“Nearly.” But Loki has had a very long time to perfect himself. And speaking of perfection, he sketches a perfect bow, complete with sardonic flourish.
“I am Loki, son of Laufey, rightful king of Jǫtunheimr, once king of Asgard, God of Mischief... et cetera.” The rest isn't important. Even most of what he's said isn't terribly important. He is Loki, the rest is merely elaboration.
“So, you see, you've nothing to fear, really. I'm you. Your archetypes embodied, your stories, your imaginations; every dark, crawling, little thing. Your fools, your jesters; you laugh and your humour is me. I am insubstantial, nothing more than the things you hold in the back of your head, or should; all your filthy little secrets and all the things you fear, the lines you dare not cross; I am your mirror. Nothing more than that.” He straightens from the bow.
“Or so the job description implies. God. I'll let you decide the weight of the word. And of mine own.” Loki's gaze turns out to sea, but his smirk never falters. "If you were to ask me, I would deem it all nonsense, but perhaps that's the lie. Loki Silvertongue, the Liesmith; thus men have named me. And you've names too, I expect; I fain would know them."
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“I am Loki, son of Laufey, rightful king of Jǫtunheimr, once king of Asgard, God of Mischief... et cetera.” The rest isn't important. Even most of what he's said isn't terribly important. He is Loki, the rest is merely elaboration.
“So, you see, you've nothing to fear, really. I'm you. Your archetypes embodied, your stories, your imaginations; every dark, crawling, little thing. Your fools, your jesters; you laugh and your humour is me. I am insubstantial, nothing more than the things you hold in the back of your head, or should; all your filthy little secrets and all the things you fear, the lines you dare not cross; I am your mirror. Nothing more than that.” He straightens from the bow.
“Or so the job description implies. God. I'll let you decide the weight of the word. And of mine own.” Loki's gaze turns out to sea, but his smirk never falters. "If you were to ask me, I would deem it all nonsense, but perhaps that's the lie. Loki Silvertongue, the Liesmith; thus men have named me. And you've names too, I expect; I fain would know them."