driftfleet | (no subject)

No one, I suspect.

Have you known me to be silent at all?

[It depends on how one defines silence. Another of his contradictions, he supposes. He can talk all day and say nothing at all.]

[ Leto gives him a dry look. ]

You are silent on what matters, and you are skilled in the art of deflection.

[A brief grin.]

Does anything matter at all?

[It all matters so much, and not in the slightest. Holding conflicting viewpoints is an art.

But yes, he is very good at deflecting.]

Yes, Loki. It matters.

[Though the question is more if anything matters to Loki. Some days more than others.]

And that is why you've still a heart left to be broken.

[ He laughs. ]

It is the day I die. What do I care if my heart is broken then?

Perhaps if you were wise enough to have no heart, you'd manage to survive. [Snort.]

[ He laughs. ]

Survival is not my business and I can do that easily enough. More easily than anyone else here. You survive to spite those who said you cannot. But are you surviving or living?

[He laughs softly.]

I am biding my time. Perhaps I shall eat death's heart.

[ Leto stays quiet at that, an odd, telling silence. For Leto, when all time is open, all deaths are open too. The where or when rarely matters when he can see it all. ]

Perhaps.

[Sidelong look.]

How shall I die this time?

[ He counters fluidly, with a smile. ]

Are you not already dead?

[Loki simply spreads his hands as if to say, What would you have of me?]

[ Leto shrugs. ]

Best not to ask me questions I will not answer.

That would be very boring.

Ah, but it does save on time.

Time is one thing I do not lack.

Are you sure?

[ When others talk about time, it only serves to depress him. ]

[Amused:] Oh dear, so I'll be dying soon, shall I?

[ He rolls his eyes, faintly annoyed. ]

For a God, you have a very provincial view of time.

[A perfect mimic of Leto's tones.]

For a God, you seem to be in an awful rush.

Not really. But I don't perceive time the same way most of you do. There's no difference in a minute or a year.

[A slight narrowing of the eyes.]

And I do not perceive time as humans do. [Watch it. He won't be put in a box with the little cockroaches.]

[ He is suddenly vividly reminded of Feyd'Rautha, distant cousin. The flare of the nostrils, the narrowing of the eyes. He wonders why the Asgardians never learned the art of muscles, to tend to the face as much as the body. Loki has some of the art but not quite as close as the other Loki or a Bene Gesserit. ]

Of course not. I said most, not human.

[By Asgardian standards, he's terrifyingly opaque even at the best of times. But in this case, it could be that he's decided to be a bit more open toward Leto in some ways, because he rather likes Leto.

Or it could be that little streak of madness in him. He's never been the same since the black hole, the mind stone, Frigga's death.

So many possibilities from which to pick.]

Most of my species of monster is graciously dead. [A simple observation. Too bad he hadn't gotten to finish the job.

He shrugs and leans his head back again, eyes closed.]

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