, despite my history of general irresponsibility. Obviously, I won't be visiting New York, certainly not openly, but I'll be on Midgard.
You mean the cat, right? I've been one, off and on, but I'm not sure that makes me an expert.
Either that or he knows where food for domestic cats comes from. Hello, darling. [He offers his fingers to let the cat sniff him.] Actually, there are probably animal smells all over the bag itself. They had a big cage of rats in there.
[Before, he dismissed the idea of keeping the cat out of hand. Silly. What business does the god of lies have keeping a cat? Now, as the cat sniffs him and nudges his fingers with its jaw proprietarily, he seems to melt a little, and wavers.]
They live such a short time. What if he dies in a decade, two decades, and I'm right back where I started? Attachment is risky. Love...is risky.
Yes... I've noticed that, too. [Loki sounds genuinely sad for a moment. He strokes the cat's back lightly and gets a casual head-bonk for his trouble.]
Thor is certain it's worth the price you pay later on, though. At least with humans.
Maybe you're right. You're sure you want to let me keep him?
I guess because we seem to have such a short life span we try to live it to the fullest, even if some people believe working until you die is a good idea.
[Clint shrugged as everyday he lived his life the way he wanted to he was sure he should be dead by now.]
Somehow I trust you to keep Garm healthy, happy and alive. And as I said; he can live here but you have to look after him.
Doing what fulfils you until you die is a good idea, probably. Not sure I can related to working, but... [He shrugs, smiling.] To each his own.
You know, that means a lot coming from you, especially. I don't expect forgiveness, as a rule, and I'm rarely disappointed. But you've seen me at my worst. It's nice to know I'm different enough now that you can at least differentiate who I am now from who I was.
[...and now there is a cat in his lap. Loki settles in gamely. This is his life now.]
It's not really forgiveness, more giving you a second chance which is something everyone deserves and I seem to be the expert on giving former brainwashed assassin's that.
[Garm starts to purr happily in Loki's lap as Clint chuckles at the sight.] Well now you're stuck here for a while, you're not allowed to move while he's sat there.
Honestly...I like that better than forgiveness anyway. [Loki looks a little bit embarrassed by the turn this conversation has taken, and is happy to take the opportunity to focus on petting the cat.]
Just as long as you're aware I know you're being unexpectedly gracious, and I appreciate that.
And you [He scratches behind the cat's ears] are a master manipulator, so clearly we belong together.
Now you're going to have to get along well with Lucky so I have an excuse to ask for pet playdates.
[Loki laughs quietly.] Then you'd be my landlord. Are we ready for such a big step?
I have a place, for now, but thank you. The advantage of being a mage is I can rent what's effectively a supply closet in the worst neighborhood I can find and still set up the inside to my liking. You're welcome to visit, but watch your six after dark. [Loki has, he feels, nothing to fear from human street gangs and petty criminals.]
So you're going to be an indoors-only cat, Garm, but I'll make you a nice sunny playroom with trees and illusionary birds to chatter at.
What they say on Wikipedia, even when not suspect, is barely a fraction of the real story, for any of us.
It was a slow change. Decades slow. I don't know. I'm not even sure how Thor would answer that question because his memories don't match mine. I remember the bright and beloved prince, reveling in his own glory, and how I slowly turned from his closest confidante into a prop, or an ill-behaved pet. He held me close with one hand and made me the target of petty insults with the other.
I remember being told to know my place.
He's not that man any longer, though, and I can't trust my own memory. I'm not sure he'll ever understand that.
Murder was the side effect, not the desired outcome. But that doesn't matter to the people who died. They're still just as gone.
Your memories are fragmented because you were exposed to suffering beyond what the structure of the human brain was designed to handle. I'm not very good with empathy. Or sympathy. Or decency. Yet I don't want to harm you further.
I think I might be in a better position to understand than most of the people around you.
It would matter to me. I don't want to be that kind of monster.
At any rate, this is my pathetic way of leaving my door open, should you want to talk about it. There's no particular reason you should trust me, I suppose, but if there's anything I have a reputation for, it's being able to keep secrets.
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Interesting. I am, in fact, given to mysticism and occasionally religiosity, but knowing so little about your kind, it would be insulting for me to speculate.
I am a Trickster god, and thus I am nothing but filters, to the point where I occasionally misdirect myself. It's an occupational hazard. But I do tell the truth more often than I am believed, particularly when I'm interested in the outcome of a conversation or seeking friendly acquaintanceship.
I'm also a shapeshifter. Appearance is not necessarily a reliable way to tell one Loki from another.
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I'm not given to worshipping anything. I haven't ever found humbling myself and letting it be known exactly how helpless I am in a given situation to be advantageous in any way, and the 'gods' of my people seem reliably to favour people who are not like me and mine. I do hope you won't hold that against me.
Despite my general lack of filters, I share with you that issue where I tell the truth more often than I am believed. People expect me to lie, and I rarely bother. I have told people exactly what I intended to do, and they have still been shocked that I did it.
Do you want to sit down somewhere and talk, or do you enjoy texting?
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But now, I am curious to compare notes on shapeshifting. Where would you like to meet? I live in the Nexus, but I'm capable of travel.
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I'm more capable of travel than people here realise. This frame was built with multidimensional capabilities.
It would be easier to go to the Nexus than to get you on board the Lost Light.
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My own height is not superhuman, but I have been known to take a size closer to that of my biological forebears. Roughly eight or nine feet. I have a meeting hall designed for that form.
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However, the others of my kind cannot necessarily do that without the use of an unusual matter displacement technology which was built into this particular frame, so you should keep that in mind when dealing with other Cybertronians. I also have a human holomatter avatar, which I can use to speak with people while my physical form is parked elsewhere.
no subject
Mass compression is always more difficult than expansion. I can be, and have often been, as small as a Midgardian spider, but it took almost twenty years to learn it properly.
I'll keep the information in mind. I am...somewhat sensitive to heat in any form. Biologically, I am a species known as Jotun, or Frost Giants, in my universe. But I can tolerate any temperature a human can.
Shall I meet you in the Nexus, or will texting you the appropriate coordinates be sufficient?
no subject
The coordinates should be fine.
[Now Megatron's wondering what to expect from Loki! He's unfiltered, but his propositions are generally unmistakeable for anything other than what they are, and that was not one of them! ^_~]
Switching to prose format, if that's all right with you!
On the other hand, he has some truly traumatic memories associated with hot metal too close to vulnerable skin, and the commentary was at least halfway born of anxiety. It's his way to make light of these things, so he types: Certainly not on a first date, then erases it before he sends the text, opting instead to simply send the set of coordinates.
This accomplished, he makes his way to the meeting-spot himself, riding the autumn wind.
When he arrives, Megatron will find it looks very little like a 'hall' of any sort, at least from the outside. What is there is an open field, a tumble of bare rocks twice the size of a human dwelling, and a dead tree carved with the symbol of a reddened eye. If he is at all sensitive to the kind of energy flux Loki would call magic, though, he may sense there is more here than is easily seen. A cavernous space under the rock, under the ground, which will open only when Loki commands it.
Loki himself, is waiting, seated cross-legged on one of the boulders, already in Jotun form. The ridged cobalt skin stands out against the black of his clothing and hair, and his eyes, like the symbol on the tree above him, are ruby red.
"Well met," he says, and gives a graceful, seated bow, studying his guest in return.
no subject
Megatron is not particularly sensitive to spirituality of any kind, but he is very aware of the electromagnetic force fields that surround living beings, and he is also keenly aware of the interdimensional interstitium, so he might be aware that there is a space below.
He might also just be aware of that because he was originally made to be a deep tunneller--beings who can create illusions designed to fool human senses do not always figure in the capabilities of different life-forms.
To those who can appreciate the craftsmanship, Megatron is certainly beautiful, and his chest armour in particular is decorated with elaborate red inlaid filigree.
If this is an actual date he isn't aware of it, but he sits down on another boulder, moving with a feral sort of grace born of the arena and the depths of the Earth.
"So this is the Nexus."
no subject
Fortunately, the body language is very much like Lucifer's, and while he gets into discussions with Lucifer where they never quite see eye-to-eye, he considers him an ally and friend. That's reassuring, and the echo of red eyes doesn't hurt either. Megatron may notice Loki take a couple breaths before truly recovering, but then he manages a smile.
"This is the part known as the Wilds," he explains. "The Plaza is off behind you, to what appears to be the West today. Things change on a regular basis; were you to return tomorrow, you might find the topography altered. But there is a kind of magic preventing overt violence in the Plaza. The further into the Wilds you get, the less reliable it becomes."
"I'm assuming neither of us are planning violence, though, so that's only relevant should you decide to wander."
What this is, rather than a date, is Loki being a busybody. He has family in the Nexus, and when an unknown quantity appears, he always wants to know what to expect. Ravage struck him as subtly but uncommonly kind, a probable friend in the making, but the sheer versatility and strength presented here makes him reluctant to take that for granted.
That, and a group that calls itself 'Decepticons' is bound to catch at his interest. He prides himself on deception, after all.
He stands and taps the stones behind him with his fingertips, activating the doorway to the hall below. "You are welcome here; please enter, if you so choose."
The space beyond looks well-lit, and quite large. More like a ballroom or throne room than a conference chamber.
no subject
"Interesting. The anti-violence field explains a lot about what Soundwave and Ravage are doing here. I approve of it. I was once an extremely violent person, but I would rather not ever hurt another living thing, if I could avoid it."
He steps into the formally appointed room. "It's beautiful," he says, and nods. "Thank you for your welcome."
Megatron is actually more comfortable now. He's used to having relative strangers address him with fear, lust, or some combination of both--but that behaviour isn't logical, and rarely leads to any sort of worthwhile, lasting tie. Admiration sometimes is, but where there is admiration, there are expectations, and hero-worship can turn into bitter hatred in an astrosecond.
That Loki is apparently trying to assess him somehow makes sense. It shows that Loki is no fool.
Ravage and Soundwave will need more friends like this. And Megatron could use a few more himself.
no subject
What Megatron says is also good to hear. "Likewise," he says. "Though violence itself was a means to an end for me. Control was what I wanted, and that was a very dark time for me. I am by nature tricky and mercurial, but not warlike."
The walls and floor of the meeting hall are mostly pale marble, with clearer seams running through it; it looks as though it's meant to evoke ice. There's a fireplace at one end large enough to roast a whole bull, though it's certainly never been put to that task. By the hearth is a dark wooden table and chairs to match, wide and heavy and magically reinforced to bear the weight of Loki's Jotun form. They're decorated with furs and evergreen and holly.
Loki leads the way to the hearth and selects one of the chairs for his own, sitting with one leg folded up, body listing to the left. "I would offer you refreshment," he says, "but I'm not familiar enough with your kind to know what would be appropriate. Which is one of the reasons I'm curious to talk with you. As far as I'm aware, there are no beings like yourself in the world I come from, and yet some of your abilities are analogous to mine."
He's calmer now, himself, comfortable in his own territory, with the crackle of fire as background noise.
no subject
He sits carefully in the chair, testing it to make sure he won't accidentally break it. "Violence is almost always a means to an end. Those of us who develop a taste for it normally haven't found pleasanter means of getting their needs met effective. When I was very young, I had rather a peaceful nature, but after I was forcibly convinced that violence was the only way to solve our society's problems, I got very good at it very quickly, and people enjoy things they master."
He smiles crookedly. "I am actually an intellectual by inclination. I write poetry. Essays. Philosophical treatises. I am fascinated by medicine and mathematics. These were not career paths that were open to me when I was young. Anyhow--what is it that I do, that you also do, but believe you do differently?"
no subject
In Jotun form, Loki is upwards of 700 pounds, but he's made certain to engineer the chairs to bear more than that. He has at least one close friend in the Nexus that weighs upwards of a ton. (He has yet to have the Indoraptor in for tea, but it could happen.)
"People enjoy the things they master," he echoes thoughtfully. "Isn't that the truth."
"I was forced into a corner," he says. "By a terrible enemy. Kill or be killed. But that is a complicated and unpleasant story."
"I fear I have no gift for composing poetry," he says with regret, "but I enjoy reading it, and listening to it. I was educated in history, the arts, music and dance, and most especially magic. I was in a privileged position in my society, though my talents by and large made me a square peg in a round hole, so to speak."
"You mentioned shapeshifting," he answers the question. "And I've seen Ravage project images in much the same way I would shape illusions. What one culture calls magic may be a learned skill or innate ability in another culture."
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He thinks for a moment. "You mentioned shapeshifting. All of my people can change their shapes, but this is because of the way we are put together. There are only certain shapes that we can assume. To acquire a new alternate mode, one must either have one's spark transferred into the body of someone who has moved into a different body, or chosen to die; or go through exquisitely painful surgical procedures while conscious--which I have done. I can become a tank. With the use of matter displacement technology, I can also become a gun. But I cannot become a truck, or a jet, or a tree, or a bird. The components that make up my body, when shifted into a different configuration, can take the form of a tank."
Megatron stands up and points out the tank gun on his back, and the treads concealed in his upper arms and lower legs. "I fold myself into the other shape," he explains. "My transformation is more technically complex than most because I do make use of interdimensional pockets and mass displacement. But in its simplest form, Cybertronian transformation depends upon having body parts shaped in such a way that they can be folded in and out, latched together and separated, to take on the form of another object. If you look very closely at any of us, you can see clues as to what other forms we might be able to assume. I should, however, caution you that for many of us, this is a sensitive subject. Under the rule of the Functionalists, your alternate mode dictated the choices, opportunities and resources available to you, and changing it was difficult and/or illegal. This is no longer the case in many places, in large part because of the revolt that I led, and that Ravage and Soundwave helped me to lead."
He sits back down. "We can all capture images with our optics. Ravage is particularly adept at processing and editing images because one of his original functions was to record things. When he projects images, they are normally things he has actually seen. He does it in much the same way that humans use machines to record and project images. I don't know if you have ever seen that--the humans of the Earth I know have 'television' and 'movies' and 'video recording'. That is what Ravage was doing. He projects images from his optics--his eyes."
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The word of compassion directed to him is a surprise, and something in his expression flickers. He reminds himself this person doesn't know the entirety of his story or the enormity of what he did, but regardless, it's a kindness freely offered. "...thank you," he says slowly, after a moment. "It's a complicated tale, but perhaps we'll have time for long stories sooner or later."
He smiles a little then. "Arguably, any shapeshifter is able to shift because of the way they are put together. I think I understand what you mean, though. I cannot take any shape I choose. I have set patterns that mean something to me personally; those I can take at will. I can freely alter any secondary sexual characteristics in this form or my smaller, more humanlike one. I'm also comfortable as a snake, or a mare. Less often, I'm a wolf or spider. I can create other forms, but for them to become as much second nature as the body I wear now, it takes a long, long while to make them my own. I can make up the difference with illusion, though, and I'm able to disguise myself as other people or animals."
He's fascinated, frankly, by the glimpse of treads and gun, and only barely manages to restrain himself from staring longer than would be polite. "It's funny, isn't it," he murmurs, "how a society can fall into such a nonsensical hierarchy and then cling to it like it's the only truth in the universe. It wasn't quite so rigid for us, I don't think, but the magic I learned and loved as a child was considered inappropriate for a man to pursue, particularly a prince of the realm. Deceptive and unbefitting a warrior."
His inclination is to sympathize with the revolt Megatron references, but he opts not to be effusive with praise or curiosity, merely nodding cautious approval.
"It sounds a bit like a hologram, the way you describe Ravage's ability," he says, understanding.
"When I project images, it's a magical illusion. Usually it's the mere bending of light to trick eyes that see in the spectrum humans and Asgardians do, but I've learned to build in more complexity as I've grown older, including wider ranges of light and the illusions of sound and scent."
He's quiet for a moment, thinking, then asks, "I would ask you what it is that Ravage and his companions seek here, in the Nexus, but perhaps that's a question better saved for him."
"I am always curious to interact with beings that bear similarities to my biological kin. My shapeshifting is hereditary, an innate ability, though I have enhanced it by learning other magics. Frost Giants are organic creatures, but--" he holds out his arms as if to display the runic lines on his hands. "they are most definitely extremophiles, and built unlike most other humanoid races. And aside from my alternates, I have had no one to consult about that. A piece of my identity is missing."
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"The point I was trying to make, however badly, is that I don't know any magic, really. When Ravage and I were lovers we once tried a spell from an old book, but nothing happened. All the components of the other things that I can become are contained within me. And yes, we can project holograms. We can project holographic avatars of ourselves as well."
Megatron projects his human avatar briefly into the room.
"I'll share what insights I can with you. But I've never had a mother or a father or a brother or a sister or a child. I've had to make my own identity. And everything that I can do, so far as I know, is purely material. Magic, on Cybertron, has never worked for people like Ravage, or me." He shrugs. "I loathe stupid hierarchies as much as you do."
After a moment's thought, he gives a response to the other question. "I don't know exactly what Ravage and Soundwave are up to here. But as someone who loves them, even if things are difficult between us now, and has been a friend and a lover to both of them, while I obviously can't claim to be impartial...I don't believe they are here to exploit or conquer."
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"I was raised by the ancestral enemies of my biological kin. Disguised so well I did not know, myself, that I was not one of them. Discovering that I was adopted from a different species, one I was raised to think of as evil, savage monsters, was a shock I was not prepared to handle."
"Family is to a certain extent what you make of it, even to those of us born from the bodies of our own species. But it's as tricky to deny genetics as it is to deny Fate, and often it results in backlash."
He nods. "I do understand, and I appreciate the clarity. I would still be pleased to continue to compare notes, inasmuch as you're willing to do so."
It says something about Megatron and his temperament, Loki thinks, that he's willing to answer the implied question in plainspoken language, without taking offense. It also says something about Ravage and Soundwave. "After speaking to Ravage, I rather thought not," he says with a smile. "But I've made it my business to keep an eye on some of the more powerful entities that arrive here. When I can."
He frowns a little, because one of said entities is still eluding him and he's grouchy about it, but that's not Megatron's fault. "Besides," he adds, "learning, and knowing things, is its own reward."
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He leans back. "I very much agree that learning and knowledge are pleasures in and of themselves. What exactly would you like to compare notes about?"
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He shakes his head. "Not really. Had I made it a priority, I could have spoken to them, perhaps, but I suffered a sort of psychotic break. I killed my biological father--and I don't regret that. By all accounts, he left me to die as an infant. But I also attacked Jotunheim and that, in retrospect, was unconscionable. Bridges have been thoroughly burned, I fear."
"I have my own alternates to consult, but as they're from different worlds it's hard to say how much parallels my own. My twin is the best-versed in what Frost Giants are actually like, and he doesn't have much that's pleasant to say about them. But any people can suffer under poor conditions or poor leadership."
He smiles at the question. "What I should say, I suppose, is that I hope we will speak again. Your openness has been refreshing. Is there nothing you would ask of me?"
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Megatron glances around. "I mean the Nexus, not this particular spot we are in. If my friends are doing what I think they might be doing, they're putting a lot of their trust into this place without knowing what sort of place it really is. Who made this place? Who set up the infrastructure? In our own universe, I've been placed in a position where there is absolutely nothing I can do to protect them now. They have become the leaders of a movement that I founded and left, and I cannot ever go back to it. I was not permitted to name a successor, but I could not have chosen better ones.
"But that doesn't mean that I don't care what happens to them. I have given a great deal of thought to how I interact with them in our own universe precisely because I do not want to attract any trouble or pain to them. In my heart of hearts, I wish they'd just give up the whole thing, stay here or somewhere else apart from all the old conflicts, and just be happy together. They've earned that. But they won't do that. I want to know they're safe here, and that nothing they're hiding from here while they work on their plans for the future can harm them here."
Megatron smiles. "And another--are we friends?"
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"The multiverse is, in theory, infinite," he says thoughtfully. "And the Nexus is purportedly a place where all or some of the quantum possibilities, the variant worlds within the scope of Existence Itself, can meet. If you think about it for too long, that's actually terrifying."
"As far as we can tell, this place was not made, at least not by any entity that is now present within it. It seems to be a kind of quantum bubble, a world unto itself that is not, precisely a world, and is beholden to no other universe. As far as the infrastructure, what exists here has been made by visitors and residents. It's overwhelmingly designed by and for humans and similar beings, but not entirely."
"There is some sort of automated translation matrix that assists with communications, as well as what the residents call the 'anti-violence field', which seems to dampen or subvert attempts to harm other sentient creatures, within a fairly large radius around the Plaza. There are occasional glitches in both of these, but the translation matrix in particular is very reliable. I've only heard of it going down once."
"I have never seen any machinery or magical source that can be claimed to actually generate these fields, though. They just seem to be here. And believe me, I've looked."
"It should also be noted that there are powerful entities that visit and dwell in the Nexus, and often they influence the infrastructure. I would say the most noteworthy at the moment are the seasonal Spirits. They don't always appear in a tangible form, but in this place the seasons go from fall to winter, to spring to summer, much as they would on Earth, and that is no coincidence. People complain about their power and high-handedness, but I personally doubt there would be plant and animal life here at all without their influence."
He smiles a little, touched by Megatron's clear regard for his friends. "In my experience, setting up a home here, even a large home for multiple individuals, is not a great risk. The population is largely tolerant and generous, and once you adapt to the weather patterns and occasional strange events, it's as safe as most planets, if much more bizarre. Now, if they mean to operate something more than a home or a safe-house, that could prove more complicated. It's not impossible that conflicts from one's home world can follow one here..."
He pauses and rubs the back of his neck stiffly, as if thinking of something personal. "...or call one home, whether one wants to go or not."
"There are no guarantees, but in this place, there are usually allies to be made, and friends."
Which dovetails neatly into Megatron's other question. Loki's smile widens a little. He's not sure whether this is a gentle build-up to a request that he keep an eye on Ravage and the other Decepticons on Megatron's behalf or not, but if it is, that's hardly a problem. He nods slowly, as if considering the ramifications before giving a verbal answer, but at length he says, "Yes. I believe I would enjoy your friendship."
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He pulls in air, almost as if he were breathing.
"First of all--yes. It is terrifying. Especially since there seems to be some sort of economy in place and something, somewhere, has to be running it. I'm not sure what a seasonal spirit is, but I'm going to guess it's a sort of noncorporeal sapient entity that's involved with the biosphere? How much do they interact with the inhabitants?"
He glances aside. "I expect them to go home to deal with conflicts there. I simply wish they wouldn't. They deserve to be free of that mess, but of course, they don't see it that way. I think they plan to make this place their home base, so that they can't be found by their enemies until they've dealt with them all. After that, or if they fail, which I don't think they will, it will be...a vacation home, I suppose. If Galvatron, Scorponok, Shockwave, or the DJD show up here, I don't think they'll stay, as long as the anti-violence field is doing its job."
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"There are several business associations," he says. "And some of them trade across worlds in order to manage currency exchanges here. It's weird, but I believe the economy is something the residents here have managed to build naturally, over time."
"As far as the spirits, yes, you have the gist of it. Does your planet have weather that changes with its orbit? Asgard, where I grew up, did, though it was an atypical planetoid. The spirits interact rarely; they're not hard to avoid speaking with, really. I've spent a fair amount of time with both Autumn and Winter, and spoken with Spring once."
He hums thoughtfully. "They're not the first to use this place as a safe-house or planning ground. I would advise care and considerable warding. No fortress is impregnable, the Nexus included. I'll mention it to them personally. I think I like Ravage anyway, and an alliance would be to my advantage, as well."
"I...have children, you see. Adopted. Four of them."
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He doesn't know how to explain--at least, not in any kind of dignified manner--that with Ravage gone from the Lost Light, he's suddenly and starkly aware that the closest friend he has on his own ship is his second-in-command and former defence lawyer, who wanted him executed but did the best he could for him because that was the right thing to do. He's lost most of his old friends, and the truth is, he lost them long before he noticed he lost them.
"I'm not sure what that has to do with Ravage and Soundwave; but I do appreciate your willingness to help them. They would be excellent parents. Tell me about your children, though. What made you decide to become a parent?"
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Loki has a number of friends in the Nexus, some very close, but a socially isolated childhood (Thor's friends let him play with them, but they were Thor's friends nonetheless), and multiple traumatic events in the last few years have left a mark. He's always waiting for the other shoe to drop, and for the people who call him a friend now to realize what he really is. Thinking of relationships as practical, quid-pro-quo alliances makes them feel safer. If they weren't talking about his children, he might flounder a bit at this point. But they are.
"Peace in the Nexus, inasmuch as it can be achieved, is important to me while my children are young and vulnerable. Any alliance I can make and any goodwill I can earn puts them in a safer position. And myself, as well."
"I keep an eye on things, as much as I can, and if a potential danger appears on my radar, it will not be ignored."
Unfortunately, how he got the kids is a bit of a downer story. He takes a breath. "There is an alternate of my brother Thor here, with whom I have become very close. In his world, as happened in mine, Asgard was destroyed by a cataclysm. A necessary loss, but a heavy one."
"The remaining living Asgardians were placed on a ship, hoping to travel to Earth for asylum. The ship did not make it there. They were attacked by...that would be too long a story. A very cruel enemy, whose like I hope does not exist in your universe."
"Thor was able to evacuate a few hundred refugees from the failing ship into the Nexus. Most were children. When they came through, I was here to catch and house them, with the help of some friends. I kept a handful of the worst-traumatized in my own home to give them the extra attention they needed, and four of those have remained with me, since they are without other living family."
"The rest of Asgard's refugees are settled in Norway, now, with Thor, and some of the adults did escape the destruction of the ship via escape pods. A few of the other refugees live near Prometheus, in the Nexus itself, and I check on them frequently, but my four are...special, because they're mine."
"The oldest is Agnarr; he communicates primarily through sign-language as he is unable to speak. He's become very skilled in tracking and hunting in the wilds--though he hunts his quarry with a camera right now, as we don't need to kill our own food. Una is the younger girl, and she's a small warrior. Extremely outgoing and a bit wild. And Sigrid and Eindrid are blood-siblings. Sigrid is the elder, and she's interested in theater and performance. She's been practicing poetry readings, of late. Eindrid is the baby, and he loves the ocean."
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"Any way, if it turns out that she thinks too much, she'll be in good company. Such things have been said of me, many times."
He nods. "Teaching is a valuable occupation, regardless of the age of your students. Knowledge should be available to all who will use it responsibly."
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"My sentence was commuted temporarily so that I could lead a quest to find the beings to whom I am entitled to appeal. But I'm starting to think that maybe they don't exist, or if they did, they don't any more."
He sighs. "Maybe Ravage is right and I shouldn't be willing to let people judge me who haven't lived what I've lived. And then again, maybe I am starting to believe that because I want to believe it. But I could also let them think they've killed me and move here, instead. Couldn't I? I think I could."
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Sounds like it might be a long story, particularly with the reference to beings he can't find to appeal to.
He shakes his head a little. "I find that people in general are not shy of passing judgment on others, whether they are willing to accept it or not. Even without knowing the whole story."
That is clearly personal experience talking, and there's something a little grim in his face when he says it, but then his lips twitch into a small smile. "You could, yes. Easily. You know, I never actually faked my death on purpose, but I have succeeded in fooling the entirety of Asgard twice. I might be able to assist."
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"I did do a great many things I regret and wish that I hadn't done. I have in fact killed a lot of people, most of whom almost certainly didn't deserve it, in addition to those who did. I agreed to be tried for it, and to accept the sentencing, because I had come to understand that what I did was indeed wrong. In point of fact even Ravage will admit that I became a terrible leader for quite some time. After having been sufficiently oppressed, and getting hold of power myself, I'm afraid I went a bit mad, and then when the old government called us monsters for defending ourselves, I'm afraid I determined to show them what a monster really was. Ravage was the calmest of my council and the only one who could talk me down from the worst things. But I stopped listening to him when I didn't want to, and listened to what my old companions from the gladiatorial arena said instead."
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"I was determined to prove to my father that I was capable of more than he believed," he says quietly. "I was also tortured and mentally altered, but how much of my behavior was my responsibility alone and how much was coerced from me is hard for me to say even now. Once you cross a certain line, I find, it's easier to keep going without weighing morality or consequences. To keep doubling down until you become your darkest possible self--or until some outside force stops you."
"It's something I think cannot be fully understood by people who have not been there."
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Loki gets it. Gets him. In a way that even Ravage can't.
"Thank you," he says, very quietly, and opens his eyes, to see someone look back at him who knows.
After a moment, he goes on. "I can't fix anything if I just let them kill me, though." As Ravage has conveniently told him only at least fifty times.
((OOC: the icon is taken from a comic panel in which the characters are presented with their own statues. at the base of each statue is one blue flower for every death they have caused. Megs' is surrounded by flowers as far as the eye can see.))
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"I am the god of mischief and lies," he says. "My providence is the outcast, the guilty and maligned. You need not believe in my power or any divinity at all, but I will extend to you the same promise I have to many others: I will not judge you."
He lets those words hang in the air between them for a moment, before nodding a little and sitting back in his chair, folding his hands behind his neck. "Death is rarely the solution to these sorts of moral dilemmas."
"For myself, I reject the notion that I am reformed, or somehow a different person than I was at my worst. I caused death and suffering, but my actions came from a place of pain and terror, as well, and no one, until recently, asked me why. Until it was almost too late to profit from my answer."
"I would not deny my victims their rage by pretending that I can make up for my sins now. The moving finger writes; and, having writ, moves on. The best I can do is to move forward and do what good I can. Our story is the sum of all of our actions, whether they are done in the darkness or the light of day."
"Some will never forgive you, no matter what you say or do, and that is their right, but that doesn't mean you need to submit to their judgment, either. If I were you? I would not stay to be executed."
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"I wanted to live enough to kill every day for fifty thousand days in the arena. All those deaths would mean nothing if I just let go, now..."
He looks at Loki with an expression of deep gratitude, sincerely felt. "It isn't in me to worship anyone or anything, because I believe too much in people becoming everything they can be, whether or not they are gods. But if I did want to worship a god, it would be someone like you."
"I don't know why I did some of the things that I did, exactly. There's a place in the middle of it all where everything stops making sense to me now, but it all made some kind of sense at the time. The opposite of the eye of a storm. I was the storm, but at the centre, some incomprehensible violence. I was never intended to breathe free air, but I fell in love with the sky. My first love died because they thought he wasn't worth repairing. My second one betrayed me because he couldn't understand why I thought we would have to kill to free ourselves. Posh little whore couldn't see we were already dying all over the place all around him, even after he stood with me on Ravage's roof during the riots in Stanix. Fragging cop. And I thought he loved me.
"I've been an idiot. I tried to break Ravage and Soundwave up because Ravage is the only other person who doesn't judge me, and I wanted him to go on my quest with me. But they're as much in love as I ever was with Terminus or thought I was with Orion. I don't think they believe in me any more, but they believe in what I taught them.
"I don't feel fear the way other people do, but I don't think I've ever awakened from recharge fully believing I'd be alive until I needed another defragmentation cycle. Is that a place of pain and terror, or do I simply just see the world as it is, Loki?"
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There is no need to compete for the title of King of Pain, either. There's always plenty of suffering to go around. He takes a breath and gets up slowly, circling around the table to be closer to Megatron's seat. Once there, he simply sits on the table itself, folding one leg under him, and offers his hands. Touch may or may not be something this person would find comforting, but it's available, should he wish for it.
And in return, that's a high compliment Megatron offers to Loki. He has come to realize that his providence is one that is full of people who do not wish to acknowledge a god--angry, mistrustful, wounded people, but those are the ones who need something on their side the most. He doesn't need worship to listen without judgment.
Which is what he does now. He doesn't have all the context to empathize with everything Megatron says, but the emotions come through loud and clear. "And sometimes you have lashed out at those who were kindest to you, because you did not want an ally to soothe your hurt, lest they also dilute your rage."
"I think the answer to your question is 'yes'. But the horror you have witnessed is not all that there is. The multiverse is too wide and wild for that. Fate, or nature, or reality transcends our expectations, no matter how dark or bright they are. Here you are, unconquered. Keep looking."
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Then that one word sinks in.
Unconquered.
Yes. That's what he is. They won. But they didn't conquer him.
They didn't even destroy what he started, even though they tried (Orion tried!) to make him do it--Ravage was too strong to let that happen. Strong enough to come here. Strong enough to ask for help, even.
"The multiverse is also full of beauty," he acknowledges. "Sometimes...sometimes I even write about that."
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"I tried to kill my brother more than once," he says. "Even after he begged me to come home with him." He squeezes his hand gently. "Once you meet Thor, you'll see, that's like kicking a puppy."
How many times has Loki told himself all he really wanted was just a little bit of compassion? And now here he is, with the opportunity to give--to be what he needed, himself. There's something strangely satisfying about that. Something's come full circle.
He makes a small gesture in the air, pulling a cloth towel out of the pocket dimension where he keeps things. It works out to about the size of a handkerchief in his current shape, and he presses it into Megatron's hand gently.
"Have you ever seen frost flowers?" he asks.
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Megatron doesn't care; he's able to tolerate outer space, though the lack of gravity and pressure don't do him any favours and it takes him a while to recover from long exposure.
"I have not," Megatron says, with the faint beginnings of a genuine smile, and opens the towel, not sure if there's something inside or what he is meant to do with it. It ought to occur to him that maybe he is meant to wipe the optical lubricants off his face, but the only other person who has ever seen him cry at any point during the past four million years is Ravage.
He doesn't really want to look away from Loki's face, from those bright green eyes that somehow manage to be purely glad of his survival, without judgement or reproach.
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"It's a phenomenon that happens in early winter, on planets like Earth, and the one I came from." It takes him a moment to realize that Megatron isn't sure what to do with the towel, at which point he takes it back and pats his face dry with it.
(Frigga would be proud)
"Even after leaves fall, plants contain sap in their stems, and when a cold snap hits, the water in the sap can turn to ice, which expands and creates splits in the bark or flesh of the stem. The ice is extruded through these splits as the remainder of the sap behind it freezes and presses onward, and the result is a delicate ribbon of frost that curls and loops in on itself, like a flower."
"It's a symbol I've taken for my own, because I too was broken open by external forces touching something inside me. Beauty can come from terrible pain."
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"Roses of ice. How lovely. I don't think that I am beautiful, though I once was. But I have tried to write beautiful things about pain and war. Sometimes I do it too well, though, and all they see is the beauty." He lowers his voice, which he knows is hilarious because they're absolutely alone. "I wrote a poem about holding Ravage while he fell asleep after we victory-fucked at the end of a siege...and some people think it's about adopting a war orphan."
He sighs. "You're being so good to me."
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"From what I understand, it is the curse of the artist to have his work interpreted myriad ways, most of which miss the point he was trying to make. I would say let it mean to each reader what they wish for it to mean, and keep the true meaning for yourself, but I am not a poet."
He lets his hands drop again, holding Megatron's hand in both of his lightly. "I had often thought, when I was coming out of the worst of things...had often hungered for just a little gentleness. Sometimes I still feel there is something I need just out of reach. But I'm better now; well enough to try to give what I wanted so badly."
"It's my providence, my identity, and my privilege."
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"As for the poetry, you're right, of course, what it means to the reader is theirs. Except when they have to tell me about it. Also, someone told Ravage that once, and his reaction was in fact hilarious."
He sighs, his optics shining now. "This is exactly what I needed. And I didn't even know." He smiles again. "If you feel in need of that, again, you may call on me. I would be glad to do the same for you."
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Especially when he's offered kindness. To have it returned is reassuring.
"Some of the magic in my universe operates on the principle of as above; so below. In that vein, what happens to one small part of the world affects what happens to the cosmos. More to the salient point, what happens to one part of an individual--tears, clippings of hair, sometimes even their shadow--may affect the rest of them. Theoretically, I might be able to track your movements, or see what you see through your eyes, for a short while. But it might work very differently for you, since you're a species I haven't attempted magic on before."
Also, given Megatron's ability to sense energy, it might be super-obvious. But Loki isn't fully aware of that yet.
"I can imagine Ravage's reaction, now that you say that." Loki grins. He barely knows him yet, but he has enough of an impression to hazard a guess.
For a moment, Loki looks a little awkward, almost shy, but it passes quickly into a warm glance. "Thank you. I won't forget that offer. I have my brother, lovers and friends around me now, though few of them can relate to my experiences on quite this level. But the fewer excuses I have to feel isolated and misunderstood, the better for everyone, most especially myself."
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There's also a glimmer of hope there, too. Ravage has told him far too often that his tendency to have a group of lovers, rather than one, and to enjoy the company of those who are bonded primarily to other people, is his way of avoiding real intimacy. The second part of that might be true, but if Loki has more than one partner, perhaps he doesn't have to give that up to really get close to people. When he and Orion were spark-bound (even though they never admitted it), Orion still had Ariel and Dion, and he still had Soundwave and Ravage. And there was a time when he hadn't yet tried to cull Starscream out of the trine, when that was all right as well.
"So. Yes. You need never be alone if I can help. And thank you for explaining the magic. I need to know what to be careful of in this world. The rules here are different. I should imagine the energon from my circulatory system, or the internal lubricants for any number of my components, could also be used against me."
(This is a little concerning. Latex and similar materials contain absolutely nothing when wrapped around durasteel and titanium.)
Then he allows himself a similarly warm smile. "It was," he says, "hilarious. Do you know the game of poetry rounds? It was a rich mech's game when we were all young, but I taught it to all my Decepticon friends after Orion and Ravage taught it to me. The game itself is simple. You either quote from a poem everyone knows--Decepticons have been known to use popular song lyrics--or you make up your own on the spot. Both are allowed unless only poets are playing. Ravage and I play by ourselves using only our own words, but we wouldn't expect that of others. Anyhow, I gave a poetry reading one night on the Lost Light which was badly attended, because we had all just been through a literal battle through time, and most of the crew preferred to attend the loud, noisy dance party afterward. So one of the players decided to use that particular poem, with the wrong implication, and Ravage had the following turn."
Megatron chuckled. "And he won, because everyone other than me was dumbstruck when he provided the context for the poem very neatly in one couplet: 'The little one who purred in his arms was two million years old / And had opened the lost city’s gates from inside.'"
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Loki is a mercurial being; it's part of the essence that makes him what he is. Sometimes he's a shaman, a dangerous godling that rides with the dead. Sometimes he's a trickster that stumbles clumsily into traps of his own making. Sometimes he's a tender mother, or a playful lover, or a protector. He relates to Harley and to Ian very intimately indeed, loving each beyond his ability to express, but in very different ways. Should he ever take another into his heart, that love would take a different form, as well.
Of course, while they're dependent on him, the children will always come first, before romance, before Loki's need to fully express his own wildness. But he understands one thing about himself now, which he did not until very recently: that is that to deny any part of his identity to himself is death.
"Oh, definitely," he says to the comment about magic. "Although because you are not an organic being, the rules may apply very differently to you. And there are other methods of magic-working, as well. A comprehensive discussion would take days, but we can make time for that some day, if you like."
Listen, even if he hadn't already decided he likes Megatron, Loki enjoys hearing himself talk. He's okay with giving lengthy explanations to an audience of one.
"I've never heard of poetry rounds, but I've played similar games with music, both with and without lyrics. My eldest daughter would be fascinated." His smile widens at the conclusion of the story, and he gives an appreciative laugh. "There's little more rewarding than winning a verbal sparring match with a few simple words. Well done, to him."
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He sighs. "I've just come to appreciate how much I need to be around people who know the scent of my demons. I may be older than you, but you've been working at controlling yours much longer than I have been. It's been...barely a year, maybe two? --time at that scale means almost nothing to me, it's moments, like this one, and eons, that matter. I want to be known, but I don't want to hurt anyone, any more. I was once in a field of flowers. There was one flower there for every life that was lost because of something I'd done, and the end of them all wasn't visible. I know I can't avoid causing pain, no-one can--but I don't want to do it on purpose ever again."
He shrugs a little cavalierly, as if trying to pretend what he ust said wasn't some sort of stupid confession.
"And yes, I want to learn about magic. I made one or two attempts at it with Ravage, during desperate times, to no avail. I want to know about things that can cause me and those I love harm; I want to know how to protect and defend them, and protect and defend myself so I can go on doing that. I don't like being ignorant of anything with strategic uses, or anything of importance. In fact, though I don't know at all what I want to do with the rest of my life...I know that I want to spend it learning. I started all this, all the madness, because they denied me that."
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The talk of endless fields of flowers sobers him visibly. There is something that flickers in his face and eyes, a glimpse of a shattered soldier's thousand-yard stare. After a moment he says, "Your philosophy there matches mine. I am...not sure how many flowers I would have. Some of my memories are still missing and distorted."
He hesitates, lips parted, as if he's not sure whether he should elaborate, but the way he struggles to focus on Megatron's next words, regarding learning, which he would normally heartily encourage, tells him he needs to explain.
"There was a cult I fell in with," he says. "After being exiled from home. The Black Order. Their leader was called Thanos, the Mad Titan. It was his belief that the universe has too few resources for the life forms contained within it, and that to prevent an eventual apocalypse of death by starvation and dehydration, the one foolproof solution was to kill half of everything, everywhere."
"I had nowhere else to go, and they would not have allowed me to leave if I had tried, and so at first I played along, thinking it was impossible for him to act on his designs. But it wasn't impossible. The first planet I attended the Cull on was small; its inhabitants knew nothing of space travel or other worlds, and they had nothing beyond projectile weapons to defend themselves. It was...quick. And it was awful. And I was punished afterwards for not doing my part, because I froze."
"I think almost two billion souls must have died in that Cull alone."
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"I'm so sorry--"
He looks up, shaking his head. "I am really, sorry." And he is. Not just for Loki. But desperately sorry to people like Glit, and Thundercracker, and Soundwave, and all of the others he pushed well past their limits for cruelty. He wrote of going on past one's heart, but he shouldn't have ever been the one to take people's hearts and force them on past them.
"Don't worry," he says, though it sounds rather empty. "I've been that sort of charismatic leader, more to my shame. I know the signs. I won't fall in with anyone like that, I promise you. No. I want to learn from you, and from others like you. I would not study such a thing with anyone I did not trust."
And, after a moment, he settles.
"I would be willing to mentor your daughter on such a path, if she chose. Once you know me, of course, well enough to trust me with such a dear being."
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He blinks at Megatron, further surprised by the message he seems to have taken from this confession, and after a moment he reaches up and pats his cheek. "At first glance, you reminded me of him, but not because of anything you've done to me. Just the silhouette. Broad shoulders, strong jaw...it took me a moment to adjust, but I do not mistake you for Thanos now."
"And he's dead in my world anyway, and in many others. Though he got to me first, and--that's not relevant. What I meant was that I have a lot of innocent blood on my hands, as well. I didn't ask to participate in the Culls, but I didn't stop them either, and when I visited Earth, I did terrible things as much on my own behalf as the Order's. That was when I was a monster. But it is a matter of some reassurance that they had to break me first."
After a moment, he leans lightly into Megatron's shoulder, recognizing the offer of touch, if somewhat awkward accepting it.
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"I thought perhaps it would be best to explain, since my mind started to wander. I am much improved, but I still bear scars."
"And I still stand unconquered." He glances up and takes in the expression on his face, then moves into a full embrace, perching on the arm of the chair he's in. "It's all right, truly."
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That sounds like the first line of a poem, and he considers running with it. But this is not a poem he wants to write on the fly; this is one he wants to put some thought into writing. It's not like he'd be writing it alone. The words are initially Loki's words; he just wants to see where they'll wander.
It would be so easy to kiss him; a stray thought, but one he's sorely tempted to feed and take in and shield from the cold. But even if that happens, this isn't the way he wants it to happen.
For here, for now, this is enough: that someone can truly know all the things he has done, and could do, and is capable of, and can still want to be where Loki is now.
for Ravage
It's after nightfall, and the children are indoors, asleep. Mrs. Hedgeworthy, Loki's housekeeper, is staying the night, but he is grateful to find he is less desperate for the backup than he was before he left.
Outside the cottage, the meadow is all long grass in shades of tan and fawn and brown, and every breeze makes the seedheads whisper together. Loki likes this weather; he is sorry to have missed spring and summer, but the promise of winter is reassuring.
Re: for Ravage
[Not that you're supposed to help your amica THAT way, Ravage.]
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"I cannot invite you inside, though, as the children are sleeping." But there's space outside in the yard, where a miniature playground sits quietly, with a low wall nearby, an unlit firepit flanked with heavy logs for seating, and what appears to be the start of a construction project.
"And I don't possess energon at this time and cannot offer you refreshment; I apologize for that."
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He gives Ravage a look that even through the visor clearly dares him to deny it. Notably, Ravage does not, and they are both still smiling.
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He likes that term. They are sparks, for certain. "Four of them."
He gives Soundwave a thoughtful look, and a shallow bow of greeting. "My species are extremophiles, designed to live in low temperatures. The physical structure of my body and brain is most likely innately different from most organic life, but I've never investigated it fully."
"...which, incidentally, led to some very pleasant surprises with Megatron, but I'm not sure that's quite the matter at hand." Or is it? He felt energy from the mech's spark and was fine, so maybe it's exactly the matter at hand.
"I feel as though we should be allies, you two and myself. You fall under my providence, you're close with a friend of mine, and there are...parallels. I am willing to work to make that happen, alliance or friendship or both. But my culture is not so open with emotion as yours seems to be."
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But then he gets down to the question that Soundwave has spectacularly failed to answer. "Decepticon culture, when it isn't toxic, is a culture of honesty and loyalty. There's military decorum, sometimes, and professionalism, sometimes, but everything's out in the open. In the early days of the movement, we were so committed to not owning each other that there were no formally committed relationships among us, even if everyone knew who was essentially married. Keeping up appearances was considered 'bourgeois' for want of a better term. We liked to think we were an army of lovers. Of course that bred its own kind of toxicity. People who disliked each other but had to pretend they were comrades, and then we stopped doing that, but then all the infighting was out in the open as well. It was exactly the sort of social mess that you'd expect to get when you put a bunch of people who were rebelling against social and class restrictions together with a bunch of people who never had the freedom to develop or maintain good boundaries. Anyhow, with the two of us I'm afraid you're dealing with the true believers. I wouldn't tell a stranger everything we've just told you, and neither would Soundwave, but if we're meant to be allies and hope to be friends, dissembling won't help."
Ravage shrugs. "He gave us our freedom. He is our closest living friend. Soundwave and he were enemies briefly and while I won't say those were the worst days of my life, because I wasn't a slave or a prisoner of war, they were worse than almost anything else. When he talks about you, which he doesn't, much, and that in itself makes me think this is serious--it's clear he's fallen in love. If he hasn't already given you his spark, it's only because he can't figure out how. I have only ever done that with Soundwave. He only ever did that with someone who hurt him terribly. I don't ever want to go through that with him again. And he'd be furious if he knew I was telling you this, but I don't care, because you need to know what a big deal this is, not just for our species, but also for him personally."
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He listens thoughtfully to Ravage, then wanders over to the low wall nearby to sit. "It's good that you acknowledge your movement's previous missteps. That will build strength, in the long term. Not everyone starts from the same place, nor travels their path at the same pace. Candor can be a social lubricant or a roadblock, depending how it is applied."
There is more in his head, explanations for his behavior that he feels may be necessary, but he's diverted by the talk of Megatron. That may be telling. There's a flicker of a soft smile on his face, and he nods. "I don't believe I've ever been with a lover so openly romantic as he is. I am bonded to two others, and he is well aware of that. Because this is so new, I am deeply concerned about being fair to them. Harley, in particular, has been patient with me beyond my wildest expectations. She took me into her home when I arrived here, with no questions asked, and was the first to offer to defend me from my enemies."
"Loyalty to a cause or a nation means little to me, but loyalty to individuals is...a quality I seek to cultivate in myself."
"I am still finding my feet, seeking a balance. My children must be my first priority until they are old enough to care for themselves. My brother is unwell and needs my support--actually two versions of him, from two different worlds. I have Ian and Harley and I owe them both much, and for the first time in my life I appear to be surrounded by friends. I have often been accused of selfishness, justly; if I were alone, without children or dependents, I would have no hesitation in answering your question in the affirmative. I would drop everything and follow him anywhere he asked, whether I believed our chemistry to be eternal or a fleeting fancy, because if I were to fall, there would be no one harmed but myself."
"I am very serious about this. I can promise you that; enough so that it frightens me. And there are...injuries, in my background, which make me wary. Unwilling to disappoint, unwilling to be tamed, waiting for some catastrophe to flip everything upside down. So what you ask, do I love him, is not a simple question to answer. Not to me. And he knows that."
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"I believe that everything will be fine," he says--probably more to Ravage than to Loki himself, though he looks carefully at them both--when Loki finishes his explanation.
"I know what you feel while you speak to us. Not being Megatron, I have no reason to care what you call it." Soundwave shrugs, then shakes his head.
"Ravage did not ask if you were willing to follow Megatron wherever he chooses to go. Please, even after your children are grown, even a thousand years from now, if you and he should find yourselves alone--do not promise to follow Megatron wherever he chooses to go. We made that promise once. We do not advise that anyone else makes it. He does not need followers. If you ever do go away with him, take his hand, and don't be afraid to pull him back from the edge of a precipice if you have to. Because you will. I think it's better, at least for now, if he follows you. And I think you can get him to do it."
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Ravage hears Soundwave's snort and looks up at him, shrugging. "I heard that," he says with a grin.
Then to Loki he says: "I think you might worry too much."
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He grins a little. "I did not mean follow in quite that sense, but your point is well taken. It remains to be seen whether we will steer one another safely or egg one another on, which is another concern I have, but I'll see what I can do."
To Ravage, he says, "You are also a poet, and I am not. Perhaps I am more impressed by his choice of words, because I do not understand quite how he knits them together."
Either that, or he somehow brings out Megatron's hidden soppy-sweet side, which is a nice thought, but one he chooses not to voice, as the mech himself might not thank him for it.
"I know I worry too much," he agrees, voice blithe and lilting now that he's expressed his doubts and been heard. He feels better, anyway! "It's part of what I am. There is a voice within me I call my anti-conscience. It tells me, in any given situation, several options I could pursue, as well as weighing the potential reactions of those around me, and the suggestions it makes first are invariably the most destructive. I have to fight it into submission to get anything friendly from it."
"It's very useful in a conflict, but much less so when talking with potential friends or adjusting to a new love intererest."
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And Loki still rather likes him, but he's a terribly dangerous wild card. He should probably warn Megatron to dodge him, too, come to think of it, but he doesn't appear often.
He blinks at Ravage thoughtfully, surprised to hear that he was not courted. Yet another cultural difference, perhaps. Because he was bonded to Soundwave? But Loki has other lovers, himself, even if their claim is not exclusive.
"Well," he says mildly, "he did ask for permission to court me first. I am glad to have heard your perspective, now. I already understood I am...a rare occurrence for him, but the additional information is good to hear."
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"I was always Soundwave's consort and have never been open to having a second one. I refuse to share my spark with anyone else. I believe the humans call relationships like ours 'friends with benefits', except that amicitia is closer than human friendship by far and does not properly include the 'benefits' in polite non-Decepticon society."
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Soundwave shrugs. "As Ravage says, it is meaningful that Megatron is courting you. It is also a very good sign. Before he had his...revelations," Soundwave says, with a little distaste, "I must admit, he would probably have just tried to win you away, if he wanted you for himself. Or chosen you because there was no chance that he would have to open his spark. He did once attempt to court Ravage, when Ravage and I were very much at odds. But Ravage doesn't see it that way, because he never asked permission to court him. I, however, think 'come away with me, leave the Decepticon cause, including your entire family, and join the Autobots' was not particularly ambiguous. I forgive it only because it was also completely hopeless."
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Despite the uncertainty and mild alarm the love confession brought out in Loki, he has to concede that if they had not had that talk and had woven their energies together so intimately in lovemaking, he would feel far more disoriented about it all.
"Of the Antheans," he says, "I have only met Ziggy, and we did not get along well, though I wish him all the best."
He smirks a little at the thought of Megatron attempting to win him away. It sounds rather courtly in itself, though trying to break him away from Harley and Ian would be a disaster. His amusement only rises at Soundwave's arch comment about Megatron and Ravage's relationship, and he laughs quietly. "Right, well, I definitely like the both of you, and you're obviously meant to be together."
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He thinks for a moment. "That is probably a strange thing for me to tell you, but maybe it will help you understand things. We saw this happen with him once before. He had us, and a few others. The other party had a few other people in his orbit as well, but they chose not to join us. In the end, the other party left us as well and ended up with no-one at all, but I think he deserved it, and I take a certain vindictive pleasure in seeing that he still wears a mask and helm crest that look almost exactly like mine. I hate him so much," Soundwave says, laughing with a soft, melodious and utterly vindictive tone that somehow also drips with love, though the love is for Ravage, and maybe also for Megatron, too.
"You have no idea how much pleasure it gives me to see that he doesn't even know how much it shows that he thinks of us all. Ravage wrote an angry poem about him that got posted to an Autobot website and he ordered it taken down within hours. Of course I have no idea how that got there. But since someone who had an account there decided to humiliate Ravage and me by posting something that Ravage had written about me, I thought it was only fair."
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Ravage's face would be glowing if his paint were not black and velvety. Finally, he looks up at Loki, a little embarrassed. "We know Ziggy's parents," Ravage says, "and we consider them dear friends. Ziggy is very extra. Soundwave loves his music, and we're definitely friendly with Ziggy. But Ziggy surrounds himself with relentlessly enthusiastic and positive people that make it difficult to get close to him. One of them spent a good deal of time trying to explain to Soundwave, of all people, that 'spite' is not an appropriate motivation for things. Soundwave sometimes runs at least as much on spite as he does on energon."
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"And you are extremely dangerous," he tells Soundwave with a little grin. "I like that. It's easy to make assumptions about empaths and telepaths based on stereotypes, but I promise you, I know better."
The ones that seem soft and gentle are the ones you have to be careful not to run afoul of. That, and his sense of mischief and petty vengeance seems to be equal to Loki's. He's so very glad now that he opened himself up to the conversation.
"Personally, I'm a fan of spite. Really, it's only a slight twist of the innate desire for justice and balance, and those are noble pursuits."
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"Exactly so. Let me tell you about dear little Orion. He tried to blackmail me because he had figured out that I was the one who killed one of my men whom I knew for a fact was about to betray us and ruin our chance to get out of a prison his people had put us in, a prison I never believed we'd get out of alive. This, from someone who lay with us all! I put a stop to it by explaining that I never delete an image from my memory banks, even a painful one, if it concerns someone who has betrayed me or my own."
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He is equally pleased to hear how they've considered their political maneuvers, and gives a hum of approval. "I am not a joiner, as I told Ben not long ago, and frankly I would be more of a liability for a political movement than an asset, but please consider me at your disposal as a sounding-board, should you require it. And I do have some connections within the Nexus that might be more helpful than I, in specific situations."
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He smiles. "That you're willing to help us is more than enough. Especially since Megatron left the movement, so it's clear that you're not doing this for his sake."
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There are so many thoughts and feelings jumbled around in his mind right now.
Loki is almost certainly feeling the spark-call, just as Ravage felt it from him, even though Loki is an alien being and hasn't a spark of his own.
Which is interesting to think about, but leads to dangerous paths, because Loki is everything dear sweet Orion once promised to be but was wholly unable to be.
Which is dangerous, because dear sweet Orion once terrified Soundwave, until he gave in to that cloyingly bright fascination, knowing better each step of the way, not failing to notice that Ravi was often too much of a challenge for Orion to ever have meant some of the things that he said, and then the betrayal came.
And he will not think about how things could be once more what they never really were before. No, he will decidedly not think about that, even though Ravage and Megatron were kinder and gentler and not at all toxic together when Orion was there in the middle beside him.
Let it stay as it is. Two and two do not have to be four, especially not when the other two are not yet done with being one and one. He has Ravage all to himself now, and he's wanted that far longer, and he'll savour that as long as he can have it, which is, hopefully, forever.
It's rare for him to be attracted to anyone other than Ravage, but if Orion taught Soundwave anything, it was that being attracted absolutely did not mean he had to act on it, no matter how rare it was, no matter what Megatron or even Ravage said.
"I wonder," he says conversationally. "Do you think that when we finally sign the treaty, someone will tell dear sweet Orion he needs to stop dressing like me, because with two of us on the opposite sides of a table for posterity, and Ravage beside me, people other than Ravage and Jazz will finally notice?"
After all, if he can manage never to kiss Jazz again, he can certainly manage not to kiss anyone else that he shouldn't.
"It also strikes me as amusing. Even though Orion didn't take Megatron back after Megatron joined his tribe of idiots, Megatron tried to court Ravage, and Orion tried to blackmail me into joining them. I wonder what Orion would have tried to do if they had actually got both of us to stand with them under that banner."
Soundwave would curl his lip in distaste if he could. Instead, he just laughs.
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That is what a Trickster does, and the Trickster nature is even more fundamentally a part of Loki's identity than divinity is. "My tendency is always to take the side of the underdog, the outcast, and the disrupting influence. That's why I feel you are part of my providence, at least in part. It's my duty and privilege to offer my congratulations, even if you never require my assistance."
He is not aware of Soundwave's mix of thought and emotion, which is just as well, because attraction is nothing he is prepared to deal with right now, when his bond with Megatron is so new. But he would be immensely flattered. His sympathy for Soundwave is already significant, in part because of the parallels he knows exist. He does not dare mention them now, because that may be more information than Soundwave would ideally like for him to know right off the bat, but it's fascinating and pleasing to meet what seems to him like a brighter mirror of himself from an entirely alien species and culture.
"...wait," he says thoughtfully. "He dresses like you? Surely there's some amusement to be had there, at his expense. Is it a coincidence, or does he do it deliberately? If you made a subtle change at peace talks, would he echo it?"
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"Loki," he says, with amusement, "the mask is adaptive technology. It's not a part of me, nor is it part of him. Most people only wear them during battle, or when there's some kind of airborne infection about. He wears one all the time, like I do, and has done, since the four of us were an item. I think at one point he meant it as solidarity, or so that I wouldn't feel odd about it, although I never actually did feel odd about it, because unless I'm eating or drinking, or kissing or making love, it makes me more comfortable. And he still wears a helm crest that's only subtly different from mine. Megatron bought both of them from the same jeweller. He had just won a whole lot of money and paid for everything the three of us, Ravi included, had tried on and liked without telling us, and gave it all to us later. His accounts are all frozen now, or you'd already know how much he likes to give presents."
He glances at Ravage and drops to one knee, with an expression that somehow manages to be demure and thoroughly wicked all at the same time. "You should commission me a different one, Ravi-brightspark. After all, neither he nor I are in service to Megatron, now, and I am in service only to you. And perhaps we'll wear our wedding capes to the peace talks."
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"And," he says to Loki when he stands, "in that respect, we're absolutely in your providence."
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He cannot avoid looking sheepish and just a bit soft at the talk of Megatron giving presents. He can imagine, already, but he gives a little shake of his head. "That's probably for the best. I've always preferred handmade and heartfelt gifts more than pretty luxuries. Though I would be lying if I pretended I don't get such things for myself more often than not."
"But all of that sounds like a good idea, for the sake of yourselves and not just to troll him. There is a very good tailor in the Nexus. I'm not sure whether he would be capable of creating a mask or helm himself, as he seems to work primarily in fabric, but I'm sure he'd know someone who could. I always take the children to him for new clothes."
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Ravage makes an amused little chuff. "I have plenty of images of Orion in my mental banks, if you'd like to see one. I swear I'll spare you the sight of his dripping valve; it's irrelevant to the subject of how he looks currently, as there's a piece of god-ridden metal stuck in his chest that's changed his whole body, and that just makes everything worse, because now he's a little bigger than Soundwave instead of barely being a little bit bigger than I am right now."
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He sighs. "I did very much want Ravage to get rid of a collar, but Laserbeak took it and tore it apart and used the jewels on a jacket for somebody else, because she knew I wouldn't say that. But that was the only extravagant thing he gave Ravage when they were living together apart from me, and I couldn't stand the sight of it. The rest of it, I honestly don't care about. I just know how he feels, because he feels a lot."
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He makes a thoughtful sound at Soundwave's explanation. "Don't worry, then. I enjoy gifts as tangible expressions of affection. A handful of dandelions is as good as a polished emerald in that regard, but as long as the feeling behind it is the same, I'll love anything he gives me."
"...although I could always have the children teach him to make friendship bracelets or pot-holders whenever they do meet him."
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He ex-vents, irritated. "That is the other reason I disliked that collar so much. I never like to see Ravage in collars, even if they are made of jewels. I am sure that he would not put one on you."
After a moment, though, his expression goes wry and fond. "You may, however, wish to start thinking about who you would ask to make a cape for you, if that cape had to be made by your dearest friends. One you already have will not do, if it comes to that."
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He raises an eyebrow and makes a thoughtful sound at the mention of a collar. "...well, it's not as if I wouldn't wear a collar, but--nevermind."
The connotations would be different. He gets that. And yet it's the cape that makes him blush slightly, only because they just mentioned their own wedding capes. "If that means what it sounds like it means, I hope he's not in a rush. I'm still not quite ready to introduce the children yet."
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He looks up at his husband in deep amusement. "Really. You shouldn't have said that. You'll scare the poor deity."
Ravage is a brat. And he knows this.
"I'm sure they'll teach him to make things. And he'll probably give the friendship bracelets to the children, so that they know they are his friends, and the pot-holders to Esmeral, in the vain hope that she'll stop banning his BC accounts."
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"The look on Thor's face would be memorable, though." He wouldn't be Loki if he didn't like the idea of trolling his brother. But that is not a reason to rush into anything!
"But back to children and handicrafts, I had thought it might do them good to meet the two of you or some of the other Decepticons before being introduced to Megatron. Your species is unfamiliar to my universe, and adapting to a different culture without the complication of wondering how close their father and his new friend are, and whether said new friend will stay, might be easier for them."
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He scratches behind his ear. "I have to admit it feels a bit strange to think that we're the people you'd have your children meet first to warm up for meeting Megatron. Misfire or Esmeral or Clobber or even Suckerpunch are better examples of average Cybertronians; at the same time, I can't think of anyone who's a lot like Megatron, other than...Megatron. I mean, there's Galvatron, who is a tenth-rate imitation of Megatron, but we're going to kill him, so we can't use him. Is it because you want them to meet Cybertronians, or because you want to talk with us personally, or because you want them to meet Megatron's friends?"
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He shakes his head, then. "Perhaps I am being unclear; let me try again. These children grew up on a planet that no longer exists, and while they have known of other sapient species from other realms before leaving home, visits from them have been few and far between. In the Nexus, they are gradually becoming accustomed to beings other than their own kin, but they are also...injured. Traumatized. And sometimes they are frightened by new people and experiences. I'm not asking in order to smooth over introductions for his sake, but for theirs. I just don't want them to be overwhelmed."
"I want them to meet Cybertronians, and I want them to talk to you two if you are to be my friends."
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For Megatron
Loki is standing outside his hall when Megatron arrives, and he is wearing his Asgardian form, ivory-skinned and green-eyed, with inky hair back in intricate braids and tied, incongruously, with a glittery purple ribbon.
"I have something for you," he says with a little smile. "I told the children I had a new friend, but that they will not be able to meet him for a few weeks. They're curious. They sent you a picture."
Because Asgardian kids are kids nevertheless. He holds out a large piece of construction paper, upon which is a riot of crayon and marker sprinkled with glitter glue. There appear to be four figures on the page. The tallest has medium-brown skin and black hair, and a green jacket. The second is in a blue dress, with honey-brown curls and a halo of musical notes around her head. The third is the smallest, and only identifiable as a person by the two eyes and the pink-marker smile, but there are little fish and shell stickers all over him. The last is very glittery, with blond braids and a sword bigger than she is tall.
Several different hands have written "HI!" across the top. And there are additional stickers, including flowers, horses, and rainbows.
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Megatron has actually never seen anything of this nature before and keeps looking at the paper like it's a rare artefact from a world he's never imagined, mostly because, well...it is. He never got to be a child.
Cybertronians are small for only a very short period of time, and most of them are raised in creches and post-natal facilities. In the days of Megatron's youth, there were powerful 'houses' where wealthy people who could afford to forge bodies especially for the newsparks of their choice were able to choose the heirs they wanted for their households, but even then, only a small minority of sparklings were taken into homes of that sort. Most were cared for in groups and given some degree of education appropriate for their function before being assigned a place in society.
Megatron didn't even get that. His spark was rare, but it was also not the spark that had been intended to go into that particular frame; he was treated like any other cold-construct at initialisation.
It surprised him that he was even interested in helping to raise children this small; he had promised Loki that he would protect everyone he loved, and he had offered to mentor Sigrid, but he had never had the slightest desire to work in a post-natal facility or handle sparklings before.
But they were people--tiny people, but people, and they wanted to be his friends. All they knew was that he was their father's dear friend, and they were welcoming him into their lives. He was beaming, and he was sure he looked ridiculous.
He was also very resolutely not going to think about the very strong likelihood that he had taken many lives as innocent and open as these. Except it was too late for that. But he refused to dwell on it. Someday they might learn this about him, and he'd tell them the truth, he supposed, and hope they forgave him.
"I have never seen anything like this before, Loki. And I will protect them," he says, "as if they were mine. And if this is how they see themselves then I am sure they're just as adorable as their father is."
He looks up at Loki, and dabs at his eyes with the towel Loki gave him days ago; he left it in his subspace. "I don't deserve this, but the universe doesn't give us what we deserve." He smiles. "So, I'll do my best to become someone who does."
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"It'd be best if I have a talk with Thor, as well," he adds. "He's their uncle and he's been caring for them; he deserves some forthcoming behavior from me at this point."
"But it won't be too terribly long to wait, I assure you."
He is not privy to Megatron's mixed thoughts regarding innocent children and his own clouded past, but he would be able to identify with some of them. In the dark hours, he has often looked into the mirror and accused himself of claiming peace and tenderness he denied to so many others on so many worlds. He has satisfied himself as best he could with the knowledge that what he does not deserve, the children certainly do, and he will give them what he can.
He's struck by both the presence of the tears and the towel he gave him, and his smile is all soft amusement. "Just be patient with them. Agnarr, the oldest, is the most uncertain, but I don't think that's personal. He is nearing adolescence and torn between clinging to his parent and asserting his individuality apart from him. He may be mercurial. But the others, I think, will take to you well enough. Eindrid would be more interested if your alternate shape was a boat, but he'll cope."
He offers his hand. "Come. We should talk a little as we walk. There are many things we don't know about one another yet."
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Megatron looks around, taking in everything. "One doesn't see sparklings often these days. They used to rise from the ground in great numbers in sacred places, but not very often nowadays, and it has been so long since lovers struck a spark that some believe it is a myth. That's one of the reasons I'd keep it, if we did, even though this is a terrible time for it. In addition to being a hopeless romantic. There are so many spark-bound partners I know and I've not seen it once. Not with Ravage and Soundwave, nor Knock Out and Breakdown, nor Strika and Obsidian and Lugnut, nor Chromedome and Rewind..."
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It's a good, peaceful topic to discuss on a walk, after all, and Loki enjoys discussing his own memories of his youth on Asgard. The talk of children catches his attention, though, and he nods, having gathered that reproduction was a matter of dependence on the planet itself rather than the bodies of individuals. It seems a shame to him to essentially raise them in group homes, but then--
His eyes widen and he looks startled by the comment about Soundwave. His hand tightens in Megatron's for a moment, and he murmurs, "That's awful."
There's a pause, and then he says, "I was adopted, and also failed to live up to my father's expectations. It's complicated."
And he's gotten past a lot of the hurt, but not all of it. "There was a war, you see. Between the Frost Giants of Jotunheim, and the Aesir of Asgard. Asgard won, but in the seige upon Jotunheim, Odin, the King, found a baby in a Jotunn temple. A runt of a giant, naked and alone. And from the ridged markings, he could see that I was the son of Laufey, the ruler of the Frost Giants. They're hereditary patterns."
"I don't know now whether I was abandoned out of contempt, left there as a test of my will to survive, or some sort of war-sacrifice in hopes of victory. Either way, Odin brought me back, and he always believed I would have died if he had not."
"My true species was a secret, even from myself. I grew up thinking I was Asgardian, and the biological younger child of the king and queen, the brother of Thor by blood. Finding out otherwise was a shock I did not take well, particularly because Odin admitted he had selected me as a political pawn, planning to install me on the throne of Jotunheim when I came of age, to ensure a government friendly to Asgard."
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He thinks for a moment of Minimus; he only knows that Minimus is a turbofox hiding in armour because Ravage found out. Minimus was also adopted into one of those great Houses.
"I'm glad that you were found and cared for, but Odin cared only for what he saw as your function, based on your form, and not the person inside. He thought of you as a tool. I won't say that this illusion isn't pretty, but it isn't really even an illusion you chose, is it?"
Megatron smiles softly. "I do prefer your true form to this one, though I'd love you no matter how you appeared. And the illusion doesn't completely hold for me, either, unless I offline the infrared and Kirlian frequencies in my optics, and then everything else looks all wrong."
He lifts Loki's hand to his lips and kisses it.
"Soundwave disappointed them when he reached the age where his empathy and telepathy manifested, and he couldn't properly function. Their precious genius overwhelmed by the world around him, unable to focus on anything, no longer able to spy on everything for them, because all he wanted it to do was stop. He was an adult, but just barely. Ravage was also an adult, but just barely. She took him in and fell in love with him."
Megatron ex-vents. "I don't think Odin was any better than his mentors were. Thor at least has been kind to you. I'm glad he hasn't suffered what Shockwave did, for daring to love his own brother."
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"I have come to understand Odin's thought processes well. In the end, he and I are very alike, always planning several steps ahead, thinking of all the angles from which to manipulate a situation. And he was convinced he was working for the greater good, but when you use a person as a tool and leave them dirty, it sits ill. His real problem, I think, was that he began to love me as a son, and pushed me away out of fear that that would spoil his plans. Whereas I knew there was something wrong, instinctively, and was desperate for his approval."
"Some of his last words to me were to call me his son and tell me he loved me, and I believe he meant it. I do not forgive him, but he was, nonetheless, my father." It's Complicated.
He smiles, then, touched that Megatron prefers his true shape. "It unsettles some humans, otherwise I would wear it more often. Thor has mostly acclimated, Norns bless him."
"Frankly, 'kind to me' is an inadequate descriptor. He has been through Hel, figuratively speaking, to reclaim his little brother. He had to learn who I actually am along the way, is all. And vice versa. And now he is the King and Allfather of the Aesir, and I could not be prouder, though I know how it weighs on him."
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Megatron takes Loki's hand in his other hand, so he can slide his arm around Loki's shoulders. "Listen, I didn't mean to diminish your brother in any way by comparing him to Shockwave. There are things for which kindness is just an inadequate word--but I don't know exactly what Thor has done for you, and even if I did I might not understand what it meant. And I have no idea what it is like to have a father. I only know that no-one should ever be made to think of themselves as less than a person because of the way in which they were made, or the shape they take."
He drops a kiss on the crown of Loki's head. "And yes, your true form is to me the most beautiful, because it is yours. If you wanted to change it, I would also view your new form as beautiful, because it would be the one that you chose for yourself, and I believe that people should have the right to choose the forms they take. But I mislike the idea of you twisting yourself around to meet anyone else's standard of beauty, even my own."
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"Mmn. I don't know anything about Shockwave, and so I did not imagine Thor was in any way diminished by the comparison. I just want you to know that my brother is nothing like our father."
He squeezes him lightly. "You will see more of the Jotun form over the winter. I prefer it when the weather is cold, and the power it has against the bitter elements."
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After a moment, he sighs. "Shockwave is not who he once was. They shadowplayed him. But when we were all young, he was the only Senator worthy of the name. He put up the funds to ransom Ravage and the birds from Ratbat. If he'd managed to become the head of the House, he could've bought them outright and brought them and Soundwave home, but even though he couldn't get them free, he made it so that Ratbat could never lay hands on Ravage again. He tried to make the world a better place without the use of violence, but they took him away, and then they took his face and hands by empurata, and then they put their needles into his neck and brain, and he became completely emotionless. He remained a Decepticon, but he wasn't someone we could trust any more, because he valued almost nothing. He no longer felt love for his brother or for Ravage, but he felt no resentment because he felt freer without emotional ties. Yet he was once among the best of us."
Megatron sighs again. "Are these the stories you want to hear, on a beautiful day like this when we are together?"
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Shockwave's story makes him shudder, though. There are to many dark parallels here, too; alarming could-have-beens. "Ravage mentioned shadowplay once, when we played the word association game. We could both tell we'd wandered into territory we did not wish to tread, and opted to turn back together."
"I understand better now. But no, absolutely not, these are not stories for a pleasant evening." He takes a breath and pulls back. "Shall I show you some of my other forms as we walk? I can be a snake or spider even in cold weather."
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"I would do that even if you were as light and soft as a human. I don't care to turn into a spider and get stepped on. But just for that delicate comment, I'm going to learn to turn into a bilgesnipe and knock you over some day."
No, he's not. A, he's not offended, just amused; and B, he would never want to be a bilgesnipe.
But there is a shimmer of green-gold that courses over him as he walks, and a moment later, Megatron is arm in arm with a more feminine-appearing version of Loki. "This is my usual form when I wish to appear as a woman. Most of my friends recognize her now, so she is not a secret nor a surprise."
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Megatron grins at Loki and kisses her lightly. "I am," he says, "really glad that I'm not one of those mechs who just can't appreciate femmes. Which, apparently, is most of them." He rolls his optics. "Cybertronian homonormativity isn't as toxic as human heteronormativity because it doesn't take forms that are murderous, but it's still stupid. Because you're very appreciable, and someday soon I hope to have you like this, as well."
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Those bits are certainly true, though they are not always all true at once! She smiles up at Megatron and arches her back a little to lean into him. Her body language in this form is almost identical to that of the other, but it comes across as more coquettish now, for whatever reason.
"You may absolutely have me like this some day," she says in a soft purr. "In any shape, I am Loki, though there are aspects that come through differently in other forms. But I think that is an asset. I need never be boring. There is always more Loki to explore."
A bit egotistical, but that's the prerogative of a god, perhaps.
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"It may come as a surprise to you that I find softness and delicacy highly erotic, but I'm personally very glad that I do, because I have never had the slightest desire to fuck Overlord, Astrotrain, Trypticon, or Omega Supreme, and my attraction to Ultra Magnus is partially fuelled by the fact that Ravage told me how tiny the bot that's under that armour actually is. And that's an incomplete but illustrative list of the options I'd have if I didn't."
He grins at her. "I love your true form best because it's yours. I'm sometimes concerned about your habit of using a glamour in your everyday life, because I'm afraid you're not as proud of your beauty as you should be. Most of my lovers have been anything but acceptable under the Grand Taxonomy and they have tended to have very unwarranted insecurities about themselves and their desirability. But things that transform enjoy doing it, and I also told you truly that I'd make love to you in any form you took. And I would, no matter how creative I had to be. For that matter if you want to attempt to take on a tank, you can do that, but you'd have to use your magic unless you take the shape of something that has the appropriate ports and/or cables."
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"It's true that I've never thought of myself as soft or delicate, though. And I was considered too thin and weak by Asgardian beauty standards for men, growing up, but I think that had I not been standing next to Thor most of the time it would not have bothered me at all. He's always been a golden-haired slab of muscle."
Still delicate by Cybertronian standards, though, which amuses Loki just a little.
"That is a sweet thing to say." She kisses his cheek. "I have only known my Jotun form for a few years. Less than a decade, and discovering it was a terrible shock. Had that not been the case, I would like it better. But you can thank the Winter Spirit, if you ever meet him, for making me open up to it as much as I have. Before, I could scarcely wear it without feeling panic, but now there is such a feeling of joy in it, to wander bare-chested and bare-footed in the snow like it's a part of me. I look forward to the season now."
She laughs a little at the talk of creativity, but there's a thoughtfulness there, too. "I would not be opposed, but perhaps more practice in these forms is in order first. I am not such a consummate shapeshifter that I can easily construct a form like your own, but it may be possible, with time and work."
"As for my own, I think we can set aside the possibility of lovemaking in my spider form, and the serpentine shape has possibilities, but they're quite pornographic. The Mare is dangerous, far more so than any other shape of mine save one. She has a mental and emotional state all her own, as if I've channeled my anger into that form. I do make a nice cuddly wolf, though, if I say so myself."
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He leans over to kiss her. "I don't need to have you in every form that you take. Having known Airachnid, though thankfully not intimately...we can certainly forget about the spider. But I want you to know there is no form in which I'd reject you. And if the wolf wants to cuddle with me, I will be happy to cuddle the wolf."
He laughs, softly. "I've cuddled a cybercat often enough, and I'm fixing to cuddle a turbofox...if I can only even get him to notice I'm flirting. My feelings for him aren't half so extravagant as they are for you, but it wouldn't help if they were. If I said the kinds of things to Minimus that I say to you, he'd run until his energon gave out. Or perhaps until he hit a singularity."
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She kisses back before starting up the walk again. The comment about spiders makes her laugh out loud, though, the sound bouncing off the rocks and trees around them. "It wouldn't be fun for me anyway," she says. "The intercourse of organic spiders is all about pedipalps and egg sacs, there is no opportunity for pure physical pleasure, except perhaps for people with very specific kinks, which I do not share."
"That, and I'm a very small spider. I could sit on your shoulder and whisper sweet nothings into your ear, but I think that might be the limit of intimacy in that form."
Wolf cuddles are clearly a go, though. Loki tilts her head thoughtfully. "I have never seen a turbofox, but I think I already approve. My alternate here, who calls me their twin, often takes the form of a fox. I suppose I've developed a fondness. Presumably, Minimus is not someone you plan to introduce to the Nexus any time soon, but should that ever happen, I will make him welcome."
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Megatron shrugs. "Minimus has actually been here once already, but he doesn't know I know about that. He can't yet know I know about the Nexus, or he'd try to stop me from coming here; we haven't yet established trust, and sometimes, I'm afraid we won't. He came here to see Misfire. But the real issue with telling Minimus about you at this point in time is that he'd assume I was warning him off me on your behalf. I probably should leave well enough alone, all things considered. I think he may actually believe that Ravage and I have always had a platonic relationship."
He kisses Loki again. "I want to be gentle with your heart because I don't yet know where all of the weak places are, and at this early stage in a relationship--even one as intense as ours--pointing them out to a new love just isn't easy to do. Rough play is only fun for me if you enjoy it, too."
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To that end, it's best she leave well enough alone and let Megatron handle his own emotional affairs, but it's strange to hear the contrast. That he is dancing around this other potential lover so delicately, when they fell in together as if a magnet drew them close. It reinforces the idea that Ravage was careful to place in his head--this isn't just Megatron being passionate. There is something to this beyond anything either of them expected.
She smiles and clasps her arms behind his neck with a little hop in the air so that he's supporting her off her feet. "Just don't flirt with Thor, and we'll be all right. Most other things can be negotiated or smoothed over."
That's only half teasing. Generally speaking, Loki is fine with the idea of sharing a lover with anyone except her brother. Thor is not looking for a partner anyway, right now, so it's a moot point, but there is just enough jealousy in Loki's heart to make it worth mentioning.
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He leans down and kisses her forehead. "I shouldn't be telling this to you of all people, but everyone else I know knows him and Ravage has opinions about it. And besides, I want to know more about Harley and Ian."
Megatron laughs again. "But I don't know if he will ever trust himself, let alone trust me. He's horrified by the fact that he likes me. He was my advocate at my trial and took the position only because he felt it was necessary to preserve the integrity of the proceedings. He devoutly hoped that after he had done the absolute best to defend me to the best of his ability, I'd still be executed, preferably promptly. And then they made me co-captain of the ship where he is second-in-command, and him my parole officer. If he knew I was leaving the ship on my own and going to another universe, or that I've decided not to be executed, he'd be...well, first he'd be horribly disappointed in me, and then in himself, and then I'd probably just have to move here immediately, because even though he knows this place, it's not his jurisdiction.
"Anyhow, I set out to seduce him because he is very alone, we do like each other, he already knows what I've done, he smells nice, and I thought it would be good to secure his favour absolutely, which you've got to admit I could probably do in a couple of hours, because even without all the magic we make together, he's got all the connections any other of my species has, and I'd be surprised if he's been laid at any time in the last million years, because nobody ever sees him out of his armour. And Ravage only knows he's a fox because he identified the body of one of his alternates and figured out the smell. But now, I like him enough to want him for himself, even though he's completely obtuse and has no idea that I want him at all. I think I could write him a poem and he'd think it was for someone else entirely. If he knew about you, he'd almost certainly withdraw.
"My evil plot was to make Minimus fall madly in love with me, in case they decided against me, in the hope that he'd decide to go against his principles and help me if I decided I didn't want to die. But now I really want to see him fall apart on my spike for his own sake, and also because I don't think I have ever known a person who needed it more."
When Loki jumps, he catches her and holds her fast. "I promise not to frag your brother. That would be in very poor taste. I cannot promise not to engage in wordplay with him, but I will never flirt with him in earnest. I may not be able to avoid telling him he's pretty, but I will always make sure he knows I think you're prettier, and that will always be absolutely true, because even if he has your green eyes, which he almost certainly doesn't, there won't be any dazzling mischief dancing in them, and he will never be the one who gave me back my heart." He kisses Loki fiercely.
"We're supposed to be spending more time talking about our lives. But I could rut you up against a tree in less than half an hour if you used your magic, and I wouldn't leave you wanting. I know you, now, in ways that your shape won't much alter." He raises an eyebrow. "But I know. We should talk. Maybe after, though."
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She nuzzles into his neck as he holds her up. "It's a human meme, but it sounds like you're trying to bed a Lawful Good when you're a Chaotic Neutral. Always a tricky proposition. It will not be me that stands in your way, in any case. I hope for his sake that you succeed."
That last comment is delivered in a playful purr. Loki, at least, has been thoroughly convinced that sex with Megatron is not an experience to be missed.
She chuckles a little. "I think Thor has a slight preference for feminine lovers, anyway, but that may be his awareness of the expectations placed upon him--to produce an heir to the throne--rather than just his own tastes. But no, I wouldn't stop you from wordplay with him, as long as it isn't in earnest."
Harley has flirted with Thor often enough, after all, and there was only one time it made Loki at all uncomfortable, which turned out to be a misinterpretation on Loki's part.
She breathes out a vehement huff of air at the offer to rut her up against a tree. What is this madness? It's like flipping a switch; all he had to do was bring it up and she's immediately turned-on. "I'm going to need you to be careful about making propositions like that," she laughs. "Apparently I've regressed into a hormonal teenager."
She wants. "...but lets get to the top of the bluff first, at least. There's a view that is not to be missed."
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He leans down to kiss her a little more, and listens to her explain about her brother. He has no intention of flirting with Thor. From everything he's heard so far, he'd rather flirt with Harley. Especially if there's a chance of having both of them. He doubts his feelings for any of Loki's lovers will be as strong as his feelings for Loki, but there's not a better way to establish he's willing to share and be shared than to actually lie down and do the sharing.
"Do you think saying that you need me to be careful about making propositions because you want to say yes is going to get me to stop?" Megatron sighs. At least he knows how to avoid getting a spike-ache from having it try to go right through the panel! (Mostly by shifting her weight so that her open legs aren't quite so exactly close to his pelvic panels.)
"The problem, my dear, is that nobody told my protoform or my brain module that I was ever supposed to grow out of being hormonal. We don't have exactly the same life stages as Asgardians or humans do, but I do hear that other mechs get over it to a greater degree than I ever did."
He sets her down very gently. "If we're going to walk to the top of the hill you're going to have to stand on your own two feet till we get there, because if I hold you like that any longer, walking will become uncomfortable." He laces his fingers through hers.
"I can't believe I was celibate for so long after my trial, and again for almost a month after Ravage went back. That says quite a bit about my mental health, and nothing at all good, either."
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Case in point, her willingness to be talked into semi-public lovemaking with minimal provocation.
Still, she lets him put her down and links hands again without complaint, humming happily. There's a moment where she swings their clasped hands idly as they go, like a child walking with a playmate, but when the path narrows and they need to walk single-file, she takes the lead easily. It's a little steep, but the rocks are well integrated into the dirt; there is no danger of even a being Megatron's weight dislodging or slipping upon them. As for Loki, she moves up the path with a light, almost silent step.
"I used to walk the mountains in Asgard like this," she says. "Especially in the early winter when the snow was still shallow enough to walk through. I used to know every path through the rocks, even the ones too small for anything bigger than a serpent."
"You know, I think I was a little undersexed when I was younger. I wasn't celibate by any means, but I was choosy about my lovers and I spent more time in study than anything else. But I do understand what you mean. After my exile from Asgard, I didn't let another person near me sexually for a few years. Not until Sakaar, and that was...an unusual set of circumstances, even for me."
"It was sort of a garbage-fire of a planet, Sakaar," she explains, with a blend of wry fondness and embarrassment. "And I was determined to work my way into the upper echelons of society there, which meant attending a great many parties, most of which devolved into orgies."
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He kisses her hand. "I like watching people enjoy themselves, especially if I care about them at all. Once, while we were all paired off, eight of us had all of our cabling daisy-chained. That was actually Soundwave's idea. He thought we should all have the same experience he was having. Orion had two lovers at home he did that with and he seconded the plan."
Megatron shrugs. "I don't think I would do that again, it's dangerous; and the only people I've ever opened up to as far as I do with you were Orion and Terminus--and it certainly didn't happen that fast. But I'm not going to judge you for lying with more than ten people in a night, because that would be utmost hypocrisy."
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Her tone is light; she's not looking for pity, but she is trying to be clear. "You spoke of gladiatorial battles; aside from the orgies, that was the primary preoccupation of the ruler and his court. And I can hold my own in battle better than most, but..."
She trails off, searching for words. "I have negative memories associated with battle, with training. And I doubted my ability to win against the alien beings I would have faced in the arena."
"No one ever said to me 'fuck or fight', but I cannot pretend there was no element of coercion or fear underlying my actions."
"But there was also an element of..." She pauses, lips pursed, and lets out a sigh. "In mortal circles, humans in particular, there is a subculture of power exchange and bondage games, as I think you well know. There is a condition some refer to called 'frenzy'. Overwhelming, desperate enthusiasm in the face of novel experiences. I've heard it likened to addiction. I never moved in such circles on Midgard itself, but I've had time to reflect and learn since my time on Sakaar."
"I liked it a little too much, I think, in a way that could have gotten out of control and led me down some unpleasant paths, had circumstances been just a little different. Yet another thing I owe Thor, I suppose. Had he not come in and ruined my fun, I might have just stayed there for the rest of my life."
"But that is a secret I won't be telling him. He definitely doesn't want to hear about my sexual misadventures."
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Ravage will always go out to the knife's edge to prove that she can--that he's not in any way lesser than anyone else, that his size and shape don't limit him, that her dancing and love affairs are proof of her freedom, that he cannot be owned and no-one controls him, that even when she gives herself away to plead or soothe, it is her choice alone.
Of course Soundwave wants to protect him. Not just from Megatron but from herself.
"Loki," he murmurs, and looks down into her green, green eyes. "I've been told I'm 'hypersexual' and 'manic', even. I've whored myself out when I've needed to, without shame. Was prepared to do it again, even. And I do enjoy a wild party, now and again, but now...only with people I trust, and there's not as many of those as their once were, and even fewer are willing to play. But I never want you to do anything you don't want to do with your whole heart, body and mind. I won't let that happen again to you. We're attuned; I will always know, as long as you're honest and open with me. And as much as I want to have you in all kinds of places, as glad as I'd be to share or be shared, it must only be if you wish it."
He kisses her lightly. "I want so much, but only if you're happy. And I think I owe Soundwave and Ravage another few thousand apologies."
He'd let Ravi, who'd been used as a whore in his youth, behave like one again for his pleasure.
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Instead of condescending or stifling, this feels safe. Even if she didn't mean to ask for sympathy or comfort this time, he gives it so freely and sweetly, how could she refuse?
"You said before you heard me cry out for what I need," she almost whispers, as if admitting a secret. "I believed you then and I believe you now. I trust you."
She holds onto the embrace for a moment, quiet, then leads the way up the last switchback to the top of the bluff with a warm smile. "I am certainly not above attending a party with people I trust. Lucifer's angels have invited me before, in fact, though I get the impression that's less of an orgy than an intoxicated mass cuddle pile that frequently ends in sex between two or three or more of them. I've yet to take them up on it, but I wouldn't be opposed as long as I had someone along to anchor me. I can and will lose myself if I walk into something like that alone and find myself surrounded by overwhelming elemental energies."
"Harley and I talked about it once, actually, though we didn't come to any conclusion." Loki wasn't sure if the group intimacy interested Harley in particular, but she knows she'd be capable of reeling Loki back in if necessary.
"There are very few sexual games I'm opposed to playing, as long as all participants are informed and amenable. I've just learned that some are riskier for me than others, and I am more vulnerable than I want to believe I am when I enter certain mental states. It just...feels so good to let go."
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He follows her up to the top of the hill. "I'd go with you to be your anchor, to any event you liked. But I should warn you--I don't think Lucifer likes me much. In some ways, he reminds me of Orion. He hates the violence in me, but it's part of my nature. Still, I would follow you there to protect you."
He slides an arm around her shoulder. "From what you've said of Harley, I already find her attractive. I suspect that you could have us both at once, if she were willing, though I cannot say for sure until I meet her for myself.
"You are also...a great deal like Ravage, in some ways. I think that one of the things that Soundwave is angriest at me for, aside from trying to steal her for my own, is that I let her go out into things like that on her own. I believed her when she said she could handle anything that came up for her. And yet I once I saw her walk out of a berthroom that belonged to a femme who'd done nothing but demean her up to that point. That did stop, after that, though...so maybe that was how they made their peace."
He sits down at the top of the bluff, and gives her arm a small tug to beckon her down with him. "The view is incredible," he says. "Tell me about the things that I'm seeing, here."
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"And you may have to like Ian from afar, or by reputation, but if you had heard some of the sweeter things he's said to me, you would understand why I want him so much. He is a chaotician. He compared me to the Butterfly Effect, and I was so touched I could scarcely respond."
Her eyes are misty, and it's hard to tell exactly what's set off that sentimental streak, until she sits beside him. Part of her is tempted to just settle directly into his lap, but she has a feeling that would divert them from conversation. Instead, she curls against his side like she's unwilling for there to be a molecule of air between them.
"I don't think I realized it meant quite that much to you," she says. "That conversation we had. I could feel it was important, but..."
She rubs her hand over her forehead, pushing back some of the loose, inky locks around her face. "I didn't do it for that. I was only being myself."
There is something akin to a minor existential crisis going on here, if such a thing can be an utterly positive experience. Loki looks dazed. It's a strange thing to have spent so much of her life struggling to earn love she thought she had to prove herself worthy of, to give up on the task utterly in the most violent way possible, and to come out the other side determined to be the best Loki she could be and damn the consequences--and to hear here and now that that Loki, that simple instinct to sympathize with those most like herself--that Loki is worthy of all this lavish affection and protective tenderness.
Part of her wants to burst into tears.
"I never get cold," she says, "but put your arm around me anyway?"
And she looks up at the sky overhead, searching the glittering stars. "Sometimes you can see whales going past, in the Nexus skies. Some of them fly here. They're beautiful."
She scrubs her sleeve across her face and tilts her head against him.
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He watches the sky, waiting for a flying whale. If he had a cloak he would throw it around them both. He doesn't often wear a cape. He thinks he could probably wear one for Loki, though.
They've told each other almost all their deepest, darkest secrets. They are sitting in a place that is special to Loki. They have certainly been intimate. No gifts have been exchanged, but she gave him back his life. That's probably devotion, though, not profference.
No. He is not going to think about this. Ravage will tell him he's lost his mind, and Ravage, as always, will likely be right.
"You are a butterfly effect," Megatron says with amusement. "Ian is right. He will need to meet me, eventually. If he's going to dislike me, he can dislike me for myself. I think that's fair. It doesn't have to be right away, but someday. I will protect him, you see. Even if he never cares for me, because he is yours, and something inside you would break, if you lost him."
Then he winces. "Orion once told me that I should have been the Lord Protector of Cybertron, when he was very, very drunk, and it was very, very late, and we were not supposed to be talking. He wanted me to fuck him and sparkmerge through that damned thing he let them put into his chest and I told him to go pound sand, I wouldn't abandon our people for fancy titles like he did. But it had a ring to it, somehow. I only know that I'd do anything to keep the people I still love, who still love me, safe in this world that has reason to wish them ill just for loving me."
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"This feels right," she observes, calming as the breeze whistles past them, and nods to herself. "The Winter Spirit warned me once not to allow myself to be tamed, or reduced into a single, simple self that does not acknowledge all aspects of Loki. I've thought about it a lot since then. I am a parent now, and a sibling, and a lover, and I can be all those things. I am fire and frost and wind and darkness, and I can be all those things, as well. I can be both the serpent and the victim of its dripping venom. But the turn of the Wheel, the cycle of lives and seasons, occurs outside of us and inside of us. I do not have to be the terrible herald of apocalypse and the tender mother of monsters all at the same time."
"My nature is changeable, but I think that you will understand that, even as you see it occur in front of you. I think you will still love me. That is a faith I did not expect to find."
"I trust you, with myself, and with the others I love." And that is a more momentous confession, to Loki's mind, than an I love you. After all, she never stopped loving Odin but she wouldn't trust him as far as she could throw a small planet.
"I don't know what the title of Lord Protector would even entail," she says wryly. "But you are, at least for me, a shelter from the cold both within and without."
"...and I'm sorry, I was trying to be sweet but you mentioned getting drunk and now I need to know what sort of spirits you drink in case we do have a party to attend at some point." Aaaaand there's the familiar glitter of mischief in her eyes.
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That.
Scrap. He hasn't told her that yet. Well. At least he can try to be cute about it.
"The only thing I can still get drunk on is you," Megatron says, and kisses her. But then, he vents in, and looks down past her eyes.
"I had a problem, Loki, and it got...pretty bad. It got so bad that Scorponok took over the fleet and hurt people, and I had to oust him. I had to get it taken care of. I didn't have time for discussion groups or religious nonsense. They modded my FIM chip, you won't know what that is, but no energon-based intoxicant has any effect on me now, nor ever will again."
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But it's not her place to tell Thor's business to someone he does not know, even someone she trusts.
There's a thrum as magic cycles through her energy fields, and then the form nestled against Megatron's side is Loki's masculine Jotun form, enlarged to be closer to him in height. It becomes clear why he's done this a second later as he simply gathers Megatron into his arms and squeezes him close. "Then I will have all of your attention at any parties we attend," he says in a voice that's still teasing but manages to be gentler nonetheless. "A silver lining in every cloud."
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He nuzzles Loki's throat. "I don't know what the title of Lord Protector entails exactly, either, although Soundwave's started calling himself Lord Protector of Destron. I think that might just mean 'Lord Protector of Ravage', though," he says with a chuckle. "I just thought it was funny, I guess. Your trust means more to me than anything. To shelter you is an honour. And now, here you are, sheltering me."
He tightens his arms around Loki. "And I will. Love you. Regardless. Man, woman, Jotun, Asgardian, wolf, spider, mother of monsters, herald of apocalypse--although I hope we do not have one soon--fire, frost, wind, light and darkness. I will hold you close through all your transformations and be endlessly grateful, not just to care for and protect you, but that you also do the same for me."
He ex-vents, quietly. "And I know. This is crazy. I hear it from Ravage whenever we speak. The suddenness frightens him. But I'm not being manic, and when he tells me this, I remind him that Soundwave fell in love with him at first sight. I'm using my circuit-stabilisers, and...mania makes me feel invincible. This is quite nearly...humbling. Spark bonds come on suddenly sometimes; sometimes, people just know. Thank you for deciding to be mad with me, Loki."
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The moment of immediate concern passes, but Loki will remember this conversation, both as a potential sore point and as a matter that may need to be discussed again some day, in more detail. He doesn't say so, but now that he thinks about it, it's no wonder that Megatron suffered a substance abuse problem. Leadership is a very heavy burden, and more so to someone carrying baggage from his own past.
"I will love you, too," he murmurs. Which is cheating, in a way, dodging his own uncertainty by making what sounds like a future promise rather than a current confession. Is this caution or cowardice? Either way, it's not a lie. He could say I love you now and it would not be a lie. He's just not quite ready.
He takes in a deep breath and lets it out again in a soft, drawn-out sigh, drinking in the affection while giving back what he can. The mention of mania and circuit-stabilisers prompts a pensive little hum from his throat. Context makes this sound very much like medication, and some part of him is relieved to hear that, even hopeful. Thor has been treated by Eir for trauma and depression, and the children have their therapists and doctors, and Loki...wouldn't even know where to begin with his own issues, but despite being built of very different materials, perhaps there is common ground between them all.
One hand comes up to stroke Megatron's head and upper back in a few slow, smooth passes. "Circuit-stabilisers," he echoes. "Will you tell me more? I do not believe you are being manic, either. I know the feeling too well, myself, from the inside."
"My culture, the culture of Asgard, has never dealt well with mental and emotional wounds, or innate differences in the inner worlds of its own people. That is one of the reasons I think the children are better with me, and why I am protective of them." He kisses his forehead. "There are changes being made in the new Asgard, slowly but surely, but I have no patience when it comes to the welfare of my little ones."
"My brother struggles. There have been times in the last two years when I watched him break and scrambled to pick up the pieces, and times he did the same for me. If I'm interpreting context correctly, your insight might help."
warning: this may not be as comforting as you expect it to be ...
Megatron smiles wryly. "Ravage got me to go back to it; it was one of the promises he extracted from me before he left the ship."
He frowns. "I've survived a shadowplay attempt, Loki. They call it 'personality adjustment' when it's done to someone disposable, which I absolutely was at the time. I was fortunate not to lose my intellect or creativity, but it left me with a phobia of needles, because I woke up while they had needles in my spinal circuitry and brain module, and a propensity for manic episodes that got more and more severe as the stress on me increased over time."
He lets himself slump against Loki and cling to him, resting his head on Loki's shoulder, face pressed into the curve where neck and shoulder meet. "I'm a piece of work, and also a work in progress, but you knew that. That's only one of the things that happened to me during the first worst day of my life. Right after that narrow escape, the mines began to collapse. That's when I lost Terminus. I've told you bits about him, here and there. He was my first real lover, and he was already dying. I would rather have taken his life myself, out of love, than left him to die like that. I decided not to go to my next assignment, since someone had already decided I needed my attitude managed, and went to the arena instead. That's when I really started to drink. We all did. But while I was in the arena, and later, when we were actively in revolt and they were hunting us, we had to be careful about it. After the revolt got well under way, though, and I had my own flagship, the others cut back, and I didn't; it seemed safe for me to get worse, and I did. It took Scorponok's betrayal to make me realise how fragged up I actually was."
Megatron closes his optics as tightly as he can, but he's going to cry anyway, no matter what he does. "There are so many things I want to tell you about those days. Good things, even. Not everything was unrelentingly awful. But even when we were happy, there was usually a body count."
He presses a kiss to Loki's throat, where the pulse surges against his lips.
"I may be of more use to your brother than your children, in this respect. A lot of people drink when they have gone to war. But I'll do whatever I can to help."
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He thinks it better not to go into excessive detail about Thor's problems, not until he can check with his brother and see how receptive he might be to empathy from a stranger, but he dares to hope a different perspective--even one as dark and painful as this one--might be supportive.
The unfolding tale takes his breath away, and for more than one reason. His clasp around Megatron's shoulders tightens a little, protective, and simultaneously the temperature of his own skin and the air around them drops, an instinctual Jotun reaction to fear or pain--or the memory thereof. Undirected as it is, it's not the searing chill that can destroy Aesir armor, but the energy flux is noticeable.
"The Black Order had microsurgery needles," he says quietly. "Which could be heated to burning temperatures inside the body."
There's a lot more that could be said there, but Loki absolutely will fall apart if it's discussed in detail; he can still hold himself together and be comforting right now. But he understands the horror being described to him, intimately.
The tragedy, on the other hand--the talk of Terminus and being forced to abandon him--that is somewhat beyond his personal experience, but it hurts to hear. His hands are restless, stroking over Megatron's back as if looking for some sort of physical wound that could be healed or comforted.
"If I could change that past for you, I would," he says. "But if it will give you any comfort at all, I will light a candle in honor of your lost love, when next I burn one for my mother, and the children for their dead families."
He did not mean to prompt such painful revelations, but the kiss to his throat tells him he is forgiven--or perhaps that there is nothing to forgive. "I'm here," he adds softly, a whisper of reassurance he's offered to Thor and the children in the past. "I'm here."
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He kisses Loki's throat again. "The candle, though. Yes, that is a comfort. You would have loved him, too, I think. He was sly and funny and ruthless and brilliant. He used to proofread my earliest writings. We fell in love because we both loved books, living in a place where most of the people we knew could barely read. He was the first person ever to read my poetry. Some people I've known would disapprove of it if they knew, because he was so much older than me. But he understood me, and was proud of me, and I don't remember the first time I ever interfaced, but I remember the first time with him as if it had happened yesterday. It took me such a long time to convince him, even though he wasn't ill yet, then, that someone as young and beautiful as I was then could want him.
"I often wonder what he'd think of me now. He told me often enough in those days that I was too idealistic, and too forgiving, and that Orion--who at that time was only a friend, a correspondent I'd never met--and I were going to have to understand that the changes we wanted to see would mean war. I wasn't ready to accept that until the day they nearly destroyed me, and he died. I can't believe I ever thought I wouldn't have to be a murderer. But I found out that killing was a whole lot easier than I had ever thought it could be after that, and that in fact, I had a talent for it."
He's calmer now, though suddenly feeling quite tired. "You know as much about this, now, as Ravage does, and he's my amica. More than Orion did." He needs to lie down, for a moment at least, and lies back on the ground, tugging Loki down with him with quiet pleading in his optics, and then he kisses him: thoroughly, but not with fierce hunger or urgency, more for close comfort and to anchor himself in the present than anything else. Here, they are together, and everything's as fine as it will ever be. Here, in the Nexus, under different stars. Here, where he doesn't have to be or do anything other than love and be loved.
He'll go back to the ship, but he doesn't want to. He finds it strangely hard to care about the Knights of Cybertron or their justice. The people there don't need him. Except for Minimus, he's alone there, really.
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When Megatron lies down, Loki is quick to follow, stretching out atop him with his legs half looped over him and half stretched back into the long grass. He doesn't hesitate to accept that kiss--accept isn't the right word; he encourages it, taking all the affection and reflecting it back. "I would have loved him, too," he confirms when they pause, looking into Megatron's eyes. "And I will remember him with you."
Shifting again, Loki's shape dwindles back into the softer, paler feminine form, and she stretches her arms across the span of his chest, resting her head close to the panel behind which his spark lies. The cuddling, the star-watching, this is what she had hoped for, but the conversation, painful as it is, was important.
"I think we will have a number of these revelations in our first weeks and months together," she says. "Because we are still learning where one another's scars are, and because we began and mean to go on with openness about our pasts. But I'm ready for that, if you are. There's joy to be had here, too."
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His arms tighten around her. "I don't think joy is ever far away when we're together like this. It's not the same joy I felt when we were in bed...but I feel more whole than I did this morning."
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[OOC: "sweetspark (loved)", because I can google Icelandic but I make up Cybertronian words myself out of the languages they used for the canonical words we already have, and they're all portmanteaux from those languages...]
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She nods a little without lifting her head. "It's different, to recount old hurts to sympathetic ears. It's different when you can trust the person you are with to hear you with understanding."
One of her hands reaches out to find his and thread her fingers between his. "This is beautiful."
((ooc: that is lovely. Loki always tries to use unique endearments for each lover and for each of his children.))
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After a moment, he realises this might be ridiculous. Even if he never leaves the Nexus again, there are plenty of people who still want to kill him, and the anti-violence field is not perfect.
"I'm going to believe you're right," he says, "especially since you've come back once already. I'm going to believe you'll be here as long as you're wanted and needed. So. Probably at least three million years. I've somehow managed to reach an age where mechs start to feel older rather than younger, but I'm not on the downslope yet. Most Cybertronians don't die of old age."
He lifts their joined hands to his lips and kisses her fingertips. "What's beautiful? Us? I agree." He smiles and looks up at the sky. Planets and stars move. A million years from now, when they are lying here, what will the stars look like, then?
"Do you realise that you're subconsciously planning to spend the rest of your life with me?" He kisses the back of her hand. "I want that too. I don't care if it's crazy. I've decided we get to be happy, now."
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Maybe even a few million years, between one trick and another. Which is an insane length of time to Loki, but not inconceivable. What in all the Realms will she have seen, and been, in millions of years? "If I am not permitted to get old yet, neither are you," she says and chuckles softly as he kisses her fingertips.
And then she nods. "I did realize that. That's why I was frightened at first. I do think in the long term sometimes, where others are concerned. For Thor, for the children, for my lovers. I always planned to watch over Harley and Ian for the duration of their lives, even if they cease to desire me romantically. And then Ian's children, after that."
She rests her head again. "I failed my own offspring in centuries past. I had a half-human daughter once, and she had children...but I lost track of the family line, and I regret it bitterly. I may have found one of the descendants. Him, too, I plan to watch over, though I don't think he really wants me to."
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Megatron ex-vents slowly. "Don't worry about me getting old. I feel at least a million years younger than I did last month. Also, I do the same thing. Look at the way I fuss and fret over Ravage and Soundwave sometimes. There were others, but they're the ones who were always loyal to me, even when I gave them reason not to be."
He shifts his weight under her, gently, trying not to dislodge her at all, so he can comfortably wrap both arms around her and flatten his back by bending his knees on either side of her and flattening his pedes on the ground. That's more comfortable. Her hand is still in his, his other hand stroking her hair.
"The other thing I said to Ravage, when he told me this was crazy: I told him that he should be glad, because wanting a future with you means I want a future, again. A very different one from my past. A quieter one, with smaller revolutions and a lot less violence. To be sworn to people, not causes. I want to be woven back into the fabric of the universe, instead of constantly slashing at the wrongness in it trying to make things right. I want to be the mech that Terminus loved, and protect what I love, not throw myself over and over at the things that I hate until they either knock me out for a while or they fall down."
He looks up at the stars, hoping they witness this. "Someday. Not now. It's not time. It won't be an exclusive relationship, it won't exclude anyone else in your life or mine. There will always be other people we want, but you are the only one that I want like this. I don't want you not to go out, but I want to be the one you come home to."
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...really, though, she's not a poet.
She blinks when he stirs, but she can tell by the way he moves that he is not trying to dislodge her, and so she lets herself stay where she is, a relaxed, dead weight. Not unlike a cat settled on a warm lap. But he ought to be used to that.
"Already, you're spoiling me with your affection," she tells him. "But you have the right of it, I think. It's a trick to hold another person close while letting them run free, but we are not the first to accomplish such things."
She laughs a little as if struck by something. "You know, I've given Ian and Harley magical tokens--weapons and warded jewelry--but so far you've only received a towel and artwork by the children. But perhaps that suits you best if what you look for is peace and connection."
Sorry this took forever, went to the dentist today and then I rewrote this a lot
Megatron tries to close his eyes, because the tears have come back, but he can't. It's just that she's so perfectly right about that, about him. "I am a weapon. I'm tired of being a weapon. If there's something after us and our own that can only be killed with a rose-golden dagger that's sprinkled with my dearest lover's tears and given to me at the stroke of midnight at the site of some battle on Asgard, then yes, Dulscintara, give me a weapon, but otherwise...don't?"
He pulls her in close. Like a mech with his lover, but also like a child with a doll. Like the way he did Ravage after he had her the night they took Kalis, a day when they both nearly died.
His voice cracks. There's faint light seeping out through the seams of his chest, and the filigree on his chestplates lights up red. The metal isn't hot, just warm, but something inside him feels like it's breaking and he just wants to let it.
"The towel was a kindness. The children's drawings are hope, for them and for us. If you want to give me a present, give me something you think is beautiful, or something that makes you think of me, or something that will always remind me of you, not that I ever forget--but hope and kindness are things I will always need, because sometimes I'm not very good at them. I want a life. And I want it with you, and the people we love, and the people we're going to love. The outcasts, the fallen, the broken, our own. And the Voice and the Protector of the Decepticons, neither of whom, thank providence, is me."
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"Just before I met you, I had returned from a battle, one that was a long time coming. I'll tell you the full story sometime, but what really matters is that I have respite now. And so do you, as long as you are with me."
The light shining through his chest-plates only makes Loki hold onto him more tightly. There is something about this visual sign of emotion that's incredibly endearing, and that makes her feel protective. "So, when it snows, we will build snowmen, and in the spring you will help plant our garden. I will teach you to braid my hair, and the children will teach you all the horrible ear-wormy songs they've learned from movies, and you will revel in the domesticity of it, as I do."
"And we will reach out to others, as we find them."
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Megatron strokes Loki's face. "Something inside my head broke tonight, dulscintara, but it makes me feel like I just got out of a prison I didn't know I was in. I only hope I'm even half so good for you as you are for me. But I will do whatever I can to make you and the children happy. I'll braid your hair and maybe I'll teach you to polish my plate, and if you want to put wards on me, I'll show you where they ought to go, so they never come off. I'll write and study and teach, and I'll teach the children whatever they want to know, and show them how to build things that last. We'll build a safe haven for ourselves and the children and our lovers and friends, and we'll fill it with music and laughter and learning and love."
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"Breaking things is not always my intent, especially within those I care about, but it does seem to happen around me whether I mean for it to or not." She kisses the palm of his hand, lips curled into a gently teasing smile that belies how touched she truly is.
"But elskan mín, tonight you have told me that not only am I loved, I am worthy to be loved. There are no words sufficient for the good that does me to hear."
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It's strange, how much his life has changed in the past month or so. He's gone from looking back at his life, thinking it nearly over, with a heart full of regrets, to falling in love, and feeling hope, and looking forward to a future very different from his past, a home full of love, in a strange place between the worlds, with someone so perfect for him and yet so different from him that he couldn't ever even have begun to imagine her.
"I'll be ready for this life as soon as it's ready for me, I think," he says, stroking her hair. "There isn't much you can do to clear the way for me on my end; just tell me what to do, and when and how to do it, to make things right for us with your lovers, so that they understand I don't want to take you away from them, and that they're welcome in my life as well, and to ease the way for you and your children, so that they will see me as a friend, and a protector, and someone they may rely upon."
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Her words are halting and awkward. This is a struggle to admit, and a struggle to put into words.
"I try not to measure my worth by others' standards. I know that even for the best of us, that's a fool's errand. But even a god has a beating heart."
She closes her eyes and smiles at the stroking. "I will work on all of that," she promises. "Yule is coming. I think perhaps a holiday activity would be a good way for the children to meet you. Though I will have duties at night-time, between the Solstice and the sixth of January."
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Megatron takes her hand and lifts her fingertips to his lips. "I have no heart, but I have a spark, and it knows you are mine and I'm yours. And I suppose I'll have to visit you during the afternoon if I wish to see you on any of those days, unless there's something I can do to help you with your duties. You should tell me what's expected on the holiday anyway. I don't know anything of your holidays."
He smiles. "Come up and kiss me? I don't think you're seeing a whole lot of stars with your face on my chest, and I've not seen anything like a whale in the sky--is it not the right season? Anyhow...I'm trying right now to figure out what I might have in my subspace, or within easy reach, that I could give to the children. I feel one gift deserves another. But also, I want to kiss you."
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If she had never tried to love these children, she might never have recognized all the places where she herself was lacking.
She sits up and leans over him for a kiss, closing her eyes to savor the touch. "We celebrate the turn of the seasons," she says when the kiss breaks, though she keeps her face close to his and peppers other kisses against his cheek. "Natural cycles. Winter is the time of darkness, and the wall between the worlds of the living and the dead is thin. We share and rejoice in defiance of destruction a hair's-breadth away, at Yule. We burn lights in the darkest hour of the year. And then, when those lights are extinguished, we honor the very forces that threaten us, because there is no light without darkness."
"Last year, the children and I led a procession around the Plaza with the Mari Lwyd, and I know they will want to do that again. It's playful, though the Mari Lwyd is itself a frightening sort of puppet--a skeletal horse with ribbons and a shroud. But the children like the singing and giving out sweets."
"That's for the daytime, though. At night, I will lead the spirits of the dead of Asgard in the Wild Hunt. That's far more serious, and I'm not sure whether it would be better for you to avoid it or not."
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"If you were perfect, dulscintara, you wouldn't want me. I don't want you to be perfect. I know we'll get angry with each other. Terminus and I used to have screaming debates about my pacifist ideals and the realities of revolution, and if it had been allowed and he had lived, he'd have been my conjunx endura. Sometimes I laugh thinking of how he got the last word on that without meaning to. Ravage once told me in a fit of rage that she'd bite me if I ever tried to lay hands on her again, and while our relationship is and always has been a mess, she is my amica still. I don't think I could ever fight with you like that, especially not around newsparks, because we're better people than we once were...but because of those fights, I am sure that we'll survive the inevitable disappointments and arguments. And I might be disappointed by something you've done, but never by you yourself, because I cannot be and do not want a perfect lover."
He laughs softly as she kisses him over and over while talking, returning a few of them. "We have celebrations like that, for the seasons, and for those who've passed out of our reach. Not for a long time, but they're probably doing them again now on Cybertron. We had rites for newsparks, but they haven't been doing a whole lot of those. The procession, we don't have anything like that, but we also don't have children in any sort of numbers anymore. As for the Wild Hunt, you tell me. Will it call me to do things I would regret, or will it show me what the violence that I never wanted is actually for? And is there anyone else who expects to be there, who would not want me there, at least not yet?"
He wants to kiss her again, but he doesn't. They're not done talking yet, and he wants to have her, too, but that will keep until the talking's done, because apparently she's not like Ravage, who is like him, and sometimes has to be sated before she can listen.
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She would revel in just that, the tenderness, the kissing, but it's important that she explain what the procession and the Hunt are--to her and to her children. And so she pets lightly along his cheek and shoulders, gathering words before beginning:
"It may be hard for you to understand, because so much of it has its roots in the mortal, human people of the Earth. Centuries ago, Asgardians came and went on the world as we chose. Some of us were worshiped as gods--and you could argue that belief changed us, or you could argue that we shaped that belief, and either way you would be both right and wrong. But some of our ethos has always been shared with the people we interacted with."
"Winter is a time of waiting, of breath held to see what the world will do next. It means deprivation and death for the unprepared, and for those who brace for it best, it means a clean slate, awaiting a rebirth. An understanding of that is important, even to those more impervious than most to the danger of the cold."
"Now...the Mari Lwyd is a story, among others humans tell, of a supernatural horse that heralds the season. In this particular tradition, Mari Lwyd was a divine horse, the mother of sacred foals--in a way, that is not unlike one of the stories of my exploits, though that tale was never literally true in my case. But it's close, close enough that I can claim a part of it."
"Mari Lwyd, as the folktale goes, was heavy with foal but was thrown out of the birthing stable in preference for a human mother, a different Mary, carrying the prophesied child of a different creed. An old religion cast out, in favor of a newer one."
"The debate between one belief system and another is of no interest to me. I simply don't care anymore, who worships who and how many. But the idea of the outcast, the mother still carrying unborn young and desperate for the security and glory that was taken from her--you can see, I think, why I'm fascinated. She goes door to door in the winter now, seeking warmth, and food, and welcome, but if she is allowed within, she will take what she wants, without mercy, as none was afforded to her."
She sits up a little to sing the next few words, a low, melancholy tune in a sweet, clear voice:
"And now I am Nightmare, I am rattling womb,
The Uffington Wraith I've become,
Forced into darkness, you've made me a fiend,
Bridled with shadow, saddled with scream.
From window to window, traversing the night,
My face in your glass in a shudder of light,
Seeking the deep of welcome befitting a Queen,
Let me in once again, let me in!"
Loki threads her fingers through Megatron's; her energies are rising as she talks about this; it's something she feels strongly about, evidently, but those energies are not reaching out to him. She has control. "In the procession, I will carry the horse's head, and hide beneath the shroud, and the children will lead me door to door, singing carols. Because it's only a reminder, and not the Nightmare Herself, we will play chase with the inhabitants of any home that lets us in, and leave them nuts and fruit and candy. I'm not about teaching my children to actually terrorize mortals, but it's important for all of us, mortal or not, to remember that we create our own monsters."
There's a momentary pause, and then she adds, "Ben thought he might ride with the Hunt this year. I'll...explain that, as well, but I think I've been talking a lot just now."
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He blinks his optics slowly at her, a gesture he learned from Ravage and would probably be mortified to realise he's doing.
"We rewrote one of the old political songs about the beneficence of our government during a riot. The song was about how the government provided for us all. Our song was about how the government provided for itself by stealing from the rest of us, and started by entreating them to keep their promises, but ended by threatening to tear the walls down and take whatever we liked."
Megatron sighs. "These are important lessons for children to learn. Not to steal from and terrorise mortals, but that when people who think themselves better than everyone else deny others the very things that they need to survive, the vengeance will not be pretty.
"I may have taken the Autobrand, but I'm not sure I don't regret it right now. At heart, I am still a follower of the philosophy that came from me. I'm just not fit to lead those people anymore."
He shakes his head. "If you tell the 'cons what you are doing they may join in as well," he says with a wry smile.
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It doesn't occur to her that that slow-blink is feline body language, but the softness and affection of it registers, and she leans to kiss the bridge of his nose. "Does the Auto...whatever...belief system suit you so ill? Perhaps there are elements of it that you may take to heart, and discard the ones that mean less to you."
"If you take what you wish, ideas are available for the taking, as well." There's humor in her smile.
She looks thoughtful, then. "I could have the children draw pictures to share with other Nexus residents, to explain the story a little better. Coming from me, it's more easily accepted as a spooky prank than a serious message."
"It doesn't matter so much how people will interpret the Wild Hunt, though. It is what it is. It's the march of the Dead, and those that join in willingly had best be prepared to honor the spirits of that accompany it. But it isn't solely about death, either. There is an element of mysticism inherent in it. Óðr is the word we used to describe religious frenzy, divine ecstasy, or artistic inspiration."
"I don't know if you have that same concept in your culture. The Fire in the Head."
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"I joined the Autobots in a moment of crisis, because I couldn't think of a better way to express the pain I was in over the death of someone I initially disliked and came to consider a friend, and the pain I was in over what I knew people had done in my name and my cause," he admits.
"It was in no way a philosophical decision, and I am also unsure that my feelings for Orion had nothing to do with it. I don't know if I regret it or not. It ended the war, but I completely betrayed my people. My ideals have not really changed much at all. I had come to believe that the Autobots had adopted some of our ideals and were living them better than we were. I don't think that's true anymore. I think that they were influenced by our ideals, because Orion was once a Decepticon, but Orion became a Prime. I thought I'd done the right thing for a very long time. But Ravage came to live with me and was treated badly, and Minimus has spent his entire life hiding something that no one should ever have to hide, and he is the most devoted Autobot I know, and the better I come to know him, the more unimpressed with their Code I become."
He considers the procession and the Hunt. "I don't know if we have that concept, or not, either. But I wonder. I do have fire in my head, sometimes, and it might not cause me so much trouble if I knew what to do with it. And I'm not just talking about mania. It's related to the mania. If I can't figure out what the fire in my head is telling me what to do, it builds up and becomes the mania. But sometimes, I've come out of the fire, and done things that had to be done, with a certainty that I couldn't explain. We are a materialistic culture, with the exception of the Camiens and a few other lost colonies, in which priesthood and spirituality and anything that could rightly be called magical is the provenance of the elites and is used for their benefit alone. I used to think magic and religion were only tools to manipulate people--like Soundwave does. I'm not so sure any more."
He grins at her. "I think if I learned to do magic, there is no telling what we would be able to do, together. As for the procession. It depends. If you just want it to be fun for the children, that's fine. If you want to share the story and the ideals with other people, that's fine, too. But the Decepticons would want to know why you were knocking on their doors to prank them, and some of them might join in, if we told them."
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"The way you moved on from the Decepticons may have been impulsive or ill-considered," she adds gently. "But maybe it was right for you, even if it hurt others. That is a question only you can answer, I expect, but I'll always listen if you want to talk about it."
"As far as the Autobots, though, any place where a person must perpetually hide their true self is not a good place." So says Loki.
She strokes his face and cups her hand under his chin. "You are a poet. That Fire is your birthright. It belongs to anyone who dares to reach out and claim it, though sometimes the journey to reach it can be perilous."
"Magic and spirituality are the same as education. Keep them to the elites and they become tools of brutality, to suppress the masses. Share them with all and do not gate-keep, and they are the greatest of equalizers."
"I've offered to show Runes to Ben. I will do that, and more, for you, if you ask for it, but know that if it works for you, you will be a terrifying force with that power. Your spirit is a fire in your chest. Anything might be possible."
"I had meant to introduce the children to the Decepticons anyway. Perhaps the excuse of explaining the Mari Lwyd is the ideal reason to do so."
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He blinks at her again.
"Besides, if I am to be a fit mate to you, I cannot fear my power or yours. I am not afraid of dangerous journeys. I've seen already what comes of resisting them: madness. I may always need circuit stabilisers to alleviate what they did to me when I was probably not old enough to be considered an adult in your culture, even though I had a lover and work and had written dangerous words. But they were afraid of me, and they made me afraid of myself, and I still hurt everyone anyway. I might be able to heal myself, and others, and undo some of the damage I did. A healer was what I wanted to be when I was that angry young mech."
He smiles.
"Yes, take the children to meet the Decepticons. Only know that one of them hates me, and justifiably so, and he's the one with a child of his own, more's the pity. We have an anti-violence field, so I'm not afraid he will kill me. He's Ravage's brother, a white cat, small the way Ravage was small when I named him parvilla. Please don't be angry with him if he does not wish to speak with me. I will say nothing to anger him unless he decides to try and enforce his differences with me upon our-- upon our family, your children and his son."
Oh he did not just almost say that.
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She smiles. "There is a human song with a lyric I rather like: don't ever tame your demons, but always keep them on a leash. It is applicable. It's important that a wild creature know what they are capable of, for good and for ill. What you choose to do with the power you have makes you who you are. I do not always have full control, but I'm trying. And so are you."
Tucking herself against his shoulder again, she adds, "I'm not angry with the people who hate me for what I've done. I won't be angry at him on your behalf. I accept who you are and what you have done without condition, but I don't require other people to do the same. They have freedom of thought."
"And I urge you to keep the same in mind, should you meet enemies of mine in the Nexus. The ones with the best reasons for mistrusting me are dead--not by my hand--but I never blamed them for hating me."
"As long as my children are treated with kindness, I will have no complaints."
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"My only concern with regard to Glit is that he doesn't come between your children and his, if they want to be friends."
Megatron hugs her close. "I won't be angry with people who are angry with you because of something you did. But you are mine, and I will defend you if you are attacked with intent to do bodily harm, because I need you whole and alive as much as they believe they need you otherwise. Does that sound fair?"
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She kisses his cheek lazily and stretches, not unlike a cat herself. This place is more comfortable with a person to snuggle against. Sometimes Loki forgets she actually likes company.
"That is fair. I think it's unlikely to come up here, with the antiviolence field active. There are potential conflicts, constantly, but bodily harm seems to be a rare event. There is something else I ought to mention. It may never be an issue at all, but two Winters ago, there were some peculiar goings-on. Ben has probably told you about the Eliksni. They are at peace with me and mine, but I have reason to believe there is a secretive goddess that was somehow involved. One who uses crows as her eyes and ears. I do not know her name, nor am I clear on what her motivations were or are, but should you see talking crows and fall into conversation with them, be wary and assume there is someone who will hear whatever you say later on."
"I don't think she is my enemy, to be clear. Only that there are parallels between us and that could eventually result in conflict."
For Ben
We called it the Odensjakt, in Asgard. It is wild in the way any venture into the world beyond the material is wild. The dead ride through the wilderness, and sometimes into town. Anyone in their way will be taken up to ride with them.
A person such as yourself may find it a positive experience to join it. It can be spiritual, but at its heart it is a reminder that not everything can be under our control. Not even ourselves, sometimes.
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I'll see what happens when solstice comes. I don't believe you've met my friend Morrigan - she's a Pokemon called Corvisquire. She looks rather like a raven, in her appearance as well as her habits.
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My brother is the only one I will recognize, and him only because he is also the son of Odin and has as much right to lead the Hunt as I do.
Aha...Morrigan is an apropos sort of name for a carrion-bird! I look forward to meeting her.
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Thank you. She's never too far from me when I go out. I can call her, either through my powers or through a whistle. It appears my abilities have an effect on animals, too, and it strengthens her bond with me.
I named her after a goddess from Galahad's world. Dark, and unpredictable, but not evil. Not someone you want to be on the bad side of, though.
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Morrigan is a goddess of war, is she not? I think if you mean to honor her by naming your companion after her, that's fitting.
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She is a goddess of war, among other things. War, battle, fate, and possibly fertility as well. A guardian of the land. I chose her name to honor the goddess and the home culture of my friend Galahad.
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He cuddles her close. "I'm glad you think that's fair. The anti-violence field doesn't operate equally well everywhere. And honestly, if someone came out of nowhere and started shooting at me with live fire, I doubt you'd sit idly by, either. There'd not be time to consider whether I deserved it or not."
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"You're correct." She closes her eyes, comfortable in his arms. "I'm more likely to face aggression with trickery than shoot back, but you would not be undefended."
"I...like it, you know. I never expect friends or lovers to take my side or protect me, but it feels so good when they do."
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He sighs. "Whatever you want to call yourself, when the time comes to think of a word, I suppose. It is my nature to take care of those I care for, but you most of all. And of course your children are most important to you, so they must also be protected and defended. If we are going to plant gardens and make snowmen together, you have to be here for it. I don't know how." He notices her closed eyes. "Are you tired, dulscintara, or just cosy?"
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"A word will come to us in time," she says confidently. "But lover or partner will do until something more apt comes along, I think."
But she does understand what he means. That she has made a sudden and profound difference in his outlook, that she has been a touchstone, and what that means to him.
"Mostly cozy," she says with a smile. "I like being held. There is something primal in that physical comfort."
One eye opens, sparkling with mischief. "I think you promised me something earlier, though."
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He smiles at the mischief he sees in her open eye fondly. "Any promise I have made you, you are always free to claim. Or is it I who should be claiming something, here? Because I can be ready to stake my claim with the least provocation from you."
[OOC: this post says "safe" edition, let me know if you want this conversation to move elsewhere]
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This love affair has been a headlong rush from compassion to passion, and sometimes things do just happen that fast, but that doesn't mean they need continue to happen all at once.
Still, at that playful question there's a subtle little squirm in her hips, and the blossoming smile on her face promises trouble. "I think you'd better find a tree for us, then, my dear."
[[Yeah, I'd like to keep things SFW on here, so if you'd like to continue on your journal I'd be game, or I could set up a continuation on the NSFW post.]]
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[[there you go, also, just trying to keep the order of things straight in my head, I went and looked--this is before Loki meets Ravage and Soundwave, and before Loki falls down the stairs and Meg meets the kids, and that's the night before Loki drops the ILY, and the Dawning is after all three of these scenes...]]
For Glit
I need to get a clearer idea of your hierarchy one of these days. Honestly, I was just going to offer to tell them off verbally, but it has been a while since I exercised my power.
How disruptive would it be if every time they picked up an intoxicant beverage to drink it, it simply froze in their hands?
Re: For Glit
I also don't think Soundwave or Howlback would specifically mind you telling them off, necessarily. Just that they ought to know.
I think the hierarchy is a work in progress. Class warfare is Soundwave's passion and speciality; he's trying to figure out how to balance having an efficient organisation with not wanting to establish anything even remotely like castes.
Re: For Glit
I'll send Soundwave a message. I haven't met Howlback but I'm on good terms with Soundwave, unless something has changed abruptly without me being aware of it.
Re: For Glit
Howlback is my other sister and she's cobalt blue. She was there last night. She'll want to be protective of me but she's also one of those people who wants everyone to know that she's fair and follows the rules.
Some Decepticon, right?
Re: For Glit
I'm sorry, you just said 'Tony'. Not Tony Stark? Iron Man?
[Not that that would be bad, necessarily, but Loki might need a minute to adjust to that thought.]
Sometimes people who want to be fair and follow the rules are grateful for those of us who are happy to bend the rules to get shit done. I look forward to meeting her.
Re: For Glit
Sometimes Howler's like that and sometimes she's annoyed with us all. But I expect it goes the same with the other people like that that you've known.
Megatron as a role model. Excuse me while I laugh my tail off. I know your kids love him. But is he really helping you with them, or is he their co-conspirator?
Re: For Glit
But back to Stark...yes, we're from parallel worlds, much like myself and the Thor in the Nexus. In point of fact, we tried to kill each other at least twice, but we seem to have called a truce. I would warn you, he's quite a troubled man under that happy-go-lucky persona. You may need to be gentler than it seems you might, and definitely patient.
He has a playboy reputation, but his intentions seem to be noble enough.
[It feels weird to think of Stark courting someone in the Nexus at all. Even weirder to think of him dating one of the Decepticons, for reasons Loki can't quite put a finger on, but Glit is probably the best choice for him if that were going to happen.]
Re: For Glit
I was kind of like that with Naoko's kids, at first, but at least I understood how organics work physiologically. Had to keep enough of 'em alive at Grindcore, even if the powers that be didn't care what shape they were in as long as they told what they knew.
They're all grown now. In fact they're the ones who sent Rose here to find me.
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I don't know why I'm telling you this, though. Maybe it's some sort of displaced guilt for having tried to kill him before. I'd like to see him stable and content.
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But I really like him.
I know Megatron thinks he's obnoxious, but for me that's kind of a positive.
If you think I could make him stable and content I'll give it a shot. I've been wondering how good he really is for me given how much he's into this other guy.
I have a hard time thinking of a relationship that's not exclusive as really being serious, because that's always been my experience. I probably give my sister a harder time than she deserves about how I wish she'd treat Soundwave right, because he's better than any of the rest of us.
Of course now I'm mad at him too for...
Well, for making out with your boyfriend. The one person whose lap Ravi needs to stay parsecs arway from.
I'm really not telling you this to make trouble. Decepticon drama, the gift that never stops giving.
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Honestly, I don't know how relationships around the Nexus got so complicated. Unless it was always like this and I only just noticed.
I think you would be good for Stark, and I know he has a soft spot for children. But ultimately, it is up to you to decide how you feel about being with someone who's with another person. Not everyone is comfortable with that, and if it makes you unhappy, you shouldn't have to be.
Heh. You're entitled to be unhappy with all of those three as far as I'm concerned. I'm not, particularly, although I sort of wish I'd had a warning before the drama unfolded, but I'm skilled at putting other people in that situation so I'll take it as karmic retribution and let it go.
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I'm perfectly comfortable dating someone who's dating another person, but I don't know how to tell if there's a commitment. Obviously for you and Megatron that's not a problem, because he spark-bonded with you. Most of my serious relationships have been with organics; it's been eons since I experienced sparkplay of any kind. I find Tony very attractive and I could commit to him if he wanted that with me. But if he's involved with someone a thousand times more powerful than me, and that person is serious about the relationship, I'm not sure I won't be redundant.
...ha. I'm not irritated with Megatron, I dislike him a great deal, as you know, and for very good reason. I just think Ravage and Soundwave should be more careful with each other, and I'm irritated that it's apparently not just Ravi who takes stupid risks.
Honestly for Decepticons this is incredibly minor drama.
There is no chance that Ravage and Soundwave will break up. If Ravage tells Sounders to keep his paws off Meg, he will do that. And Megatron apparently is feeling chastened enough to accept whatever my sister says, too.
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As for me, I have an organic body, but that's only a small part of what I am. I'm a Trickster. I exist to upset the status quo, to trespass over boundaries and ruin expectations.
Power is...well, it would be wrong to say it's irrelevant in a relationship, but I strongly doubt it's a consideration for him with respect to who he wants to date. But afraid I'm going to muddy the waters if I keep talking about this, and I actually don't want to do that to either of you.
See, that's the thing, I don't really mind if they all go off and have an orgy together, I just don't want any of them hurt.
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I'm nervous about being too close to too much power, unless I know the person wielding it as well as I know Ravage and Soundwave.
When I told my sister I was going to join the Decepticons, she brought me in at her own level. I ended up working with Soundwave and Starscream and Megatron because of my sister. I'd have been better off if I'd simply enlisted and joined a group of local recruits as their medic. But I'd been Ratchet and Pharma's apprentice and I'd been Ravage's brother, and that put me right under Megatron's optics with Knock Out and Hook.
I hacked off Megatron and ended up working at Grindcore.
What happens if I hack off Lucifer?
And I'm comfortable dating someone who's dating more than one partner. I'm not so sure I'm as fine with multiple serious commitments. There's a certain point at which it seems unwise, or dangerous, to be so committed without exclusivity. Obviously, that's not how it works for you, or for my sister.
Here's the thing.
Megatron and Soundwave and my sister have loved each other in various ways for over four million years. And they have hurt one another a lot, but I think they are treating each other better than they ever have before. The way they came into the world and the war they had to fight fragged all of them up. You already love them. You might as well trust them.
for Ravage
He mentioned the doll was probably a character from a show you liked, but I didn't get more detail than that.
Oh Norns. If she hasn't figured out it can do that already, I give it less than a week. Thank you for the warning!
Re: for Ravage
Dazzlestar is a very cute character. She's a dancer and an acrobat. That may be why he picked her and not the Prince of the Mountains, who I dressed up as for Halloween.
(And wish I hadn't.)
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Is there any way to get access to old episodes of this show? I'd want to watch first to make sure the children would understand, but they might enjoy it. Most of the media they consume is from Midgard, and that's not a bad thing, per se, but I'd like to expose them to other cultures.
I missed Hallowe'en. I'd just gotten back and did not have the energy for anything festive.
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CybercatsOfDarkmount_COMPLETE.zip
Megatron's not fond of it because he says that it absolutely doesn't challenge functionism (which it couldn't have or they wouldn't have aired it back then) but, uh...it actually was a series about people with beast-modes, which hadn't even happened before.
So. On Hallowe'en we all got turned into our costumes. I was wearing a holo-avatar that was a humanised version of the Rosethorn Knight. It might have been all right for me if I hadn't humanised the avatar because what we usually do with avatars is use them to spy on humans.
Soundwave was just a human version of himself.
It was extremely traumatic and I'm basically not ever going to use a holo-avatar in the Nexus again because it fragged. me. up.
The first thing that came up. Or rather didn't. Or at least didn't stay. Soundwave--he is completely SQUICKED by organic sex. He might have been able to get past it if he hadn't been turned into an actual human, meaning his telepathy was squelched. He could barely feel that I was me in my mind, and I was drunk too, so when we found our way into an empty room, thinking that it would be fun, once we got halfway out of our clothes, he was freaked out by all the messiness and also by the fact that we were missing half our arrays and we were both missing the same half, and so he was barely able to see to me and wouldn't let me do much to him.
Then afterward I ran into someone outside who said I'd trespassed into his realm and I gave him some of my roses, but then he said it wasn't enough and he was going to do whatever he wanted with me. I got away, but.
When I got back inside Ben and Furiosa had to talk me down.
Because Soundwave had run off with Misfire, who got turned into a car and was also traumatised, because flight-frames are like that, they hate being 'grounded'. And they were driving around the Nexus trying to figure out how far they had to go to get out of the effect range and be able to transform back into themselves. Although he was incredibly sorry when he got back and found out what had happened to me. And if he ever figures out who that was it will not be pretty.
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I can see how all of that would be traumatic. I suppose I don't think much about alterations of form since I'm a shapeshifter with a wide variety of alternate shapes...it's different to have it done to you without permission, though. I'm sorry that happened to you. But I'm glad Ben was there.
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Ben has been a very good friend to me, and also to Soundwave.
Does that kind of thing happen in the Nexus a lot? Should I be concerned about using a holo-avatar? I know Soundwave is sometimes annoyed that I won't, mostly because he knows that mass displacement isn't always easy for me when this frame is rather new to me as well.
The thing that was really traumatic about it was being threatened when I felt so vulnerable. I didn't know how to defend myself in a strange body with a different centre of gravity, no fangs, no claws, no barbed tailtip...
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I've found myself stuck in clothes I didn't ask for, and I've found myself in the midst of a blizzard that lasted months. I know there were darker things that happened before I ever arrived here, as well, though I'm unclear on all the details.
I've given the children protective runes to carry with them in the Nexus. I could make you one, as well, if you'd like. It wouldn't be much, little more than a luck charm with a shielding spell you can activate for a short time, but if it would give you an added sense of security...?
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I never want that to happen again.
Intellectually, I know that we do have an anti-violence field.
Emotionally, this is a situation I have been in before, and one in which resistance would have cost me my life at the time. One of the Senators treated me as a personal toy until Soundwave did...someting I don't quite understand to his mind, and made it impossible for him to tolerate even the sight of me. He still managed to hurt us after that, but he couldn't do it that way, and then Soundwave's brother got involved, and that is how Soundwave ended up in debt, but with legal title to me and to two of my sibs.
Soundwave
I have not heard the term 'emotional ecosystem' before, but it's very apt. That's my feeling, as well, that we are all connected, at least indirectly. It's a strange feeling for me. I do have friends, and lovers, and family, but there is a relationship here that is different from my past experiences. Your culture is more emotionally open than mine, and there are different connotations to varying types of physical intimacy with you. It's fascinating, and I...am still feeling my way, I think, but you and Ravage have become important to me in a very short length of time.
I have a history with mind control via a magical artifact, for lack of a better term. I was a perpetrator, but also a victim. Sometimes I think I still hear it, and some of my memories are...unreliable. Mostly the emotional context of them; I can sort out the actual events that occurred for the most part, but it still troubles me.
What was done to me had nothing to do with interrogation. It was half an effort to make a puppet of me, and half meaningless brutality. It's better I don't talk about it much beyond that.
When you say 'intrusive thoughts'. What do you mean 'everyone has them'?
Re: Soundwave
I meant exactly what I said. Everyone has them.
Antheans don't often seem to have the really violent ones, but everyone has them. If you were thinking, as some people seem to do, that nobody else in the world thinks the terrible things you have thought without meaning to think them, you're absolutely wrong.
Being Cybertronian makes it easier to consciously delete them, but only if you don't get caught up in them and become anxious before you remember you're able to do that.
Your brain stores everything rather haphazardly and if you don't sleep or enter defragmentation cycles often enough, things that don't go together at all are stored right next to each other. Sometimes when you're not thinking consciously, you'll retrieve different concepts that don't go together and most of the time you won't pay attention because it's simply absurd. But sometimes the random brain stimulation means you generate something horrible, particularly when you're really angry or frustrated.
It doesn't mean anything unless you decide you like the awful idea. And even if you like it enough to entertain it briefly, but not enough to do it, it still doesn't count, because you didn't do it.
Unfortunately, I get to share these anyway sometimes, particularly when they're upsetting enough that the person who's having them pays attention to them. But yes, we all have them. I certainly do. I've had plenty of awful thoughts about people I love, but as long as I find them repugnant, I don't need to worry that I'll ever want to do them.
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But that's different from...
Those thoughts. That's what I mean when I talk about my anti-conscience. I've always had it, ever since I can remember. My mother was never troubled by it when she taught me mind-to-mind, but I always assumed that was just because she was my mother.
I've used it. Usually not the most horrible things, but it starts with the worst things it can think of and then I have to push it to de-escalate. You're telling me that's normal?
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Your anti-conscience sounds as though it is a bit more complex and insistent than most people's intrusive thoughts are. But being told all your life that you are bad and there is something wrong with you would make you pay attention to those thoughts, and give them more power than another person just as powerful might have given them; it doesn't mean that you are innately malicious.
I feel that if you were innately malicious, I'd know. I have had a lot of experience dealing with the minds of malicious people. You are nothing like Ravage's abuser, or Starscream at his worst, or Scorponok, or Tarn and the rest of that crew. Like me, you have been known to derive joy from the pain of others, but only those who have caused enough pain to merit it.
Your mind has twists and turns and tricks, but I like minds like that. They're interesting, and their ability to compartmentalise limits the amount of pain they're able to inflict upon me without meaning to. There are disadvantages--Ravage, when I first met her, was able to hide the source of her pain from me for quite some time, which was especially frustrating because when I first met her, all that I wanted to do, other than find my way back to sanity, was to take it away. But around people like Ravage and Megatron and you, I'm not constantly barraged by trauma I have no power to address, where the sufferer would only be further harmed by the knowledge that I, as a stranger, was aware of it.
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I would never expect you to apologize or regret your own gifts and nature. I'm admitting my own fear because I think...because you value honesty and therefore I wish to give you as much of it as I can. But individuality is something I value as much as I do self-determination.
I always thought I was inherently grey, and easily pushed into the dark. I have both indulged that darker nature and fought tooth and nail against it, with very little difference in the results except that the more I fight the more exhausted I feel. Identity and purpose is something I have struggled with since I was a child. It's taken so much work to get to where I am now...and there will be more work ahead of me, possibly for as long as I live.
But it means something, what you've told me. I'm not a monster.
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I've met monsters. I've worked with them. I've served beside them out of necessity. I've worked for them.
I've served them unwillingly, their presence like acid bathing my processors, every moment a struggle not to snap in a way that would end my life and leave Ravage and her sibs undefended.
And I've broken them, and taken a sick, brilliant joy in reducing them down to their primal fears as they crumple in my grasp. I will break them again if I need to.
You've done terrible things. Just like Megatron. But neither of you is a monster.
You've just lost your way, here and there. And not without help.
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There is something about being a god--at least, one of the sort that Thor and myself are--that leaves you halfway between individual and Elemental. I am a person with a window in my soul that opens onto something impersonal and implacable, but I will cling to both my personhood and my divinity forever, unless they pull me apart.
Knowing that this is the way you see me helps keep the balance. Others would tell me the same, I'm sure, but you have a gift of perception not everyone shares.
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When I open my mind completely and take off all my external shielding in public, unguarded places...the vastness of the universe and all its information comes flooding through me. I lost track of myself for a long, long time, until I first saw Ravage, and focused on her. If it were not for her I doubt i would have been able to keep track of my personhood long.
I don't know if it's the capacity for love and compassion, or the fact that you can still want them.
Before I met Ravage I wasn't sure that feelings like that could bring enough joy to be worth all the pain.
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I don't know that he ever claimed any worshipers, but there is no doubt his gifts were divine. I'm not sure how he kept himself from becoming overwhelmed with them.
Who and what we love says a lot about us, in the end, does it not?</font?
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I am having a moment right now. I've never experienced amicitia. I never thought that I would. But knowing that you feel the same tension between the infinite and the intimate that I feel gives me balance, too.
Ravage is my sparkmate but even she doesn't understand that, because she isn't shaped to contain it. She's a lens, through which the powers of goodness and compassion and creation were meant to shine. And she is everything there is to me.
But this discussion has brought me a peace that I don't know how to explain.
I am still in love with him. I don't even want not to be, any more. I was angry with him because he shut himself away from me when he started to go wrong, and then he tried to make her do it, too. They were terrible together by themselves. They weren't terrible when he didn't push me away, which he did because he didn't want me to know how fucked up he'd become.
She's his amica. I don't know if I'll ever have one, but it would have to be someone like you.
I don't even know what I'm saying here.
I know what she did, by the way. Or at least I've guessed.
But I'm waiting for her to tell me. I wish she would. It hurts me, and I can't forgive her until she tells me. They were stupid, but how can I be angry when they did it because they love me? I even think I know why it went awry.
It went awry because she was still cassette-bound. She couldn't fully consent to it. She couldn't give the Lady what She wanted. And if Solus wants what I think she might, she still can't, but not for the same reasons.
I don't even believe in this scrap line of thinking, so tell me how it is that I know how it works? I can see them together on that Pitbound beach I've never set a pede on, and the only reason I don't want to look is it hurts, and at the same time I hurt more for them than I do for myself.
We love a pair of idiots, you know. But I wouldn't with anyone else. They're alive in ways that nobody else is.
I won't strike him again. I promise.
I thought he didn't see me anymore. Ravage thinks I want from him what I didn't get when he shut me out and she was the joint between us, and she says it's not as much fun as I think it is but she loves me enough to want me to have it, and besides, she is wholly mine now. I don't deserve any of you.
And I swear I'm not fendered on energon wine. I know it sounds like I am.
[Some hours later:]
I told her I knew she had something to tell me, and please just to tell me, so we could get past it.
She fell apart on me and told me.
What happened after that was only for us to know about but I was wrong to say that she is a lens. That is not her function, chosen or otherwise. She encompasses a lens. I want to say that Solus has made a space inside of her for her to grow into.
But that's wrong. It has always been there. I saw it the day we met.
And none of this matters. I'd love her no matter how far from infinite she was. She's my anchor in the intimate.
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Sometimes, the people I love understand, at least from the outside in, or through their own experiences. Ian studies chaos. Harley dances in meditation. Megatron is a poet. I would pity anyone who truly has no contact with the infinite. But there is a difference between touching it for a moment with the tip of a finger, and feeling it rush through your body like the blood in your veins. I would not be myself if I were closed to the cosmos forever.
Perhaps sometime we could...'compare notes' sounds inadequate, but I would be honored to show you how I reach for the sacred, and what I do when It reaches back.
You know how it works because it operates on the same level as dream logic. There is an element of inherent irrationality, but there is also a pattern in the chaos, and that pattern is beautiful and terrifying. You know how it works because you are a part of that pattern.
We do love a pair of idiots, but I'm afraid we are also a pair of idiots, if in a different form. It's all right. You can tell me whatever you wish, and I will hold it as sacred as I would if a follower needed me as a confessional. We can be that much for one another.
[He assumes, when the texts trail off, that Soundwave needed a break from the emotions of the conversation, and opted to give him space, and not to worry. He's just getting up in the morning and making breakfast for the children when the next words appear on the screen of his PINpoint, and doesn't try to read them until all four little ones are safely eating their oatmeal.
He cannot quite grasp through text what Soundwave is trying to tell him, and it's too important to guess at, but he's relieved they've had the vital conversation at least.]
I want to understand, but this may not be the right medium. It sounds as though I should be happy for you, and I am.
Would you like to talk, either or both of you? The children are at breakfast but I can meet you in an hour or so, if you wish.
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Is Megatron there? He isn't with us.
I didn't know the god of mischief heard confessions.
Ravage
Wait...wait, I think we are talking of different things, with the same words, and that is creating confusion. I truly don't care who he has sexual relations with as long as there is no harm exchanged (except that I will never share a lover with Thor, for numerous reasons, but he's not interested in anyone right now so that is moot). But the level of intimacy that interfacing creates between two of your kind is more intense than a simple tumble in bed, friends-with-benefits situation. Up until now, I would have said I don't object to him sharing that with you, either, but the more I hear of your pasts and the more I learn of the way you interact with one another, the less I like the idea of the two of you together.
So in that sense you are correct. I would prefer you not interface if you cannot do so without being toxic to one another. I'm less certain of how he and Soundwave interact, aside from this most recent minor disaster.
But beyond that, I want to be a part of this. I don't mean that I want to be romantically or sexually involved with you or Soundwave. Just that there is a sense of...security or warmth or...something. Associated with you. The two of you, or the three of you...
I wonder if it's something I'm picking up from his spark?
Or maybe I'm just looking for more emotional connections now that the work I thought would be the end of me is finally done, and I have a chance to build something different.
Re: Ravage
I think Soundwave and Megatron ought to interface at least once without any funny business, so they can be absolutely clear how they feel about each other. And I said that to Soundwave when he was telling me he had to be a dreadful little tease because he promised me he wouldn't have sex with anyone else. I told him it was ridiculous of him to say they didn't have sex because nobody came and no spikes were touched, and also that I forgave him but I wouldn't if he ever tried that one again. They were in each other's ports. They didn't get into any of the really fun ones, but I don't see how frustrating each other is helpful. It was pure pettiness and I made him own up to it.
I don't consider this a minor disaster. I consider it positive. It would've been a minor disaster if they'd tried to hide it from us. Instead, they told us the truth, and we didn't let them get away with any foolishness.
A lot of this is about their pride. About Soundwave's wounded pride, in particular, and his consciousness of Megatron's pride. I'll feel good about whatever they elect to do once Soundwave finally has set his pride aside and cried his optics dry in Megatron's arms, and Megatron has had to apologise to him for hurting him, not hurting me.
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That might be acceptable. [Is what he finally sends, while sighing at himself, fully aware it's a stilted and inadequate way to express his thoughts.] A conversation in contact, I mean. Only I suspect it will be a lengthy one, so I would need to set aside time.
[And maybe have a drink beforehand.]
You're right, I suppose. Best not to let either of them get off on a technicality. Or fail to get off on one, as the case seems to be this time around.
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And even though you don't want to control him...
Soundwave and I were forced to go through a procedure long ago that gave him more control over my decisions and actions than either of us wanted, and it took us a very long time to get that reversed. During that time he would often not tell me how he felt about things I was doing out of the fear that confessing his feelings to me would affect my ability to choose whether or not to do them.
This had an absolutely terrible effect on our relationship, because not telling me what he did or didn't like didn't stop him from disliking it and feeling bad about it.
You do not have the ability to control Megatron. He is a free agent. So you need to tell him if you don't like something he's doing, has done, or wants to do. He may decide to do it anyway. You may even have to argue about it. But he's not going to leave you. He's your spark-mate. Your conjunx in all but name. Give him the ability to make an informed decision about things that frighten you and things that upset you, so that you don't put him in the position of repeatedly upsetting you while being told that it's his absolute right to do as he pleases. It is his right. It's also his right to know if there are going to be consequences to his actions, and if you know he's going to make you angry, you should put it into words, because the spark-bond is difficult in that it isn't always clear who's having a painful emotion and it's never necessarily clear why they are having it, without a conversation.
Take my advice, please. I've been in a spark-bond for four million years and it's still very strong, despite the fact that we have both managed to screw up impressively and with great panache. I mean. I got caught fucking Skywarp because he decided to teleport with me and we both got stuck in a damn wall. Do you think I'd have let him attempt that if I'd known it would annoy the slag out of Soundwave?
We're still okay. Everything will be okay as long as you just love each other. I know you're a liar sometimes whether you want to be or not, and we all love you anyway. But please do try to avoid lying through a spark=bond; it always goes badly.
no subject
The trouble is, I'm as awkward with close friendships as I am with lovers, if not more so.
You all give so freely, so emotionally. I may always struggle to wrap my mind around that, and while I'm rationally aware that affection is not transactional, my heart often fails to comprehend what my brain understands. I don't think there is anything that will make me cease fearing that I will break what I have, except time and reassurance.
[And if Ravage were face to face with him right now, the expression on Loki's face at that last reassurance would speak volumes of blended bewilderment and hope. It's a shame text is such a cold medium. But there's a long pause, again, and then:]
You love me?
no subject
But yes. I love you, not the way Megatron does, but as part of my concordia. You are conjunx to my amica, amiconara, and though I distrusted the relationship at first, because he went straight from suicidal depression to saying he'd met the love of his life, you are good to him, and you care for him, and I care for him, and we care for each other, and we have shared secrets.
What is love but not that? Do you think I tell everyone I meet these things? You came to us as his lover, asking to be our friend. That is an honourable request, and we chose to grant it, and since we like you, we have opened up to you and shared our truth with you. There are few things in life that are sure or safe, but those who do not take calculated risks gain very little. Megatron chose you, and we chose you both once again, but this time as equals and not as his subjects.
no subject
Yes. Or if you want to visit, I am free for the moment.
[If Ravage accepts the audio-video feeds, he'll see Loki is outdoors at the moment, dressed quite lightly in a linen tunic despite how cold the night around him looks. He's actually sitting on the swingset he's put up for the children, swaying lazily on a tire swing. The lights of the Plaza glitter in the distance off to his right.
He looks sheepish and shy.]
Like I said, I'm even worse at parsing friendships than I am with lovers. And family is the most difficult of all.
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"Soundwave knows where I am. He may join us. I suggest less parsing and more acceptance, if that's possible."
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"Something to work on for later, perhaps. A bench swing strong enough to hold Megatron, perhaps..."
He's going to have to work on that, as well as places for Harley and for Megatron, and possibly a studio for Ian so he doesn't feel left out...
"It's in my nature to overthink, I'm afraid," Loki says with a little shake of his head. "I can only try. Soundwave is welcome here, as well."
no subject
There's a sort of golden shimmer around him, there then gone. Like a wave from a very recent acquaintance, who's decided she'd like to be friends, but has places to be.
no subject
And that golden shimmer is strangely reassuring.
He snorts at the comment about balancing Megatron's mass, though. "Hello, I'm still a shapeshifter," he points out. "Matching his mass is something I'm consciously working on, but I'm trying to build up to it slowly so it doesn't hurt. He wouldn't thank me for injuring myself."
"Alternatively, I could just have him sit in the center and then myself in his lap."
no subject
"None of us wants you to injure yourself. Why do you feel unsafe?" She looks up at him with wide red optics. "If it's because of Soundwave and Megatron...you know Megatron loves you more than anything, right? And Soundwave loves Megatron, but I'm his spark mate. If you don't want them to do it you should tell them, because I think they really want to. It's okay if you're not okay with it yet."
For Abner
That the car that hit him is not present--and neither are there any police or ambulance sirens--strikes Loki as irritating. Either Abner managed to get a fair distance with a non-functional leg, or it was a hit-and-run. If it was the latter, he might have to find the vehicle that hit him and take some subtle vengeance later. Although, since the man doesn't want to go to the hospital, it may be all for the best.
"Aren't you chilly, lying on the ground like that?" He looks down at him for a moment quizzically, hands on his hips, and then crouches beside him easily. "Going into shock is the last thing you want. Can you feel your feet?"
Florence Nightingale, he ain't, but he's done battlefield triage, and he at least has enough compassion to pull off his cloak and tuck it around the injured man rather than comment on his questionable fashion sense.
no subject
The people who hit him aren’t entirely to blame for moving along. He hadn’t laid down until their car was out of sight.
“Oh. A little, I guess,” he answers, as if temperature hadn’t previously occurred to him and he isn’t really bothered. He’s actually quite cold. He’s still in a sort of teenage experimental stage of dressing himself, having never gotten the chance before. But he does also hang out with Harley Quinn who is an…interesting sartorial influence.
He props himself up on his elbows as he suddenly finds himself cloaked. The chill had been a nice distraction. The cloak is also a nice distraction. It feels expensive.
“I can feel everything,” he reports, “and move everything, I just can’t put weight on it.”
He gestures to the leg with the torn knee.
no subject
By Midgard standards, it's an expensive cloak, probably. Loki isn't sure they even have all the materials in it on the planet. It feels like satin, but warms like wool or fleece. Evidently he's not worried about getting blood or grass stains on it, though.
"Probably broken bones or dislocated joints, then. That's a relief; I can't do much for a damaged spinal column, but I can manage bleeding and fractures. I'm going to have to poke at you a little, and it's going to hurt, all right? Try not to lash out; if you hit me you'll only hurt your hands worse."
He doesn't want to know what happens if he fires polka-dots at him.
He tugs his gloves off and tosses them aside, placing one hand just over the injured knee, the other beneath it and pressing gingerly, using both magic and touch to gauge where the worst damage is.
"Oh! And warn me if you're going to pass out." He can do a painkilling spell in a minute, but diagnosis comes first, then easing the symptoms.
no subject
“I know,” he says. He doesn’t even sound resigned to it: it’s going to hurt and that is a fact. “I’m definitely not going to hit you.”
He’s not wearing his gauntlets (they don’t go with the sweater), so it doesn’t even occur to him to assure the other man that he isn’t going to meet a multicolored end. Not unless one of them sticks their finger down Abner’s throat, and he isn’t planning on it.
“I probably won’t pass out either.”
That he sounds morose about. He’s never been that lucky.
no subject
The matter-of-fact acknowledgement actually makes Loki feel worse for him than if he'd complained. Generally speaking, he's not much of a bleeding heart, but it's hard not to feel compassion for someone who seems to have perpetually gotten the thin end of the stick for their entire existence.
"Well, just don't forget to breathe, all right?" he says, and there is a solid sixty to ninety seconds where he is pressing and testing the damaged muscle and bone, before he's satisfied that he knows what to do to it.
"The good news is your femur isn't broken. The bad news is just about everything else is." The green glimmer returns as he starts to cast a painkilling spell. It will be a few minutes before it takes full effect, but there should be the start of some relief right away.
"Just for the record, they don't call me the god of healing, and there's a reason for that. But I can handle this for you. You'll owe me a favor, but I rather like you so I won't make it anything too terrible."
no subject
“Oh. Great,” he replies flatly. That’s worse than he was expecting, but it makes sense. His gaze does flick down to the glimmer, which he watches with interest. A little of the tension starts to go out of his shoulders.
“That feels…” he murmurs, before glancing up at Loki, looking slightly startled. “You, um, rather like me?”
Abner has so little experience being liked at all, that he isn’t sure how to take that.
no subject
"Better?" he asks. "It'll take a minute or two. I could just numb you completely with cold, but that's not good for human tissues. Don't move that leg until I've worked on the bones a bit more, though. I'll let you know when they're stable."
Everything else might have been a slight exaggeration, but there's some patellar damage that would take an orthopedic surgeon a long time to repair. Magic is a helpful shortcut.
Loki blinks at the question and looks amused. "I wouldn't be here at all if I didn't. You didn't even ask for help, technically."
Which would be a clever way to get around owing something to a trickster god, but Loki suspects in this case he didn't ask because he either didn't know how or didn't want to be refused.
"I have a soft spot for people who don't fit in the world. Especially the ones who've gotten themselves into trouble because of that. Con artists, criminals, misfits. You know, people like me." The magic glimmers brighter, strands wrapping around the injured leg. It might feel chilly or tingly or odd, but there should be no additional pain.
"I'll let you decide which of those you are. You don't seem to have much malice in you. Rage, maybe, but that's not the same thing. Where were you headed when you got hit by the car?"
no subject
“A criminal,” he murmurs with a grimace. Misfit isn’t a strong enough word for what Abner is. Freak fits better. Failure. Abomination too. He watches the magic do its…well, magic.
“It’s…pretty,” Abner admits. He hopes that isn’t the wrong word, but he can’t think of another. Hopefully it won’t somehow insult the other man.
“You think I have…rage in me?” He asks, curiously. It’s not something Abner has ever considered. He has a black hole inside him; empty and gnawing and hopeless. And the virus, of course. That may be angry, being trapped in this dimension in such a useless creature.
“I was just going home,” he explains. “I don’t drive.”
no subject
He smiles a little at being told his magic is pretty. He's biased, and also a little vain in some areas, but he tends to agree. "We call it seidr," he says. "Mine always comes out that greenish-gold color. I suppose it's some sort of expression of my personality; couldn't tell you what, offhand."
Green for the presence of the otherworldly, perhaps, but the gold could be anything.
"I think you have rage in you," he confirms. "Though perhaps you're not even aware of it. You told me you can kill people if you see them as your mother. Maybe that's partly defensive, but I'd be shocked if there was no anger there at all."
There's a subtle grinding and clicking sensation as some of the bones resettle, but the pain is nearly gone by now. "...well." Loki frowns a little. "It's going to take a few hours for the inflammation to go down, but I think you'll be able to walk on it by morning."
"Do you want me to take you home, or would you rather I brought you to one of my safe-houses to rest? If you live alone, the latter might be the better option."
no subject
“Oh. I…understand what you mean. The virus does the same thing. In theory.”
And Abner vomits rainbows twice a day. His mother never questioned him or accused him of anything directly, but she certainly expressed distaste for flamboyance; for gentleness and softness, which she equated with stupidity. For anything that wasn’t stereotypically masculine, because that is what a superhero should be. Suffice it to say Abner did not measure up in several ways.
“I’ve never really thought about it like that,” he mutters. The truth is that Abner has never really allowed himself to be angry; has always been too busy hating himself to think about how he feels about anyone else.
He doesn’t love his mother, that much is true. But he feels guilty about that, and about what he did to her. Without that guilt and self loathing he doesn’t know who he is. He doesn’t deserve to be angry.
“Thank you,” he says, pushing himself carefully into a sitting position. “I owe you. And I do live alone, but I don’t want to put you out. My apartment is…really small. I mean: there are no stairs…”
Not wanting to put anyone out is basically the story of Abner’s life, but he’s also aware that the dots are beginning to form for the night. And the idea of slowly swelling into something hideous in front of a man who both is and looks like a god is deeply depressing.
no subject
The parallels are intriguing, anyway, and when Loki gets intrigued by something, he's disinclined to let the matter go.
When he pushes himself to sit up, Loki reaches to put a hand on his back, steadying him. "You do, but we can worry about those details another time." Some decent chocolate might be all he demands in return.
He shakes his head. "Mnn. I don't much like the idea of you either stuck lying in bed all night or trying to get up for glass of water and falling over and re-breaking your tibia. Decision made. Congratulations, you're being abducted by an alien."
The green threads of energy unfurl again, but this time they seem to simply part the veil of the world around them and pull them through empty space, depositing them lightly on a pile of furs beside a fireplace large enough to hold an entire roasting bull.
The room around them is a long hall, mostly carved and polished granite, with a few ornamental columns and lamps here and there. There are storage chests and some large bookshelves, and a long, oversized dining table with matching chairs, but aside from that it's fairly sparsely furnished, high-ceilinged and airy.
Loki pats his shoulder gently and stands. "I want tea. I'll make extra in case you want some, as well."
no subject
“Huwha?”
And then they’re moving through…Abner doesn’t know, but it’s strangely familiar in a way that he isn’t sure he wants to think about. It would mean remembering who knows how many tons of intergalactic starfish slamming down on him and then…not being. Or being, in a place that isn’t. And he doesn’t. He doesn’t remember. Not even a little.
Abner also does not know what decent chocolate is, but that’s unrelated.
He takes a moment to take in the room around him. It certainly puts the small one bedroom ARGUS has parked him in to shame. He runs his fingers through the furs.
“Thank you,” he replies. For the tea. For the leg. For putting up with him. “You have a lovely home.”
Truly, the politest of all supervillains.
“You, uh, asked how it works,” he says, after a moment. “I don’t really know. No one does, not even… But it’s a virus, not energy. The…symptoms were different for all of us.”
no subject
The hall doesn't look much like a place meant for day-to-day living, more like the sort of set-up a wealthy person might have to impress their business associates. What that says about Loki, Abner will have to decide on his own. He's certainly not a business associate. But, there are some books by the furs, and Loki is quick to locate and hang a teakettle on a hook near the fire to heat up. He must spend some time here alone, himself.
"You're welcome," he says, and looks very pleased. All compliments are good compliments.
He sits on the furs across from him, folding his legs under him in a half-lotus position, which looks a little ungainly just because they're so damn long. "It's a virus, but the...discs or balls or whatever it is you shoot, those aren't just bits of virus themselves, are they?"
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Abner’s own long legs remain stretched out in front of him. He’s still not sure if he’s allowed to move them or not, so he hasn’t. He’d like to. He’d like to take his socks off and bury his feet in the furs that his fingers are still lightly stroking. The sensation is calming, not that he’s particularly nervous at the moment. Just his normal, baseline distress at existing in general and not being good enough at it.
“Dots,” he corrects, gently. “And no, but: they never really figured out what they were. At the lab. They called it a plasma, but it can’t be officially classified. Sorry, I’m not a scientist.”
But he can feel them beginning to bloom (although bloom is far too pretty a word). They’re small at the moment: one on his shoulder, one on his back, and one behind his ear. They pulse under his skin with the promise of becoming horrible. The one behind his ear may suck in particular, but he can never tell which ones will stop swelling at a reasonable few inches and which ones won’t.
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"Forgive me. I am curious, but I'm certainly not going to harm you or do anything against your will; you have my word on that." He imagines after extensive captivity on multiple fronts, being studied and hurt and used, anyone asking too many questions might be alarming.
"Are you allergic to anything? I was just going to make chamomile tea." It won't be long before he notices the growths, if he hasn't already, but he's trying to keep him calm and relaxed to give him a chance to heal.
for mysticaldoctor
Good, good. Loki would have eaten them himself, but it would make for a lot of carbs in one sitting. He apparently had them in a pocket dimension, so he's quick to pull them out, still in the bakery box, and set them on the counter.
And he goes for the teacups rather than the mugs, since he's been given the option, then comes up with a kitchen knife, possibly from the same place the buns came from, and carefully cuts some of the leaves away from the stems.
"It's better if you bruise the lemon balm before steeping," he says. "I'm not actually much of a herbalist myself, but my mother taught me a few tricks. Lucky this was one of them."
"So, dare I ask what the glorious occasion was that prompted all this? Clearly you won the fight or you wouldn't be here." Once the leaves are prepped to his liking, he puts them in the cups, then helps himself to the hot kettle and pours the water directly over them.
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"I told you, I was in a fight and it ... took a lot out of me. I can't just use magic without recourse, and it has to build back up before I - go do it again. I also wouldn't count ... what I did as 'winning'. If I did it's not - the sort of winning I like."
Stephen would rather not talk about it, it was better to think about the tea and the cardamom buns. "How else did your mother foster your magical skill?" Changing the subject. Not - did she teach you magic, it's the assumption Loki being what he was - he already would have had ability, but it would have needed encouragement.
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Or at least try not to die permanently, is what he almost says, but opts not to. Neither of them has a good track record there, but Strange has been through it more times than Loki.
He puts the kettle away, fetches a couple small plates from the cabinet, and places a cardamom bun out for each of them. "She was a völva, raised by witches. She taught me most of what I know, everything that's not raw instinct. Up until I left Asgard, at least. I picked up a few things here and there, after that."
Mostly from Ebony Maw, and he didn't enjoy the experience, but he would so much rather talk about Frigga.
"Thor and I always had private tutors, growing up, but I got more study time with Frigga while I was learning magic. Even if I hadn't been any good at it, it would have been worth it for that."
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His hands looked how they felt, like they'd had seven surgical procedures and functioning even with magic hurt, especially on this occasion. Looked like he might have taken a beating but he wasn't going to discuss it. He's not going to say that it hurt to carry his plate and cup like that, but it's not like he could physically hold it at this point. The Cloak fetched a chair for him to sit, which he did so he could sit his plate in his lap and only worry about his cup of tea. "Don't worry, unless they can magic themselves out of the Darkhold we aren't facing that anytime soon." He meant to make light of it, but it was clearly painful. He didn't like doing it and had hesitated. "I'll be fine in a day or so."
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When Strange withdraws his hands, Loki gives them a cursory glance and winces inwardly. If magic overuse has caused even part of the pain, magic won't help ease it, more's the pity. Maybe a complete nerve block, but then his hands would be numb and completely useless, so he won't waste his time suggesting it.
"Well, I trust your judgment on that much. Shame I can't offer anything more than herbal tea and sympathy." Loki opts to hop up onto the counter and sit there, facing the doctor, crossing his legs at the ankle. "But I can provide endless Swedish baked goods. The proprietor of a shop I've found actually worships the Norse pantheon and quite likes me."
sorry for the delay
np!
That's only partly tongue in cheek. No surprise that Loki thinks more kindly of animals than he does of most people. And yet, here he is.
He smiles a little, not mocking, but mild and friendly. "I've nothing more pressing to attend to. As long as Thor knows I've not vanished into the multiverse, I can stay a while. Wong isn't going to punch me if he comes home and finds me here, I hope?"
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It had been an odd enough day, and he felt very tired. At least the current threat was - no longer a threat.
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"Just don't expect me to make any. I can cook a fish over an open fire but baking is far out of my league."
He might be able to make things out of boxes, but if he tried to make something from scratch, everyone would be sorry.
"Also, you'll have to have the Cloak do the guarding if you want it to. I don't tell sentient objects what to do. Learned that lesson the hard way with Mjolnir. Unless they like me specifically, it's hands-off." He...he halfway seems to be addressing that comment to the Cloak, just to make sure it knows he's not going to invade its personal space.
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Strange sipped the last of his tea and slowly stood up. "I'm going to retire to bed for now, just - try not to make any messes that I'll have to clean up later, or interfere in the library. You could unleash a multiverse-level destruction that not even you can survive, and I can't currently prevent it, so you would have to deal with Wong and the other sorcerers. I would rather have your company and if you would like to brew more tea, that should be acceptable." He got up slowly and the Cloak moved the chair back to it's place before moving back to Strange's side. There was a small alcove off to the side that led to a wider bedroom. Strange wasn't going to bother with undressing and just climbed into his bed. The Cloak positioned itself near the foot of the bed, standing watch.
@Kate
Let's put it this way: he's not wrong.
[Almost anything Clint can say about Loki is bound to be true on some level. He knows him better than most. It's just that his knowledge is colored by an understandably uncharitable opinion. Loki would argue he was having a psychotic break at the time, which is true, but he wasn't as far from his baseline as he'd like to think he was, either.]
If I had a nickel for every time Thor said those words to me, I would have a sack full of nickels I could hit him with the next time he comes to me with a stupid plan.
But no, like Thor, you're an intelligent person who occasionally lets emotion cloud your ability to strategize. [Her second plan makes much more sense.]
Full disclosure, I don't want to do that either. But for you, I will.
Thanks for setting this up! <3
Well, jokes on you and Clint and my mom. Because I actually don't need anybody's influence to be a mess.
[Maybe in her mom's and Clint's eyes a little of a disappointment, even. How could they understand she- She enjoys hanging with Loki of all people?]
Well, maybe you just need to be a little more patient with Thor and his plans. Strategy sometimes takes time. You can't just come up with the perfect plan at the first go!
And better keep your bag of nickels to yourself.
[See? This is it. The guy is openly saying he doesn't wanna do this, but he's making an effort. Just because she asked. Kate re-reads his last text a couple of times, the flutter in her chest something she is only starting to actually acknowledge.]
Good. Because I wanna hang out with your more and I'm not gonna hide it to keep my mom from texting me while she freaks out.
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Don't worry, no nickels for you. Dimes only; they're lighter and worth more.
[Possibly the other reason he likes her is he can say dumb things like that and she somehow still thinks he's funhy sometimes?? Positive affirmation is all he wants out of life anymore.]
All right. Should I change into a suit or some other type of Midgardian clothing? I'm assuming if I appear in full Asgardian armor, it won't go well.
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You like that I talk shit about myself?
Am I supposed to be represented by these nickles or just glad that I can take them as some sort of consolation prize after I hit you back with them?
[She's glad they've reached this point, being so comfortable around each other to come up with all these ridiculous things. To say he is imaginative when coming up with them would be a mmisunderstanding. Somehow, he has the power to always make her laugh.]
A suit will probably do. Leaving the daggers back at home would probably be smart too. Or close the pocket dimension where you keep them? I don't even know how that works.
OH my mom's boyfriend is probably gonna be there. He's got a bit of an obsession with swords, so don't show off as tempting as it might be? I feel like that could backfire too.
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You get to keep every coin you hit me back with, no questions asked.
[Banter, and being amused by his jokes, are some of the keys to Loki's heart.]
So, don't carry visible weapons. Got it. Isn't it unusual for a human to be obsessed with swords these days? What does he do for a living?
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I guess I'll have to start encouraging Thor to come up with stupid plans. Because I want that sock to be real full.
For some, I guess? People are obsessed with all sorts of weird things and Jack, he is pretty unusual himself. A heir, so he doesn't do much other than spending money and his time on impressing my mom.
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I don't know, empathy or something? You project arrogance but there's some real underlying humility about what a disaster you can be that I find relatable.
Also I'm actively trying to establish a cease-fire with Thor's friend group for his sake.
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[A poor excuse! But an excuse nonetheless.]
Pardon my overstatement. I just find it reassuring that amidst the heroes there are some who acknowledge they've made mistakes.
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Are you, by the way? Hanging around for a while?
[Complete and total ignoring of this whole admitting of mistakes thing.]
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[Loki can take a hint. Tony's not denying it; that's enough for now, and they can change the topic.]
Yes. For some reason, Thor wants my assistance in establishing New Asgard, despite my history of general irresponsibility. Obviously, I won't be visiting New York, certainly not openly, but I'll be on Midgard.
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You mean the cat, right? I've been one, off and on, but I'm not sure that makes me an expert.
Either that or he knows where food for domestic cats comes from. Hello, darling. [He offers his fingers to let the cat sniff him.] Actually, there are probably animal smells all over the bag itself. They had a big cage of rats in there.
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[Garm meows in response before sniffing the offered hand.] Sure you don't want him, he seems to like you and pets can be very therapeutic.
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They live such a short time. What if he dies in a decade, two decades, and I'm right back where I started? Attachment is risky. Love...is risky.
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[Clint sighs before continuing.] And sure, attachment and love can be risky but most of the time, that risk is worth taking.
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Thor is certain it's worth the price you pay later on, though. At least with humans.
Maybe you're right. You're sure you want to let me keep him?
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[Clint shrugged as everyday he lived his life the way he wanted to he was sure he should be dead by now.]
Somehow I trust you to keep Garm healthy, happy and alive. And as I said; he can live here but you have to look after him.
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You know, that means a lot coming from you, especially. I don't expect forgiveness, as a rule, and I'm rarely disappointed. But you've seen me at my worst. It's nice to know I'm different enough now that you can at least differentiate who I am now from who I was.
[...and now there is a cat in his lap. Loki settles in gamely. This is his life now.]
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[Garm starts to purr happily in Loki's lap as Clint chuckles at the sight.] Well now you're stuck here for a while, you're not allowed to move while he's sat there.
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Just as long as you're aware I know you're being unexpectedly gracious, and I appreciate that.
And you [He scratches behind the cat's ears] are a master manipulator, so clearly we belong together.
Now you're going to have to get along well with Lucky so I have an excuse to ask for pet playdates.
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[Which he was just using as an example this time, but would actually do it if he didn't know that it would be too much too soon.]
But you're welcome as it's the decent thing to do.
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I have a place, for now, but thank you. The advantage of being a mage is I can rent what's effectively a supply closet in the worst neighborhood I can find and still set up the inside to my liking. You're welcome to visit, but watch your six after dark. [Loki has, he feels, nothing to fear from human street gangs and petty criminals.]
So you're going to be an indoors-only cat, Garm, but I'll make you a nice sunny playroom with trees and illusionary birds to chatter at.
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What they say on Wikipedia, even when not suspect, is barely a fraction of the real story, for any of us.
It was a slow change. Decades slow. I don't know. I'm not even sure how Thor would answer that question because his memories don't match mine. I remember the bright and beloved prince, reveling in his own glory, and how I slowly turned from his closest confidante into a prop, or an ill-behaved pet. He held me close with one hand and made me the target of petty insults with the other.
I remember being told to know my place.
He's not that man any longer, though, and I can't trust my own memory. I'm not sure he'll ever understand that.
TY!
Doesn't sound right.
Doesn't sound like a reason to murder a lot of people over either, but- it doesn't sound right either way.
Memories are a weird and fickle thing. Mine are all fragmented too. I don't think anyone really understands them.
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Your memories are fragmented because you were exposed to suffering beyond what the structure of the human brain was designed to handle. I'm not very good with empathy. Or sympathy. Or decency. Yet I don't want to harm you further.
I think I might be in a better position to understand than most of the people around you.
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Don't think you could harm me any further than that. Or- I don't know. It wouldn't even matter at this point. I appreciate it, though.
Seems that way, yeah.
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At any rate, this is my pathetic way of leaving my door open, should you want to talk about it. There's no particular reason you should trust me, I suppose, but if there's anything I have a reputation for, it's being able to keep secrets.
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You might be the only person to offer me anything like that. Well- not court mandated, anyway. I appreciate it.