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."
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dancing_serpent
(no subject)
Date: 2020-11-12 01:47 am (UTC)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.
(no subject)
Date: 2020-11-12 03:26 am (UTC)"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."
(no subject)
Date: 2020-11-12 04:59 am (UTC)"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."
(no subject)
Date: 2020-11-13 01:22 am (UTC)"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."
(no subject)
Date: 2020-11-13 04:57 am (UTC)"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."
(no subject)
Date: 2020-11-13 01:36 pm (UTC)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."
(no subject)
Date: 2020-11-13 05:16 pm (UTC)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.'"
(no subject)
Date: 2020-11-14 05:21 pm (UTC)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."