driftfleet | (no subject)

Who: Loki
Broadcast: Everyone
Action: Paisley
When: Right now!

[Action]

[Guess who just shows up to breakfast one... afternoon? Loki emerges from his office, looking for all the world like a man who has just woken up from an extended nap, barely open eyes, trying to stretch his back and shoulders, the whole nine. He wanders into the kitchen, fumbles around until he makes himself something hot and dark enough that he can pretend it's coffee, and stares suspiciously into the cup before drinking.

Ugh, his mouth tastes like someone glued one of Thor's feet to it. Ugh. What possessed him to sleep like this...

(Guess who has no idea he's been missing for weeks~)]

[A bit later: Broadcast]

[Awake now, and... well, he looks amused. Which is to say as if he's planning on flaying someone alive.]

Why yes, I have returned. Hide all of the party favors, lock up your sons and daughters, cancel the pedestrian fireworks displays.

A funny thing, missing time. You'd never know it was gone until someone tells you. Has anyone else fallen victim to such thievery?

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

He is a weak and hesitant king. But what kept him from cutting my head off was the intervention of his wife.

She had an interest in you surviving.

[She had power to intervene. That in itself is interesting in Makie's walk of life, but she's growing used to the shift in power present in other places. And women always have their ways in any case.]

I was her son, so yes.

[...ah.

How odd, to stumble on surprisingly common ground. She knows he won't give a damn about her own circumstances-- their previous encounter illustrated that in spades. Still. Maybe there was more bitterness involved in his spite than she realised.]

It seems we are both saddled with weak and ineffective fathers.

[It's all she says, cautiously enough. She has no wish to tread the same ground, even if he doesn't remember her.]

[Oh yes, he is a creature composed of two parts bitterness, three parts spite.]

Oh?

[This does interest him, though not for any reason of kindness.]

Do you hate him?

Hatred is a strong word.

[Contempt. Anger. She's not sure she's capable of pure hate. That being said:] He did my mother a great wrong. Before I found myself pulled into another world, I was travelling to his home to kill him.

[It's close enough to hate.]

Hatred is the mirror of love.

Ah, on behalf of another. A shame you did not succeed.

[He smiles crookedly.] I loathe mine for mine own sake.

I also had my own reasons. It was what he did to my mother that required his death, however.

[Otherwise she would have settled for despising him from afar.]

Perhaps one day I will be able to return home and finish what I intended. Time hardly moves in my absence.

Was your father merely weak and ineffective, or terrible in other ways?

My mother still loved him, for reasons I could never fathom. What I do, I do ever for myself. [Because in his opinion, who the Hel else is going to look out for him?]

I hope for your peace of mind that you shall do so.

He was a liar who bargained my life away. The best liar I have ever known.

Do you intend to punish him for it?

[Perhaps he has already.]

Oh yes.

It shall be more difficult now that I am dead, but I've time to consider the matter.

[He's totally already killed Odin, but he can't tell anyone that. It would destroy his careful little cover story of incipient reform.]

Death rarely seems to stop people for long in these places. [If he's dead at home, that's another matter, but one she's not going to touch on if he hasn't given up, which he obviously hasn't.] I wish you every bit of success.

In these places. Where I am from, it is much more permanent... usually.

My thanks. And I, you.

(no subject)

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