kore_logs | funny ha-ha, funny how?

Entry tags:

{ kenzi,
{ loki

funny ha-ha, funny how?

Who: Loki Laufeyson, Kenzi Lastname
Where: On top of the lighthouse all covered in snow.
What: Dropping by for a receipt.

Loki assumes, as it is not unreasonable to assume, that waking up blind is punishment for the hand he had in the destruction of those three mechanical monsters during the search for Banner. Knowing that much, or suspecting that much at least, takes a great deal of the sting out of it. What's broken he can fix; has always managed before, and so he will again, in time.

Besides, it's not completely terrible, this. Coming to rely all the more on his other senses, the sixth most of all, to navigate. It's dizzying, uncomfortable, but it's new and that does have value. Value enough that he feels up to a bit of mischief, in spite of the circumstances. Because of them, perhaps, since it's by her energy signature that Loki finds the girl to lay the bolt at her doorstep, unadorned (though a bow would've been charming), and depart again. Not actually a threat, just a joke, but it wouldn't be much fun if she knew that much.

It might not be much fun anyway, if the here and now is any indication. If the little sparks that make her up weren't currently clomping their way up to where he sits, legs tucked underneath him, at the top of the lighthouse with his cheek pressed against the coolness of the glass, eyes closed, for all the world appearing to doze – though in actuality he watches, just not with his useless eyes.

Loki waits, not coiled up like a predator waiting to pounce, but like what he is, a blind old man sitting curled up on the floor of a lighthouse, the world outside, waiting, just cold enough and unfriendly enough to make him wonder why he isn't out in it. He waits until she's near enough to hear.

“Did you not like my gift?”

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His gift had scared the hell out of her. She'd already been beyond paranoid that he was going to swoop down from his creepy tower of villainy to exact revenge for trying to shoot him in the face. The loki she knows back home is kind of a d-bag as it is. She isn't sure why this one would be any different.

But waiting around for someone to pick her off like she's nothing is just not her style. She marched right the hell over with the bolt in her hand, climbed all those stairs and--

Appearances can be deceiving. She doesn't trust it.

"Not really. Hope it's not too late to return it." She tosses it on the ground between them, trying to hold onto her resolve and not flinch at the sound of clattering metal. It's a minor success.

Loki forms his expression into a sullen pout, shifting to bring his legs out from underneath them and draw his knees up to his chest. His eyes he keeps closed, pointless as they are, and so he looks for all the world like an irritable child interrupted in the middle of his nap.

“It's to replace the one you shot at me; I thought you'd appreciate it, ammunition being scarce. You and yours already begrudge me the very food I eat. You see? I've no desire to deprive you of a potential means for acquiring more.” He presses his palm to the glass pane against which he's leaned himself and pushes away, turning to slouch lazily back against it and look up at her, eyes open now, with a curious tilt to his head.

“It's also quite funny, you must admit. No? So return it, very well; but surely you'll want to do better than just throwing it at me. Surely, since I've given you a fright, I deserve so very much more than that. So here.” He spreads his arms. “Thrust it through my black and villainous heart, there's a classic. Or stick it in my gut; a slow, painful way to die. Since we're about making a statement. Since I've inconvenienced you.”

He's grinning now, wide, mocking. “You're here to show me up? Show me up. Or are you just a little girl throwing a tantrum because I've given you a bit of a start?”

"I tried that already, remember? You grabbed it in mid-air like a blind kung-fu master. You missed your chance on the epic death-by-hero, sorry dude." She's not sorry.

His words are just adding to the rage that's really only covering up her fear. Tantrum is definitely right. Rash decisions are kind of her thing lately, and she really hadn't planned out what the hell was going to happen after she confronted him.

"Aren't you the one that wants to kill me anyway? I seriously hate the whole cat and mouse game thing, so if you're going to do it, just do it." Her hand goes to the hilt of the covered-knife sticking out of her back pocket. "Just don't expect me to go down without a fight. God or not, I got moves."

She doesn't stand a chance. But at this point it's either slow death via the contaminated arm, slow death via these scientists, or slow death waiting around for Loki to kill her. Kenzi doesn't do slow anything. Also that grin is making her want to punch him in the face.

Loki frowns, tilts his head. “Kill you? No; I've no intention of doing anything of the sort. Wherever you got that idea I simply don't know. Why would I? What do I stand to gain? Nothing.”

Did her strange friend not tell her of their discussion? “Less than nothing. I would only incur the further ire of your human comrades, and frankly that they already bear me is tiresome enough. I'm sorry to say you're really not worth the trouble, and I shall have to permit you to live. Much to my chagrin, I suppose you expect, but I'm afraid I'll have to disappoint again. I am not your culture's villain archetype embodied, and to be entirely honest with you, being reduced to as much is completely offensive.”

He pushes himself up to his feet, a guiding hand trailing along the glass as he begins to circumambulate the small room.

“Though I have seen Star Wars. I could quote it for you if you like. Badly, likely; it was some hundreds of years ago, by my count. Still, if that would be appropriate to your grand vision, I could do my very best. The point being, if you think I'm out to kill you, that's entirely your own fabrication. This was just a bit of mischief. It's what I do. Your species named me the god thereof, once; ought to have been a tip-off. Even you could've laughed if you weren't so hung up on thinking ill of me without bothering to confirm your own fears.”

"... Oh."

Her strange friend, who really isn't all that strange, had mentioned it briefly. But why the hell would Kenzi trust second hand information about a potentially vengeful god?

She watches him warily, pushing herself up to sit precariously on the rail near the stairs she just climbed. "So it was a joke? You made a joke." Is he allowed to make jokes? Or have a sense of humour. Or not... actually murder anyone yet. Wow. She feels slightly shitty. And the guy can quote Star Wars!

"... Hey, what's wrong with your eyes? Are you still blind as a bat?"

“I was making a joke,” Loki confirms breezily. A joke which depended, for his own maximum entertainment, on her fully believing him both willing and actively intending to murder her slowly and painfully, so she can decide for herself how harmless it really is.

“And still, no. Again, yes. Punishment for my hand in the attempt to locate Doctor Banner, I suspect.” A pause. “Yes, I did that too. Still I fail to meet expectations; I'm terrible at this villainy business. It's almost as though I'm a conscious, living entity with more complex motivations than the average rabid dog.”

Though sometimes not much more, admittedly. Sometimes it's fun to be a rabid dog. It's just that currently it's fun to make fun.

“If you would kindly not sit there, incidentally, that would be lovely; if you fall down the stairs, they will blame me. Though I could actually throw you down, if you would find it more fitting."

Wow, if he wanted to be the king of contradictions and complicated shit, she would have brought him a freakin' crown. Helping peeps find Bruce is a good thing, but it doesn't mean he was doing it for the same reasons everyone else was. She doesn't know enough about him to make a judgement call just yet. But she's intrigued, curious, and slipping off the railing with a smile on her face. Complex motivations indeed.

"You're blind but you can still tell where I am. How are you doing that?" She walks in a zigzag pattern towards him and waves her hand in front of his face when she gets close enough.

Loki wrinkles his nose and catches Kenzi's wrist in one shockingly cold hand, grip firm but not painfully so.

“You live,” he says pointedly, tracing his thumb along the vein at the inside of her wrist. Warm. Human. His own chill runs counterpoint. If she is warm, and warmth is life, then what does that say about him? “Nerve impulses...”

Slowly the thumb traces back up again, leaving in its wake a tingling trail, just the edge of uncomfortable, faintly painful. “Electricity. Energy.”

Loki smiles. “Though surely you know. You've the stink of magic upon you.”

He leans forward and inhales deeply – another joke, but he'll let her sort that one out by herself.

Holy fucking shi-- thank god she used her good arm. While it's preferable to falling to her knees and screaming in agony, it's still not ideal. He's cold. Cold and... what the hell-- what the hell is he doing to her!?

Kenzi's not smiling. She's staring at the grip he has on her wrist and pulling back when he leans forward. That was creepily fae-like. She's not sure she likes what he's implying.

"I think you're smelling the wrong girl. I'm totally, 100% normal human. Maybe you should get your sinuses checked or something, dude, because that's not me." She moves her bad arm slightly behind her back. It's still wrapped, thanks to Party, and hidden under her sleeve.

"You made your point, Creepo. Wanna let go now?"

“Oh, I've no doubt that you are entirely unremarkable,” Loki responds mildly. “Someone around you isn't, though.”

He releases her wrist and taps her gently on the forehead. “Old magics, too old for this empty head. And you asked, girl-child. Keep your hands and your tongue to yourself and I shall do the same.”

His own hands fall to the glass behind him, nails tap tapping against it.

“I admit I'm curious, though. Most curious as to how such a creature as you happened to even brush up against magic of that particular flavour, if you are indeed so very boring. Bad luck, if you're being wholly honest with me.” And if she's not, well, it really is her business, but is that going to stop him prying?

Almost certainly not. And if this is what it feels like, it'll be in everyone's best interest that he doesn't.

On the other hand, he's not entirely willing to get himself involved in that sort of mess again. Fate isn't something for which he feels much reverence of late. So he'll pry, yes, but perhaps not just yet.

"Wow, okay, my hands and my tongue want nothing to do with you. So you're safe, buddy." She knows that's not what he meant, but it's still true! Just gonna take a step back, there.

"That someone's not here." And she's not arguing the bad luck in general. She does tend to get into a lot of messes fairly easily, but meeting Bo wasn't bad luck. It was the best thing that ever happened to her.

"What makes you think I'd lie to a god? You'd probably be able to tell anyway. Isn't that some super power of yours?"

Edited 2012-12-30 05:56 (UTC)

Loki sighs heavily. “My dear, I've had dealings with your species for three thousand years; I am well aware of their proclivity to lie. Perhaps you're an exception, but I doubt it. You would certainly be the first.”

And the first of millions... well, that's immediately worth discounting.

“Besides, your world isn't the same as mine for we hold our worlds in our head; thus is the price of sentience. In English you call it perceptual bias, and through it you may see yourself as little more than a dull little girl, another human amongst billions, but I can see that someone else clearly thought differently. You should be flattered. It's ill luck, but you should still be flattered.” Not that he would be, in her place. Not anymore. Mostly he'd just be annoyed. But he's not her, that's the point.

“I have a designation, incidentally, and god is not it; I no longer have any desire to be associated with the rest of them in your species' consciousness, so if you wouldn't mind, hrimþurs would do, or jǫtunn perhaps – better names for what manner of creature I am, nothing unsavoury, nothing reverent, that should suit you. If you must be so impersonal. But my name is Loki, and of them all it fits best.” A pause, and he tilts his head to one side.

“I let you live when I thought it my place to kill you, recall. Even in one so small as you, the seeing does matter. I would not be Asgardian any longer in your world. I haven't been for a long time in mine, and I never was in theirs.”

Yeah, well... lying is basically second nature to her, but she wouldn't try to pull that on someone like Loki. Half-truths usually work better with the old-as-balls crowd that talk about magic like it's nothing. Half-truths and technicalities.

She frowns, even though he can't see it. Seriously? He's seriously going with this. Okay. "Someone else? Look, dude, all this fate stuff? I don't buy it. There isn't some creepy trio of old ladies sitting with a tapestry, deciding what the hell happens to one out of a gagillion people in the world. You make your own fate. No one way up high or down below gives a shit, okay? So forgive me for not feeling flattered."

A lot of people don't kill her when they should. What the hell makes this guy so special. She scoffs... and then smiles. "Loki, it is. Nice to officially meet you now that you're not freaking out and making things float."

“In my favour, I did have every reason to think it the end of the world,” Loki says mildly. “And clearly that didn't work out, so I can't blame you for not putting much stock n this fate stuff.”

Air quotes very much implied. “It's always been nonsense, but as long as someone believes it, you should be careful. Fate was the excuse for my incarceration. For hundreds of years of torture, the murder of my son – nonsense, but they believed, and belief is dangerous whether or not you share it.”

Free lesson there. He smiles thinly.

“They do believe it, those old ladies, and you would be amazed what they have the power to weave.”

What one may weave with the minds of the weak and a bit of magic is always impressive.

“Your name, incidentally, is?”

Holy shit. He had a kid? Also holy shit that kid got murdered.

No. Nope. Not working. She's not going to develop sympathy for his dude that will lower her guard and leave her open for manipulation or weird fae shit. She has had enough of weird fae shit. No more. She is fucking DONE.

... At least until she gets back home to Bo and gets thrust into the middle of it again. She'd go through weird fae shit for the rest of her life if Bo needed her to.

Kenzi bristles at the sudden feeling of loss and her voice gets quieter. Fuck this fate junk. Fuck all the sympathy. Fuck those old ladies and their stupid tapestries! She frowns, brow furrowing and head tilting down to stare at the floor. She has to get out of here and go home. She will get out of here and go home. Maybe, with Loki's help, she might have a chance.

"Kenzi. It's Kenzi."

"A pleasure, then, Kenzi." He offers a shallow bow and his hand, though he doesn't expect she'll take it.

"I am, as I say, Loki, son of Laufey, rightful king of Jǫtunheimr – not that they are likely to have me. Once king of Asgard, that was a mess." Not trying that again. And he'll just... leave Earth off that list. Major lapse in judgement. Rather fun, though, in its way.

"I'll spare you the other names; we'd be here for days and most of them are tedious." Quite a few are more than a little insulting, on top of that. Nothing is worse than a boring insult.

"No friend of the norns, if that worries you. Heinous, sour wenches, all of them. Utterly humourless, and their wyrd-women are far too fond of meddling in my affairs." Though occasionally useful, when he can bring himself to deal with them.

"I would be delighted for yet another opportunity to remind them where they can shove their nonsense, should you ever grow weary of their tugging at your strings," he adds, because the easiest way to find out more about what's going on is to be allowed to. "Their magic is old and strong but I may still be able to help."

Then again, he may not. Impossible to say now.

She doesn't want to take it. Not at first. But a tentative alliance with this other Loki, because knows two already, seems like it could definitely be beneficial. Possibly dangerous. Actually, the danger part might be the thing that gets her to take his hand. It's hesitant, but she does it. Bad arm and everything.

... And then he has to go and mention norns and she just freezes. It's a good thing he can't see the expression of pure horror on her face.

"Yeah? Help, how?" Does he know? Can he tell? Obviously. He could smell it on her. Gross. She smells like old tree ladies. Now she's struggling with giving him the details.

Help like this never comes for free.

Loki hums. "Touched a nerve. Really, though, who else might I have been talking about before?"

He brings his hand up to her eye level and snaps his fingers, a small burst of green flame flaring and dying around them like the lighting of a match. "I have some magic of my own, knappr. Perhaps I can banish theirs. Perhaps I can change it to suit you."

And in this case, help like this does come for free -- or, at least, the price isn't one she need expressly pay. To cleanse every last trace of Asgard from this place would please him immensely. "If nothing else, maybe I can follow the thread to its origin. Tell you what awaits you."

Though they do not take kindly to his meddling. On the other hand, that's really all the more reason to do it.

"Ancient, Norwegian knitting club?" Perfectly logical answer. Those old ladies and their freakin' threads. Jeeze. "Only norn I know has an unhealthy attachment to a tree. No tapestries at her place at all."

At the burst of flame, she steps back. She's not scared, not even surprised, just wary. Incredibly wary. He could fix it. Sherlock was right and this guy could maybe fix it! Unless it can't be fixed at all...

Tell you what awaits you. Just as fucking ominous as A gift has been given. You don't trust these people. You just don't do it.

Kenzi backs up another step. "... I need to think about this." But it feels like she's almost running out of time.

Loki raises his eyebrows and tilts his head to one side with a polite frown. “Of course I can hardly expect you to choose now. I was merely offering.”

He gives an easy shrug, an entirely too casual roll of the shoulders, and turns from her to press his palms to the glass. When he speaks again his voice is soft. “But believe me when I say that the chance to avenge my son in whatever way I can is one I would gladly take.”

That is honesty. As honest as his curiosity, as his simple desire to thwart them because he can, these norns. Norns and trees. The tree. “Ask veit ek standa,” he murmurs, “heitir Yggdrasill.”

And he will tear it down, perhaps, someday. Him or the dragon. That old enemy.

“Perhaps we will untangle its roots yet. No matter, girl-child. We will speak no more of it, if that suits you better.”

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funny ha-ha, funny how?

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