Summary: The war between Jotunheim and Asgard draws to a close, but thanks to a horrible twist of Fate (or perhaps not), the nameless runt of Laufey-King is not discovered by Odin and so begins a remarkable journey of life that should not have been. Jotun!Loki AU. Set pre-/during-/after Thor/Avengers Assemble. MCU-verse only.
Warnings: ANGST! Loki-whump! Language, adult situations, violence, child abuse, dub-con, sexual assault (also of a minor), substance abuse, one abortion scene (sort of), slavery, sex trade (maybe), some mild original character/Loki M/M pairings.
Comments: This is not a slash fic. Sorry. It's Loki-centric, although I definitely show the rest of the Avengers and etc. Please review! Constructive criticism welcome.
Disclaimer: I do not own Avengers. Marvel owns it. I do not get paid for this piece of work. Sadly, but understandably. LOL.
Thanks to the faithful few who update! You guys are really encouraging! Thanks to: Chiharu-angel, vincent1875, Hellysion (not sure if you reached here yet...), Elizabeth, InsolentKatt, Fullmetalsoul0062, zippy zany.
The reason for this early (timely) update is way down below, if you wanna read on , but if you want to see accompanying pictures, you can go to this Tumblr link to read the story there... kakashidiot DOT tumblr DOT com SLASH post SLASH 85091913831 SLASH in-which-i-get-hiddless-autograph-my-sis-is-teh
Thus in celebration of my autograph which is not here yet - Onward to the chapter! 21 pages - 10,000 words of... well, I hope it's goodness!
WARNING: A DRUG/DREAM TRIP UP AHEAD!
Distortions In Time
[Bitter Desolation, Incandescent Harmony]
Chapter 67
Loki: The Low Road III
It is a known fact the universes over, that where life grows, it must also spread. Life mutates, changes, evolves, devolves and returns in any environment it can find able to sustain some kind of being. Thus, the silicon critters which burrow through airless asteroids and ships alike, the kon'bi, the lasu, the sigan and the gan'ko run riot throughout the galaxy, carried by the higher order species who trekked across Time and Space in search of new lands.
The Skrull, the Kree, the Mah'konai and the few varieties of Elves, in search of new land and resources for their growing populations, cast further afield in the galaxies and Realms about them. Some, like the Elves and the Mah'konai, finding what little they needed, halted once content. Yet others, with grand imperial interests, expanded carefully under the paternalistic eye of the older, greater beings – the Celestials and then, as Time and Existence forgot those Ancients, the Asgardians.
The rise and fall of empires has been and has continued to be a subject of interest for those who fear for the future, for those who would wield the power which numbers alone can bring, for those with the intent to conquer. The Skrull, the Kree, the Chitauri and, once upon a time, the Noradians, were so involved.
Noradians populated much of the Realm of Midgard and some of Jotunheim's and Asgard's Realms to boot. Hardy, diligent and given to middling intelligence, the Norad, finding their needs eventually satisfied, laid aside their weapons of conquest and took to more prosaic concerns – trade and farming.
Still, their far-flung colonies thrived independently, long after the final dissolution of the Noradian Empire. Generally respected with the tales of the ancient exploits still recalled in stories, the Noradians were left well enough alone amidst rising tensions between the "Fish-Folk" and the "Lizards".
Turning one's gaze now to the Lesser Realm of Midgard, on the edge of the relatively uninhabited galaxy in which Midgard was located, one can find one such Noradian colony: V'slozh'noi, the home and birthplace of Nesta and now current resting spot for the Tro'watal.
-0-0-0-
Emerging from the Tro'watal, Loki's first impression, as he descended the short, metal stairs propped up against the foot of the ship's bow Module shaft door, was that V'slozh'noi was a fair world. Sniffing the air experimentally, Loki was pleased to catch underneath the stench of oil and hot metal the whiff of clear, fresh air with the faint scent of rain and green things. Far in the distance, behind the city a good hour or two, he judged, mountains loomed with grey clouds and a blanket of grey which he recognized to be the aforementioned rain.
Yes, he smiled a little then, a living world as Nesta said.
The sky was a pleasing blue which blurred into a familiar steel grey over the mountains and below it, in the foreground, rising buildings – simple looking yet graceful lines of towered apartments and the tops of bright green-leaved trees.
A living world.
Unfortuantely, there was the matter of paperwork and form-filling and inspection and scanning and interviewing to be accomplished before assaying out into V'slozh'noi. A most common procedure, Nesta had assured Loki. Tro'watal, although a Noradian ship, was inbound from off-planet and so must undergo the regular inspections all ships had to undergo.
"For drugs and things," the Noradian had chattered on in his usual friendly patter as their work team sat together in the canteen shifting through various forms which the Captain had handed out to the crew to fill in before landing. "Captain always has a stack of these handy, seeing as we go through Noradian security and customs so regularly. Ah! You put your names in those boxes there. Make sure the letters fit inside – whatever you use, since it'll be scanned in, uh, later."
"You are not filling out a form," Loki had pointed out a tad bit enviously. This kind of paperwork, he had always thought dull. Contrary to Thor's opinion, there were some things related to writing which Loki did not enjoy.
"Ah, well," Nesta had smiled happily then. "That'd be because V'slozh'noi is my country of origin. Um, you know, my birthplace – oh – you can put me there as a reference if you wish to apply for a longer term of visitation – temporary work and the like."
"Job?"
"Well," Nesta scratched his nose. "My brothers, my sister and I hold a syem'fyerma, a farm, you know, run by families or close-knit communities. Right, so... you could, um, work there if you wanted."
A pause then had followed as Loki had digested Nesta's offer in mild disbelief. Even knowing how open-hearted the Noradian could be, Loki still found it difficult to accept how hospitable the man was.
"Thank you," the exiled prince said.
"Until you decide where you need to go next," Nesta had continued lightly. "Not much to write home about, but V'slozh'noi is home... a good place to stay and think for a while, I guess."
"And there is information about the Phylloxians?" Loki ticked off some more boxes.
"Yes. That too, if you are really interested in old tales."
"Old tales hold great truths," Loki had said with a shrug and had then focused again on the seemingly interminable forms before him.
"Yeah, well," anyway, inspections are regular. Scanners, drug pollen and particle detection, imported good claims and all that."
Scanners, drug pollen and particle detection and imported goods claims, Loki thought with a sigh as he and Nesta were separated. The Noradians apparently had their own quicker way of processing locals, while the rest of the Skrull and various alien crew members, along with Loki, were escorted into a large room. Behind them, a line of officials and other jump-suited staff followed by the Captain filed into the ship along with several machines. Then the door closed and Loki could only look forward.
A queue was formed, forms and papers and credentials were examined and scanned. Loki, having next to no background history came under particular scrutiny, but Nesta's references seemed to be enough in the end for Loki's paperwork to pass muster. At some point, Captain Mal'myrn returned from the inspection of ship and cargo. Judging by the bounce in her step, the slight smile on her narrow face, the confident tilt of her shoulders and the glint in her eyes, things had proceeded satisfactorily. With a few additional words of recommendation from her (with a variety of technical language regarding wormholes, inter-Realm travel and magickal accidents), Loki's permit processing passed much more smoothly.
A full body scan followed and a weapons check-in. Also no surprise to Loki thanks to the ever informative Nesta. No diseases, no drugs, no weapons, Nesta had affirmed and at the look of incredulity on Loki's face added, well, that's the plan anyways. So they scan you, type you and you check your weapons in, if you have any – which you don't – and you can take them back, of course, when you leave. Just to lower potential inter-galactic issues...
Loki had nodded neutrally, deciding to say nothing of the niche of weapons, both lesser and mass, which were held in that small dimensional pocket he had first created during his Mage Academy days.
Not that I can access them, Loki thought moodily. So far I have not been able to do much besides form ice and shape-shift... and even those only for a shorter time when under duress. One of the first things Loki had done once safely aboard the Tro'watal had been to ascertain what powers remained to him. Not much, apparently, yet it seems as though the Jotunn heritage is still, to a certain extent, within my grasp and that is enough, Loki thought.
Watching the lithe Captain Mal'myrn unclasped blaster holster and three electroblade sheathes and two other neatly hidden throwing knives as well as a small, palm-sized handgun, Loki found himself hard put to remain unimpressed. Quite a bit of weaponry there, he mused as the various weapons were neatly tagged, catalogued and then locked away in a strong box and slid into a slot of a shelving unit amongst other boxes behind a heavy iron and steel grille. Another reason for her name, I suppose. Then he grinned as he contemplated her promises. She will be quite a handful, I think... but... ah! what kind of fun is there without a little bit of trouble!
The identity card, which the Captain had procured for him on the mining planet and which now held the spare bits of information he felt safe enough to impart (partially based in truth – Jotunn ex-slave turned warrior-mage, security specialist and academic), was then returned to him with his new temporary work permit. At least, the paper one, the clerk had told Loki. In two weeks, the actual plastic card would be forwarded to Nesta's home address.
"So you will stay awhile," the Captain had said quietly in response to Loki's announcement earlier on the Tro'watal. "On V'slozh'noi."
"I hope I can find my way back to Jotunheim somehow – perhaps through the Fenchi Galaxy."
"Hm."
That had been her short reply. Obviously, she was concerned about something, but of what she would not say.
"And you?" Loki had finally broken the unnerving silence.
"Ah, two weeks rest for the Tro'watal and crew," she had swivelled her Com-chair about more fully, the better to look him up and down with amusement.
Loki's return smile had evaporated at the barely contained snort erupting from his ever faithful shadow, Nesta.
Two weeks, Nesta had told him later, was a rare holiday for the ever busy Tro'watal to take. Captain Mal'myrn rarely dallied for anything – or anyone. I suppose she has something planned... Loki had just smiled and shrugged.
Two weeks, Loki blinked as the officials, rattling off tired phrases of welcome in broken Basic and Skrullian, escorted them further through a hall and up a flight of stairs before leading them to a larger terminal where beings of all shapes and sizes bustled about lifting and pushing luggage, hawking local wares (string-looking beady necklaces and the like), offering various local services (Loki exchanged his few weeks' pay into Noradian credits immediately). In large groups, well-wishers gathered, saying teary goodbyes to travelling kin, and welcomers (some equally teary-eyed) also waited for their returning friends and family.
A shout from the middle of a particularly large group of Noradians revealed Nesta and his comrades, already having been checked through. Nesta's sincere welcome began again, promising soft beds, a hot meal and 'home-styled entertainment', whatever that meant. When Loki caught the shared looks of several crew-mates – complete with raised eyebrows and leery grins – he understood.
Right. Home-styled entertainment indeed. For the first time in a long time, Loki felt a rising urge to chuckle, but then the Captain caught his eyes with an equally wide grin and Loki found himself hard put to keep his composure. Suddenly, the warrior-mage turned miner had a feeling that he would not be sampling any of the local 'home-styled entertainment' anytime soon.
Not that he minded.
-0-0-0-
An hour later, freshly washed and clothed once again in his familiar leathers and coat, Loki found his way down to the main atrium – a wide, clean, simple space with several chairs and a variety of carefully placed potted plants. A kind of attempt, he thought, to bring nature indoors. Comfortingly like Asgard –
Don't think of Asgard. Do not...
Annoyed at how easily his relaxed mood had evaporated at the reminder of his now lost home, Loki made his way out the back entrance, down a broad, shallow flight of stairs to a short walkway which led to what could only be an artificially made pond. A large one, now empty of bathers, with calm, clear waters. Inviting. Removing his boots and socks and rolling up his leathers, the young Jotunn dipped his blue feet into the cold water.
Ahhh... instant relief. Loki leaned back on his hands, head tipped back and eyes closed. For awhile he sat there, enjoying the light breeze about him – the wind was soft and gentle, it's voices high and young. A youthful world, Loki thought idly. In the springtime of its years.
There was only its song, the gentle creak of the trees placed about the pond, the rustle of leaves, the faraway laughter and clatter of the evening meal – and nothing much else. In his mind's eye, Loki imagined Nesta's triumphal much welcomed return home and the exiled Prince's heart ached as he remembered Frigga's tearful gaze and her heartbroken farewell. Will my return be such a glad day for Asgard? He could not help but wonder. Will there be happiness for the return of one such as I?
Loki, the outsider. Vaetki, the unwanted one.
Just a glimpse then of memory – land falling away and Laufey's hardened face and eyes burning with nameless emotion. Loki shivered.
A soft step. A familiar scent washed over him then – heather and scrub.
"Want to join me?" he murmured and then turned with a half-smile to meet the Captain's gaze, and then froze at the sight of her sleeveless, low-cut, black top and form-fitting pants neatly tucked into her usual boots. The black set off her green skin well – green skin now looking odd without its usual rough texture. She had shifted and, if possible, looked even more lovely than before.
"Ah, it's cold. Look-" He made as if to get up but stopped at the wave of her hand.
"I can make do," she replied easily, unzipped and slipped off her boots and socks, rolled up her pants' bottoms and joined him, her skin rippling to a familiar hue of blue.
"You don't have to-"
"The Jotunn of Jotunheim, they say, feel the beauty of ice and snow and cold winds. This is no hardship for me to experience. All good things in life should be embraced fully."
"Most beings would say to mimic a Frost Giant is..." Loki trailed off meaningfully.
"I am not 'most beings'."
"I am – I am sorry, Capt-"
"Mal," she shifted closer than, her pale blue skin matching his as her fingers slipped along the tops of his own. "You can call me Mal."
"Mal," Loki tested her name. "Mal," he repeated it again as though tasting it like the fine cordials on Alfheim. "A strong name, Mal'myrn, yet beautiful... like its owner."
"My, my," laughed Mal then. "Haven't you got a silvertongue!"
"Ah! You have got me there," Loki raised a hand in mock surrender.
"You must have charmed many with that smile and that tongue of yours."
"I... do my best," Loki replied, lips curving up in a slow, meaningful smile. He drew her closer, shoving down his memories of all those who had not succumbed to his charm but had instead hounded him for it.
"You are quiet today, though."
"I have much to think of," Loki admitted. His red eyes wandered about the dark waters of the pond, the glimmering reflections of the waystation's dim lights, the deepening violet sky and the alien stars which were now shining brighter in the dusk. "This place is... quiet. Quiet affords thought. Thoughts I have not recently had time for."
"The waystation is further out of town than most would like," Mal'myrn agreed, "and it is quiet. Quieter. But I would be lying if I said that I didn't need it."
"Hmmm..."
"We all have those moments in our lives when we must spend some time considering our pasts, our present and our futures."
"Yes. I have had those moments quite a bit in recent times... before..."
Before the coronation. Before the fallout. Before his attempt to please. Before his exile. Before his fall.
My fall...
"Before what, Kol'la?" Mal prompted the Jotunn quietly.
"Before," was all Loki could say.
"Well, I cannot say what your path will hold nor what way the road you have chosen to tread on will lead you... but I sense that what you desire, if you so will it, you will achieve."
"I hope so," Loki sighed gustily. "The first step is the Fenchi Galaxy from the looks of it."
"Ahhhh, well, have care," Mal said, suddenly very serious. "That part of this Realm is currently undergoing much turmoil."
"War?"
"In some parts, yes," The Skrull woman shivered then, as if remembering some kind of terrible memory. "The Skrull, the Kree and others battle for dominion... and over them all hangs... a... a – a Shadow."
"A shadow?"
"Hm. Some kind of dark will drives some of those races to war, to conquest..."
"Surely there is room enough-"
"The dark is ever hungry, Kol'la," Mal shook her head. "Ever it seeks to devour living things. From the Fenchi Galaxy, you see, one may gain flight from the Skrullian capital to Asgard's or Jotunheim's Realms. Inter-Realm travel has been achieved on some level by various species, such as the Kree-"
"And your people."
"Yes, the Skrull also. Such technologies are jealously guarded – and there are other races who would do anything – anything to attain such abilities, such power. They search for it, even now."
"Who does?"
"Who doesn't is more the question. The Chitauri, for one. They are called thus by many-"
"The Chitauri..."
"You have heard of them?" Mal asked.
"Yes," Loki replied absently, recalling reports of the Marauders and the Chitauri from a long time when he had been a Prince. It seemed so long ago. "But what could they want in Midgard's Realm?"
A pregnant pause followed. Then Loki's red eyes widened.
"Not Midgard, surely?"
"Who knows... rumours say," Mal hesitated. "Rumours say that Asgard's Vaults do not hold all the treasures of Reality. Other places, such as Midgard may have – through design or accident – gained such treasures. If any of the Infinity Gems were found – or the Aether – or the Cosmic cube, then what would happen to the balance of power, I wonder?"
Weighty silence followed her question, then Loki stirred.
"Such things cannot possibly be found on Midgard. Surely not."
"And if they were?"
"Fa – For certain, Asgard would know and come to their rescue."
"Well, that is another possibility," Mal pointed out calmly. "Everyone knows that the sure fire route to Asgard is through Midgard – especially if one wished to gain Asgard's attention... or to distract them."
"When will they go to Midgard?" Loki whispered harshly, his voice tight as he thought of Thor stranded on the planet without his powers.
"Today, tomorrow, hundreds of years in the future... no one knows," Mal shrugged. "And, well, this is all hearsay, but as they say-"
"There is no avalanche without snow?"
"Something like that," Mal laughed then, softly. "Kol'la, you should not scowl so. The future cannot be as dour as you fear. Not if you will it so."
"You are quite the optimist," Loki turned and found himself nose to nose with his sultry companion.
"Hm. I am more of a believer."
"A believer in what exactly?" Loki breathed, leaning closer.
"In us," Mal smiled then and kissed him on the lips before drawing back and added impishly: "Well, I should say, in myself, since for all your silver-tongued talk, I have as yet to see any real action from y-"
Before she could finish, her final sentence, Loki drew her close, his hand rising to cradle her flowing, black locks as he kissed her soundly, stealing away her words.
[...the warp and weft of fate...]
[...worlds so bound...]
Later on that night, between light brown, crisp, newly laundered sheets smelling of grass and sunlight, Mal said something incoherent about finally finding the practical uses for silver-tongues. Loki found himself, for the first time in a long time, laughing openly without thought to anything but the sharing of joy, respect and pleasure.
Such pleasure.
[...silence fell...]
[...and there was nothing but communion...]
[...as two minds met...]
[...and each in its orbit...]
[...drew close in the eternal dance...]
The planet revolved, sunlight crept slowly over oceans, rivers, mountains and plains, bringing with it the soft light of dawn. Filtering in bars through the half-closed shades, the pale light angled down, gently warming the sprawling limbs lying tangled together on the great bed. Outside, several song-birds took up chorus cheerfully.
Loki groaned, pulled a pillow more securely over his head and turned away, mumbling a muffled, slurred complaint against 'whoever had turned the lights on'. His partner, more solidly asleep just grunted in response. A pale, blue hand emerged, found the room's remote and clicked a button, closing the shutters and dowsing the light.
The room fell blessedly silent again.
[...warmth and light...]
[...heartbeat of the world...]
[...as all had begun...]
[...before the thought of Time...]
When Mal next opened her eyes, she found herself confronted with the sight of two neatly placed collar bones rising up and across the slender shoulders and chest of her lover, ends framing the thinly muscled column of the man's graceful neck. The woman frowned as she recalled the previous night of passion, now a little hazy as morning drowsiness clung to her memory like sticky webs. She couldn't remember paying proper homage to those – nor to the arching neck.
I'll have to rectify that immediately, she told herself.
Shifting a little, she lifted her head and then paused as she realized that a pair of red eyes were watching her like a sniper, like a hawk.
"Awake for long?" she asked, tongue a little heavy and voice gravelly as her dry throat worked in an unwieldy kind of way.
"Not long."
"Hmm..."
He twisted about, leaned over to the small night table by the head of the bed on his side and rummaged about in one of the drawers before pulling out a clear glass canteen of water.
A splendid view, she thought with an appreciative smirk as she watched the muscles of Kol'la's back stretch taut under his smooth blue skin. Darker lines ran down his back with curves and matching geometrical corners paralleling the neat march of bone down his spine. She reached forward, laid a hand on the cool solid flesh which tightened in response, and considered the light, faded thin, black strips which ran across the blue skin – horizontal layered scars, some thin and some thick, speaking of a dark history.
Kol'la does not speak of his past, she thought sadly. Perhaps it will never be something he can share. Perhaps it is so old, it is irrevocably buried... What is buried, let it there remain, that the ghosts of the past may not be raised... Or maybe not. For in the purging, there is healing and release.
"Here," his husky voice broke into her thoughts, offering the now open canteen.
"Thanks."
"Mhm."
Pause.
"Better?"
"Yeah."
Another pause. Then he said, "You seem thoughtful."
"Same could be said for you."
"Hm."
"Credit for your thoughts."
"Ha," Kol'la huffed then, a grin spreading across his face. "You cannot guess?"
"Ah." Mal returned with a cheeky grin. "Right."
"You?"
"I was thinking," Mal said slowly, setting aside the water canteen onto her night table before trailing a hard nail down his neck over his smooth chest to stop playfully over his dark nipple. "I was thinking... that you, sir, came out of last night's activities rather unscathed-"
"Relatively unscathed," Kol'la corrected her, an indulgent mocking smile formed on his lips then. "You have no idea what you did to my heart. I think it needs some mending-"
"Ha," Mal snorted. "We are speaking of hearts already? I think there is something far more important to attend to, don't you think?"
She drew him down for a kiss which lasted for quite some time, leaving them both a little breathless at the end. When they came up for air, Mal discovered that somehow she had ended up halfway underneath him. Propping himself up on his elbows, Kol'la looked down at her and quirked an eyebrow at her, clearly amused.
"Well," he drawled then. "It seems we have a quandary here-"
"We do?" was her impish response. "Funny... I don't see much of a problem here. In fact," here, her hands ran lightly down his back scraping against his skin and lines lightly, enjoying the responsive flush now rising on his cheeks. "If there is a problem... or quandary... I am sure there is a fairly simple solution."
"You are so certain of your problem-solving capabilities?" Kol'la asked with a smirk. "Well, fine. I take it that this is a 'no' to breakfast?"
"I think I have enough on my plate as it is," she replied, eyes lit with matching amounts of mischief.
"An insatiable appetite. I can only hope to satisfy, my lady," Kol'la leaned forward to kiss her again, lightly. "I say we start now, hm?"
"Now you're talking," Mal replied, drawing him back down.
They did not emerge from their room until lunchtime.
-0-0-0-
The next week and a half passed lazily like a slow-moving river, warm and golden under the rays of a summer sun. Time passed – slowly, quickly – and each second was treasured for the gift it was. Under any other circumstance, Loki supposed, this would be a prelude for something more certain, more permanent... but I am not Kol'la. I am Loki. And she is Captain Mal'myrn. Two worlds for a short time, sharing a single space, but nothing more...
Still the chase, such as it was, was pleasing and for that short time, defined by the space of a month's acquaintanceship, there was a mutual openness. No shadow of lies hung over them, nor were there any usual burdens of expectation. Nothing was touched upon relating to the past, and the future of their relationship, it seemed, was mutually considered to be fairly obvious.
Mal was, after all, a practical creature and primarily defined by her work. Loki could respect that and, considering his own uncertain future, asked nothing more of her. They took and gave – forming something neither could quite name as they lounged about the waystation, strolled across meadows, hiked through the nearby forests and lower foothills of the mountain range.
Loki and Mal discovered much in those short hours. Mal was rather forthright, stern, pragmatic and cool to the core. Upon getting lost on their initial foray into the wood, she had no compunction about accessing the local satellites, ascertaining their position and orienteering the two lost hikers immediately. Neither did she have much time for theoretics, what ifs or possibilities, Loki discovered when discussing Inter-Realm politicks and historical theories on social change. Her interest lay in the now, in the here. In Loki, which he could hardly object to, all things considering. Still, the intensity of her measured looks at times still unnerved the exiled Prince who was used to the stares of Odin's Court and the Mage's Academy.
When Nesta called on the fourteenth day (partway through the second week), Loki answered the Noradian's call languidly, still worn out from Mal's athletic attentions just ten minutes previously.
"Nesta," Loki said huskily, punching the answer call button of the local com-pad which Nesta had supplied him with on the third day of arrival. Rolling away from Mal who watched him now with Skrullian red eyes, a shocking contrast to her now smooth green skin, Loki focused on the near wall, trying to ignore her amused stare and wandering hands.
"Kol'la," Nesta's voice vibrated loudly and cheerfully with his customary enthusiasm and good will. "Great news!"
"Great news?" Loki turned to quirk an eyebrow at Mal who had slid over onto 'his side of the bed' and was now plastering herself against his back, nuzzling his shoulder in a rather distracting manner.
The whole scenario brought to mind an age old question of his. Loki abstractly wondered yet again why the males of most species thought they could enjoy and adequately please a group of females. The dreams of harems and private brothels had always puzzled and amused the warrior mage. One woman, he thought, is difficult enough to handle, let alone two... or five.
Often, Thor had boasted of his exploits and given unwanted details on the 'art of wenching', encouraged by Fandral who was reknown for his 'skills'. I suppose he ought to be allowed more character than your garden variety narcissist, Loki admitted. Although the title of womanizer is barely an improvement, if any.
At any rate, such tales had only earned snorts from Volstagg and eye-rolling from Sif. Hogun had often just smirked. And Loki... Loki had always wondered, a gnawing feeling of inadequacy rising within him.
"So she will be here tomorrow-"
Nesta's voice blurred into Loki's thoughts and the Jotunn came crashing down with the realization that he had completely missed out on Nesta's explanation.
"Pardon," Loki finally interrupted his friend. "Who?"
"The l'gon," Nesta said, bewildered. "Are you..."
"I am fine, fine," Loki repeated answering Nesta's unspoken question, rubbing his eyes as he pried himself up out of Mal's embrace and sat on the edge of the bed. "Sorry. So she is coming on the morrow."
"Yes. We will meet at dusk at the chosen place as I just said. I will pick you up at the seventeenth hour and will bring you to her place. You will be free, right, Kol'la?"
"Of course," Loki reassured the Noradian. "I would not miss it for the world."
"Good, good," Nesta said. "So... I will see you, ah, tomorrow?"
"Yes."
"Oh... and... uh, well, if, ah... if the, er, Captain wishes to join, she is more than welcome."
Loki stiffened and Mal laughed then.
"Thanks, Nesta!" she called out now, leaning over Loki's shoulder.
"See you tomorrow!" Nesta repeated, clearly amused and vindicated, and clicked off.
Mal continued to laugh.
"You – you should – should see yourself-" she snorted.
Loki blushed, his expression turning from one of chagrin to mortification as embarrassment set in.
"It is just-" he sputtered.
"Ahhh... but of course he would know," Mal rolled her eyes. "He may be Noradian, but he wasn't born yesterday! Come. I am hungry. Let's wash up and go out... unless you need to rest your weary, aged bones and hide in your room out of embarrassment."
"No, no," Loki said with mock hauteur, relaxing as he realized that here, here there was no mockery. "I think my wounded pride can manage."
"Good to hear," Mal chuckled. "Pride is overrated anyways. Space it, I always say."
Loki watched her disappear into the washroom and, tossing the com-pad back onto the rumpled sheets, smiled briefly.
Space it.
Wise words from a wise woman...
With that thought, Loki rose slowly, stretched lazily and ambled after Mal, joining her in the lukewarm shower.
-0-0-0-
Flames, orange and red blending downward into the hotter embers which flared blue and green, danced and swayed in the light breeze sweeping off the mountains. The world was now shaped by shadows, flickering in and out, a picture of the eternal chase between light and dark. Now was that perfect time when That Which Is Seen blended with That Which Is Not.
This was the witching hour.
Overhead, starlight filtered down with the light of two small moons now fully risen over the distant northern range. Cool and calm, the white light blurred and dowsed the brighter energy of the campfire around which the group of Noradians and aliens alike gathered. No other light – artificial or natural lit up the surrounding environs. There was only the fire, the starlight, the moonlight, and the shadows cast by trees and the nearby mountains rising over the heads to the north and the east.
This was the witching hour.
No one spoke. Only the l'gon's voice filtered through the cool, fresh night air, accompanied by the crackle of dry wood devoured by flame and the patter of a light drum. Two drums. One played by the l'gon herself, the other by one of her apprentices. None spoke – but an inarticulate mutter indecipherable even to the All-Speak. It blended eerily with the atmospheric surroundings – the creak and rustle of the trees, the light wind, the fire and the drums.
[...the drums...]
[...call...]
[...it is the witching hour...]
Loki understood. This was, in a way, his domain. Ever he had stood in this twilight world, and so, instinctively, the warrior mage relaxed himself, closed his eyes and, when the second and third apprentices finished their preparations, breathed in the mixture of burning embers and bitter herbs and incense passed solemnly in a rough-hewn wooden bowl about the circle.
Inhale.
-now-
Exhale.
Inhale.
The mutterings began to form words and as he listened, Loki allowed it to tug upon his consciousness, following the song willingly. Around him, the Voices of the World sang hauntingly. A seemingly young Heimsrsal, full of hope despite its long history. Perhaps not so young, but brimming with life nevertheless, thus it is-
The thought escaped Loki like a silver fish darting through a river and he let it go, welcoming the next thought.
Silver fish. He was gazing down at a river now, watching the fish – wearing his blue skin and an odd garb of canvass, furs and leathers. In his hand, a bone staff curved upward wickedly sharp and cunning. From its handle dangled bits of beadwork, leather, feathers and delicately carved bones.
Inhale.
Exhale.
He looked up. A broad plain stretched before him – green grasses and bright flower heads meeting the sky and distant forests and mountains, faintly familiar. V'slozh'noi? Loki turned about sharply. The spear-staff's beads rattled and at the sound the apartments and tall buildings of the northern city disappeared, leaving only a vast plain and three conjoined rivers. V'slozh'noi, perhaps, long ago-
Inhale.
Now, let us hear _ the twice-told tale,
how Hratha _ city-builder brought
magnificient Myrok _ up on firm foundations
settled the green grass seas _ and brought low great mountains.
So lived the sky-skinned people _ so they came from nothing
and to nothing they departed _ and the Citadel of Snow
of the Great White North _ remains in rest, in wait
for the One Who will Remake it.
Exhale.
The words, forming in Loki's mind twisted then away like a snake – a snake writhing in his hands, falling into icy black waters and growing into something. He had seen it before, him before. Iormungand? The great serpent spoke then, words at first muddled than becoming clearer...
Inhale.
Let he who has ears, let him hear,
Let him understand, let him know,
Let him experience, let him live,
Let him see-
Suddenly, he was whirling past the stars – starlight stretching into eternal streaks of light, straight as arrows and endless. When they finally resolved into pinpricks, Loki found himself in an entirely new system, floating above a planet and looking down on broken world, spouting jets of smoke and ash and water into the atmosphere, slowly torn apart over time by the nearby suns which hung a little too close for the system's comfort. There were other planets as well and as various spacecraft buzzed to and fro, in and out of the unfamiliar system, Loki was reminded of a carcass surrounded by flies. The last vestiges, he thought, of a wealthy trading route.
Then, he was pulled back again to some mountains, in the mountains, looking down into great chasms. Rocks rose upward in the air, lifted, it seemed by nothing, swivelled, molded and honed into things of great beauty before they were set down again. A new home, Loki realized, was being made.
"Again," said a voice from behind him. "Made anew."
Loki whirled about but the image twisted and he now stood on another world – or was it another part of V'slozh'noi? Great cities raised in earth and stone, until a great wave came towering down, sweeping it all away. Not all of it away, Loki shook his head, as he watched the sunken cities gather new denizens of fish and great underwater creatures and eventually curious humanoids clothed in black garb and bearing lights and mechanical things. Some traces remain – where-
"Made anew."
Exhale.
Inhale.
Another piece of verse, foreign and odd, rose up out of the dark, cooler depths.
In Xanadu, did Kubla Khan
A stately pleasure-dome decree:
Where Alph, the sacred river, ran
Through caverns measureless to man
Down to a sunless sea.
Exhale.
Inhale.
Images now crowded thick and fast. He was walking in the footsteps of one of the Phylloxians? Noradians? It was not so easy to differentiate – until he looked down and saw cold iron around his wrists and he found himself looking up at a Noradian. Judging by the style of clothing, it was some time past and he, Loki, was shorter. Much shorter. A youngling?
A warped memory of Nesta rose then, sounding ominous and dark: They were hunted for their abilities – their magick. Enslaved out of greed. The children were weaker, you see, and easily caught. Enslaved and pursued out of greed and fear.
Enslaved...
Ah yes.
As he was forced into a metal container and fell into the dark, fell deeper into the dream, Loki wondered what would happen to him, what had happened to him. Not him. The one in whose shoes he now walked, the owner of the spear-staff.
Exhale.
Inhale.
-fire-wielders, light-bringers, ice-breakers, shape-shifters,
star-seekers, ghost-callers, Fate's-fighters, Doom-sayers-
The halls were empty – great grey, blue and black rock-hewn structures – colonnades, statues, columns, flying buttresses and graceful arches. Silver and white ran through some of the rock, glistening with the starry streaks of gems. A world which had been carved with loving care, with purpose.
-lines draw us together
between past and future
on canvases of winter skin-
The mountains receded and all vision turned to shadows and then complete dark as the Abyss swallowed him.
He was falling. Falling back, looking upward – and all he could see was the underside of Jotunheim, blanketed in slippery ice, whooshing past. Unstoppable. Inevitable.
Falling.
[...silence fell...]
-they travelled _ the Nameless Ones
with skol-fish skin _ and eyes of roobyn-red stone
through the Spaces _ through the Void
through the Abyss _ on paths dark, unseen
born by Will, by Fate _ on magick's wings.
Before Time was counted _ their people rose to face the stars
and, remembering such Ages, _ the Dawn of the Time
held such wisdom now forgotten-
-over the bent
World broods with warm breast and ah! Bright wings-
-They heard the songs of stars-
the voice of the deep, the dark shadow.
They spoke the tales of time-
the battles of twin heroes, the black betrayal.
Now they wander empty halls-
the ghosts of Myrok speak for those who hear.
Yes, they warn the wise
the tombs of the Kings foretell the Great Coming-
-in the eye of the storm you'll see a lonely dove
the experience of survival is the Key
to the gravity of Love-
-So, Tolska spoke _ wise, star-seer,
Fate's fortune-seeker _ many-wintered and hale:
Thus, have we foreseen _ and thus we wait
world-weary, hearts heavy _ for the Great Return
of the King foretold, _ for the time of rebirth
when the hope-filled children _ of snow, the Ice Kindred,
will once again look _ upon the Kingdom of Frost.
Thus it is spoken: _ let he who seeks knowledge
take heed, therefore _ that he may parse the meanings
understand the Truth _ and reveal it accordingly-
-Let he who seeks knowledge-
-Let he who seeks-
-Let he-
The echo taunted him with its familiarity. Round about him, the walls morphed, the sweeping lines of forest captured in stone coming to life. He was, once again, standing on Jotunheim as it was, as it had been, long ago. Loki looked about him. It was as it had been before in his dreams – a great forest, filled with life. Branches and leaves shivered in the wind and with the movement of great wolves and smaller animals passing swiftly through the underbrush and in his hand remained the curved, wicked spear – beads and bones rattling against his hand.
"Oi," a voice called to him from the shelter of the great jarnvithr branches spreading overhead.
He looked upward and met familiar eyes. Miot'vithr of Meerauk sitting beside another, equally youthful runt. Lesser Kindred, Loki corrected himself. Runt would be a disgraceful word to them. It was then he realized that it was not Miot'vithr who had spoken. The stranger smiled – and his eyes, meeting Loki's, seemed full of starlight, magick and the emptiness of space.
"You have something of mine."
Exhale.
Loki jerked upward with a sharp cry and found himself steadied by the familiar hands of Mal and Nesta. For a moment, he could see nothing but the now empty forest of Jotunheim, until the red fire burned through the image as though it were paper. His eyes moved restlessly about as he desperately tried to reorient himself.
"Kol'la," Mal was saying, smoothing his hair back away from his forehead, fingers dry and firm and reassuring.
"You all right there?" Nesta asked, dark eyes wide and glinting yellow and orange in the fire's light.
The eyes of a demon, Loki thought for a moment in panic, before remembering who it was that he was looking at.
"He dreamed deep and far," the l'gon said, hands still on her leather-hide drum. "Some who fall to the sway of the Shadow-World of the Unseen never return to sunlit lands. His return will take time." The l'gon breathed out, leaning forward to trace a mark in red paste on Loki's brow with her tanned, wrinkled finger. "Rest."
-many fall into the shadowed land of the Sunken City but few return to the Realm of the Cold Suns-
"Foolishness," Mal shook her head, lips thinning a sure sign of her disquiet and disapproval.
For a moment, Loi was left alone. The others quietly murmuring to each other, sharing what they had seen with each other and the attentive l'gon. Working his mouth a little, Loki took the proffered drink from Mal's hand. A mug of sweet ale, he discovered. Watching the ancient crone, the l'gon, finally take her seat and set her drum away, Loki leaned back and began to relax again as he realized they were not going to be expected to leave so quickly. Instead, he slowly inhaled and exhaled, releasing the magicks which the l'gon had infused inside him during her song. A craft, a working I have done myself time and time again in the shows of Poison Paradise and the halls of Asgard...
However, she was unlike anything he had ever seen before, more similar to the aged fish-wives who spun tall tales in the market to the young Asgardians who would stop in their play to listen. Tanned heavily and wrinkled with the years, the l'gon was unassuming. Her clothing, homespun, her shoulders stooped, her gait slow and her hair an iron grey – white and black strands mixing together in a mass of wiry hair held none of the usual marks common among the great mages of Asgard's court. Yet her eyes were clear and strong and her song deep and wise and her magicks pure and powerful.
I can only hope to be such a one when I reach the years of wintered maturity, Loki thought. He turned to look at Mal who gazed thoughtfully into the now much smaller fire before them. The flames were now dying out, although the embers flared blue and green with fierce warmth.
"You..." Loki hesitated. "You did not see anything?"
"I did not partake," was her short reply. "Never have, never will."
"Only the foolhardy dive so deep," agreed the l'gon, turning to look at the pair of them. "The foolhardy and those naturally drawn to the Arts. As you are, my blue-skinned friend."
"So he is Phylloxian?" asked Nesta eagerly.
"Who can say?" Our Memory-Dream walks have never shown the faces of those who carry us back. Never clearly at least, for our Sight is formed by the restraints of our Peoples. What did you see, young magician?"
"I saw my people," Loki allowed. "Also blue-skinned and... lined – as I am."
"There you go," nodded the l'gon laconically. "That is not to say that his people are not the Phylloxians, but it is not certain. Yet..." and here she eyed Loki closely. "Perhaps they are not gone. Not entirely at any rate. They shape-shift after all – and may walk among us to this day."
A weighty pause ensued at the thought.
"And now, they may walk more openly." The l'gon nodded slowly. "I can feel it in my bones, in the wind, in the earth, in the star-songs... Their time is coming. The Ruins of the Great White North's wastelands await."
"So there are ruins to visit..." Loki said quietly, sitting up and leaning forward, red eyes glittering with rising excitement. "I can seek the answers there."
"Indeed. If you have the heart for it and the will... the will to return."
"Of course he will return," Mal said, voice a little tight.
She was obviously perturbed by the way the conversation was going. Loki squeezed her hand in comfort, but the l'gon just gave the Captain an unimpressed gimlet stare.
"Some who fall to the sway of the Shadow-World of the Unseen never return to sunlit lands."
"What did you see?" Mal asked Loki then. "Are you certain-?"
"Many things... Incomprehensible things... things I cannot find words for... and things I do not know I can speak of..." Loki closed his eyes momentarily.
"Hm."
"Many pardons, Mal," Loki said apologetically, turning to her then, opening his eyes and giving her a small, rueful smile. "This was a poor way to spend your time."
"Well," Mal allowed reluctantly, giving into the silent plea in his red eyes. "It is important to you."
"Yes. It will help me, I think, to achieve my quest."
"Or only cause more trouble." Mal leaned back.
"That too," sighed Loki with a half-laugh. "Most things of import cause trouble... for someone."
"But don't let it land you in the wrong places," she insisted. "If you do need help, you know you can ask me for help. For anything."
"Anything?" Loki quirked an eyebrow at her roguishly. "Well... that is rather... comprehensive."
"Well, at least we now know that we speak the same language," Mal retorted with a flush, hitting Loki on his bicep rather hard. "How about I first help you get to bed, my feeble young man?"
"Ha. Ha. Ha," Loki replied dryly.
But he took her extended hand and held it all the way back to their waystation's rooms. The journey was taken in relative silence and when Mal and Loki finally drew apart later on that evening (or rather, in the early morning hours), as was her habit, Mal drew Loki's arms about her and fell asleep promptly.
Loki lay under the blanket of darkness and stared sightlessly before him, replaying in his mind's eyes what he had seen. History, he wondered, turning backwards, moving backward in time to some beginning? Or was it nothing but unrelated madness? Or things brought to mind because I wished or expected to see them? Or will the Ruins hold the key, hold a clue to the identity of those who built there?
By the morning when the songbirds woke to welcome the rising sun, Loki was sleep, mind now firmly decided on the next course of action.
The ruins. A trip to the Great White North was in order.
[...lives connect...]
[...thin threads part...]
[...lives disconnect...]
Three days later, three days of fun both indoors and out, Mal woke to find Loki's side of the bed cool and empty. She sat up sharply and then paused and sagged in relief as she caught sight of his silhouette before the far window, his now familiar slender outline. Her eyes adjusted after a few seconds, noticing not for the first time those small details which made him seem so much more dear to her than ever. How straight he stood. How angular he seemed. How his black hair had lengthened a little, now curling at the edges along the nape of this neck. How tight his black leathers fit him, setting off his firm thighs and long legs admirably. How his long, delicate feet, now bared, spoke of some kind of high breeding in his family line.
Loki stood there, back to her, as if frozen in a strong spell. Deep in thought. Watching. Or rather, on the cusp, on the edge. Poised. Always poised, it seems. Power barely leashed. Her heart beat a little faster at the thought of it.
"Kol'la."
No response.
"Kol'la." Now worried, she rose, wrapping the thin under-sheet about her, and joined him, carefully and slowly running her hand along his waist and leaning against his shoulder.
Small for a typical Frost Giant, she had thought the first time she had seen him, if he is in fact one. Frost Giants on Jotunheim are surely much more... giant. If the tales are to be believed.
Now, she held onto the moment, enjoying tucking her head into his shoulder. He is still tall enough compared to the other races. In some ways, as beautiful and mysterious as the first day I laid eyes on him. Mal said nothing of this, but followed his gaze out to the mountains beyond the edges of the green plains and farm fields.
"Mal." He did not meet her eyes, but a pale blue hand slid over her warmer green one, capturing it at his hipbone and allowing her to go no further. "Sorry."
"No need for apologies," she said softly. Then added: "It is time, isn't it."
"Time?" He asked, huskily, eyes looking distantly perhaps to nowhere.
"Time to say goodbye."
"Yes," he looked down then at their entwined hands. Slowly, his agonized red eyes met hers. "I must go."
"I understand," she smiled reassuringly. "Soon, you will go. As will I."
"In a day or two-"
"Soon, she repeated softly," but not now."
"Yes." Loki smiled then, a quick painful smile. "I am sure Nesta would have a saying for this occasion."
"You cannot think of one, Silvertongue?" she teased lightly.
"Words fail," he said, absently. "Sometimes."
"Hmm... 'Let us treasure these short golden hours and mine such pleasure as will be hoarded through all of Time's memory'," quoted Mal airily. "Who needs Nesta?"
"I do not know why I mentioned him," Loki said idly, pulling away the now very crumpled under-sheet and drawing her closer. "You are a very... distracting..."
He never finished that sentence.
Two days later, Mal and her weapons and her old and new crew members rose upward in the Module to their positions aboard the Tro'watal. After double-checking the cargo, the remains of refined transparisteel sheets and heavier metals as well as the live produce they would carry onward from V'slozh'noi, the Captain to her seat in the black Com chair. She sat there deep in thought, refusing to give the order until the final minute. Remembering the two long weeks Kol'la and she had spent which now felt so fleeting. I will never forget, Mal told herself, the gifts I received and what I gave... I will remember for all time, even if we were never to meet again.
As Tro'watal cleared the atmosphere, before jumping into light speed, Mal gazed down at the slowly revolving planet below her. The vast white expanse of the North – white and grey and blue and dark with wastelands and mountains – and glimmering, she thought, with all the colours of magick.
[...the drums of war are calling...]
[...lines of Fate intertwine...]
[...woven in the warp and weft of Life...]
[...and those who seek...]
[...to understand the mystery...]
[...walk far...]
[...listen closely...]
One day by the speediest hover-shuttle, four hours highspeed in his rented hovercar and three hours of slower going finally brought Loki to the far edges of the northern mountains, the range so called Tyen Po'sfyera. The Haunted Under Realm, Nesta had said, the Ghost Kingdom Below.
It was a vast wasteland of scrub and bracken and dense forests in the foothills of the mountains, blanketing the lower reaches. Eventually, the treeline melted away as cliffs and crags rose upward toward the clouds. Inhabited with wild animals, Nesta had told Loki helpfully, offering the warrior-mage several chips of information concerning the general area including predators and what food and water resources were available. Truth be told, the exiled Prince was not so impressed. It was a dull, cold place - a grey world under lowering thick clouds, promising snow and fog and the usual inclement weather of most polar regions the universe over.
The map, with which he had been supplied by the l'gon, was old, but after running a few scans and a tracking program (following Mal's instructions which he had practised with her earlier), Loki quickly managed to reorient himself. Within three hours of slow driving, he discovered a broad paved road leading into a particularly closely grouped set of mountains.
Paving stones stretched into the distance, leading westward, further into the centre of the mountain range. Hoping he would not get too lost, Loki followed the road carefully The paving stones were for the most part flat and Loki's hovercar easily coasted down the road. Still, he kept his pace careful, keeping an eye out for any potential wild beasts or holes; the latter, in particular, he watched for as he crossed the occasional bridge.
At times, the road, as a bridge spanned deep chasms. This highway speaks obviously of a master builder race with either high levels of technology or great abilities in the art of magick. Or both, Loki thought as leaned over the edge of one particularly low wall on a bridge to contemplate a half-frozen waterfall spouting out of a carved passageway. Fall is coming to the mountains, Loki shivered and returned to his waiting hovercar. Still, he could not get the picture out of his mind. Artificial sets of falls dropping from the height equal to Odin's palace. Glorious and mind-boggling to say the least.
Eventually the road met an end, as it led into a mountain. On either side of the road now, grand columns rose and the door leading inward was giant and majestic, edged and framed with flowering sculptures in black and blue stone. Beckoning inward to unfathomable depths, it seemed ominous. Yet, Loki ventured forward.
Parking his hovercar just inside, Loki jumped out and pulled on his pack, complete with food, bedding, a couple hunting knives, a medical kit, a jumpsuit (his extra set of clothes) and an electric lamp. The lamp's light seemed thin and weak, but Loki pressed onward through the atrium and the far door into another less dark room. Loki's footsteps sounded loud and echoing as he crunched his way over ice past arching, vaulted ceilings and detailed sculptures of flowers and constellations. Windows, tall and thin, let in spare lines of light which barely penetrated the gloom.
Loki shivered.
The quiet was eerie. The atmosphere was eerie. The architecture was eerie as well – eerily familiar.
When he walked over a short, obsidian bridge to a small hall, Loki paused at the first glimpse of language carved starkly above the doorway. Language he knew and understood, All-Speech or no. Anciently styled, yet familiar.
Encompass the Truth, _ bear the Burden.
Return our People, _ ye, who art the Will
of Jotunheim, _ look with mercy
upon your children _ who await and then
on triumphant wings _ bear us home.
Loki stood there, now more certain than ever.
Meerauk, he breathed.
[...connections...]
[...the threads...]
[...the warp and weft of fate...]
[...worlds so bound...]
[...collide...]
[...such is Fate...]
[...the drums of war...]
[...are calling...]
So they stand there, who bridged the darkness,
crossed the distances as fearsome stars,
rising and setting, journeying in freedom.
Where do they go, where shall they rest?
Well, I hope you guys enjoyed that. That's a huge amount of writing there that I did. Most of it by hand... which I then had to type into my lappie... T_T
Mal, I just wanna add, is an OC which I made and will be regulated to the place of all OCs in my most of my fics. However, she has gained some significance, which I hope you can forgive. I hope you guys can enjoy her character when/if (no spoilers!) she shows up again. Hopefully her relationship with Loki is also believable!
Again if you see any issues, please let me know.
Excepting three pieces, all the poetry was written by me. Snippets of "Kublai Khan" by Samuel Coleridge (the famous dream he had while tripping on opium), "God's Grandeur" by Gerard Manley Hopkings (a gorgeous consonance/kennings poem which is a must read) and a few lines of the lyrics from "Gravity of Love" done by Michael Cretu, known as Enigma.
Let me know what you guys thought!
-KI
Alien Glossary:
'auzha – fucker
bollen - boulders/monoliths
chi'iano – a radioactive piece of rock similar to uranium
cho'ai - lover
Dou'ma – idiot
Eno'Keshi'ko – the system of Eno, a type of magical level measurements
Fen'chi Galaxy – Andromeda Galaxy
gan'ga'war – steel balls
gan'ko – ganka'jya chon, a steel beetle
iz'kyr – a kind of frozen stone powder which is used as a narcotic for some species
kalo – a kind of purple-red fruit, similar to a pomegranate or dragonfruit
Kholathan – Safety Belt/Protected Zone
kol-sava'atha – a titanium-rich ore
kon'bi – short for konji'bifu, space bat
lasu – space rat
l'gon – storyteller
Morning-star - a mace
myech'myena - shape-shifting
Mye'hyoi Peyt – Milky Way
n'ch'nka – a kind of cow
oma'auzha – mother-effer
oto'oa - big sister
pu'lotni – plutonium
pye'nee - a kind of bird
Ra'ska'yeh o Phyllo'xia – Tales of Phylloxia
roobyn – a red stone
r'senk'ne – a kind of deer/cow hybrid
Shen'grid – the Protected Zone, the zone in which habitable planets orbit around a sun
sigan – short for yan'sigan, rock-worm
So'shah – Earth/Midgard
syem'fyerma – family/community farm
tro'watal – perseverance
udji'oo – a drug, like opium
whota – wheat
So as some of you guys know, I'm Canadian. More specifically from Ontario, more specifically from Hamilton, where, as the world knows, Crimson Peak is being filmed. This means a certain hyper-intelligent dreamboat who wears his heart on his sleeve has been hanging out in my hometown. And not just anywhere but a 10 minute walk from my house.
DANGER! DANGER! DANGER!
I've been in a funk as a result because 9 out of 10 days, I thank God I can live in China and work for great people and with awesome students, but on the odd day, I miss family - and the opportunities to stalk my current massive celeb crush.
However, not was all lost, for I also have been blessed with a large family, including a very understanding younger sister who, while being more of Cumberb*tch, is also a Hiddlestoner. This meant that when she heard he was in town, she immediately went in search of him and a photo and an autograph. The tale is as follows:
The first strike mission of Operation Meet & Greet with Tom Hiddleston was when Joy got a call from a friend who mentioned (airily) that she was waiting for Hunnam but there was this "other guy called Hiddleston or something" who was there. Joy nearly died, got herself together, corralled one of my many brothers who isn't a super fan but who still enjoys his work. Joy and Joseph (yes, my parents have this thing for J's) assayed forth and ended up waiting in the wrong line and Hiddleston, seeing that most people really wanted Hunnam, decided to head back to his place (wherever that is, it's best I never find out). Joseph and Joy realized their error - too late! When they finally figured out they were in the wrong line, Hiddleston was getting into his van and driving off.
Joy said that several things jumped out at her at this point.
A) He was driving, so that's... nice? I guess he feels comfortable trucking about on his own. Independence FTW.
B) He was smoking a pipe. A clay one. Very ordinary looking. WHICH CAUSED ME GREAT PAROXSYMS. On one hand - pipe hotness. On the other hand - black lungs and lip cancer! NOOOO! On the other hand, maybe it's safe stuff. On the other hand, maybe it's not. Maybe it's weed. It is Canada after all. OK. We aren't that bad, but still. On the other hand, maybe it's just for getting into his part. On the other hand, he isn't a method actor so... *flails*
C) He was super gentlemanly. As he passed by, Joy waved, to which he responded with a smile and a wave. Joseph, being more "cool", gave a sharp one-handed salute-wave, to which Hiddleston removed his pipe and nodded gravely.
AHHHHH! *my ovaries combust*
Anyways, that was the first time. When Joy texted me on Whatsapp, we had a confab and decided that she needed to try again. If only so she could bathe in his brilliance more fully. So, Operation Meet & Greet with Tom Hiddleston began in earnest.
Attempt 2 was a failure. She had been informed that potentially he might have time around one o'clock to meet with fans near the base. But alas, despite waiting out in the sun (and getting heroically burnt in the process, yes, Canada is hot too!), Joy and the other fans were sent away with the announcement that later on that evening there would be an opportunity for something.
DESPAIR!
Joy was supposed to babysit a friend's child that night (we'll call the friend M-). Then, another friend, called A-, announced she was supposed to sleepover at M-'s, making this whole thing a girls' sleepover night. Joy was little cheered, but not much. She wanted to see if she could get a photo with Hiddleston at 7:30. A- suggested they take their babysitting charge down to Bayfront Park (which was a good walk away) and try their luck again.
Once again they assayed forth and met up with Joseph and John Mark (seriously, there are 5 J-names in my family). Jesse was upset because he was at work and unable to join the party. Thankfully, Joy had made enough friends so she could get fairly up in the line and then some folks came out and warned them that the actors were tired and might not be up for much. Everyone was like, 'We'll be happy with a high-five" or whatever. However... folks did come out. Because they're awesome.
When Hiddleston walked out, screaming and shouting commenced (of course) (in the presence of benificent Hiddles, there's bound to be some kind of uncontrollable expostulations), and he smiled and asked if anyone wanted autographs or pictures. A fair question and I think really nice because obviously he knows that to large amounts of people in the world he's nobody. He prolly guessed some might be interested in his stuff, but maybe everyone there was waiting for Hunnam.
Nope. A large group were there for the Hiddles happy hour. As a result, Joy said he had to work quickly because there were lots of people. When he got to Joy, she was holding the little girl she was babysitting. They took two photos together, the three of them. He asked Joy how she was and she managed to get something out coherent and then Joy asked him how he was and he replied that he was doing great. He also asked the little girl how she was and of course the little girl played shy. He really cottoned to Joy's babysitting charge and said she was cute (which she is) - and basically made Joy feel even more hotter than ever. (Seriously, this little girl is gonna be able much later on in life to say 'I met Sir Thomas Hiddleston' (because we know he's gonna be a sir one day) and feel very glad she has an awesome babysitter like my sis.)
Joy said to me later that there's something about watching/talking to him and seeing him with kids that makes you want to open your womb for rent. Haha. So those of you out there with super loudly ticking biological clocks, don't go near the Hiddles.
At any rate, Joy's face was super red, not only because she was burnt but also because excitement and hotness was just too much to take. I think she looked nice. The second photo she took, they literally look like a couple with their kid. So funny. Maybe I can get my sister's permission to post the pics on Tumblr. Until then, just use your imagination. Haha.
Now, Joseph and John Mark got photos taken as well. Which I haven't seen. I hope I can. However, they were told that they only had a choice between a photo or an autograph - so they went with photos. However, God was with me that day, because A- (did you forget her?) WAS THERE - AND SHE ISN'T A SUPER FAN OF HIDDLES. So does she want a photo or autograph? NO!
SO GUESS WHAT!?
She said, "I'd like an autograph, please."
Hiddles said: "What's your name?"
She said, "Actually, it's for a friend of mine in China."
Hiddles said: "OK. Sure! What's her name?"
She said, "Christina." (There! You know my first name! . )
Hiddles said: "With a CH or a K? Is there an A at the end?"
Basically very careful and caring and gentlemanly and wanting to get it right - SO THEN, eventually, everyone parted ways. Apparently, according to Joy, he was also giving out hugs (!) but thanks to the girl in her arm, she couldn't get a proper hug. (tear) But there you go! Hiddles hugs are for free! The world is a better place!
A- and Joy and cute lil girl went back to M-'s place and of course that's when Joy checked her Whatsapp where I was blathering on in an incoherent way because I didn't know if Joy was able to meet him or no.
The conversation went as follows:
Joy: OK so... we went there.
Me: And no go?
Joy: No
Me: Tear
Joy: [Image of autograph with my name on it and his]
Joy: Joking. Courtesy of Angel.
Me: Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh
Me: *screams*
Me: Angel did it?
Me: OMG
Me: OMG
Me: OMG
Me: OMG
Me: OMG
Me: Kiss her for me
Me: OMG
Me: *passes out*
Me: OK
Me: OMG
Me: Hands are shaking
Me: OMG
Me: Fooooooo
Me: Exhale
Me: I need to get her a gift
Me: OMG
Me: What would be appropriate
Joy: Angel says you are so welcome
Me: So she went for us?
Me: Did you get one too?
Joy: She says nothing LMFAO
Joy: No I got a pic with him one sec
Joy: She says your happiness is a gift
Me: Ahhhhhh
Me: I'm so happy!
And then we Skyped and babbled a long time together.
This is the beauty of real sisterhood. I remember the day she was born (I was around 10 or 11 or something) and I held her in my arms the morning of (she was a home birth) and I thought she looked like a red leather baby. I actually took care of her a ton... she was my favourite little sibling - always cheery and puckish... and now *tear* she's all growed up and taking photos with my celeb crush.
THANK YOU LIL SIS!
So now, I'm gonna wait for it in the mail. If Beijing mislays it, I'm gonna go kaiju on someone's butt... OK... Yeah. I need to calm down. I know that I'm an adult, an older adult of 32 not-so-wise years, but when it comes to stuff like this I'm so adolescent. (tear) I can't help myself! As you can see, any literary quality goes out the window when Hiddles is in the vicinity or in the vicinity second hand.
Which is why I wish I could meet him but not really because I would rather him remember me for my writing skills and not my terrible people skills.