Gabriel has traveled long and hard to get here, to this frozen-cold wasteland. At least, it seems that way to him. It's closer to home than some of the other places he's been, but it is still different. Instead of drifts that bury houses in snow, there is ice and slickness.
He's already fallen on his ass twice when he arrives. Coyote had said she would be here; Rabbit had confirmed and so he would wait here until his friend arrived. "Be patient," Coyote had rumbled, "She will come, later rather than sooner."
"She will come," Rabbit had echoed.
The Archangel hasn't been waiting long when she arrives. He sees her, senses her energy in the splinter of a split second before she simply appears before him. Long, black knotty curls to her - still wonderful, Gabriel noted gleefuly - ass, eyes so dark and feral that for a moment he thought that it was surely Fenrir before him.
Yes, he recognizes this woman.
Her eyes flicker with uncertainty. It was unexpected, to pop out here, her sacred ground, to encounter another. This is a god, yes, she can tell that much, but who is he really? Is he some long-forgotten enemy, come to bring her destruction? That face, it's familiar but she can't quite place it. Barely. Something stirs within her.
They stare, across the tundra. There is no snow, long blown away by the perpetual gale. No trees, no animals, not even the small shrubs that seemed to cling to every scrap of ice and stone they could find. Two powers, one ancient, beyond time, beyond knowing - the other, in comparison, nothing more than a babe.
"Liar!" The woman screeches, wild eyes aflame.
"Not me."
"Then prove it to me!" And she is running, and the Archangel doesn't hesitate to return the charge. The woman springs, Gabriel mirrors, and there is an explosion of light and feathers and all sorts of cold as they meet. The goddess is lightning-quick nails and claws and ragged black feathers, and the god is powerful, exacting strikes and mottled brown.
They push back, each falling to the ground in a crouch. Each smiling in that lopsided, devious way that identified their kind. Two adversaries, two equals of wings and might and chaos. Beings of wisdom and madness and infinite laughter.
Tricksters.
"Welcome back, Loki," comes the panted greeting.
"Haven't missed you at all, Raven."
