driftfleet | (no subject)

[ He hums lightly, mulling it over. Witch-blood is in his veins, their teachings in his mind. He will never be one of them, but they were the closest thing he would have to kin in the later centuries. ]

Her use of magic is akin to the Bene Gesserit. She has their ilk, though she would be a lot kinder.

Really, is that the sort of magic you practice?

[Delivered so mildly. Not from what he's observed. He's never seen Leto take such a direct control over physical reality, but perhaps the man just hasn't wished to do so.]

She was very kind, always. The goddess of hearth and home.

[He smiles.]

And oh, but she was fierce to those who crossed her hospitality.

Akin. Not quite the same.

[ There is a different art to the kind of illusions and subterfuge that the Bene Gesserit practice. All human abilities, honed to their peak. To many, they would seem supernatural. ]

I see the world outside of myself differently, rather than the world within my skin. [It isn't something that can be described, only experienced.]

[ He touches the worm-skin briefly, a reminder. ]

My skin is not my own.

[ With a brief chuckle, his grim demeanor washes away. ]

So I think little of it. Worlds and skins, magic and science. What do they mean to me?

The world you define seems enough to die for. [A little, throw-away hand gesture.

He finds it so odd, Leto's remarks about skin, when he hates his own skin so very keenly at times.]

Magics are the greatest part of me. [Before the tricks, before the lies, there was always magic.]

[ He tilts his head slightly, a brief acknowledgement. His smile is real and full, in that terrible way where you cannot rend or tear or destroy. Bereft of bittersweetness and regret. ]

I would prefer to die in the traditional sense . . . but such things cannot be helped.

Magic lives in you. Breathes in you. It is why Loki is still crucial to the fabric.

Mmm. We could have that argument again, but I find myself disinclined today. I'd hate to wear it out so quickly.

[Crucial? Now that is an odd thought indeed. He's always in his own mind been the pewling runt, fighting tooth and nail to keep from being eradicated by a universe that hates his very existence. The opposite of being crucial, really.]

Ah.

I'd have to see the weave of such fabric and see if it suits first.

If it does not, you'll do what you have done best. Change the rules.

The sound of rules shattering is ever music to my ears.

The thought of being so crucial... perhaps less so, for I am a feckless thing. [He grins. Oh, but he does thirst for... not so much importance, as validation. Power.] Though if there were not magic in the universe, it would be a colorless place indeed.

[ He clicks his tongue. Magic is not his domain. ]

I would not say colorless. Muted, perhaps, but not so different.

Oh Leto. If only you could see through my eyes, you might understand.

I lived for a time with all the magic torn from my blood. And I lived for another time with my eyes blinded. Given the choice, I would take the latter.

I see too much as it is.

[ But he acknowledges the point. There's plenty he cannot see or fathom. The world of magics is too distant from him. Leto only sees realities. Too many realities could stifle anyone's creativity. ]

'twould benefit you to see differently.

Looking at things sideways tends to be enlightening.

I am aware. But my ability to do so is . . . [ He waves a hand flippantly. When there's too much in your head, it is difficult to separate the unknowns from what is known. ]

Perhaps some day I shall trust you enough to lend you my eyes.

[Likely not. That would require the level of trust he gave only to Frigga, and then only too late.

Trust he'd offered to Rogue once, come to think of it. So perhaps not as impossible as it could be.]

Edited 2016-04-24 07:16 (UTC)

[ He softens at that. For Loki to even speak of it is an large decision. ]

Then for now, I'll continue to trust what you say.

Beautiful fool.

[Speak to him so sweetly, Leto, and you will turn his head.]

I have never denied it.

[He considers for a moment, then holds out his hand to Leto. It may be the time for some small measure of truth.]

[ He takes it without hesitation. ]

Closer. [He gives Leto's hand a little tug. Ultimate, he wants the man sitting in front of him, so that they face the same direction.]

[ He tilts his head, a slight smile playing on his lips before he follows and kneels, sitting on his knees and looking demure. ]

[Loki leans forward to slide his arms under Leto's, picking his hands up and turning them so they rest, palm up, on Loki's palms.]

Attend well.

[He presses palms together, then unfolds them like opening a book, light shattering in the space between. Leto's hands are so curiously warm against his, but for once his own skin might match, the warm flow of his magic melting away natural chill. He speaks near Leto's ear, letting that magic play up through his fingers.]

Stir [thy--no, he is still not so familiar with Leto as that] your fingers, and you shall feel the waves of light vibrating as strings on a lute.

[ His eye lashes flutter at that. ]

Shall I play a tune?

[ But he obeys. He pulls out the memory of playing a lute and his fingers move accordingly. ]

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