[ O T A ] Nothing good could come from this . . .

[snaketrap]

CHARACTERS: Loki and EVERYONE ELSE IN THIS SPACE BAR
LOCATION: Library, wherever that is? Herp.
WARNINGS: ... Uh... Loki? Possibly triggering crap depending on what level of a-holery takes place.
SUMMARY: Books are Loki's friends. Unfortunately, nothing else is. So there will probably be some violence, and lying, and exposing of lies, and trickery, and horrid things and a really angry fellowship lmf- what is this.
NOTES: **Mod note for future reference: All books are like usb-drive sized devices that pop up into the pages of a "book".


+ + +
He needed to think. He needed a plan. He was stuck here, which put a significant dent in his prior plans to say the least. It made him uncomfortable. He lacked control. Thor was here. At least marginally convenient, but then what? Then what? He couldn't travel to another realm and shake it up or escape in a pinch. There was only this place. Only this place. He needed to be more careful. The Tesseract is gone. The scepter is gone. The influence is gone but the residue remains.

Earth wasn't the goal. What would he truly want the mortals for? They were weak, they were lesser beings in every single way. Play things. Pawns. The same went for here and the lies already woven. He was biding time to learn what he could before the true colors shone through. Few knew his name, his real name. Four had seen his face and associate it with Lucas. Many others know only his number and that given name. One, he knew that she knew he was lying. Two... had slight threat. Even still, Aragorn wasn't a match for Loki. That sword or not. Perhaps it was pride, but he was fairly certain.

For scrambling factors, he'll adapt another, and then it could be passed off that he's just innocently jerking chains and his threat level will slide under the radar until appropriate. Given the circumstances, a lie to keep an identity safe when you're in an unknown place is not too strange. He could work with that excuse if necessary.

His thoughts lead him to the library, the library lead him through rows and rows. Fiction, fiction, more useless fiction. The science was lacking and painfully so but he consumed all he could find. Pulling book after book out of the shelves until a decent size of them had accumulated and there he was. A neat and tidy pile, you could find him here immersed. Flipping page after page as if advanced molecular physics was a casual read. To him, honestly, it was.

Oh, and that Libby thing.

Comments

[faderbroderson]

Something stirs deeply in him when Loki speaks those words in a language he has not heard in millennia. With Eric, he speaks Old Norse, Eric's mother tongue, but Godric's own dialect is older still and utterly dead. He has not spoken it himself for centuries upon centuries. But Loki speaks it like a native, which makes him ache with a nostalgia he thought lost and buried.

"No," he responds regrettably, looking up from his book and letting it rest in his lap. "I made the attempt, and although we can hear the language we speak, those who do not know it hear it translated."

[snaketrap]

You are ever older than I. Stirred in his thoughts. Possibly by far, long and longer ago. He does indeed speak old Norse. Yet his - Yet the All Father spoke when he deemed so of a tongue before man knew of their presence at all. Long before the mortal realm thought of them Gods and Saviors. It was not by memory that Loki knew but by word of this person and that and his- and Lady Frigga. Stories in paper and ink. Times when the All-Father were not too peaceful; before he were the All-Father at all.

"Shame," it's spoken calmly. "I daresay the opportunity to speak such might have died out thousands or so ago."

A beat. "You are of the North, then." A simple invitation for Godric to speak more of himself, it was.

SORRY FOR THE SUPER LATENESS

[faderbroderson]

"I am. Or I was, long ago. More recently, I lived in Dallas." His lips twitch wryly, not especially pleased one way or another with the little area he'd held sway over. It could not have been less like the North of old, and was nothing in particular to brag about. It simply was.

"But it's the roots that hold us. Those who were my people have long since been rendered to dust, but some things live on." Whether he's speaking of himself or Loki is difficult to say. Or perhaps he speaks only of myths and legends.

[snaketrap]

He is interested in this figure, this man, this old soul. That he seems to have knowledges and there is kindship of sorts but he does not speak ill where most would.

"Were this not of your choosing?" The move from one to another.

[faderbroderson]

"Dallas? It was simply one more stop on a long journey." A final stop, but that was neither here nor there. "I did not so much choose it as it chose me. Others of my kind required a leader there, and I was too old to refuse a position when it was asked of me. Age is a mark of status for us, and reasonably so. I was often encouraged to even greater heights, but I did not desire it."

[snaketrap]

Something for later conversation, he assumed. All good things with time. This man spoke with ease and an openness. Were it natural or were it that aged bond? Whatever the cause, he finds himself more interested as time grows. Something this ship has been lacking by far. There was plenty of trouble to cause, those of power and those of use, but none quite as this.

"Might I ask what that is, your kind?"

[faderbroderson]

It's mostly age that allows Godric to speak so openly. He places little care upon the opinions of others, and speaks as freely as he pleases. He watches his words only for the sake of tact.

"We have been called many things, but the most common name for us is vampire. And you are Aesir, are you not?"

[snaketrap]

Wise indeed. He would lean back, folding his hands in his lap. He knew of the term -- like they had become, the Gods, such creatures to his understanding were so oft considered myth. False truths in the realm of the ignorant.

"I am," comes a smile. "And you know it true my name not what I had claimed. Suppose you had ears upon it."

[faderbroderson]

"I have not listened quite so closely," he admits, unperturbed. "I do not know your name, true or otherwise, though I suspect I would recognize it well if you told me. It matters little. I would call you by whatever name you chose to go by, for even gods have need of discretion."