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."
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dancing_serpent
(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."