Chapter Four: Sometime around noon in Udaipur, India on August 20th, 2006
Eilís / Elizabeth Greene:
» born in Ireland and alleged cuckoo's egg of the Irish pantheon; different from any other supernatural / possibly a demigoddess *Well, well, ain't she just one special snowflake?
» her mother left her shortly after Eilís came into existence and the Irish deities locked her away for a couple decades until she was eventually discovered and freed by a foreign god from the Norse pantheon *Now that's one legit excuse for having this freaky Miss Sunshine thing going on...
» seems to be immortal *Pretty sure it should be either/or — how old's she anyway?
» lost her voice and some of her powers a while back; borrows one if she needs it although she has to ask for permission *Shame there isn't a lost and found for that kinda stuff, huh?
» ability to create illusions and see through them / fire affinity *No kidding, she's a friggin' pyro!
» same reaction most Celtic creatures from the British Isles have to cream *What reaction? Why's everybody going on and on about this without explaining just what the hell's wrong with those supernatural Brits? She having difficulties with dairy stuffs or what?
» weaknesses: iron, silver, rowan wood — and Dean, if you read this, save us all the trouble and just accept that none of those materials are actually fatal to her *Yeah, blame me for not trusting a fucking monster, Bobby!
— a couple of Bobby's notes on Liz, with the some added 'annotations' from a considerably drunk Dean
So, if Gabriel had actually taken this whole witness protection thing a bit more seriously, little Betsy would have been the dead last thing on the ultimate list of hell naw.
As in, if there were such a thing as a sigil to summon her, it probably would have been some sort of precursor for the biohazard warning sign.
Or, at least, that's what Gabriel thought when he'd first stumbled upon the Irish oddball all those years ago. After all, one only needed to take a good look at the child to know that she was the kind of trouble everyone avoided at all costs. As if the fact that her so-called family had kept her locked away inside that windowless room wasn't already enough of a hint.
… So, naturally, he'd busted her out of there — or abducted her, as those Irish douchebags would later claim.
And Liz, well, she'd ended up staying around after that.
… handing out just deserts, exploring exotic places, tricking local gods, helping him knock idiots off their high horses, playing ding-dong ditch, tag teaming on Hel to make sure she didn't overdo things by getting her hooked on stupid TV shows, playing fetch with Fenrir, taking in fourteen-year old girls who'd sold their soul to get rid of their abusive parents, doing crosswords, alternating between being the best wingman in existence and then again trying to ruffle his feathers at any given opportunity…
Well, all in all, Bets was… the most stubborn and infuriating little shit he'd ever had the pleasure of meeting.
She had habits. Lots and odd ones, like sticking her cute little nose where it clearly didn't belong — which, honestly had to be some bastardized version of OCD. Not to mention that her concept of civic duty had her walking into sketchy bars to politely interrupt the dealings of mafia head honchos just to tell them about the car lights someone must've left on, and how it would be a bloody shame if their battery died because of it.
He'd sat her down when he had heard about that one.
He'd sat her down a loooot of times.
But since her social awkwardness apparently only came in a twin pack with that sort of suicidal enthusiasm that had him regularly tripping over his wingtips like a freakin' hatchling, Gabriel had a nagging feeling that things wouldn't change.
He also suspected that the whole concept of Bets could be his dad attempt to teach him one last lesson before the stress finally wore him down.
Which had give him a minor panic attack and raised the important question of why the hell he was putting up with this?
Why did he bother to keep around a being that did not only insist on celebrating birthdays, but also preferred to go out and shop locally instead of just letting him work his magic? A walking, talking magical hazard who still believed in such ridiculous things such as promises and loyalty beyond the point of bon ton.
But then Bets had persuaded him to buy the cheesiest family organizer one day; telling him that this way they could all keep track of each other's activities whenever they spent time apart.
Because Elizabeth friggin' Greene would miss him.
Not because he was powerful and knew his way out of trouble. Hell, it wasn't even like either of them had ever even tried to make a pass at the other — well, except for shits and giggles, or to get out of nasty predicaments.
When they spent time together it wasn't out of obligation or necessity. Not because it was written somewhere and hardly because anyone had ever told them to…
In the eons Gabriel had been in existence, he'd never thought that he would ever meet someone who'd just let him be, allowed him to be comfortable with the path he chose and accept him for what he was while encouraging him to be what he'd always wanted to be.
So, yeah, he'd be damned if he wouldn't miss his Irish little oddball too.
And he'd bought that stupid family organizer.
Because how would you even start to argue against someone like that? Gabriel certainly hadn't. After all, he'd learnt to recognize a lost battle once he saw that look on her face. And while it was hardly an excuse, the archangel took no small amount of comfort in the fact that he wasn't the only push-over.
Two days after Liz had proudly put the calendar up in their flat, the former archangel had caught Hel painstakingly transferring her whole work schedule with a pink glitter pen.
Fenrir's rare scribbles were mostly done in blue, Sleipnir had only agreed to Liz' antics because he was allowed to use his favorite 'carrot-color'while Jörmungandr's beautiful cursive was done in multicolor and Gabriel had very reluctantly accepted metallic gold.
And it would have been all fine and dandy if Betsy's last calendar entry wouldn't still be dating back to that darned sixteenth of December — a small slot filled with the words Meet me at Inverness Cemetery in neat sparkling green.
Just thinking about it made Gabriel's feathers twitch.
'Should've just hopped back in time' he thought bitterly as he ran one hand through his hair to stop them from just snapping her here. 'One teeny-tiny change and I wouldn't have to worry 'bout Tinkerbell wandering about unsupervised now that it's 'all systems go' in heaven and hell.'
But for some reason Gabriel hadn't gone back after what had happened on that graveyard in Scotland. Probably for the same reasons he couldn't bring himself to do so now. Even if the mere thought of just returning things to how they used to be —how they were supposed to be— couldn't have been more tempting.
Although, by now, the idea of simply tracking down his wayward oddball so that he could ground her skinny Irish ass certainly held some appeal.
If only it weren't for…
»I think I'd like to be on my own for a while, Loke. I'll be fine— we'll be fine, but… Could you please give me some time?«
… and now it was August and Gabriel was still checking that damned calendar at least twice a day for a new entry, any sign that she'd soon be back so that he could keep an eye on her. If Bale hadn't invited him out to play, the archangel would have probably hunted Bets down regardless of her wishes. This way, however, the Maya Trickster had assured him that he'd be—
"— too awfully busy carousing around the world with that over-sized piñata of yours to even think about checking up on your children!" Kali successfully derailed his train of thought for him; her dark eyes narrowing disapprovingly at the Trickster's candy-filled companion on the settee besides him.
'Ah, riiight. I did fall for Kali's fake booty prayer' Gabriel sighed inwardly as his amber gaze swept through the grand reception room of Kali's summer palace — taking in the round cushions, bolsters and hand-woven carpets that covered most of the blue stone tiles.
And of course the furious goddess who was still towering over his sitting form.
Pursing his lips, the runaway archangel contemplated how to best get out of this situation — preferably without starting a war, feud or anything equally bothersome. When he noticed that Kali's attention hadn't shifted, he followed her line of sight to find her still staring at the colorful papier-mâché donkey.
He realized a bit belatedly that the piñata was still sporting a (by now half-eaten) candy bra.
The sign around its neck that read: Betsy 2.0 (the improved version)
"It was a gift from Xbalanque" he eventually offered instead of commenting on the fact that he was pretty sure that there had been a pair of matching panties at one point…
Perhaps Bale had pocketed them in exchange for the promise of a private tour around his newly acquired sweets factory — including but not limited to scantily clad samba dancers from Rio covered in melted chocolate, bent on breaking every health rule…
"How very thoughtful of him" the goddess deadpanned with literally all of her arms crossed; her true form slightly blurring through the outlines of her attractive vessel. "Is there anything else you would like to say after what I've just told you?"
'Yes' Gabriel thought to himself as he busied himself with neatly arranging the fringes of one of the cushions. 'Cause, if I'm being perfectly honest, I only followed your summon since it usually —at some point— involves a few rounds of incredible post break-up sex.'
Instead Gabriel merely gave a wistful sigh as he wracked his brains for which of the brats would most likely be responsible for pissing Kali off like this. He wasn't entirely sure just what kinda stunt they'd pulled, or what they'd done to that cow Kali had talked about earlier, but holy cannelloni, he'd have to congratulate them for—
"Have you listened to even a single word of what I said just now?" the dark-haired goddess challenged him with a dangerously low quality to her voice; completely unapologetic about interrupting his private little bingo game of Who fits the shoe?
It certainly didn't help when Gabriel just smirked at the shockwaves of capricious magia that promised pain and retribution depending on his answer. But then again, Kali didn't do soft. She was a goddess who demanded attention, taking what she wanted, when she wanted it and… yeah, okay, Betsy was probably right. He was a total sucker for that.
"Oh, believe me, I got it, sugar" Gabriel assured her easily; having finally made up his mind about which one of the nuisances would serve as the most convenient scapegoat. "Look, that boy always had this weird thing with cows, alright? I've tried talking him out of it after he'd picked a fight with the ox from that Chinese zodiac gang… Buthey, what can I say? It's hard to resist sometimes" he conceded as his eyes shamelessly travelled from Kali's bare feet to where her red sari tastefully clung to her curves — smirking at her obvious exasperation with him.
"You, my gorgeous queen… You really hate those phonies lining up like sheep for plastic surgery, right? That's because for you it's all about the changing aspect of nature. That bit between life and death — and I get that. Really, I do. It's only that Sleip… well, you see, Sleipnir just never really got along with cows."
Throwing in a helpless shrug for good measure, Gabriel finished with some flourish, "However, I promise you that I'll talk to the boy. Sleip won't ever bother your sacred cows again — consider it done and dealt with, hot stuff."
Kali merely raised one of her dark brows in question, her beautiful eyes darkening with some sort of unspoken promise.
Gabriel, who took her reaction as sign that he was so acing this —even without Liz' somewhat unreliable touch for diplomacy— already started forming ideas for their own little chocolate dipped samba dance.
Making sure that Betsy 2.0 was facing the wall, the Norse Trickster finally allowed himself to be drawn towards Kali's crackling orbit of magia — smug smirk and wiggling brows in full action as he swaggered to her side of the room. "Now, how 'bout we—"
—WHACK—
What followed that first stunner was a series of well-aimed strikes and punches; all of them taking full advantage of the fact that the Trickster was completely unprepared for this type of physical assault.
"That's kinda rough even for—hey! Kali, careful I might actually like— ohghn—"
Before the demigod could even think about finishing that sentence, Kali had effectively kneed him; sending his vessel and that stupid piñata flying across the room while a shower of candy beads pattered all around them.
"You honestly believe that I would hesitate to deal with Sleipnir myself if he were to harm one of the sacred herd?" There now was a bluish tint to the sneer on Kali's face; the color of her true form yet again showing while the fists at her sides shook with barely suppressed fury.
When the lack of some petulant retort stretched for too long, however, Kali went to investigate with the mindful caution of a person who'd dealt with a number of nasty surprises before. Rounding the toppled settee, the dark haired goddess merely discovered the shredded remains of the piñata and no Trickster. Only the residue of his particular brand of oddly powerful magia prickled against her skin.
The sweet smell of strawberry toffees was the only warning Kali got before a highly amused voice produced a sympathetic "Ouch" right from behind her; one hand coming rest on her hip as the actual Trickster's moved further in so that he could purr in her ear, "Still one hell of a turn-on, kaliflower."
It would have probably been the easiest way to just allow this sticky fingered idiot to peel her out of this sari and make him listen afterwards. Kali knew this. And she wouldn't have been as averse to the idea if they hadn't already played this game so many times before.
So with her face deceptively calm, the goddess turned her black eyes on the only being whose knowledge on how to best push her buttons hadn't cost him his life or at least one or two limbs, "Just to be clear, Trickster — I wasn't talking about cows, I was talking about a clown. And when I say clown I am not referring to you, although you might soon meet the same fate as the Rakshasa did if you continue to purposefully ANGER ME!"
At the same time those words left her, the anger simply rushed out of her — causing the colored candy beads at their feet to burst into little flames.
Brushing the Trickster's hand off, Kali moved a few steps away before turning on him,"You know what? I am truly sorry for ruining your little pity party, Loki. I now know that it was wrong of me to assume that you would be remotely interested to know that Elizabeth has been up to."
Gabriel who had assumed that Kali had simply called him over because she'd once again realized that things with Shiva just weren't working out and he was her go-to guy for her retaliation fling, laughed at the sheer nerve of the pagan goddess.
"Aw, that's a good one" he finally exclaimed with much more energy than he felt before fixing the goddess with a look that no longer held any trace of his previous leer. "Let me guess, you sent one of your bully boys after her to get her to do what you want and Bets just had a friggin' field day?"
Kali merely regarded him for a moment before deciding that she no longer had the patience for being gentle about this, "As a matter of fact I didn't. There was no point in doing that since Shiva had already sent his goons. They discovered that Elizabeth was involved in the killing of a Rakshasa and has taken up residence with three hunters — two of which answer to the name of Winchester."
"She… She did WHAT?"
\ i /
— SNAP —
/ i \
And so, just like that —only seconds after Loki's ominous »Hiya Betsy«— the night sky of South Dakota gave way to the lush, sun-drenched greenery someplace in the eastern hemisphere; the early afternoon quickly cocooning Liz with the residue humidity of what appeared to be one of the first sunny days following monsoon season.
That was about all the Irish being could gather before her sight blurred.
Because, apparently, her circulation still wasn't up to par with any sort of supernatural transportation.
It was however a bit more difficult to ignore that her whole body felt like it had just been manhandled into some kind of incredibly moist handshake. Which was honestly just ugh and didn't really help to improve her overall situation.
So, taking a moment to debate whether or not she really wanted to find out just how far up shit creek Loki had deigned to drop her off this time, Liz reluctantly bundled up her magia. After all, that question always happened to end in a bit of a tie between her having some sort of near-death experience and then again making the unlikeliest of friends.
(Like that time she had found herself literally knocking on Death's door after Loke had suddenly ditched her during their trick-or-treat marathon. Thankfully Death had been more amused than anything else; only asking if he was allowed to take a picture of her in that angel costume before returning her home.)
Liz somehow doubted that she'd get away with a photo this time.
That was why, with one deep, shuddering breath, the Irish supernatural finally decided to tap into her magia in order to get an overall read of the place.
…Which, of course, was so much easier said than done; especially when her magical fine motor skills turned out to be more or less at par with those of a hungover person helplessly pawing for water and some aspirin on the morning after.
And while Liz had been forced to acknowledge that her powers weren't all that reliable on the best of days, it certainly didn't help when her teleportation sickness decided to top it off by beating her round the head with some nicely timed vertigo.
That was how, with an inward groan of 'Oh gods, no',Liz rolled over, lost her balance and hit the ground face first. It hurt. More than she cared to admit. Although she hadn't been that high up.
'At least I haven't taken another swan dive into a live volcano'she bravely told herself; waiting for small bits of her magia to finally splutter through her system with a death rattle that happened to be strangely reminiscent of those old filter coffee machines.
Finally, Liz groggily flopped her head to one side — gravel sticking to her sweaty cheek.
What greeted her was the sight of paths lined by old banyan trees, mangos and a shrubbery made of pinnate leaves and curiously shaped seed pods. Squinting a bit at them, Liz decided that they actually looked suspiciously like tamarind…
'Nah, surely he's not that pissed…' Liz decided, hoped.
Giving a rather unladylike groan, the Irish supernatural tilted her chin to make out the source of the gentle burble that'd been accompanying the underlying static in her ears. Peeking out from behind a fountain, Liz spotted what looked like the flowers of a neem tree.
Indian lilacs...
India.
Well, whatever Liz had expected, this certainly wasn't it. But then again, that was how she'd felt like during the months leading up to their fight. Why would their reunion be any different? In the end it apparently all came down to a Trickster who felt entitled to snap her around as he saw fit.
Concentrating on her fading nausea in order to get rid of those uncomfortable thoughts, Liz wiggled a bit to get more comfortable on the hard ground.
There was absolutely no way that she would be able to get up on her own anytime soon.
'Hopefully I won't have to wait for too long until that tosser comes to get meee—' and that was when the blonde suddenly realized that she couldn't really say for sure that somebody, anybody would come to pick her up.
Squeezing her eyes shut, Liz carefully addressed the aforementioned tosser in her head.
{… Loke, just to be sure: we aren't playing kiss-off, are we?}
"Nah, we're not" his voice answered her tentative prayer with a faint note of amusement. Needless to say, his voice came from somewhere suspiciously close. "Pretty sure it's against the rules to play that game with people of an unsound mind. Last time I left you to explore a bit on your own, it took ya almost three weeks to make it out of that desert."
Taking a long, deep breath, Liz found herself asking, {How long have you been there?}
A small snort gave her a general idea of what to expect from his answer.
"Well, I managed to get a first-row seat for your glorious game of Whac–Ya–Magic… if that's what you're worryin' your pretty noggin 'bout" he offered cheerfully before some sort of lollipop noisily changed to the other cheek; rattling along his teeth on its way. Then his voice came closer, loudly whispering, "Hey, sorry, but I just have to ask… Did you actually try to pummel your magia into submission just now?"
Lifting her head with great caution, Liz managed to flip her face to the other side so that she could give the demigod a good long stare. And then she stared some more, because what the effin'—
"I know, I know — I did promise that I wouldn't zap you 'round without asking first" Loki lamented as if he was the one most affected by her teleportation sickness — one strand of his tousled brown hair falling into what was visible of his face.
Giving her one of his more impressive eye rolls, Loke's features however quickly morphed back to his blank trademark smirk — the glint in his eyes challenging her to give up on her rather insistent frown, "Anyhoo, we both know very well that there was this teeny tiny part of you that contemplated sticking your newly acquired iron accessory where the sun don't shine, sweet cheeks."
If Liz hadn't already entertained such thoughts before he'd gone and rudely relocated her halfway across the continent, Loki had certainly given her a few ideas now. Although she'd been forced to leave that nice, pointy fire poker at Robert's place.
The Trickster meanwhile just watched her idly from his position on the park bench — the very same one which she had so gracefully vacated a few moments earlier.
"Oh, Betsy-bets, just what am I supposed to do with you?" the demigod leant forward — hands dangling from where his elbows rested on his knees.
Liz rivaled his unhappy expression with one of her own; not only because she thought it unfair that he wasn't even breaking a sweat in his jeans, shirt and jacket but at the same time too exhausted to flip the bird at him.
"Aww c'mon! See that fountain over there? Peaceful, innit? You could at least be grateful that I didn't just dip your frowny face in there, ya know. Wasn't until halfway across Africa that I changed my mind 'bout that one" Loki happily informed her; extending one hand to gently peel a piece of gravel off her cheek. "Now, how about we get you off the ground, little starfish?"
Not feeling particularly forgiving, or grateful, for that matter, Liz ignored the offered hand in favor of addressing what had been bothering her since she'd first laid eyes on him.
{Please tell me you don't intend to keep that.}
Trying to feign indifference, the Trickster pulled a face, "C'mon! That's a friendship bracelet Bale gave me! I know the beads look a bit tacky—" and here he raised his wrist to skillfully break off one of the candy pearls with his teeth, "— but they're not as bad as they look… I am supposed to eat one every time I think of him, ya know?"
{While I do appreciate that you two morons have finally moved on from those awful gobstopper figurines ye used to take everywhere—}
Gabriel, happy to prove her wrong, gleefully produced said object from thin air, the other Trickster's distinctive face already reduced to a colorful blob.
Whereas normal gobstoppers, or jawbreakers, were usually just round sweets with many colorful coatings, these custom-made mini versions of the two Trickster-buddies actually had several layers of clothing that you had to lick off first. And because that activity wasn't awkward enough for everyone else in public, Xbalanque and Loki had modified them with—
»Oh, how I missed your sweet mouth on me, honey!«
— voice-overs.
Ignoring the familiar rumble of Bale's voice, Liz tried to get back to the actual topic. Because it certainly hadn't been the Tricksters' friendship bracelets she'd been talking about just now, {As I was sayin'—}
»Ahhn, yes, right there— !«
Bale's unashamed narration of Loki's exploration made it very nearly impossible to actually focus on what she wanted to say. Especially because it reminded Liz of all the times those two idiots had ruined a perfectly nice evening with this particular little game of theirs.
{Glad to know I won't be responsible for gettin' us arrested this time. Wonder what you'll get for indecent behavior in India… }
Satisfied now that he'd managed to distract her from her original question, Loki made the figurine disappear. "You should see the one Bale modeled after you." He apparently couldn't help wiggling his browns at her. "It's huge."
{… Like that thing in your face?} Liz innocently prodded; the dreamy look on Loki's face instantly replaced with indignation.
Stroking his… well, one could probably call it a beard, he addressed her with a haughty twist of his mouth, "I'll have you know that many people have complimented me on it."
{Who's people?}
"You can't really expect me to list them all."
Liz gave as much of a shrug as she managed pull off under the given circumstances; suggesting that she didn't have anything better to do.
With a twist of his hand Loki exchanged his gobstopper figurine for the lollypop from earlier. "You're just being prissy because I didn't consult you first! … And nah-ah! Don't you dare deny that!"
She didn't.
Because Liz honestly couldn't have kept that ridiculous smile off her face even if she'd tried.
{Ye look just like the Dude from Big Lebowski.}
"Now, listen here, chuckles, I didn't—"
"Kshama karen" a new and distinctly embarrassed voice interrupted them in smooth Hindi — prompting both demigod and the blonde supernatural to snap their heads towards the new arrival.
A woman in a plain sari had just appeared a few steps down the path; all the while keeping a respectful distance. She didn't seem to be all that perturbed by walking in on the scene of the Trickster leaning forward to accusingly point his red lollipop at the silently snickering female, who was still lying spread-eagled on the gravel before him.
"Mahakali awaits you in her afternoon parlor and wishes to extend an invitation to you and your companion" she greeted Loki with a careful bow. Raising one hand to her own throat, she also acknowledged Liz with an inclination of her head, "I've been asked to offer my voice for the duration of this meeting, Eilís. I'll await you next to the fountain to take you to Kali Ma."
Without further ado, the woman turned around and disappeared — the greenery of what appeared to be Kali's palace gardens swallowing her form in a matter of seconds.
Liz blinked.
And Loke…
Well, Loke was watching her with his chin comfortably buried in his hand.
She could tell that there was a shit-eating grin forming beneath the thicket of his beard.
"Yep. That means trouble — looots of trouble, actually" the Trickster happily confirmed her suspicions about why on earth he'd take her to Kali's palace of all places. "And since you assured me that you're a big girl now, you get to deal with this all on your own. I'm merely the bearer of fun news, so you better get ready for the best part."
The Trickster didn't even wait for her reaction. Instead he leant forward to pinch her cheek with pure, vindictive glee.
"I didn't do a thing. This time, it's aaall on you, cuddles."
Fenrir, Sleipnir, Jörmungandr and Narfi are all, just like Hel, kids of Loki in mythology. They also will appear later on, so I just wanted to familiarize everybody with their names — though probably most of you knew at least one or two.
Xbalanque / ʃɓalaŋˈke – Shh-ballankay / n. is one of the Maya Hero Twins, represented in an old Maya myth. Since he is also a Trickster, he and Loki discovered that they have a lot in common. They got a Turk/JD (Scrubs) worthy bromance going on and Liz started calling him Bale (because she thinks he's a bloody calamity). It kinda stuck.
Mahakali / Mahākālī / n. literally translated as Great Kali, is sometimes considered as a greater form of Kali and can also be used as an honorific of the goddess — it's the formal address Liz uses in this chapter. Kali Ma means Kali Mother and is used as an address by one of the goddess' attendants.
kshama karen / ksamə karə / n. translates as Pardon or Please Excuse me in Hindi and is used by Kali's attendant when she interrupts Loki and Liz in the palace gardens.
Author's note: I am so sorry for this hideously late update. I've rewritten the beginning of this chapter like a hundred times to get Liz and Loki to work the way I wanted them too. When I started on the first chapters I would have never imagined that it would become so difficult to set the right tone between two people who care about one another —know each other inside out, really— but fought over something so very fundamental that they're suddenly out of tune.
That's why I would like to especially thank you guys for your support — the follows, favorites and especially your review, Krislyngera, really kept me motivated!
#funfact 3: Most of this chapter takes place at Kali's summer palace — for those of you who like checking out beautiful exotic places: it's the Lake Palace in Udaipur.